Hi! I'm Sierra. Time for a pinned post refresh.

Otherwise known as CatboyBiologist, or @hi-sierra (my SFW blog [this one is SFW too, but less so]). This page is remaining active, but if you want to find me somewhere else, I use the same username on reddit, Instagram, co-host, and tech.lgbt. This is me:

Trans woman, PhD student in molecular biology, boymoder, shitposter, freediver, hot girl on your phone, hiker, rambler (this post included), tgirl tummy tuesday supplier and enjoyer, former femboy, bane of bioessentialist fuckwads who try to use biology to validate biogotry, flaming bisexual, 196 nanocelebrity… whatever was the first thing that brought you to my blog, I hope it’s enough to get you to stay! I post selfies, hornyposts (minors and people who are averse to that be warned), stuff about the ocean, posts about my growing sense of wanderlust, my adorable lil tortoise, tutorials for transfemmes and GNC people, rambles about science, documentation of my own transition, rambles about transness, rambles about the eroticism of programming a machine to feel arousal, rambles about nature, and random shitposts. Please send me pictures of cute animals in your life!

If you wanna support my science career and my transition, consider dropping a tip here! PhD salaries are notorious for being negotiated to be exactly the cost of living…. And then forgotten about for years as inflation drops that below minimum wage. So I’m always a little strapped for cash. Anything helps!

Links to some of my tutorials and relevant resources under the cut:

I'm tracking my transition, and some people have said they found this helpful! This spreadsheet is generally updated monthly:

Usually, I write a little journal to go with it when it updates- you can find that under the #trans journal on my blog.

If you're interested in checking out some of the things I'm trying to write, here's a post with links to individual stories I'm making:

https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/741010247774306304/writing-consolidation-post?source=share

My femboy guide, written well before I started HRT, but still has relevant info:

A "boyboob" tutorial, aka how to make it look like you have cleavage in an outfit that looks better with it:

A quick and dirty guide to taking better selfies, with a specific emphasis on people who may have stopped hating their body recently due to transition:

And here's a few of my personal favorite little rambles and posts about my transness, in no particular order:

CW for transphobia on this one:

A massive shoutout to @foldingfittedsheets for this amazing art of the lil borgir holding a trans flag:

I adore this so much <3 if you want to support their art, her commissions are open and really sweet!!!!

And of course, a massive shoutout to @whalesharkcat for this lovely pixel art of my tortoise:

I still love this so much, and will continue to into the future <3

For preHRT selfies, search the femboy tag. For post HRT selfies, use the "trans selfie" tag. I've been on HRT since August of 2023, so I'm still very early in the process! Day to day, I present male, but I plan to change that around the 1 year mark.

I guess that's about it! One final note is that I've been alluding to video/podcast style things for a while now. With my aderrall prescription, I've actually put in a lot of research work that might lead to 1-4 of those, so that might actually happen in the near future! No promises of course, life always catches up to you.

And if you liked my previous pinned post better, here it is:

Anyways, if you read this far, thanks for sticking around and bbyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I Think I Love You.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. fluff.

warnings— gn!reader. keigo is in denial. tooth rotting fluff.

It takes Keigo eons to realize that he loves you.

As intelligent as he is, for every intuitive observation that turns the tides of his hero missions, he isn't the best at analyzing his own feelings. He prefers to put his emotions in a box, to scribble a smile on the lid, lock it with the heaviest brass he can find, and call it a day.

He's handling everything perfectly, thank you very much.

But when he tries to put his friendship with you in that box, you keep opening the damn lid. You keep crawling out, perching yourself on top and blinking up at him. Frustrated, he attempts to shove you back down with frantic hands, using all his weight; but for the first time in his life, it just isn't working quite as it used to.

So after months of coughing and telling himself his chest aches around you because you're such good friends, of explaining he's obsessed with you like you're a goddamn love interest in a movie because you're just so platonically compatible, of practically scribbling your name in his notepad with little hearts around it during commission board meetings, he finally flops face first on his bed and groans.

He's got a crush.

Are crushes supposed to make you think about owning a cozy cabin somewhere quiet together, where he can listen to your breathing without any distractions? Do other men fantasize about what they'd write for their wedding vows at some flower-adorned, ivory altar when they think about their crushes? He hopes they do. Maybe then, he could write this stupid tightness in his chest away as some childish, grade-school crush. That's a lot easier to deal with than love.

Yeah, this is a crush. Everybody gets those, right? He can work with that.

It comes to a boiling point on a too-quiet Saturday evening. You're practically sitting in his lap as you watch some television show he's just a bit too distracted to follow. It's not weird that his arms wrap themselves around your front, and it's not weird that his chin finds its resting place on your right shoulder.

"Oh my god, I love this actor," you nestle back against him snugly. "He's so cute, it's not even fair."

Keigo's jaw clenches.

"Hmm. I don't see it."

Narrowing his eyes, he tries to soothe himself by analyzing the wretched actor's features. He already knows your type— he knows you so well, better than anyone could ever hope to, he seethes— but it helps to remind himself. He's blonde, lithe yet muscular, with a patch of stubble to boot.

Keigo does it better. His arms tighten around you as he places a platonic kiss on your shoulder to ground himself.

The next day, he decides to pick up an extra early patrol shift. He won't be sleeping, anyway.

If Saturday's the boiling point of the kettle that is his emotions, then Sunday's the fever pitch. The screeching whistle becomes impossible to ignore.

You slept over at his place that night— which is, again, not weird in the slightest— so he's greeted by the sight of you when he walks through the doors of his dimly lit bedroom after work.

But this time, it's not a comforting sight. His heart rate slams suddenly, nearly knocking him to his knees.

You're fussing over your appearance in the mirror, putting together the finishing touches on your look for the gala Keigo (should not have) invited you to tonight. Your jewelry clinks with your movements, echoing off the walls of his head and knocking each thought out somewhere he can't reach.

When you turn to meet his gaze, you don't mention the way his mouth is hanging open ever so slightly.

"Oh! You gonna get ready soon? We have to leave in—"

"Can I kiss you?"

The words spill from his lips before he even has a chance to cover them with his hands, to shove them back down his throat. The bubbles of regret start to well up in him, thrums of panic making him scramble to take it back. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, this isn't, he's not meant for, you're too—

You throw your arms over his shoulders as you honest to god laugh.

His hitched "mmph" when you plant your lips against him melts your heart. Shaky palms find their place against your hips, finally having the permission they've begged for all this time.

"Fucking finally," you sigh.

Intimacy with Hyunjin

Wordcount — 3,400 words.

Genre — Smut and fluff. Smut warnings under the cut.

Includes — Fem!Reader. Since this was a commission, there are brief physical description of reader's character (Light-skinned with dark, curly hair. This was also written with a thick, curvy female character in mind).

Author's Note — My first commission, ever. I'm deeply grateful with the person who requested this. I asked them if I could post the story on my blog, and they agreed. So here it is! I didn't change the physical descriptions, because I wanted to stay true to the original writing I made. I hope you enjoy this, just like I did writing it. Also, my commissions are still open, in case anyone is interested!

Smut Warnings — Consented recording of sexual activities, dirty talk, body worshipping, choking, spanking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

“What do you think?”

Hyunjin stares at you with wide, curious eyes. The palm of his hand is resting on the flesh of your thigh, and his lips have grown to be familiar with the proximity he is now currently at —you can feel his breath tingling on your chin and even hear his heart beating.

But it wasn't always like this. Hyunjin wasn't always this close to you. Hell, he dreamed of it constantly, every single second of his days. He craved you, desired you, and loved you long before you knew. Long before he even realized his true feelings towards you. 

He tried to fool himself on several occasions, convincing himself that the adoration he had towards you was nothing more than one of a best friend. He tried to act like it was normal to have your name and face tattooed in his mind, all the time. He tried to negate it, not daring to wonder if you felt even the slightest attracted towards him too.

But really, Hyunjin was madly in love with you since the very first time you met. 

He remembers every detail of that day —from the way your black curly hair became one with the spring breeze, to the first words you crossed with him. How can he ever forget such a moment, when his breath got caught up in his throat, and his heart started beating so fast and loud he could actually hear it once you started to approach him? No amount of effort and will could make him delete that from his memory, not even if he tried. 

And you being fairly new to Korea was the perfect excuse Hyunjin could come up with in order to get close to you, his perfect, subconscious attempt to be around you, to make you a part of his life without him planning it —he introduced you to his friends, helped you out when you needed it and stuck by your side when you felt homesick. He never wanted to get anything out of it, he just enjoyed your company dearly. 

Eventually, after a drunken night of silly confessions and other stories, he kissed you. 

And he hasn’t stopped kissing you every day after that. 

“So, baby?”

You're brought back to reality by the sound of his voice, and the smell of cherry from off his lips that are insisting to capture your attention. 

“I just remembered the first time we met,” you confess, your fingertips caressing the soft skin of his left arm, “I never thought we would end up like this”.

“Together?”

“This in love,” you smile at him. 

“You didn’t think so?” Hyunjin’s voice is deep, both soothing and arousing. The hand that was resting on your thigh it’s making its way to your face, cupping it while he stares right into you, “I knew I was attracted to you since the first time I saw you”. 

“I was attracted to you too,” you tell him, slightly tilting your head while he brushes the tip of his nose against yours, “but I didn’t think you felt the same. I thought it was one sided”. 

Hyunjin lets out a soft, quiet scoff. A genuine one, like you just told him a joke. Because really, he finds it hilarious —why on earth wouldn't he feel the same, when you’re the closest to heaven he has ever been?

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, caressing the sides of your cheek while staring deeply into your lips, “since I first saw you, the world around me disappeared and started spinning just around you”. 

You place a quick, wet peck onto his lips, one he welcomes by licking them after you withdraw from him. God, he really can't go a day without tasting you. 

“Let’s do it,” you quietly whisper, running your fingers through his long, dark brown hair that’s barely put together in a mid ponytail, “I want to”. 

“Really?” he has to double check, just to make sure.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I want you to record it all”. 

Hyunjin presented you with the idea just moments ago. He really didn't know how to bring the topic up, so he just went for it —after all, you're the person he trusts the most in this world. If there's someone he shouldn't feel embarrassed with it's you. So he told you all about this little fantasy of his, one in which he gets to fuck you in front of his camera, only for him and you to watch.

At first, you were hesitant. What if you got shy, all of the sudden? Hyunjin seemed pretty stoked with the idea, but you thought it could get somehow uncomfortable. Having sex is one thing, but doing it in front of a camera it's a whole other thing, one that made you feel nervous.

“We don’t have to do it,” Hyunjin told you, offering you a warm smile, “I would love to, but I understand it can be kind of awkward at first”. 

You know he would never force you into doing things you're not comfortable with, but the idea was scratching your brain in a way. Being able to witness the sex from another angle and perspective seemed interesting, and you were too curious to let such an opportunity pass. Plus, it was something Hyunjin wanted, and you’re always more than happy to fulfill his fantasies.

What’s the worst thing that can happen, anyways? When you’re with him, nothing can go wrong. That’s how much you love each other. 

“Are you really, really sure?” Hyunjin asks, again. 

“Yes, Hyune,” you reassure him, “let’s do it”. 

He licks his lips and smiles, showing a small dimple in his left cheek while his eyes turn into crescent moons. Hyunjin places another quick on your lips before the weight of the bed shifts yet again, losing the warmth of his body as soon as he walks away from you and towards his desk. 

His hands look for the things he needs —his camera and tripod. You’re not quite sure where to start, or how to begin, but you might as well figure to follow his instructions, although he hasn’t given you any yet. So you patiently wait for him, sitting at the edge of your bed while staring at him. Hyunjin always looks good, but there’s something enticing about him being at his most comfortable. 

He is just wearing his underwear and some gray sweatpants, but he looks awfully attractive. You take a moment to admire every inch of skin, every vein and freckle your eyes can possibly capture, craving to touch and kiss every place and corner of his body. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks when he turns his head just slightly to face you, finding you lost in your own trail of thoughts while you look at him. 

“I'll enjoy myself a lot more when you get into bed with me,” you playfully tease him, following his actions with your gaze.

He places the tripod with the camera at a good angle, trying hard to capture the best image possible from you two. 

You’re not recording this for anything specific, but for you two to go back to this tape and enjoy it when you feel like it. The video it’s just for you two, but he still wants to get the perfect view from your face and body. 

“Don’t get shy,” he warns you when he notices you’re staring a bit too much at the camera, standing right next to your bed while he fixes the last details. “You’re just with me, alright?”

You nod, but are hesitant about being able to follow his orders verbatim. It’s hard not to get shy when the camera’s position it’s all over you. 

“Can’t promise you anything,” you laugh, giving into his embrace once he pulls you by your waist towards him. 

“Then I’ll make you forget it is even there,” his voice becomes hoarse and deep while he presses his body against yours, “just focus on me, think about me, about how good it feels to be with me”.

You nod softly again, and your lips meet together into another kiss. This time, it’s not just a peck but a proper kiss, one in which Hyunjin’s plump lips are brushing against yours so passionately and gently, sinking his teeth on your lower lip ever so slightly, eliciting a moan out of you that's not immersed in pain but pleasure.

He places his hand around your waist, and then he drags them down to your hips. Oh, how he loves every inch of your body, every curve and centimeter of your flesh. Hyunjin takes his time to touch you into the kiss, to trace your silhouette with his bare hands, to dig his fingertips into your skin while pressing you even more against the naked flesh of his chest and abdomen. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to leave a kiss on your chin, “perfectly made for me”.  

“You’re pretty too,” you tell him with a smile, cupping his face with both of your hands while he continues exploring your body, “so damn beautiful”. 

Hyunjin smiles in return, and kisses you yet again. This time, the kiss feels needier and heated. It feels desperate, like he is impatient for more. He kisses you deeply, tongue grazing against yours.

“All mine?” Hyunjin asks, dragging his hands along the sides of your body.

“All yours”. 

In between kisses, he guides you towards the bed. You might be so deep into him that you don't even notice until your arse meets the comfortable mattress, and his body hovers over yours forcing you to lay down flat on it. 

“Let’s get rid of this, yeah?” His hands look for the hems of your shirt, and he helps you into taking it off. Your first instinct is to cover yourself up with your arms when remembering the camera, but his hands are quick to grab your wrists before you can even do so. “You’re just with me, remember?”

Immediately, you relax. You’re truly just with him, so what is there to hide? 

Hyunjin leans on top of you and places a kiss on your forehead, and caresses your cheeks as he admires you. How can you be this beautiful? He is infatuated with you and every detail there is for him to worship —from your dark hair, to the beautiful color of your skin, Hyunjin thinks no way or form of art could ever capture the beauty and uniqueness of you. A painting would never do you justice, and a sculpture would never feel like you do.

“What?” you ask him with a smile, noticing how deep into his thoughts was.

“I love everything about you,” Hyunjin says, leaving a wet peck on your cheek, and then the edge of your jaw, “everything”.

He drags his lips from your jaw to your neck, and you latch your fingers against his long hair, pulling him closer to you if possible. 

“I love you,” you whisper, letting soft gasps in between when you feel him nibbling at the sensitive flesh. “God, I love you so much”. 

He smiles against your skin, but loses no time into exploring more of you. His lips soon perch on your chest, and move towards your breasts slowly.

“And I love you,” Hyunjin replies, burying his nose and lips into your flesh. “I fucking love your body so much”.

He swirls his tongue around one of your nipples and you arch your back against the mattress, gasping at the sudden but expected stimulation he is offering you. 

“Right there, Hyujin,” you whimper.

He wants to keep on toying with you, to tease you and make you crave him. But his erection is demanding all of his attention, and he is desperate at this point to be buried inside you. You always arouse him this much, it's nothing really new. But it's, perhaps, the knowledge that you're being recorded what is really pushing him to the edge this time. 

“Baby,” he coos with a hitched breath, “can I?” 

His fingertips are lingering at the hems of your shorts and underwear, asking for your consent to take them off. You nod frantically in response and lift up your hips while he drags both pieces of clothing along your legs just to discard them somewhere in the room.

“Shit,” Hyunjin curses under his breath when you open your legs, noticing how ready you’re for him already. 

You lose no time in removing his clothes too, and soon the positions are switched —now Hyunjin's laying on the bed while you strip him slowly, dragging his sweatpants and underwear with ease. 

“God,” you whisper when your eyes meet his cock, already leaking with precum.

“I really can’t wait to be inside you,” he sighs, getting up and sitting right next to the spot in the mattress where you are kneeling.

“Then don’t,” you cup his face with your hands and leave another quick kiss on his lips.

It's like lighting a match on fire, how quickly it spreads once you let him know you're on the same page he is. When you tell him you want this just as much as he does, Hyunjin loses no time in giving it to you. 

“Come here,” he motions for you to sit down on top of him, with your pussy against his lap, “let me show you how much I want you”. 

With his help, you take the base of his cock and align the tip of it with your entrance. Slowly, you sink your hips against his and take him in fully.

“Fuck,” you cry, feeling the sudden stretch he’s providing you with. Even so, it feels pleasant. You can feel how hard he is for you, how his dick fits perfectly inside your pussy like it was made for it. 

Hyunjin can feel it too, how tight and wet your walls are, and how deliciously you clench around him as he bottoms out. 

It’s heavenly, for both of you.

“So- perfect,” he groans, digging his fingertips on the skin of your hips while you start moving on top of him. Slow and steady, just how he likes it, “your body, it’s just too fucking beautiful”. 

Your boyfriend is a treasure full of compliments. Not a day goes by without him telling how pretty you are, or how lucky he feels to have you by his side. He is very vocal about what he feels or thinks, especially in bed.

You’re so weak for it.

“I want to- kiss you all over it,” the thought of feeling his tongue tracing over your skin makes you clench around his cock, and that earns you a quiet groan from him. “Want to spend- hours, just touching you”. 

The steadiness of your movements is lost as soon as Hyunjin starts talking. His words mess with your head and make you turn into a wet mess for him, one that is unable to speak or think of anything that’s not him and his voice.

“Hyune,” you moan, feeling his hands grabbing your ass while you’re riding him. Your words are interrupted by a soft smack on one of your ass cheeks, and Hyunjin offers you a mischievous smile once he feels you clenching around him at the impact. 

“Mhm?” he hums. 

“Do it again,” you ask, somewhat embarrassed and turned on by the action.

He follows along, landing yet another sharp impact that makes you let out a soft cry. The more he spanks you, the more your hips pick up a faster pace, grinding against his cock in a desperate attempt to reach your high. 

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” you moan, “I want-”. 

“Not yet,” he tells you, tapping your hips motioning for you to slow down, “not like this”.

You look at him in confusion, but soon pick up his plan when he switches your positions: now, you’re laying on the mattress and he is on top of you, right between your open legs. 

“I want to make you come,” Hyunjin sighs, leaning down for a kiss that he only interrupts when he feels like running out of breath. It lasts a couple of seconds, perhaps minutes —you really can’t tell anymore. “Open up your legs more for me, will you?”

When you do, he buries all of himself inside you yet again. This time, the stretch is not painful at all —you’re familiar with him now, so he bottoms out with ease. 

“So fucking wet you are,” he moans through gritted teeth with his eyes attached to where your bodies meet. 

He knows the camera will not be able to capture such a sight this well, that only the human eye can appreciate. But he at least wishes to record the pretty sounds that leave your mouth, and the way your body trembles whenever he makes you come. 

“You’re so deep,” you whine, digging your fingernails in the flesh of his biceps. “I feel you- so deep inside me, Hyunjin”.

He feels himself twitching at your words, noticing they have more effect on him than he would ever want to admit. 

“Yeah?” He switches his body weight support to just one of his forearms, while he extends the other looking for your hand. He finds it at the side of your body, gripping the bed sheets harshly. He then guides your hand to your lower tummy, pressing it further against your abdomen, “can you feel me right here?”

You moan at the action and his words, feeling his hand on top of yours while he presses your tummy. 

“Fuck yes,” you cry. 

Then, he guides your hand from your tummy to your core, right above where his cock is. 

“I’m sure this will feel much better,” he says in between groans, signaling for you to rub your clit while he fucks you. 

And oh, how right he is. Once your fingers start to acquire a pace of their own on your clit, Hyunjin’s hand abandons yours and he drags it up, stopping right at your neck. He wraps his hand around it, drowning a desperate moan out of you.

“Does it hurt?” he asks you, gently and cautiously. 

“N-no,” you swallow thickly and he can feel it. Just as he can feel your pulse, accelerating by the minute, “harder”. 

Hyunjin smiles.

“Do you want me to choke you harder? Or fuck you harder?”

“Both,” you gasp. “I’m so close”.

He knows. You’re getting even wetter than before, and that’s making it difficult for him not to come right then and there. 

“I’m close too,” Hyunjin confesses, and keeps on fucking your pussy almost at the same pace you’re rubbing your clit. The harder you squeeze his cock with your cunt, the harder he squeezes your neck with his hand. 

It’s a fair exchange.

“Don’t- don’t stop,” you breathe. Your words are barely audible, but he can pick on them well. “Don’t let go- keep on choking me”. 

“I won’t,” he reassures you, holding your body right in place while he thrusts his cock inside you a couple of times, trying to bring you to your orgasm. “I’m going to make you come like this”. 

As the man of his word he is, Hyunjin makes you come in no time. With particular sharp thrusts, and the grip on your neck, he has you trembling underneath him almost uncontrollably, your walls clenching and relaxing violently around his cock. 

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around his hips in an attempt to bring him closer and deeper into you. 

Your boyfriend groans, breathing heavily while chasing his high. There are several strands of his dark hair sticking to his cheeks and forehead with sweat, but he can’t begin to care. Or at least not when he is this close to come undone for you. 

“Fuck,” he curses, and you soon have his body collapsing on top of yours while he comes. His hips tremble, and you can feel him twitching inside you. “Fuck, baby”. 

You hug him tightly, still feeling the ravages of your own orgasm. You both lay down with each other until your breathing becomes estable, but neither of you dare to move away from each other.

You wish to stay like this forever. 

“Thank you,” Hyunjin finally says, still with a hitched voice. 

“For what?” you ask, amused. 

“For letting me record us”. 

You furrow your eyebrows and, in a matter of a second, remember about the camera that is still pointing at the both of you.

“What?” Hyunjin laughs. “You really forgot about the camera mid sex?”

“Mmm, maybe,” you confess. 

“Well, that can only mean I fucked you good”. 

And oh, how he just did.

I came across this brilliant post and it reminded me of a dream I had a while ago about the show’s future. In my dream, Carmy eventually got back together with Claire out of loneliness and a last ditch effort to make it work because he’s too broken to go after Sydney but the relationship falls apart again. The Grand Opening is a success but not enough to generate long term interest that covers overhead, and by the end of the year, The Bear runs out of money. Cicero reluctantly calls it quits, as he can’t keep loaning them money, and there’s also internal problems. The death of Marcus’ mother is so devastating that he steps down to be with his family, Nat has a difficult birth which leaves her out of commission and motherhood is exhausting.

Carmy and Sydney don’t resolve their issues but the flame within keeps going, yet they both run from their feelings even after The Bear closes. In desperate need of a life change, Carm applies to some art schools and actually gets accepted to one in Florence, Italy. Alone and more broken than ever before, he quickly starts a new life in a foreign county—mirroring his choice to leave home for Denmark. The one exception being he doesn’t tell anyone where he is; he occasionally checks in with Sugar but only tells her he’s “somewhere safe” and “not to worry about him”.

Sydney finds herself at a crossroads. She poured everything she had into The Bear and now that’s gone, she goes through a bout of depression. She still loves to cook but her drive wains, leaving her to question what’s next for her. She considers her other passions: writing, sewing, textiles, management—and after a few months of going through the motions, she thinks about maybe stepping away from cooking as well. Emmanuel supports this idea as well and encourages her to try something new, even if it’s just for a little while. He also reiterates that she didn’t fail at The Bear and that she created something truly special, even if only for a while.

Months go by and still not a word from Carmy. She talks to Nat often, even spends time with the baby, but she stopped asking about Carm months ago. She tries to pretend his disappearance doesn’t hurt but she misses him more each day. Why, she doesn’t care to know anymore. He made his choice and now she needs to make her own.

One night while having dinner with Nat and Pete, they talk about plans for the future. Nat tells Syd she remembers that navy sweater with the hand stitched embroidery at the collar and on the sleeve (2x02 ‘SYD’ sweater with green stitching). Syd mentions her love of patterns and fabrics, and she tells them she’s been hand-sewing since middle school. She always liked bespoke items and she wishes she would’ve done more with that particular skill. This segues into a conversation about how Carmy was the one who wasn’t afraid to follow his dreams when he went to Copenhagen and Nat wagers that’s probably where he is now, or back in New York.

Syd shrugs and changes the subject to travel, stating she thought about going back to New York but says it’s not far enough (Sug’s comment about Carmy possibly being there discourages her from going). Nat lightens the mood with a joke, “I don’t think a single Berzatto has been to Italy. Pete and I have always wanted to but with Benny (Benicio—their infant son), its not gonna happen any time soon”. Syd tells she went to Paris once with her dad for her 21st birthday, but always wishes they would’ve taken the train to Milan. The culture, food, fashion, and architecture resonate with her and she always wanted to experience it firsthand. Pete chimes in “You know, there’s a fashion school there: Polimoda. My brother and his girlfriend, Louisa—they live in Florence and she goes there. I can talk to Chris (his brother) and have him email you or something. He’s a nice guy.”

Syd rebuffs the idea at first, thanking him but telling him she’s not sure she’s the “fashionista type” (air-quoting with her fingers). Then Nat interjects “Oh please! Syd, you such a unique style and perspective. You might be surprised just how much you enioy stepping away from the kitchen for a while.”

“Let’s say I entertain the idea. Nat, how would I even pay for this? I mean, yeah I’ve saved up here and there but come on, Florence? I don’t see how I could afford classes and what about housing? It’s a fever dream if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Maybe you could stay with Chris and Louisa. They have a gorgeous house, they send us pictures all the time. Look-” Pete jumps up to get his laptop and shows her the photos.

Now Sydney knows she’s lost, or is drunk, if she’s considering living with strangers in a foreign country. As the night goes on, Pete reaches out to his brother and Syd finds herself dreaming of Italy after they take her home.

Two days later she gets an email from Chris and she can’t believe he contacted her. Over the next week they Skype and discuss how this would work and if she’s a good fit. Chris and Louisa say they heard amazing things about her and her work at The Bear, and they’d love to have her. She’s overwhelmed with emotion that she’s really thinking about going and after she talks to her dad, he’s cautious but amendable. He tells her she has to decide for herself what’s best and that he trusts her to make good choices, especially after her short success at The Bear. But he also tells her not to rush or pour everything into yet another venture.

But truthfully she wants to get away, and forget about how the restaurant for a while. And so after much deliberation, she decides to do it. She figures she’ll get a job cooking part-time to supplement her expenses but focus on being more than a chef. She wants to enjoy herself for once; to live for more than trying to make everything a thing.

A month later she lands in Florence and some time later while out to dinner with Louisa, she nearly passes out when she and Carmy spot each other that night.

synopsis: The first to betray him was his creator, his mother. The second was his family, his friend. The third was a child similar to him. Would you, his lover, be the fourth?

includes: scaramouche w/ gn! reader

notes: An uncompleted fic I wrote in October before Scaramouche's release. Therefore it is not very accurate, especially the part where he likes sweets. I don't think I'll finish it, so I decided to post my ramblings here for your entertainment. (Some places won't make sense... I jumped around a lot, by the way.)

Imagine being eternal lovers with Scaramouche.

You can’t remember the exact date when you first encountered the man, who was the definition of beauty. How many centuries ago was that again? Two? Three? Nevermind that. After all, the one thing you’d never forget was the first memory you made with him.

You placed the sweet treats on your table, ready for your delicious snack. But you know what? You needed something to drink too. Perhaps you’d try some of that Dango Milk you saw, from that guy whose stall never got any business since everyone was so skeptical of it. Dango with dango would surely be an interesting combination. And so you set out to quickly purchase some, not bothering to lock your doors. You would only be gone for five to ten minutes, after all.

What you did not expect, however, was that when you returned, your front door was wide open. Hesitantly climbing up the steps very slowly, you were greeted by an unknown man’s presence inside your house, munching away at your damn dango. It took a few seconds to process - someone went broke into your house to eat your food. And it occurred to you - out of anything he could steal, he chose to steal sweets. Not the stash of Mora you had hidden away, or some vases, or anything that actually had monetary value. He chose the Tricolor Dango lying on your kitchen table, half of it already eaten. If you weren’t so scared of some guy breaking into your house, you would have thought it was cute. (Little did he know, his own tastes reflected that of his creator.)

Wait, you shouldn’t be trying to analyze him, he was literally in your house uninvited! You needed to get the Tenryou Commission or something! And so you stepped back, but of course, the dreaded very loud creak of that one particular floorboard echoed throughout the house, and the man immediately noticed you. You were busted. (Or was he? Later you would learn this was far more embarrassing for him than for you.)

Gorgeous, long indigo hair flowed down, coupled with matching eyes and porcelain skin. Up close, he looked so beautiful that it almost didn’t feel humanly possible.

“Don’t even think of saying a word of this to anyone,” he hissed out threateningly, “or else.” You let out a muffled “okay” and furiously nodded your head, not wanting to know what the ‘or else’ entailed. Then he released his hand from your mouth, quickly slammed the door shut, and left. By the time you could regain your composure and look out the window, the doll-like man was already gone.

All that remained of the encounter were the empty sticks that held dango before on your table.

—

A good amount of time had passed since that situation. You went about your life, working, eating, sleeping, shopping. But for some reason, you could not get the intruder out of your mind. You had so many questions about him. Maybe it was because your life was too boring and although he had scared you, you were quite interested in him. How’d he know your door was unlocked? Maybe he was following you? What kind of financial situation did he have if he had to steal dango from you?! And for his stunning looks, his mouth was quite… foul. As these thoughts continued to plague your mind, there was only one thing to do.

Attempt to make him come back, of course. Now, you did not have the means to just go out and look for him, nor could you ask around for information about him. So you did the only thing you could do was lure him out. With dango, of course, since that was the only piece of information you had about him.

Every evening, you would wait on the porch with a plate of various types of dango on it next to you. Of course, he didn’t show up, but you didn’t have anything better to do. And so, your nightly activities quickly changed to drinking a cup of tea while reading on your porch, as you awaited the mysterious man’s presence. 

Unfortunately, after a week or two, the only thing you were successful in was gaining weight from all of the sweets you had to eat after he didn’t show up, your wallet consequently being drained, and powering through the strange but appreciative looks the vendor gave you when you came back every day to purchase new sweets.

It was another day of executing your very poorly thought-out plan, and you began to grow rather sleepy. You were practically messing up your sleep schedule for some random guy. That was just… embarrassing, you thought, but you couldn’t help it. Leaning your body against a pillar of the porch, you closed your eyes, allowing your mind to go wild with fantasies. Perhaps you could experience one of those forbidden romance novel plots like from Yae Publishing House with this stranger… ah, how marvelous that would be…

Your breathing began to slow, and your thoughts became less coherent. You were on the verge of falling asleep, but you could hear some noise, even though it was fuzzy in your current state. But no matter, it was probably just some squirrels. But then you heard it much louder, coming much closer to you by the second. It was the familiar crunch of the leaves that had fallen around your house that had made you jump back to life.

And there he was, long silky hair flowing behind him, unscarred skin, soft lips, and pretty eyes, though his resemblance of eternal beauty disappeared when he noticed you were not sleeping, wide awake in fact.

Of course, you sprang to your feet almost immediately, not about to let this opportunity after weeks of waiting slip away.

“Hey! Don’t go this time! I have… more dango! For you!” You must have looked pretty pathetic to be convincing a criminal to stay with sweets of all things, but you gave up your dignity when you started with this plan.

“… Were you trying to make me come back with this simple-minded idea? Idiot.” It seemed like he only liked to open his mouth when he was able to insult you. (But you also thought that he was trying to play off his embarrassment.)

“Well, it worked, did it not? Seems like you’re the idiot because you actually came again, and had to wait until I was asleep. Were you scared of me?” you sassed back. By the look on his face, it seemed like you annoyed him.

“Watch it,” he snapped. “I could make you very scared of me right now.”

You didn’t doubt that so you quickly shut your mouth and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “W-well, you should come get what you came for,” gesturing towards the dango. But he didn’t move, to your displeasure. Was it too close to you, perhaps? And so you pushed the plate as far away to the other side as possible, and at last, he walked forward to grab it. He picked up a stick of dango and scrutinized it, as if it was possible you poisoned him or something. But it appeared to pass his inspection test, as he began to munch on it.

“I was hoping you’d give up soon.” You perked up at his words. Finally an opportunity for conversation. 

“After everything I’ve invested into this, I couldn’t,” you sighed. “And this means you were watching me, weren’t you?!”

His hair bounced as he shrugged his shoulders, taking a bite of the dango. “I had to make sure you didn’t tell anyone about me,” he said nonchalantly as if watching someone’s every move was normal. You decided to hold your tongue - you and your wallet worked hard for this after all. Some time passed, and you licked your lips, preparing yourself to ask your first question.

“So… what is your name, wanderer?”

The man merely shrugged as he continued to eat the dango. You began to wonder if that was the only thing he consumed. What kind of diet did he have, and how did he only survive on dango? But anyways, you weren’t sure if he didn’t want to tell you his name (which was highly likely) or rather there was another circumstance preventing him from doing so.

“Do you have a name?”

The eccentric individual paused for a brief moment, but that was all you needed to know. “Wait here,” you said, getting up to enter your house. You entered your room and looked under your bed, reaching for a huge encyclopedia. You cursed as you heaved it up, it was quite long. You shoved some other books inside that might be helpful, and carried them outside to the stranger.

“Shit,” you mumbled, practically dropping the books down on the porch. You were an average citizen, well, probably frailer than a normal person so carrying all these books felt like too big of a strain. At this point, the man was eyeing you suspiciously (and almost in annoyance?) but you pushed the books over to his side anyway.

“These,” you panted, “could help you find a name. Any name. Anything you like. You should choose it yourself,” you reasoned. “I can’t keep calling you stranger, you know” you tried to make a joke but immediately regretted it at his flat and almost unamused expression. You don’t think he is very friendly. But nonetheless, his eyes flickered down to the various assortment of books, and you could see a brief glimpse of… sadness? It disappeared as quickly as it came, but he very hesitantly sat down, reached for the pile, and began flipping through the pages. You let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding.

You didn’t know how much time passed, as the golden and orange hues of the sunset gradually vanished, replaced with the glow of the moon and stars. You were worried about if he could still see the text, but he was going through it with ease. He must have good eyesight. You didn’t want him to snap at you for staring at him again, so you looked up and counted the stars instead.

“Kunikuzushi.”

It took you a second to realize that he finally spoke. All of your energy returned as you sat up straight. “What?”

“Kunikuzushi. That is my name,” he repeated.

“Kunikuzushi…” you repeated. If you weren’t mistaken, that meant something along the lines of “country destroyer.” It certainly wasn’t a common name, and you were slightly worried about what country he wanted to destroy, but it was unique. It suited this eccentric stranger.

“Alright,” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Kunikuzushi.” 

—

Ever since you helped him choose his name, you made it a habit to continue to leave a plate of dango outside your house. Sometimes he would appear and eat with you, sitting all the way on the other edge of the porch. Other times, he wouldn’t show up while you were outside, but when you woke up in the morning, the dango was gone. Although you were still failing to make good conversation with him, his repeated visits satisfied you for now. It felt nice to have a new person in your life. Until one day, he came to you during the night, right before you were about to retire to your bed for the day.

“Where is it?”

You sighed. “Good night to you too, Kuni. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Kunikuzushi rolled his eyes and scowled. “It’s Kunikuzushi,” he emphasized. “Not that… nonsense.”

“Mhm, totally understand. I’ll stop calling you that, Ku,” you teased.

“You're an exasperating human,” he glared. “Anyway, where is my plate?” His plate? Oh, he was talking about how you didn’t leave out any dango tonight.

“Well, I got out late from work and by the time I went to the stall, it was already closed for the day. So, you’ll just have to survive without any today. Sorry, Kuni.” You were tempted to make fun of him but the look on his face made you feel kind of bad. He sucked his teeth and actually looked kind of annoyed, and was positioned to leave. And then you came up with a solution.

“Hey, don’t go. Come inside, I have an idea,” you said, opening your door wider.

Kunikuzushi squinted his eyes suspiciously at you. “Why?”

“Oh, stop acting as if I’m gonna kill you or something. Just get in here!” You turned your back and headed towards your kitchen, and a few seconds later you heard your door slam shut. You were delighted to have Kuni back in your house.

You retrieved a cookbook and looked over the ingredients for Tri-Color Dango. Glutinous rice flour, tofu, sugar, milk… sakura blooms, and snapdragons for the coloring. And some green tea would go well with it. Good thing you had all of the essential ingredients.

“I’m just going to make you the dango from scratch, so you can sit down and wait.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course,” you laughed. “Buying it is just more convenient and less work for me. Would you like to watch me, Kunikuzushi?”

He couldn’t deny that he was interested, and so he silently pulled a chair and sat at your kitchen table, earning a cheeky grin from you.

You smiled, (insert process on making dango)

“You can’t eat it yet!” you said, quickly stopping him from biting it. “We need to cook it first!” He looked disappointed.

“Just follow me,” you hummed as you began sticking the dango through the bamboo skewer. He looked over and started doing the same with ease. Huh. He was pretty good at it.

“Of course. Most foods taste better homemade.”

You don’t know why, but after that experience, Kunikuzushi started to knock on your door a lot more often, to the point you saw him almost every day. His time of arrival varied, but nonetheless, he became a familiar face you welcomed. To be honest, you had no idea what to do with him at first. He still did not divulge anything about himself, and rather looked at you expectantly. So you decided to teach him things, as you had a feeling he wasn’t good at traditional basic tasks.

You tried to teach him how to sew and crochet. Kunikuzushi ended up pricking his finger multiple times and the string of curses that followed was endless. When he joined you to plant flowers and vegetables, he grew frustrated when the things he planted didn’t grow, when he accidentally placed too much pressure on the seeds, and kept messing up the correct amount of water. Anything that required great care and gentleness, he did not succeed in. 

So you told him about the ancient Irodori Festival, about beloved Inazuman folklore, about your favorite childhood stories, to which he scoffed and rolled his eyes, calling out some of the dumb choices by the protagonists, but always listening to you with full attention. Admittedly, you were guilty of accidentally teaching him some of your favorite combinations of curses.

You introduced him to more of your favorite sweets (with him sitting at the table watching you, it was the best option.) Despite his clear fondness for sweets, he vehemently denied it and didn’t have an aptitude for making them at all. Every time Kuni tried to bake something with you, he poured the incorrect amount causing the excess to slip, or turned the heat up too high or too low, scowling at every failure. He didn’t seem to have much of an appetite for other meals, which confused you. Didn’t he have to eat something else to survive? But he always seemed perfectly fine, in better health than you. You decided not to question it further.

But when Kuni followed you around while shopping, if any of the sellers tried to scam you or raise the price a little too high, he would quickly lash out a string of things you’d rather not repeat. And while you profusely apologized for his behavior, you were secretly grateful because it helped you out a lot. When you struggled to hold the grocery bags, he would snatch them from you, complaints following but none had any real bite to them when compared to his actions. Despite his lean stature, he was surprisingly strong.

The more time you spent with him, the more you grew to like him. You had realized that since your first encounter, Kuni had started to show more emotion, as if he was repressing it in the beginning. You had no idea why he hung around you of all people; Kunikuzushi had no obligation to, much less help you with random tasks. It was as if he had nowhere else to go, to return to. But you didn’t want to question him, in fear he’d leave you for prying.

—

Your new pastime with Kunikuzushi involved explaining and taking him around Inazuma to partake in “useless human frivolities.” (You were confused as to though he referred to things as if they didn’t include him, but whenever you brought this up, he just scoffed and ignored you.) But one place he vehemently refused to go was the shrine.

“I don’t want to go there.” The firmness of his statement caught you off guard.

“To the shrine? Is there any particular reason why?”

You could already tell by the look on his face that he would not be responding. Perhaps he did not like the Gods. “Well, that’s okay. It’s not my favorite place either.” And that was the end of it. It was the same thing when you went anywhere near the Electro Archon’s Tenshukaku. He would tense up, grit his teeth, and drag you to the other direction. You wished to know why he loathed the Gods, but you still did not know anything about his past. Maybe one day he’ll open up.

Whenever you ushered Kunikuzushi into your house when it was raining, in fear that he’d get sick, he always replied that he wouldn’t, and he didn’t. He defeated hilichurls and monsters easily with electro powers, despite not having a Vision. How he frequently referred to you as human. It was all starting to make a lot more sense.

(I was going to write a scene about you two falling in love here.)

When Scaramouche was on the other side of the nation, the recipes you gave to him of the meals you made before for him gave him some peace. It didn’t taste nearly as good as when you made it. He wondered if it was due to his skills, or rather because he didn’t have you to share it with.

(I had planned that after Scara left to go to the Fatui, he comes back to find you missing. Later he finds you but you were experimented on in a hidden lab, somehow causing your lifespan to increase, hence the eternal lovers part. The experimentation left you really weak which is why he was scared you were going to die and leave him.)

He placed his hat to the side and sat down next to your bed, gazing at your sleeping figure. You were so frail and powerless, like a typical human. Yet he found himself coming back every time. But now as he looks at you, a familiar, disgusting feeling forms in the pit of his stomach again.

The first to betray him was his creator, his mother. The second was his family, his friend. The third was a child similar to him. Would you, his lover, be the fourth?

You couldn’t leave him. You just can’t. Without you, the fury he desperately tries to quell will surely swallow him whole. You had to come and weasel your way into his life despite his persistence in hating humans. If he never saw your eyes peer at him curiously when he told stories of the outside world, if you never laughed again while he insulted his co-workers, he would… he would never forgive you.

Or rather, Scaramouche suddenly thought, had he betrayed you instead? He had promised himself many years ago, to always protect you. Yet he failed. And now you were in this state because of his weakness.

The Harbinger balled his hands into fists so tightly, he threatened to draw blood. And he would have, if he didn’t notice you twitch and sleepily mumble. He drew his attention to you and unballed his hands to gently hold yours.

Scaramouche, or rather Kunikuzushi, rested his head on the soft sheets, squeezing your hand. You would wake up, he knew you would… you never let him down, unlike anyone else… This was a moment that no one else would ever know about.

But the moment of eternity peace was broken by a knock on her door. Immediately, Scaramouche shot up and put his hat back on, needing to get back into character.

“Come in.”

One of the agents appeared, looking terrified for his life as usual. He licked his lips, trying to find the words to talk, but failed.

“Spit it out already,” Scaramouche scowled, annoyed at the intrusion.

“Lord Harbinger I- well, I t-think it would be easier for you to read this yourself. It was found in the lab."

(This was supposed to be the ending of the fic...)

You were there for him. When he was just Kunikuzushi, when he was Scaramouche. When he was a Harbinger, when he wasn’t. When he tried to find a heart with the Electro Archon’s gnosis, and the aftermath of his tears, reassuring him that he was more than enough for you, that your heart was his.

You would belong to each other for eternity.

(The way Scaramouche canonically hates sweets singlehandedly ruined the plot of this fic💀)

Anagapesis (Getō Suguru x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴜɢᴜʀᴜ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴀʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ꜱᴛᴀɢᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ʜɪɢʜ, ʜᴏᴡ ʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴛ.

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ:

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɢᴏᴊᴏ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ.

ɢᴇᴛᴀ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴡᴏᴏᴅᴇɴ ꜱʜᴏᴇꜱ ᴡᴏʀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴜᴋᴀᴛᴀ.

ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ. ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴛɪᴘꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ.

"Love is the most twisted curse of all."

Gojō Satoru

— Happy birthday, [Reader].

The girl turned around, tilting her head in a way that made it clear that she was surprised by his wishes.  

Suguru looked around the open corridor. Silence, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the occasional song of night birds. Darkness, illuminated by the glow of the few lanterns permanently lit next to the most important buildings. The red of the columns reflected a familiar colour against its background. At this time of night, most of Jujutsu High was fast asleep. Although, who knows, maybe Gojō would be on his feet at this time. You never knew with him friend.  

Today, Suguru was an exception among the dormant crowd. He had been gone a whole week since he went on a solo mission to get rid of one of the curses. He was lucky to catch the last bus at this ungodly hour. All this to be on time. For [Reader's] birthday.  

— Thank you, Suguru. I had it on the calendar, but… — The unfinished sentence hung in the air.  

— You have forgotten. — he finished.  

The teenager nodded.  

— Shōko and Satoru bought me a cake and some trinkets. Honestly, it could be anything. Not that I remember what present anyone gave me last time — she sighed. — I still have half a piece. — She pushed him a plate.  

— Satoru didn't eat all of it? — he mocked.  

— I managed to save some.  

The boy accepted the cake. She had been giving him sweets in bulk ever since he told her about what he thought curses tasted like. His technique was to eat evil. It was hard to describe. It's a bit like eating a rag that someone scooped up vomit with, or like someone stuffed slime into his mouth. The mud seemed to want to flow out of him every time. But he always stubbornly swallowed them. He couldn't get used to it. No matter how many times he did it, there was always an aftertaste. A bitter, vomit-inducing stench that no one else could smell. It was impossible to get rid of it. The piece of cake he was eating now wouldn't be able to kill it. But it wasn't about its earthy sweet taste. It was more about who it came from. The mere fact that [Reader] won another piece for him from the voracious Gojō was nice. This act alone soothed the disgust of the curses he had to eat today, more so than the sweetness.  

— I have something for you. — He pulled out a wrapped diary from behind his back. — I saw you were running out of space in your notebook, so I bought a new one.  

— Thank you. — She smiled, tearing off the paper and flipping through the gift.  

It was always a good choice. The amount of things she wrote down increased day by day. He wished she could at least put them in something that looked nice since she was running around with a notebook everywhere. He covered it with stickers and asked his friends to sign it. Let at least this one be different from the rest. A little livelier. More colourful. With happy sides.  

— You're not happy — he stated.

— Don't get me wrong, Suguru. It's a very nice gift. I just... sometimes I wish I didn't need it at all. — There was a note of melancholy in her voice.  

Recently she forgot all her previous birthdays along with the date. Her technique was powerful. However, with high power came a high price. The more important things in her life she forgot, the more cursed energy she had at her disposal. 

Of course, she could still celebrate her birthday. She had its date at hand. She wrote down the previous events a long time ago so as not to forget. However, reading even your own thoughts and memories was a bit like listening to yourself trying to convince you that you are right even though you think otherwise. She once described it as like watching herself in photo from childhood. You have the idea that it's you but you still feel like it's a different person.  

— I know you're sorry but you did what was right. You saved someone's life. I'm sure if these people knew how you helped them, they would be very grateful to you. — He grabbed her hand.  

The hand was unusually warm. Especially in the cool night air.  

This family will probably never know that they came close to one of the most cruel deaths. They probably saw something completely different. Like most ordinary people who rarely saw the true nature of curses.  

It once occurred to Getō that if he were in her position, he might want to quit. However, the girl hotly denied it. There were so few jujutsu sorcerers. Everyone was worth their weight in gold. She believed she was born with this gift for a purpose. Especially since she didn't come from any of the big families. Someone had to help people who couldn't defend themselves.  

— You're right. Thank you again for the gift. I'll definitely find it useful. It's time to make a new list because I'm almost at the end of the previous one. — She put her head on his shoulder.  

[Reader] yawned long and closed her eyes. The glow of the lantern danced in her hair. He heard her steady breathing.  

— Put me in — said the boy.  

— Huh?! — The girl raised her head in surprise. — You know I would never do that, so I don't know why we're even talking about it.

— If you are ever in need — he saw she was about to interrupt him so he gently placed his finger on her lips, silencing her — I want to be on that list just in case.

He was important in her life. Or at least that's what he wanted to believe. Enough that sacrificing her memories of him could one day help her gain a huge amount of controlled cursed energy.  

The list was kind of a preparation. A list of what a high school student could sacrifice if necessary while fighting curses. The piles of scratched paper in her dorm room were a testament to how she evaluated everything in her life. She had to constantly determine what knowledge or memories were important to her and whether she could devote herself to them. And after everything, she crossed them off the list, only to come back to them in the form of notes.  

— This could save your life someday. And even if you forget me... I will always be there to remind you of myself. You won't get rid of me that easily — he laughed.  

— You'll never be on that list, Suguru. She looked deep into his eyes. — There are many things I can sacrifice but not you.  

He didn't answer. On one hand, it wasn't the declaration he wanted to hear but on the other, it evoked a nice feeling. He just squeezed her hand tighter, staring straight ahead. The sweet taste of the cake was still fresh in his mind, even though he had long since finished eating a piece.  

Birthday

***  

— This is not training! — [Reader] protested. — Yaga-sensei will murder us.  

She laid between Getō's legs. She didn't seem dissatisfied with their current situation at all. The boy thought she was just complaining. She had to. As a matter of principle.  

— What are we doing? — Suguru asked teasingly.  

— Flying — the girl replied.  

— On what?  

— On the Rainbow Dragon… — she replied, still unsure of where this exchange was heading.  

— So we're flying on a curse. We're training — Getō concluded, amused.  

He had had enough fighting for today. The exchange of blows was exhausting. Especially since he couldn't use cursed energy. Otherwise, the opponent wouldn't get much out of it except a stay in the hospital. She had to save her memories for the missions. So, in high school, all she could do was learn hand-to-hand combat. No special techniques, just the simplest ones. For a long time, she had been practicing fighting curses only in the field.

— We'll come back if you want it so badly but you don't look unhappy — Suguru said.  

The dragon gave him a quick glance. Bulging eyes stared in anticipation. The most powerful curse in his arsenal wasn't very intelligent but it could understand that much. It wanted to know if it should turn back. Its mustache fluttered in the cool air.  

— I don't feel like it — [Reader] said. — Maybe I'll just blame it on you once we're down.

The corners of Getō's mouth twitched upwards. He only nodded. Let her have it. They always got up for training when it was still dark. They still had a little time before sunrise. Maybe Yaga-sensei won't come to check if they're actually practicing. After all, the forests surrounding the jujutsu high school were still surrounded by darkness. Shades of navy blue and gray danced around, making teachers not want to leave their comfortable beds.  

— Hold on. It's a bribe — she said, handing him a lollipop.  

It was one of those big, tacky looking ones. A huge red heart let him know that she must have bought it in her hometown. They loved such stall things there. It was a custom among sorcerers to bring souvenirs and sweets from distant places, where they often had to spend a lot of time.  

He accepted the sweetness. The taste seemed to melt on the tongue. Or maybe he just convinced himself that. After all, could this actually wash the vomit and the smell of shit off his tongue? He knew it didn't but he could always pretend.  

Exorcise and absorb. Exorcise and absorb. Exorcise and absorb… And so on. He had been doing this for so long that over time he stopped remembering times when he hadn't done it. Moments when there was no dirt.  

— I had an argument with my grandparents. — [Reader]'s head turned slightly in his lap.  

It was an unexpected change of topic. However, he felt that something had been wrong for several days. When she returned after the weekend off, she didn't look happy. She went to her hometown because of obon. All Souls' Days were usually a busy time for jujutsu sorcerers but students visited homes whenever possible. As long as they had them and this was no different.  

— I thought you were getting along well. What was it about? Suguru asked.

— We were sitting at the table. The grandparents built an altar for the parents. You know how it is on obon. They became sentimental and started remembering old stories. I didn't expect this. Some time ago I read the notebook but not that deeply. They were angry that I didn't remember them. They said some unpleasant words. After dinner everything returned to normal. At least on the outside... but I guess it's still there inside me. Do you think I did the right thing?  

Getō knew perfectly well what thinking was behind [Reader] sacrificing the memory of her parents. Of course they were important to her but it was difficult to find something valuable to sacrifice in exchange for using the technique in a very powerful form. The girl assumed that since a lot of time had passed since their death, she would not need these memories that much. When the choice was to die by the curse or live and forget, the second choice seemed better.  

— It's not your fault. They will simply never understand us. I'm sure that if they knew that thanks to this you were saving other people's lives and your own, they would never say such a thing. Of course I'm not trying to justify them but we also have to try to look at it from a different perspective. 

Suguru had never before considered how wide the gap was between their world and the world of ordinary people. Involuntarily he thought about his parents. He visited them very rarely. They also had no idea who he was. To them, he only went to one of the many high schools in Tokyo. If he tried to tell them the truth one day, would they understand? Of course, he knew perfectly well that this would never happen. No one up would allow this. They couldn't see the curses but this hypothetical question began to bother him. Would [Reader's] grandparents believe her? Would his mother and father think he was weird? Would they be able to understand the important work they do? Would they hear any words of thanks? He couldn't find the answer.  

— You're probably right. Next time I will read more about my parents and there will be no problem...  

Getō involuntarily started stroking her hair. There was something calming about it. Her closeness seemed to dispel the confusion that had formed in his mind. Why was he even thinking about such things? This world was set up like this a long time ago. There was no point in nitpicking any further.  

Parents

***  

Getō wasn't sure at first whether celebrating the summer festival in conjunction with the mission was a good idea. Until he saw the joy on [Reader's] face. Exorcising curses was never fun but this time it was especially tiring. The ones they encountered should have been of a much lower class. The initial interview did not predict everything. So when they finally finished, they were exhausted. Suguru's idea of rest was to sleep all day long but Shōko and Satoru dug out information about the festival together and that was it.  

So now he stood outside one of the booths, watching the girl buy a supply of dango sticks. The voice of the seller praising sweets came to him as if from a distance. Could he blame himself anyway? Even though she was tired, she looked beautiful. Dressed in a flowing yukata, which Ieri helped her put on because, as she admitted, she had sacrificed this rarely useful knowledge some time ago. Getō sincerely hoped that she was dressed up like that mainly because of him. Maybe he didn't try to dress so formally but he brought a white, ironed shirt with him especially for this occasion. If only his other two friends would stop significantly nudging him about this, it would be wonderful.  

— Hold on! — She pressed three sticks into his hand.  

— The rest wanted too? — he asked, looking at the dango.  

He hadn't seen Satoru and Shōko for some time. He suspected they hid somewhere to give them some privacy.  

— NO. I bought them for you. - She took her portion furiously.  

He smiled to himself. Yeah. It was her way of fighting his bitter taste of curses. Apparently she figured that if she increased the amount, she would somehow be able to kill the stench from today. He already knew that, as always, she was wrong and that it wouldn't help but he tried anyway.  

He offered her his arm. Walking in geta required balance. Judging by the hard day, he felt that the girl wouldn't last long in them anyway. Together they went into the crowd of people in search of more booths and stands. The way was lit by colourful lanterns, casting a dull light on the faces of the guests passing them.  

— One more time, Suguru. — She tugged on his shirt sleeve as they tried to catch fish with a paper pole for the third time.  

Yeah. Good old sales techniques of not wanting to lose.  

— Maybe that's enough? Do you want to go bankrupt? — He rubbed his temple.  

Koi fish lazily bubbled beneath the surface of the small pool. As if mocking failure.  

— I thought you were the one paying — [Reader] groaned, finally giving up on the fun.  

However, she didn't seem concerned. It was time for the fireworks show. They wanted to get good seats. The hill still seemed relatively unpopulated. They had a view of the beautiful, clear night sky. The air smelled of summer.  

— We have great friends, no questions... It was their idea and they ignored us — the girl complained, sitting on the grass.  

The boy didn't comment on it. He felt that [Reader] knew why they did it after all.  

— I'm exhausted…  

— I told you to put on normal shoes — Getō sighed. — I'm not carrying you on a piggyback ride all the way back.  

He would do it. He knew full well that he would be ready to carry her back to the hotel with her funny geta in his teeth if he had to.  

— No... I'm exhausted from all this cursing today — the girl said.  

— Have you ever wondered what would happen if you didn't have to? Suguru asked suddenly.  

— What do you mean? — She glanced at him sideways.  

— If you didn't have to save anyone and use your technique.  

It had been on his mind for some time. Exactly since the day Riko died. She died for nothing. Toji got rid of her in front of him. One bullet to the head was enough and it was over. Why did it hit him so hard? He had only known her for a few days. Other than that, in the end, the barrier stayed in place. The next vessel was prepared a long time ago, so everything ended happily.  

What exactly did they need all this for? What if their problems could be easily solved? Why would someone with more power subordinate his life to those who lived in careless ignorance? It seemed to him that everyone was sitting around and pretending to be stupid. There were so many solutions to get rid of the problem, which they kind of created themselves by hiding. Ordinary people were starting to look a bit like monkeys in his eyes. Locked in a cage of ignorance. Silly. Only suitable for certain activities. The primitive ones. When did his worldview change so much?  

— Who would save ordinary people if I wasn't there? — [Reader] asked.  

— What if they weren't there? — he continued.  

— You mean if we were all jujutsu sorcerers or no one was able to wield cursed energy? 

If average people didn't exist on this earth. If only the jujutsu sorcerers were left there. That's what he wanted to say. However, he could already see the lack of understanding in her eyes. No one shared his dilemma on this matter. She was the only one he had any hope of understanding. Because of her gift. Now he knew he was wrong. 

— Never mind. I guess I'm tired. — He waved his hand dismissively.  

— Hmmm...  

— You better tell me what you forgot about today — he changed the topic, not wanting to think about it any longer.  

Those were considerations for another time. Not until the fireworks were being prepared to go off and more and more people were gathering around.  

— I won't sayyy...  

— You always say that. What do I have to do to change your mind? — Getō looked at her curiously.  

— You'll laugh — she said shortly.  

— You wound me. — Suguru theatrically placed his hand over his heart. — Have I ever actually laughed?  

— Should I count? — [Reader] raised an eyebrow.  

Maybe he actually laughed a few times. However, it wasn't that often. Or so he thought...

— I promise I won't.  

— I sacrificed my first kiss...   

He didn't let her finish.  

— Are you telling me that that curse was defeated by the power of your youthful love? — Getō could barely contain himself from laughing.  

— That's why I didn't want to tell you! — I knew you'd make fun of me. — She hit him with a wooden geta. — He was a very nice boy from primary school. Unlike you!  

Or at least that's what the notes in the notebook said. Not that she could ever recall in her mind exactly what it was like. The whole set of emotions associated with it were sort of buried when she obtained a huge ball of cursed energy to exorcise the curse.  

— Why do you compare me to him? — Suguru tilted his head. — We haven't kissed yet.  

These words caused exactly the reaction he expected. Maybe even a little better. Momentary surprise. Excitement. Desire. Twinkling sparks, which, as it turned out seconds later, were the reflection of colourful fireworks that rose into the air. Has the summer air always been this hot? He felt [Reader]'s breath the moment she grabbed him by the collar of his snow-white shirt, which he now silently thanked himself for. She pulled him towards her. Their noses collided but it didn't matter anymore. The loud noise of gunshots seemed to come from a distance. The only thing that mattered was soft lips. He took her face in his hands and deepened the kiss. She was sweet. Tasted dango.  

They moved away from each other slightly. Thousands of lights were just flashing against the dark sky. Gold mixed with red and green. The subsequent explosions were larger than the previous ones.  

— Does this mean I'm your new first kiss? — He smiled, straightening his shirt.  

— You're insufferable, Suguru — [Reader] said.  

But then she kissed him again.  

First kiss

***  

Suguru slid completely down the side of the building. With the last of his strength he held the stump of his right arm. Not that it matters. If he doesn't bleed out, Satoru will be done with him. He didn't know what was better for him. He told him everything he wanted. It wasn't much. He handed over his student's ID. It was the least he could do. No matter how you look at it, Okkotsu Yūta was a good jujutsu sorcerer. Regardless of the circumstances, he was glad that the youth was so strong. It's just a pity that he won't be able to take over Rika. With such a great curse on his side, he could fix society. Change the world. Get rid of the monkeys. It's a sad necessity but who else could do it but him? They could live in perfect harmony. If only he could...  

The sun was setting below the horizon. The last of his strength seemed to hang over him. In red colour. Like the blood dripping helplessly onto his clothes. The darkness of the coming evening seemed to blur all shapes around. Or maybe his eyesight was just getting worse? He wasn't sure. Yet the shadow of [Reader] was clear. She stood over him. He finally wanted to go blind. To not see that look. Full of sadness. Filled with anger. And above all, betrayal. 

— Back in the village... I thought it was a mistake. Suguru would never do that. That's what I kept telling myself… — she began.  

She meant monkeys. The same ones that attacked Mimiko and Nanako. Just because they could do more than them. For skills beyond their perception. He felt no regrets. He did what had to be done. The two of them were worth more than the one hundred and twelve stupid creatures that tormented them. Even more important than his parents. Unaware of nothing like the rest. They were a sacrifice he was willing to make. There could be no exceptions. 

— When Shōko and Satoru told me about your meeting, I didn't want to believe it was you either...  

They saw each other in Shinjuku. When he revealed to them what he was going to do. In fact, now that he thought about it, he didn't know why he did it then. It did him no good. He partially revealed his plans. Maybe it's part of his mania for grandeur. Did he just want others around him to know that he was the one who would save the jujutsu sorcerers? NO. After all, he was doing it for all of them. He was just the one who did the dirty work.  

— Even when we last saw each other, I thought I could turn you away from this path.

He actually knew why he told them his plans. Somewhere deep down he hoped. [Reader] seemed to think she can change him. And him, that he can convince her. Make his point. That she will see clearly and realize that he is right. That it is not worth sacrificing your life and memories to save ungrateful monkeys. They will never thank her because they don't understand the world they live in. One day she will die somewhere in a pool of blood, not remembering anyone or anything. And ordinary people will still produce curses for jujutsu sorcerers to fight against. In a senseless crusade. Without end. Because there was no one to put an end to it.  

He failed. Everyone was so stubborn. They had the truth in front of them but they didn't want to see it.  

— Back then… before… I really loved you, Suguru. — She looked at him with eyes full of tears.  

— I love you too, [Reader]… — he said, his voice much quieter than he wanted.  

What if everything had turned out differently? If Riko hadn't died that day. If he hadn't met Tsukumo. If he hadn't lost Haibara. He didn't save the girls. He didn't leave high school. He didn't try to get Rika... If he could turn back time, he would do it again. Even if in a different way. But maybe there was a life somewhere where he would stand next to her. Where he could avoid those tears. Clenched teeth. The taste of all those curses on your tongue.  

With his bleeding hand, he took a candy from his coat pocket and put it into his mouth. He couldn't taste the sweet taste. Bitter mud rose above it. No wonder. After all the curses he had recently absorbed and released, it couldn't be otherwise. He didn't think anything could change him. How miserably he clung to his old habits. It was one of those things that lost him. And even now he couldn't shake it off.  

— That night in high school… you said I could put you on the list. — I didn't think this day would ever come. — She smiled melancholy.  

What he wouldn't give to take back his words. He wasn't ready to be forgotten. Not by her. He won't be here soon. He won't remind her who he is. He will be reduced to notes. Up to a few, maybe a dozen or so sheets of paper in old notebooks. To some photos. Assuming she didn't destroy anything. That his name wasn't crossed out and the ink in the photos won't be smudged by tears.  

— [Reader]… — his breathing was getting shallower — curse me a little. — He smiled with the last of his strength.  

Maybe he could stay here anyway. Satoru once told him that there is no curse in this world as twisted as love.

He saw the glow of her technique in her eyes. He couldn't forget it after all these years. When she opened eyes, they were still full of undried tears. She turned her head directly towards him. Immediately after, she read something on a small piece of paper in her hand. She probably needed to give herself instructions on what she should do with him. Had she even erased their current conversation from her mind? He still managed to notice that it was a page from the notebook he bought her for her birthday all those years ago. Colourful. Underlined many times. How ironic.  

The man sighed for the last time. There was pure indifference in those eyes. He found that it hurt more than the cursed energy that shot through his body in that second. He still felt the bitter taste of curses on his tongue. Why wasn't the candy sweet when she crossed him off her list? 

Getō Suguru

Prefacing this with: I’m not mad, I’m just tired

I love you guys but to the few people who keep spamming my inbox telling me to come back and get back to posting, please stop. I would love to update this blog as often as I did when I first started it, believe me, but I can’t do that right now. I have a lot going on irl, I can’t be answering asks/updating blogs daily. I don’t want to be too specific because personal details but I moved to a new country in January (2023) I was homeless in February. I’ve been in an incredibly unstable financial situation for the year and may have to put my entire household in boxes again this coming March.

As much as I love my silly little squid people, I am an adult with a life outside of my computer. I am a very stressed adult with a life outside my computer. I promise you that you will live if you only see my fictional squid employees once maybe twice a month. But I can’t keep up with it all the time.

Again, I’m not mad and there’s no possible way you few could have known my situation because I have not posted about it (and would extremely much rather not). However, if someone is not online as often as they used to be, there is probably a reason.

As much as I say “Mod Xyx” implying the existence of other mods, there are no other mods. It’s just lil ol’ me and lil ol’ me is working very very hard. I love all of you and thank you all so much for taking an interest in my Splatoon OCs who were made as a coping mechanism vent my own frustrations with new adulthood, but please let me take post in my own time, what little of it I get to have to myself anymore.

Thank you,

- Mod Xyx :)

(Oh also I have commissions open here if anyone is interested in that)

THE RETURN

My current contract is soon gonna end and I'm gonna be jobless soon again, furthermore I have many new projects (not professional but personal, sentimental ones) that need a reaching goal, I don't know how much, and I need to motivate myself into drawing again so it is time to open commissions again isn't it ? New commission sheet, updated to be more visible with other examples and a few more options than before ! NO SLOTS this time, for now I'm keeping these open indefinitely unless something serious or busy happens ! And remember, pay me on Ko-Fi, and if you paid me the most out of anyone during the trimester, I'll reward you with a free drawing of your choice in the end of it !

My Ko-Fi : https://ko-fi.com/benthewackyhyena

Things to know :

-Keep in mind that I might add filters or, for traditional, digitally edit mistakes

-When I talk about stylization I mean it can like go from silhouettes to semirealism/realism (but if so I will only sketch, more comfortable with it) by way of chibi, stylized figures etc And for techniques, well it can depend but keep in mind I'm NOT a super big expert so I may be limited hence why it's better to discuss first

-I don’t do just characters but also objects and scenery. Tho I don’t truly know what to price it yet so if you are interested we should talk first too

-I do NSFW too yes but NO weird fetishes please, also I will NOT do dubcon or noncon, as well as no zoophilia, necrophilia or pedophilia (which is also for SFW shipping pics)

-I will privilege OCs and original work in general over fanart if getting short in time

-Knowing that I am also looking for a job as well as trying to work on my personal and/or professional stuff I might take time so please be patient

-Pay first, so that I wouldn’t have drawn for nothing if you are a scammer who won’t pay. In case you did pay but I can’t finish (work, health etc) I will give you back your money

-Sure if you did not imagine things to look exactly that way I can tweak and fix a little but I emphasize on a little. I once knew a guy who had me redo a pic 15 times without a please or a thank you because he gave bad instructions when I was doing point commissions and I lost a day of my life so PLEASE don’t do that

-For the same reason, I am allowed to refuse a commission even if the reasons do not fit my rules if I am overwhelmed or don’t have the time or I find you rude or it makes me uncomfortable for reasons I can’t a put a name on or think of right now

-In general, know that drawing takes time and effort and that it is a job like any other so please let us treat each other with respect and politeness

Please be sure to check my blog rules to know what’s acceptable in my blog space! 

About me!

Pronouns: She/Her/They/Them

I go by Cay, and I’m a narrative artist with a BFA in Game, Animation and Simulation Design, with an aspiration to be a game artist. I’m a coffee addict with an insatiable hunger for sushi. I listen to all genres of music but I lean heavily toward alternative soft metal core. Current fav band is Bad Omens with an occasional Glass Waves (indie artist, check them out!) 

My Tumblr blog is for self indulgences, including Self Insert x Canon, OCxCanon, and occasional Self InsertxOC or whatever you’d call it. I draw for myself first and foremost.

CayCantEven or CayCantDraw?

CayCantEven is just a social handle that rolls off the tongue, and it's stuck so long I feel weird not using it lol. CayCantDraw is my freelance handle for all business exchanges. It's a fun play on words with an ironic twist to my skills as an artist.

What do you use for drawing?

I use ClipStudio Paint EX, and the tablet I use is a Huion Kamvas 20. I also have an iPad with Procreate for working on the go. I always have a sketchbook with me though despite being primarily a digital artist. 

Do you take art/writing requests?

No, I don’t take requests. There are rare occasions where I may offer a poll for something an audience may want to see as a warmup or for fun, but primarily I do not accept requests via ask box or DMS. I appreciate the support via Kofi if you’d like to see something specific!

Do you take roleplay requests?

I don’t offer or take roleplay requests. I will only offer that, if ever, to close mutuals or friends who share that interest.

Do you take commissions?

Yep! I will post a couple days ahead of them opening to inform anyone interested. I use Google Forms to take commission requests and availability varies! If you have any other questions, I am open to questions via my inbox (will respond privately.) Check out my pinned for commission details!

Can I make fanart/fanfiction for you or for myself?

By all means, yes please! You are more than welcome to do that, and I would LOVE to see it too! Please be sure to tag me so I don’t miss out! Only condition for any fanart/fanfiction of my OCs/Sonas/Designs is that they are not portrayed in problematic/toxic scenarios. Please respect that some things make me uncomfortable. My characters are my acts of comfort shared with you, and I’d like them to be respected too. 

What fandoms are you in?

I don’t seek out a lot of fandoms, but I do have hyper fixations. My main interests involve: 

Undertale and Undertale AUs

Five Nights at Freddy’s 

There are occasional times where I may appreciate designs of characters and post about it, but my blog is currently filled with handsome bones~

My Current Characters

Lex (Self Insert) and her variants.

Tags: #selfinsert lex, #cays selfinsert lex, #undertale selfinsert lex

Horrorfell Variants - Balsam (Sans) and Cypress (Papyrus)

Tags: #balsam Sans, #horrorfell balsam, #cypress papyrus, #horrorfell cypress, #cays horrorfell

SilvaTale AU (Original Slice of Life AU) - Buster (Sans) and Timber (Papyrus) Note: Currently being worked on. Questions are welcome.

Tags: #buster sans, #silvatale sans, #silvatale au, #silvatale buster, #silvatale papyrus, #timber papyrus, #silvatale timber

Can I interact with your characters?

Sure! Though please understand I'm really, really slow to responding to asks, and I get overwhelmed very easily. I know a lot of people like my characters--cough Balsam cough--and want to to ask them questions or leave affections. As long as you respect me and my characters, it's welcomed!

Darth Maul x Reader: From Our Scars

Darth Maul x Reader: From Our Scars Part 1:

Word Count: 6,894 Warnings: Maul self-harms himself to gain clarity on whether the Reader is truly his soulmate (a little cut on his already exposed chest), blood mention because of Maul being dramatic, angst, Reader’s utter bewilderment A/N: I honestly don’t know how many times I have re-read this. But I swear that I have character development planned for the Reader. They are very hesitant and have absolutely no clue as to what is going on at the moment, but we’ll get there! Summary: Over ten years later, the Reader finally meets Maul, their soulmate, and gets swept up into his task of assembling his Shadow Collective.

~~~~  ~~~~  ~~~~  ~~~~

  Over a decade had passed and the Clone Wars were well underway. The years had granted you new clients and commissions. One in particular sent your life in a different direction than you had initially intended. The lava planet of Mustafar. Instead of making original pieces of art for your clients, you now worked with the Black Sun. Sometimes, you had once concluded, you have to make difficult choices in order to survive.    With the Black Sun, they commissioned you to create replicas of expensive paintings and such found throughout the galaxy to sell in the criminal underworld. The wary you held at first was obviously present, but the pay was all too good to pass up during the war.

   Presently, the day was progressing like any other. You were busy applying a coat of gloss over the surface of a painting. It both enhanced the colors and gave a kind of seal on top. Nothing too fancy or elaborate.    The entry door slid open. The intrusion was irregular and disrupted the quiet sanctuary you had away from the inner workings of the Black Sun fortress.    The front room was filled with art supplies, all strictly organized. There is where you worked, usually days in a row.    “They work in here,” you heard Ziton Moj say.    He was one of the large Falleen species that helped make up the number of members. It was rare, even scarcely so, that anyone was brought into your workplace. They typically let you work in peace. Any distraction could hinder the work and its process. At least, that is what you had warned them in the past. With only a few instances, it never happened. They wanted their credits, so they agreed to let you work on your own terms.    When the varying footsteps entered the room, you ignored. Any being that was vaguely interested only wanted to see the products of your labor.    “What is this?” One of them asked somewhere behind you. His voice was deep and would make anyone wary, but there was a light curiousness within it. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”    “Yes…” a voice much smoother agreed. “Such artistry must generate a plethora of credits for the Black Sun.”    A curiosity spared within yourself. From hearing some of their comments, you finally turned to acknowledge them. There, matching the hulking Falleen, was an orange Zabrak. The armor on his shoulders alone identified him as a warrior to you. The other, a Zabrak with red colorations, whose presence compensated from their height difference. That, and those strikingly intricate tattoos.

   “New customers?” You asked of Ziton Moj.    He opened his mouth to speak, but the red Zabrak responded first.    “I am Maul,” he stated, and indicated  to the Zabrak beside him. “This is Savage.”    Likewise, you introduced yourself. Their names hung in your mind, different than that of the Falleen noblemen residing in the Black Sun fortress.    “As one of Black Sun’s…associates, you should know that it is now under my command and a part of the Shadow Collective.”    An army of crime lords, great, you internally sighed. “And what does that mean for me?”    “Rest assured that your talents,” he eyed the artwork around the room, “will still be of use to the Collective.”    Nodding, you absentmindedly bit the inside of your cheek. Within seconds, your future was unclear. If anything, there may have been a chance for you to return to Naboo. Not that the planet would be the same since you had seen it last.

   His eyes peered down. From the angle, you assumed that he was eyeing your exposed mid-drift. However brief, your lips created a flat line in disapproval.    Maul hardly turned to his companions. “Ready the ships. We need the supplies loaded aboard in good time,” a smooth assertiveness in his voice as he instructed them.    Savage nodded in confirmation and Ziton’s expression was nothing shy of annoyed obligation.    In fact, a thought had occurred to you. How did this Maul persuade the leaders of the Black Sun to give over their authority? Much less to a complete stranger.

   As the door closed behind their retreating forms, you were left alone with this one called Maul. It was quiet. By the silent pause, you initially thought he was going to ask about your art career with Black Sun and elsewhere. Those putting their valuable credits in your hands usually wanted to see an example of your past work. It was only logical.    Thankfully, you felt no ill intent from him. However, you could easily see by the way he carried himself that he was powerful, and he knew it. Then again, you still did not know him or what he was truly capable of.    Maul refocused his attention on you. “When did you get your scar?”    The question surprised you. Never had someone asked ‘when’. It was always: ‘how’ or ‘what happened’. that, and it was nowhere near where you thought a conversation with him would go.    Blinking, you tried to formulate a coherent response. You looked down briefly and touched the scar gently with your fingertips. “It’s a soulmate mark,” you said quietly.    Looking over his face, you could not read a single reaction. At least he was listening intently. Those golden eyes baring into you.    “I used to live on Naboo…before the start of the Clone Wars. I was a different artist then. One day, the Trade Federation blockaded the planet. We couldn’t get any resources or the off-world supplies that we needed. In the coming days, I heard a commotion of ships fighting. It was around that time that I discovered the new scar. It never healed—faded since that day…not like the others.” You shrugged, having made peace with it years ago. “They died that day. I just hope it was quick and painless. Even for someone I’ve never met.”    You did not want to dwell too much on the subject. If you did, past emotions tended to resurface.    It remained quiet between the pair of you. There was no sense of awkwardness. Looking back up at him, you could tell that the metaphorical gears were turning thoughts in his mind. The way his eyes shifted around to different points on the floor, and a thoughtful crease appeared on his brow ridge. Molten, almost glowing eyes.    His searching eyes landed on something of interest. Stepping away from you, hands clasped behind his back, he walked around to another table. There, he grabbed something off of the cloth that you had laid out to dry on well before you had visitors that day.    Your brows furrowed in your confusion. It made you wonder if he always acted in such a manner. Then, your eyes went wide when he turned and you saw the item he had chose. Out of all the tools he could have picked, he had to choose the palette knife.   “What are you doing?” You asked of him, voice pitching in alarm. It was not as if you knew what he was going to use it for, if at all.    He paused before pressing the blade against his skin, making a shallow cut on his exposed abdomen.    “Don’t do that!” You mildly panicked, rushing around the table. Snatching the knife away, you found yourself scolding him. “This is an art tool, not a weapon! At least that’ not it’s intended use.”    A response, any, would be expected, normal even. However, his mouth remained shut. The flurry of emotions prickled out of your skin. You huffed, his eyes not even meeting your own.    Looking down his chest, the cut was steadily bleeding. The red blood slowly trailed down his tattooed skin. You made a move to get a clean cloth for him, but he stopped you by a quick grab to your wrist; firm and restraining. The twisted look of confusion on your face when you looked at him would have even sent a Neimoidian into a fit of explanations. But not Maul.    “You’re bleeding, for goodness sake.” It had been a long while since you last had your heart rate pick up to such a speed. The level of shock you were experiencing from someone casually harming themselves was beyond comprehension at the moment. You could not understand his actions. Not that you would, he had not said a word.    Maul’s eyes bore right into yours. “Show me,” he said, his voice low and steady.    “What?” You asked, exasperated and clearly not understanding.    Maul gestured to the equivalent area on you where his cut was located.    You paused, awareness slowly coming to you. Even so, you did not want to acknowledge it in words in your mind. Hesitantly, yet with a rising curiosity, you lifted your top almost a hand’s width distance upward. You froze when you saw a colored mark equal in its shape and angle to his on your skin. You breath hitched. How could this possibly be? Looking between your markings, you tried to grasp onto any sense. There was no possible explanation in the entire galaxy that came to mind.    Maul simply stared at your marking, still holding onto your wrist.    Words were trying to form in your mind as emotions swelled in your fight with disbelief of the situation. Your eyes followed one crimson droplet as it glided down his torso. “How-how are you alive?” You finally asked through your uncertainty. Beginning to brim with tears, your eyes met his.    He removed his hand from your wrist. “I will always survive,” he said with an air of menace.    From his response, you could not tell if his thoughts brought more anger or sorrow. With any hope, you would find out someday. If he was willing. He was alive, your soulmate.    You gave a soft laugh, your chest heaved with an irregular and much needed breath, still trying to wrap your mind around the new information. Peering down to his blinking belt and further down, you saw it. From his knees down, there was some kind of durasteel. He wore no boots. Cybernetics. Realization struck you of how everything below his belt, your soulmate mark, had to be cybernetic. So much for a detail oriented artist. Somehow, someway, Maul’s body had been severed in half and he survived. At least, or so it appeared, he received cybernetics to help with his mobility.    Placing your hand gently on his shoulder, you spoke. “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. It looks to me that you could probably handle almost anything. And…I wish no ill will toward you and…hope that maybe we can get to know one another—in time.”    His head tilted in the slightest, his eyes studying yours as if accessing whether or not you were being truthful. “Are you willing to leave this place?”    Again, his question was not what you expected. The prospect had crossed your mind before, but you never knew exactly how in a safe way. You were so deep into Black Sun that you were not sure if a way out was even possible. However, with Maul now leading, things were likely going to keep changing.    Maul’s expression was gentle, hopeful even as he waited for your response.    With certainty, you finally answered. “Yes.” Knowing that from that moment onward, your life would be taking another turn.    “Is there any work that you need to finish here, or are you able to come with us for the time being?”    “This was my last one,” you said, pointing at the art piece with the coat of gloss drying. “But,” you paused in thought, “wherever you are going…what would be my purpose? How could I possibly be of help?”    For the first time that you had seen, he smiled softly. “You have managed to survive and make a living among criminals, I can only assume that you are resourceful. Are you not?”    As if on professional instinct, you became defensive, and almost listed off your resumé. “I’ve worked by commission for years. I can negotiate with the most unsavory of people.”    “Good,” he nodded in approval. “You will make an excellent advisor.”    “Do you plan on making many negotiations?”    “Yes,” he said simply. His expression was parsecs away from the hard look he had on his face when he first entered the room. “For now, I must inspect the progress that should be happening outside. We require supplies,” he added, following your curious expression.    “When would we be leaving?”    He paused, likely not wanting to blindly trust you so quickly, but soulmate instinct must have said otherwise. Taking a breath, he said, “We have a base on the planet Zanbar. I…wish for you to remain there with me for a time. What I’m planning…it may not be safe for you to follow in it’s entirety.”    You nodded. “In a time of war…when is it not dangerous?”    Letting the new information sink in, you gathered your courage for the next chapter of your life. “I suppose that I should pack a few things,” you said, setting the palette knife down. Remembering, you glanced down at his wound. “Firstly, at least let me get you something to clean the blood.”    There was not so much of a pause this time before he nodded in acceptance.    Turning away from him, you walked into the adjoining room. You could easily hear as Maul followed behind you. So close that the door did not slide shut before he entered.    “The refresher is right there,” you pointed toward the sealed door. You doubted that he would tolerate you tending to his wound. “Help yourself. I’ll be getting some of my belongings together in here.”    He gave a single nod and entered the refresher.

   In one singular bag, you hoped to store items that you deemed necessities. going through what belongings you owned, you chose at least two spare outfits. There was doubt for excessive wardrobe changes. Not that you would. Living in what was your current living situation meant simplicity. Not that you ever had the time to roam through stalls of marketplaces on other planets.    Diving your hand into a small compartment of your bag, you sighed in relief when you pulled out your galactic identification card. Just in case a situation arose and you were in need of it.    Venturing around your living quarters, you continued gathering a few other items. If it were a permanent move, it would have been easier to pack everything and call it a day.   By the time you were lining up the various items on your bed, Maul walked out of the refresher.    “Did you find everything all right?” You asked, looking up at him as you folded a shirt tightly.    “Yes.”    You gave him a smile and he stepped over. There was enough personal space between, especially with you side stepping by your bed as you grabbed and packed belongings.    Maul observed your progress for a minute or so before returning to his questions. “Tell me…how did an artist from Naboo get to be with the likes of the Black Sun?”    A short breathy laugh escaped your lips. You had figured that it would only be a matter of time before he began to ask such questions. And so, you were forced to remember.    “There was a time where I finally decided to…expand my horizons. I listed an art portfolio on the holonet. I suppose…I know that having a few artistic studies of other artists’ styles is why they contacted me. At least…I found out eventually.” You shrugged, “But once the Clone War began, they offered an opportunity that I could not turn down. I needed the credits.”    He remained silent and attentive, so you continued.    “I didn’t know who they were or anything at the time, so I’m surprised that they agreed to a trial period.”    Maul’s brow ridge furrowed.    “I completed a few commissions to see if I could—wanted to do it full-time. Needless to say, the pay was great, but…it still felt entirely wrong. It was a low point in my life that I won’t bore you with. I’m only a means of currency to them, that’s why I had asked you of my place in this—this change.”    Old emotions threatened to flood to the surface, so you adjusted your focus. “If I may ask, what were you doing after Naboo?”    Looking elsewhere, you thought he was not going to reply. His jaw clenched. “I was left forgotten on the trash pile that is Lotho Minor.”    Your face twisted in disgust, appalled and sad for his past circumstance. From his expression, you wanted to read carefully. “H-how long were you—”    “Over ten years.”    “Years?” You gawked, eyes wide.    “Unfortunately, the Clone War had started without me.”    Initially, his word choice struck you as odd. After all, you had much to learn about this mysterious soulmate of yours. “You wanted to be a part of the war?”    “I was meant to be…but it is too late for that. So, I have my own plans that I am setting into motion.” From the look on your face, he said, “All will reveal itself in due time. For now, I work with the Mandalorians to aide me in gathering together the criminals of the galaxy.”    Maul gazed around your room for a moment, gesturing toward your bag. “If you are finished here, we can leave. I trust that you have all that you require?”    Slipping on a less revealing tunic over your top, to hide your soulmate scar, there was only on last thing. Reaching over for the strap of your bag, you slung it over your shoulder. “I’m ready,” you have a firm nod. It was finally time to put Mustafar and this life behind you.

   Never had you seen such activity before. Maul and yourself had made your way outside, walking down the pathways to the ships. There were so many people involved with their individual and shared tasks at once. The pair of you stopped when he silently deemed a suitable vantage point. From there, together you could watch over the progress of the Mandalorians and the Black Sun as they gathered and loaded supplies into the ships. To top it off, it was the first time you had laid eyes on a Mandalorian. Much less an army of them, each wearing matching armor. There, the two of you remained.    The groups appeared almost endless as both the Mandalorians of Maul’s Shadow Collective and the Black Sun paced back and forth between their ships and the citadel. However, your focus was not completely on them alone. This Zabrak beside you held your curiosity and it only seemed to grow the long you were beside him. For over ten years you thought your soulmate had been lost forever, and now, you were swaying between disbelief and the need to know him. Who was he before Lotho Minor, and what led him to such a foul fate? With all of the soulmate scars you had encountered in your life, you certainly had questions about his lifestyle.

   Some minutes passed before Savage returned to Maul’s side. “All of the supply crates are getting loaded. They are almost finished,” said Savage,    Maul remained standing with his hands behind his back. “Good. We are making good time. Do take our advisor to our ship. They need to be properly settled in before we depart Mustafar,” he instructed, gesturing toward you softly.    “It will be done, brother,” Savage nodded, looking to you expectantly.    It was a wonder if at some point you would stop creating more questions for yourself. Again, it was best to leave such a question for another time.    Giving a short glance to Maul’s neutral expression, you walked alongside his brother toward the ship.    Each ship on the platform was sleek with rotating wings that held an upright position in its stagnant form. Not that you knew much about such a topic, but the set of space crafts looked more like fast fighters than ones meant for carrying any significant amount of cargo.

   “You and Maul are brothers?” You asked, despite yourself.    “Yes, though we did not grow up together,” he replied, the pair of you stepping up the narrow ramp of the ship.    “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”    After a pause, and walking through an entry door, he coughed suddenly, as if to clear his throat. “Your art…do you have assistants that help you?” When you peered over at him, his entire body was stiff. His head was held straight to avoid you full glance, his eyes shifting in your direction.    You smiled. “No. I’m the only one who works on my art. I doubt Black Sun wanted to spend the extra credits if I had ever asked. I’ve gotten along just fine on my own.”    Savage nodded in acknowledgement and led you to what you assumed would be where you would be waiting out during the travels. There was an array of glowing buttons on every panel, and one large viewport to the front. You were sure by the time Maul boarded, there would not be a seat for everyone, not that you minded at the moment. If it was a short travel to the base he had mentioned, you were willing to stand. Anything to get off of Mustafar, to be honest.    Standing off to your right, Savage spoke up again. This time, at least, he looked less wary. “Your artwork…I’ve never seen any quite like it. It’s amazing.”    Your knees would have buckled beneath you if you were not already standing so rigid. “Thank you. I-I don’t remember the last time anyone complimented my work without wanting something in return.”    He hung his head, thoughts visibly running through his mind. “Did you receive training to master your craft? My brother has been teaching me.”    You hummed, finally someone genuinely curious with no ulterior motive. “A little of both. Training and self-taught. What, if I may ask, are you being trained for?”    Just as your question finished leaving your lips, the door slid open. Maul entered alone.    “You arrived sooner than expected brother,” said Savage, looking at him curiously.    “The loading of the supplies are near completion, and…Pre Vizsla’s own plan to take control of Mandalore is flawed. This is his opportunity to learn from a real master.” Standing in the middle of the room, he glanced between Savage and yourself.    “Pre Vizsla?” You asked.    “Yes,” he replied simply. “He is the leader of the Mandalorian Death Watch. You will see him shortly.”    Nodding slowly as you reviewed the new information, you said, “There are plenty of new names for me to learn today.”    “Yes, and you will learn each relevant name in time. As my negotiations advisor, you will know them all.”    “You have given them this title?” Asked a very confused Savage.    Maul looked directly at him then. “They have made negotiations with the Black Sun before. I trust that their expertise will be beneficial in our cause.”    The much larger Zabrak nodded but made no further comment.    There was a moment’s silence before Maul’s eyes flashed to the door in-front of him. Roughly two seconds later, three of those fully armored Mandalorians entered the ship. You stepped further back into the corner opposing Savage to make room for the new occupants. One, made their way into the piloting seat, working the panels right away. A slender but no less intimidating one gave you no more than a side-glance as they passed to stand between you and the pilot.    “All supplies have been loaded onto the ships,” said the man you assumed had to be Pre Vizsla.    “Then we are ready to depart,” Maul said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Set course back to Zanbar.”    Remaining quiet, you peered beyond the helmeted individuals as the ship began to ascend. You let out an inaudible sigh as the dark molten planet fell out of view.    It had been far too long since you had flown anywhere, especially through space. Had you prepared yourself mentally or emotionally for such a change in your day-to-day life of the past few years? No, but hopefully there would be time for that later. As long as there were no more weighty surprises for the rest of the day, you were sure to be fine.    As the ship left the Mustafarian atmosphere, your focus shifted to the other passengers. The three Mandalorians, aside from their obvious armor, colored in hues of grey, blue, and white, were more than well suited. Harnessed to their backs were jetpacks. This definitely was an evening of firsts to you, considering you had never seen a jetpack in-person. Beyond that, you were surprised with yourself for missing one very important detail. Everyone had a weapon. Blasters rested on the hips of the armored three. Pre Vizsla appeared to have an extra accessory tucked in with his jetpack. It could have been a sword. That knowledge in-particular, you were uncertain of. Then again, how many weapons could be on their person that you could not see? The thought played on your nerves, if only a little. All of you were supposed to be on the same side. You hoped.    Gradually, your eyes drifted over to Maul. Clipped to his belt was a silver cylindrical weapon of some sort. Savage’s was twice the length, and could easily be used as a cane for some.    Though your eyes roamed each of them, it felt oddly quiet. Sure, you were among strangers, but even the Black Sun spoke to one another. You could not quite figure it out. There must have been an existing power dynamic that you were missing. This Pre Vizsla stood front and center, and yet Maul referred to a Collective.    If you were going to be a negotiations advisor, what were the subjects of the negotiations? Criminals, mercenaries, rogues, warriors. If you were to choose one moment in your life where you felt utterly out of place, this would be it. Undoubtedly.    Golden irises laded on you. Dropping your gaze instinctively, you internally grumbled at the reflex. It was one of the things you had picked up from your time on Mustafar. When you looked back up, Maul still held his side glance on you. As he looked at you, his eyes were not warm, nor were they cold. Dare you thought, inquisitive. His own thoughts, you could only guess, and probably not well either. You had no idea when would happen next, but you had an inkling that he did.    Your locked gazes broke with Maul returning his attention to the viewport ahead. There, the ship approached its destination: Zanbar.

   The landing was smooth. You did not want to be known as the one who stumbled or fell in the ship, among other things.    Maul and the Mandalorians turned and left the ship first. Savage and yourself kept still at the back corners until the others exited the ship. You fully expected to wait for the zabrak, but he looked to you expectantly. With a single gesture of his hand, you understood. Smiling in thanks, you walked on ahead of him.    Once you stepped off the ramp, you quickly surveyed your surroundings. Zanbar was suspended in its nightly darkness. Tents littered the nearby landscape, and the air was laced with the scent of the small fires. The Mandalorians and members of the Black Sun were again tasked with arranging the large crates.    “Follow me,” Savage’s gravelly voice tore through your focus. Together, you walked toward Maul. There, he stood alone, eyes shining in the night. He turned to acknowledge you both as you approached.    “Is there anything that you require us to do while we’re here?”    “Yes. They need a tent. Gather others if you must. Our advisor needs the necessary comfort and privacy to sustain themselves while we’re here.”    Savage nodded firmly, “It will be done, brother.”    “Thank you,” you said, holding the strap of your bag tighter.    “It’s not a lavish luxury, but it will suffice. When your accommodations have been met, meet with me again. I wish to speak with you.”    “I’ll remember.” Giving a small smile, you caught a glimpse of his shoulders lowering. With that in-mind, you were ready to throw the tent together yourself. At least Maul wanted to converse with you. That was a good sign.

   Savage gained the help from some of the Black Sun. The tent came together easily enough. With their hulking figures, you ended up taking a step back to keep out of their way.    “And what is your role in all of this, artist?” One had asked as he secured one corner.    “I am the negotiations advisor now to the one called Maul.”    His brows raised, brown eyes darting off to the zabrak in question, but said nothing more.    You could not wait to have a break from creating other’s art pieces. Especially if it meant infinitely.    When the tent was complete, the small group moved on to their next task. This left only you and Savage, again.    In all of the new uncertainty, you let yourself breathe. There in-front of you was something you could call your own. At least for the unforeseeable future.    Entering the tent, you observed the plain and overall emptiness of the space. A palette cleanser or absolutely dull, you could not decide. On the bright-side, it blocked out a hefty amount of the noise outside.    Once you set your bag down by the cot, you heard the flap of the tent’s entrance. You turned around to see Savage duck under the frame.    “Is this suitable for you?”    “Yes,” you gave the interior one last once-over before exiting the tent. There, you gathered some nearby rocks. As you arranged them by the entrance, you could feel Savage’s eyes on you. When you deemed it complete, you brushed off your hands and stood back up.    “Is that a ward of some kind?”    “No. I just want to make sure that I don’t forget which tent is mine. I’d hate to barge in where I am not wanted.”    In his consideration, he paused. “My brother will be expecting you now.”    “Then I won’t keep him waiting.”

   On your walk back to Maul, you felt this overall rush, an excitement. In general, excitement is something you had not experienced in a while, among other things that you have been recollecting. This kind, however, felt new and risky in an almost fun way. A sort of adrenaline rush, like you were getting the opportunity to get closer to the fire. Something you should not do, but every fiber of your being said the fire was meant for only you to experience, whereas anyone else would be harmed, you would not be.    When you caught sight of him, he turned toward you. “Are your accommodations all right?” Maul asked in a silky low voice.    You assumed all others were out of ear-shot, but mirrored his hushed tone. “Yes, thank you.”   “I do not like criminals,” he said, changing the subject, “but I know that they will work. Especially where credits are involved.”    “And the Mandalorians?”    “They are loyal and follow their own code. They will do what needs to be done. We have…a commonplace—for the time being.”    It became quiet for a few brief moments as you relayed his words in your mind. When he spoke again, his tone was impossibly quieter.    “We…are soulmates,” he said, and you were not sure if he was talking more to you or reconfirming it to himself. “I can sense it. It is strange, this feeling. I thought—was told that I didn’t have one. That someone like me could not have one. It was unnecessary, impossible. And yet…here you are. You pose no threat, and yet I find you a distraction in the faintest of a fraction. Why is that?“ Maul looked at you then with the utmost sincerity.    “I was told that there is an inherent bond between soulmates. Like whenever a scar would appear, but I somehow knew that you were all right.”    Nodding, he took a audible breath before saying more. “I believe I have failed to inform you earlier; if it was not already clear. You do not work for, nor take orders from Black Sun. You are free of your contract.”    The flood of relief that coursed through you from his words made your fead feel light. As if you could finally breathe again. “Truly?”    “Yes. The contract, the control they held over you has been permanently terminated. They need not bother you further.”    “That is great news. But…will I be taking orders from you now?” It was something you had to ask for clarity on the situation. How much freedom did you have?    “No, but I do request for you to be careful,” he said subtly eyeing anyone within sight.    “I’ve made it this far.”    “Yes, however I would rather you not become a target.”    Your chest clenched, “A target? What—why?”    However vivid your reaction, Maul remained calm. “If others were to find out about our…relation, they may try to use that knowledge or you as leverage. I’d like to avoid that.”    Your thoughts were in a scattered heap, sporadically zipping around your mind. Gathering some words, you spoke slowly. “Would…would I be safer with you, then? To stay close to you, I mean.”    “Yes,” he said with a nod of thought. “And if not me, then i will instruct Savage to guard you. We don’t want to be obvious however.”    You nodded in agreement, avoiding eyeing the others in the area. “Thank you,” you said, looking down with a light sense of fear and paranoia nipping at you.    Curiosity reined in his eyes as he studied you.    You clarified. “For wanting to protect me. We have so much to learn about each other.”    His golden eyes left you to admire the stars above. “Yes,” he affirmed with certainty, “I believe it was the will of the Force that we finally met. I will not overlook that.” Maul’s attention returned to you. There was this unyielding determination in his eyes, and it held you still. “In the meantime, there is much that I must attend to.”    Then, it hit you. Suddenly, and yet a little late. “May I ask you something?”    “You may.”    “Did you say, the Force?”    “I did.”    “Is that a belief of yours?”    The corner of his eyes crinkled in his amusement. “In simple terms, for the time being, yes. It was a part of my upbringing and my training.”    “Training?”    “I am a master of all forms—fighting styles, and use the Force at my will.”    “The Force…it can be wielded?”    “Yes, by though properly trained.”    His brow ridge rose, and it was then you noticed your obvious look of fascination. Clearing your throat unnecessarily, you wiped your face clean of expression. It was a good thing too, all considering the approaching footsteps. You were a little dismayed, wanting to ask more.    Leader Pre Vizsla walked over to the pair of you. He glanced your way once, and it made your skin crawl. Instinctually, you took a step back. However, you were sure that it merely appeared as if you were making space for him in your conversation with Maul.    “The holotable is ready. If you would join Bo-Katan and I, we can discuss our next steps.”    “Yes,” said Maul, now looking to you. “Excuse us.”    “Of course.” Bowing your head, you retreated back to your tent.

   Rather than staring at the inside of the temporary housing, you sat down just by the entrance. Coincidentally, Maul and Pre Vizsla joined Bo-Katan, a redheaded Mandalorian at the tent across your view. It would have been a clear and unobstructed view if not for Savage and Ziton standing by a crate. You did not entirely mind. If your very presence distracted Maul in the slightest, staring at him during a meeting would pose no help from you.

   As some time passed, you tired of counting Mandalorians, stacking pebbles, and squinting at the holo-map in-front of Maul.    Something in the night sky caught your eye. A twinkle of a star? A flying creature? No, something entered the atmosphere.    The sound of the three ships reached your ears about the same time you identified them. They flew low, soaring over your tent and landed just outside the encampment.    Rising to your feet, you took a few steps around the structure to get a look at the visitors.    Maul and the two Mandalorians made their way over to the newcomers. They fell into step with each other. Pre Vizsla took center lead, holding his helmet to his side while Bo-Katan and Maul flanked him. Others simply watched with cautious curiosity.    The night was quiet, allowing you to overhear their brief conversation.    “More criminals,” Bo-Katan said with soft irritation and a roll of her eyes.    “Spice dealers connected to all the crime families of Coruscant,” said Pre Vizsla as they neared the new group.    Maul clasped his hands behind his back. A reoccurring formality or a default position? “The Pykes. They will be the next to join us.”    His voice was so soft in contrast to his features. It would take you some time to become accustomed to it. And the more you replayed his words in your mind to hear his voice, the more intriguing it became.    Six figures approached them. The Pykes, held a tight formation with their yellow-clad leader. Maskless and with bright glowing violet eyes, they made first contact.    “We know you’ve been forming an army.”    “Were you expecting us?” Asked of Maul.    “Underworld’s a small community. I have no desire to oppose you,” they explained with a shake of their head. “We come to join you.”    The others behind him nodded eagerly and Pre Vizsla stepped up to grab their leader’s wrist in a confirming shake.    “Very good,” he said, one Pyke exuberantly waving their hands in the air at the pleasant outcome. “Then ready our troops,” Pre Vizsla commanded loudly. “We leave for Nal Hutta immediately.”    A rush of movement took over the camp. It was a collective agreement. A no hesitation order that appeared to drive them. You could see now what Maul had said about the Mandalorians and their loyalty.    “Nal Hutta,” Savage said, standing beside you. “Have you met a Hutt before?”    “No,” you said, your nerves creeping up at the thought. “Have you?” You asked, craning your neck upward to see hi face.    “Not yet.”    As his gaze left yours, you followed suit. Maul made his way over in a few long strides.    “Savage, you will learn much from our visit with the Hutts. Once we have them on our side, the rest of the criminal underworld will scramble to join us.”    “They don’t sound like they’ll be much trouble,” Savage noted.    You internally sighed at the thought. Criminals, any strangers really, should be advanced with an air of caution. “Are they willing to ally with a simple agreement, or do terms have to be made?” You asked.    A ghost of a smile played at the corner of Maul’s mouth. “They are not to be trusted, as with any criminal. I have my terms prepared. They’ll have no choice but to join the Shadow Collective.”    “You will not need my services on Nal Hutta, then?”    His eyes widened and you felt Savage shift beside you. “The Hutts have bounty hunters at their disposal. You will remain here until we either return or I send for you.”    A small ‘oh’ left your lips. Criminals, spice dealers, and now bounty hunters? Whatever Maul had planned, it was elaborate and extensive.    “Enjoy your rest, advisor. You will need it for what is to come.”    With that said, Savage turned to you and nodded. Likewise, you held out your hand for him to take. It engulfed your own, but was incredibly gentle for the brief hand shake.    “May it all go in your favor.”    “Thank you…advisor.”    The new title felt well-suited when they said it. It gave you a sense of importance. A respect you deserved but had long since been denied.    Savage turned away and started off to the ship. You were positive that he would have absolutely no problem with the Hutts.    The soft breath of your name whirled your head back toward Maul. “Yes…Maul?”    “Seek refuge in your tent. Be wary of who you trust here,” he cautioned, leaning closer. “Mandalore is our goal. Wait here until then. I expect the Mandalorians to have their own…plan.”   Giving a small nod, you whispered. “Be careful.”    His head tilted to the side with a small scrunch of his nose.    “I’ll see you soon.”    “If all goes according to my vision, perhaps sooner.”    With a final nod from him, Maul followed after Savage. Within the next couple of moments, the ships rose and set course toward the atmosphere and hastily out of view and into space.

~~~~  ~~~~  ~~~~  ~~~~

Finally.

Thank you so much for reading! I know it’s been a long time since the Prologue, but I finally finished Part 1!! YAY!!! And now...for the rest of the series lol

Reblogs are very much appreciated, you don’t have to obviously, it just helps for me to see your commentary (that I absolutely love reading) and whether you liked it enough for me to continue writing more parts.

I hope you’re doing well! :) And thank you again.

Everybody Loses It - Chapter Update

(commissioned art of Rhys Shepard and Kaidan Alenko by @xla-hainex)

Everybody Loses It

Summary: One of the first human biotics, prothean specialist Dr. Rhys Shepard has fought for years to distance himself from the events at BAaT and distance himself from his parents and their military careers. When a prothean beacon is discovered on Eden Prime, he snatches the chance to finally prove himself.

Until the geth attack and he comes face to face with a part of his past he thought long dead...

Chapter 3: Welcome to the Citadel

Excerpt:

Rhys is foolish enough to think walking away from the Normandy – from Kaidan, for a third time in his life – will be easy.  He ends up calling himself all kinds of foolish as he, Sara and the rest of the ground team from Eden Prime hit the docs of the Citadel together.  They’re at the heart of galactic civilization.  The Council, the ambassador – Someone’s going to want to hear about what happened, even if it happened on a backwater human colony. Sure enough, the very second the elevator doors open just outside of C-Sec headquarters, they’re greeted by an escort and an aide sent by the ambassador to greet them. “More like herd us to the embassies,” Rhys mutters beneath his breath.  Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Kaidan’s glance at him, but Rhys lets it go.  He’s never met Ambassador Udina, but he’s heard stories.  He isn’t expecting this meeting to go well.  What I’d give for the days of sunshine and bunnies back home.  At least there I can use my shotgun to take care of the wolves.

Read Chapter | Read From Beginning | Read Series

Just a few things to note:

1) Rhys is a slightly older Shepard, a combination of a spacer and Earthborn background, and non-military. He goes off to college and graduate school and becomes a prothean specialist

2) He and Kaidan have known one another since BAaT. They have a history together.

3) Kaidan is the Commander of the Normandy. He essentially takes over the role of Shepard in the ME canon timeline

This story isn't a retelling of all of game 1, but will use bits and pieces of it that fit for their story.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing them!

For anyone interested, Rhys has two playlists on Spotify.

This one is associated with his story The Barn called Shore Leave on Mindoir

And this is his general playlist that I listen to while writing for him. It may change some as his story continues.

If you have any questions about Rhys, feel free to drop an ask! I love to talk about my characters! :)

Enjoy!

The Bear: Season One, Episode Six - Ceres (opening scene)

Last Train Home continues to play on repeat in my mind. It's worth it as it's led me to an episode I didn't pay much attention to outside of this opening scene.

It all begins with Mikey, Ritchie, Nat, and Carm cooking. Mikey is executing the Berzatto Sunday recipe with such ease. It's lovely watching the Berzattos (+ one Jerimovich) packed together, calm, listening and taking time to be with one another.

Mikey is telling such a tale that winds and weaves. With all of my observations. With all of my notes and what I will share. No matter what- it should be noted that his ability to story tell is captivating.

I remember watching this the first time and being enthralled. There's no other term for it. As he speaks, I thought that he can remind anyone that there are simpler times all the while coloring life just enough for it to seem fanciful if you just try - just reach a little more for it. Mikey is providing amusement, entertainment and fun. Mickey knows how to tell without saying anything.

Michael Berzatto was the bond that made the family stay together.

He is doing his thing, talking, laughing, engaging everyone. And he brings up the Ceres statue. The mythos of Ceres is briefly recapped by Mikey. Who Ceres was isn’t important. What’s key is Mikey sharing a moment in his life that is without strife and hardship (Yes, I know he was high but it sounds like a "happy" high story as opposed to some horrors I'm sure the family doesn't mention ever again). He's connecting the history of their hometown with his life. Truly, that in and of itself, is otherworldly.

I believe that anything his shares tends to be cherished with these folks. I say this because, even though everyone knows he uses, Mikey holds many secrets. He probably doesn’t show too much of himself for a plethora of reasons which I could write about endlessly for days. (And I may one day...)

So, during this Sunday dinner prep, Mickey is being Mickey. He’s attentive and as bright as they know him to be before addiction took hold of him. Everyone is savoring this moment. Because, who knows when he’ll be this lucid or sober again?

*Side note: It’s interesting that Mickey knows the bars “traders” (Wall Street traders I assume) frequent. I wonder how that played out in his life. The company created and connected to the tomato cans, perhaps...?*

Someone who tends to be pushed to the side is Nat. I noticed her, particularly when she responds to Mikey with:

“You and your fucking stories."

She sees. She knows. She also feels left out.

She’s stuck at the sink while the older men are reminiscing about some bullshit and Carmy is drinking it all in.

Mickey taunts Nat, saying she could have come with (Mikey and Richie to wherever) to which she says she wouldn’t. I believe her. She’s been the one to keep Donna at bay. She’s been the caretaker. She is the quintessential parentified child. Sugar knows better than to spend time with Mikey and Richie. 

This is the family:

Mikey setting up adventures.

Ritchie co-signing, hanging out on the sidelines.

Sugar cleaning the mess everyone is making.

And Carmy, looking in awe at his big brother - his savior. Carmen is shown waiting to be utilized and jumps that the chance when told. 

Michael: "Hey Carmy, do some parm."

Carmen: "Yeah, I got you. I got you."

To bring this back to the Ceres statue story, it's about something built in the name of being the pinnacle of design based in the classics. That statue was commissioned to be a landmark and a wonderment. But, as time marches on, life evolves and grows. The city around it grew and achieved taller architectural designs/building.

Ceres is stone carved with no face. It has no lasting identity other than history. Same as Ceres. She’s history. 

Same as Mikey.

Everyone around him grew. His façade was exposed to be blank, nothing, masking such history, pain, strife and togetherness just like Ceres.

Mikey only has the past.

And then there's the final puzzle piece from a different box that is Richie. The overall understanding within me, as I watch Richie share that his outgoing VM message as Goddess of Agriculture, is that he’s the historian of the family/friend group. That was his purpose before it all went to hell with Bear on that bridge.

All-in-all, we see Natalie and Carmen smiling, making the kitchen home. Michael and Richard providing the accents and anecdotal purpose. 

An absolutely beautiful moment.

COMMISSION INFO

hi guys. i am gonna open comission since i don’t have a job and enjoy being able to buy things and enjoy life. seen below is my handy dandy chart i made in like 10 minutes

I got this handy chart here :D The drawing itself probably isint the greatest reflection upon my art since it’s pulled from a hastily done ref sheet😭

Not depicted are digital paintings, which I do in a more realistic style. I don’t do these often, but if anyone would be interested…… they’d probably cost more though since they take me a lot longer.

prices are negotiable!!

If interested please DM or add me on discord my user is yeahyeahbeebiss_1 :)

I only use CASHAPP!! please be aware!

It’s my first time ever doing comissions, i’m a little worried i’ve overpriced them but alas.

Below the cut are some art examples!!

I was in the sp fandom once, was very much obsessed with your kyman posting. Like I used to check your twitter daily. Kinda wondering, what made u (sorta) quit sp/kyman?

oh wow 😳 i’m flattered

and well…my answer might not be as interesting. as you know, for years kyman was at the center of my fandom life. i talked about them, i wrote fic about them, i organized and helped organize projects about them…and i loved it. despite the negative attention i received for it, i loved kyman so much that i kept at it. nothing came close to grabbing my attention the way kyman and sp as a whole did.

last year, exactly around this time, a good friend made me start watching the show otherwise known as metalocalypse. now, we’ve watched a lot of shows together and i enjoyed them all but i never dug up any further than that. i didn’t think metalocalypse would be any different. why would i?

anyway. metalocalypse. at first it didn’t click, then it got interesting, then it became hysterical…by s3 i was fucking invested. the way i hadn’t been about any media in years (i got into SP as a kid so the peak of my hype for the show itself was during its golden years). but yeah, i continued metalocalypse, finished it, then watched the movie and that was the final straw for me. i had gained a new otp and i wanted to see yaoi of them!!

i figured this wouldn’t be a problem and that i could be both into sp and mtl at the same time. as time went on, though, i felt guilt that i was currently more interested on the brand new thing (metalocalypse) than the old one (south park). i thought new content could fix this and as we got the sp new season announcement it seemed like this would fix the problem.

but then the new season was so….lackluster. like, okay, sp has evidently declining for years now, we’ve known this. but the new episodes didn’t have kyman interacting?? kyman?? the relationship that was at the heart of the show??? so i was like, well, i already have mtl, i don’t really have a reason to stay in the fandom if the show isn’t delivering, you know? i’m the type of shipper that likes to feast on canon and complement it with fanon, not the other way.

so yeah, it felt like the world was telling me it was okay to focus on metalocalypse and that’s what i did. the new south park special was great though! and good for kymans. but that spark is kinda gone for me. i don’t feel that special something i had for kyman anymore. i do love them though, i always will. but the thrill, the obsession? that’s what i feel for skwistok now

but hey, i was into south park as a kid and then i got into it again as an adult. who knows, maybe i’ll get into it again? it is the show that shaped me, my sense of humor and my taste in media even. it’ll always be special to me so it could always make a comeback in my heart. :)

sorry this turned out kinda long, but i’ve had several people asked me what happened over the course of this year so i wanted to say it in case anyone else is still wondering. nothing bad happened, i just grew out of it. doesn’t mean i’ll never write for sp again, though! i totally might, there’s a couple of drafts i’d like to finish not gonna lie. it’s just not my priority at the moment. but i do have writing commissions open, so if you want to see more kyman from me, you can always shoot me a message. ;)

It's gonna be alright (Keith Kogane x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ᴋᴇɪᴛʜ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱʜɪʀᴏ'ꜱ ᴅɪꜱᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ. ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇꜱ ʜᴇʟᴘ. ᴏʀ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ꜱᴀʏꜱ…

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴꜱ.

ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ. ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴛɪᴘꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ.

It was the final stretch.

I snuck out again. Doing it in the evening would mean that someone would probably catch me but at night it's much easier. If the rest of the team saw me now, I'd probably get scolded but I couldn't help myself. Hunk finally baked some edible cookies!

I grabbed a plate from the nearest shelf and helped myself to a generous amount, then rearranged the cookies that had fallen out of formation back into a pyramid. This way, no one noticed when one or two floors disappeared.

As a medical student, or rather a former student, because on Earth I've probably already been kicked out of school, I always tell my team to eat healthily. I am quite aware of the effects of overeating at night and too many sweets but everyone has smaller or larger deviations. Mine gradually started to increase after Hunk got a new recipe for blueberry cookies.

When we tasted them for the first time, I was skeptical because of their blue color. We chose Coran as the tester because no one else wanted to poison themselves. However, it turned out that we had avoided failure. They tasted like cocoa.

Since then, Hunk has been baking them almost all the time and I've been stealing them on the sly. It quickly turned out that paladins had a habit of getting up often in the middle of the night. At first I ate in the living room and almost got caught when Pidge walked by. However, I managed to find a solution. My place for a snack was the rather narrow roof, which was accessed through a window on the top floor of the castle. Perhaps someone would be able to spot me during the day but at night it was virtually impossible.

I headed there too, thinking only that in a moment I would inhale that cocoa scent again. I crossed the hall, opened the window, and then placed the plate on the tiny windowsill. I had both legs out and was just about to start eating when it turned out I wasn't alone.

Keith was now sitting in my usual seat with wide eyes. He looked ready to jump but visibly relaxed when he saw it was just me.

Well, great.

So I did the only right thing that could be done in such a situation.

— Cookie?

— Excuse me? — He asked.

— I asked if you wanted a cookie. — I sat down and offered him a plate. — Just don't betray to others because I won't have a life.

He ate it, then reached for another one.

We never got along very well, partly because we didn't know each other before I joined the team. It's true that I didn't argue with him like Lance but he had such a heavy personality that I preferred spending time with Hunk or Allura. He always seemed quite cold to me but I admired his skills and courage because he certainly had plenty of that.

The silence was quite uncomfortable, so I decided to break it.

— Nice sky.

No response from Mr. Silent.

It was beautiful. A shade of navy blue completely different than the one on Earth. Constellations unlike any I've seen. Everything was different here. The thought always brought a momentary feeling of nostalgia and longing for my family but I was used to it by now. It hasn't wanted to leave me since I got here.

— Sooo... you came to think? — I said with my mouth full.

— You could say that — he muttered.

What an elaborate statement.

— I came to eat without anyone noticing. I glanced at him. — But it didn't work out as you can see. — What are you thinking about?

I didn't receive any response.

Keith started to stand up but I grabbed his sleeve.

— It's a bit inelegant of you to leave me in the middle of a conversation now.

If this could even be called a conversation...

— Something will attack me here at night when it smells food if I stay alone. — I stuffed the cookie into myself with my free hand. — If you want, we can sit in silence — I added.

I saw his hesitation but he finally sat back down after the last sentence.

I wanted to keep my word, I really wanted to. The problem, however, was the talkativeness. Everyone around me knew perfectly well that I was loud and ubiquitous. I also had trouble keeping my mouth shut. Keith and I were basically opposites, which was one of the reasons we had limited contact.

In short, I could be irritating. No wonder I couldn't last more than a few minutes.

— If you don't want to say what you're thinking, don't say it — I started. — But if you change your mind, you know  — I stabbed him in the arm — you can vent.

— Do I look like someone who wants to talk?

No, you look like an irritated bastard.

— No but you look like someone who needs it. You know, as a pseudo-doctor on this team, I also have to take care of your mental health. I think it's just as important as physical one.

His expression softened slightly. He was clearly wondering whether he should share with me what was on his mind.

The silence grew.

This is how my career as a psychologist dies prematurely.

I actually could have given up but I felt like I wanted to help. Kind of like when I was quite little and put plasters on literally all the kids in my neighbourhood who had bad knees. This feeling turned into a passion — the desire to professionally care for others. I didn't have the opportunity to graduate because I was in the middle of another galaxy but I did my best. I tried to use everything I had at hand to help those who were saving planets and races that we had never known about before.

— It's about my leadership — he began, so quietly that I could barely hear him. — I feel bad about it. Everyone is counting on me, they want me to give them orders but I have the impression that whatever I do, wherever I step, will be wrong. I'm not even sure how to get along with you. After I came back to the team, everyone looks at me differently. I'm not like Shiro. My only hope is to find him and bring him back but I don't even know where to start looking for him.

I'm out of cookies.

— It's obvious — I felt his eyes on me — that you're not Shiro. I'm sure we'll find him but it will take some time. You shouldn't try to replace him because each of you is different — I started. — It'll take you a while to get used to your new role but you're on the right track. Maybe try spending some time with the team? We haven't known each other for very long but I'm not blind. Some people really miss you, Keith. Don't run away from them, try to talk to them, eat some cookies and everything will be fine. — I stood up, took my plate and headed to the window.

It's gonna be alright — the cliché I may have tried to say to myself a lot too but what choice did I have? What else could I tell him?

— [Reader]?

— Hmmm? — I stuck my head out.

— Thank you.

— No problem but it was Hunk who baked them — I said, smiling to myself and then started walking down the dark corridor.

Keith will make a good leader but I might still make a good doctor when I get back to Earth. I should just cut down on the cookies...

Have some Letho attempts, in oil paints(!)

Art, life and cat updates under the cut.

Art update:

I’ve opened commissions again for the next two months (October-November 2023). The last one in my queue is nearly finished, and I’m excited to share it — though I’ll have to crop the tumblr version substantially. I’ve also been working on tutorial content for digital painting. Monie’s been poking me for years to do one on sheer fabric, and I’m trying to edit that between other tasks. I’ve thought about doing one for scars as well — is there anything you struggle with that you’d be interested to see a tutorial or tip-sheet for?

In terms of personal work I’ve struggled to connect with my digital painting in the last few months, so I’ve been working more with traditional mediums. I love watercolour, I’ve been fiddling with my oil pastels since I don’t want them to go bad (they keep for about 3 years past opening, apparently) and I’ve wanted to try oil painting for years. Last week I finally took the leap and bought some water soluble oil paints: pictured above is my first attempt with them.

Oil paints are slippery little bastards — I had a teacher tell me “it’s like painting with colourful mud” over a decade ago when discussing them, and that sort of prepared me. I finally get it. They move constantly, even if it looks dry it’s likely not, I have no idea what I’m doing, disposal is a pain, I am wrong at every step, and I love them. Oil painting looks so cool! It’s so much easier to rework than acrylics! This is not always a good thing! I’m having a great time :)

Naturally, upon getting a new and notoriously difficult medium, I dispensed with looking up guides (surely things I watched or read months and years ago are sufficient for right now?) and sat down to screw around with the paints a few evenings ago. This resulted in a muddy mess even with a limited palette, but I’m a toxic goblin who doesn’t learn, so I shrugged and started working with the muddy tones to try and fix it.

@silverscalestudios was kind enough to give me a quick and dirty explanation on workflow when they found out what I was doing. Thank you again for that! I spent a while last night reading about various forms of underpainting because of you, and will give brunaille a try. I knew underpaintings were a thing but I didn’t know *why* or how important they really are — it didn’t occur to me the oil colours would be so transparent. Hopefully the next picture will be a little bit neater as a result of your intervention — thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me about it!

I found some useful videos on YouTube as well, but I’m struggling with colour temperature shifts. Some studies might be in order.

As usual I’m not satisfied with anything I do for long. My current goals are to learn more of the body’s simplified muscle groups, simplify my compositions more, and make more illustrations with character interaction as the focus. Also, I guess, to gain some competence with the mediums I’m playing with — but that’s a bonus more than a goal. Oil pastels especially are just so pleasant to work with that even if I hate the result, the process is too enjoyable to complain. And failure is how we learn.

Potentially useful tip, buried for anyone who read this far: assign yourself studies for the projects you’re currently working on. This took me far too long to learn, but if you struggle with doing general studies for the sake of them, do them to prep for a specific painting instead. If you suspect something will be difficult (the hand gesture, the colour scheme, lighting, expression, whatever) grab or make some ref and doing a couple of studies, so you can fail quickly and make ugly versions. It’s a huge timesaver when it comes to the final piece. My big, detailed paintings usually take 10-20 hours, so I’d like to get any difficult elements sorted before I start whenever possible.

For an example of studies for a painting: the four roughly scribbled Letho’s in coloured pencil on this post — those were done after I had my composition sketched onto the canvas, to figure out what I wanted to do for colours. And I’m glad I did! I tried the analogous scheme on a whim, and if I hadn’t done this study, I’d have played it safe and gone with a mostly neutral palette. Next time I’ll also do some lighting studies so I have a detailed plan for those before I start painting. Traditional media in general involves a lot more concrete planning than digital, and working with it is underscoring how many bad habits I have — especially with massively reworking paintings mid-process.

I did have a photo reference I was using for this painting (one of the images from the rogue warrior reference pack by Noah Bradley) with the lighting and hair modified to try to resemble something I’d seen another digital artist do, and by awkwardly tilting an asaro head in my kitchen to figure out how the lighting would work. There’s a relatively common lighting scheme in anime-esque art where just the tip of the nose is lit. It’s cute, but playing with the asaro head, I found that the top half of the area around the mouth should also catch at least a bit of light. The lighting ended up being repainted into something more standard for this, but you can see the triangle of light on the upper mouth area in the wips.

Life update:

Well, it was a nice run, but spouse and I finally caught corona last month >< that was horrible. I got lucky, in that I only had for a week or so and it was a mild case. Now I’ve mostly recovered except for a cough. “Mild” is still probably the sickest I’ve been in my life. Do not recommend. Will be going for the booster as soon as I’m able to, I do not want that shit ever again.

I’ve been doing a bunch of new things like sashiko (satisfying), trying to make pie crust (hard! But delicious, and the ingredients are cheap enough that I don’t cry over failure. Please give making pie crust a try, if you haven’t, it’s really not that complicated — the recipe I’m using only calls for 3-4 ingredients, and it’s so versatile. We’ve had like four quiches in the last week and a half) and trying to cook more. Adulting is hard. I’m also considering more decorative embroidery attempts, because I’m reentering my goth phase and want to customise my clothes with little mushrooms and skulls :) it would be cute.

About the cats:

Cloud is cancer-free! She has to get rechecks every three months, but the little monster made it. She celebrates by trying to sleep with her butthole on my face, which is terrible. I love her dearly. I wish she would stop with the butthole thing though.

Sheik is currently taking her turn as the cat with medical problems. She couldn’t eat for a few days and the vet rushed us in when we called. The vet came in and informed me that she wasn’t eating… because she had gas. It’s in her small intestine, which isn’t supposed to have gas in it for cats? Good job, you little weirdo. She’s getting further checks or it this month.

We also adopted an adolescent cat. He’s bonded very well with Tez, whom our other cats — well, they don’t hate him, but they’re a bit aloof. Tez is very big and a bit like a bowling ball with teeth, and most of our cats are old (or Jetta, who is full of bitter hate) and do not appreciate being tackled by said bowling ball. The kitten loves him, and Tez seems much happier for the company. He’s more gentle with kittens than adults. Not all of the cats are thrilled, but our oldest queens have accepted the kitten, so it should be smoother sailing from here. Unfortunately they like to play at 8am, so I am suddenly on an adult sleep schedule for the first time since working from home. Nothing like a teenage cat launching himself onto your abdomen to get the day started :) They were yelling at each other as I typed this, but now he’s laying beside me like a prince. … and attacking my cardigan. Nevermind.

Currently trying to find more ways to install cat climbs and enrichment, since we’re running out of corners for cat trees. Debating the merits of a cat run — we have very tall walls, which is neat but also I don’t trust these guys not to fall off. If we could spring for a modular system that would be neat.

If you’re getting two cats, pro tip: get two with similar coat patterns but different sizes. You will hate yourself. It’s very funny, and you can disorient any house guests!