#Fresh Spring Fawn

[kinzstyle-outlet]

everybody tell Stefan happy birthday

[webkinztournament]

[cartoonghosts]

Im so obsessed with people. Like im so in love with everyone what the hell

[charles-smith-pillow-princess]

one of them repeating the other's name over and over... desperately or fondly, whichever works

The sunlight streaming down through the spring-green canopy paints Boedicea in shifting watercolors, her red coat shining copper-pink. 

Dazed, Charles dismounts from Taima, runs his hands over her beloved neck, youth-strong and blood-warm. 

He can feel his pulse in this throat as he follows the familiar trail of crushed grass and wildflowers through the copse of oaks, coiled-snake anticipation rattling through him as he walks slowly on. He treads ball-to-heel, quiet and careful.

Arthur Morgan dozes in the shade of an oak-tree, worn-leather hat pulled low over his eyes. 

Charles stumbles the last steps, strings cut as he collapses to the soft grass. The sharp, green smell is almost overwhelming, undercut with the sweet scent of rot. 

He knows this script. He is helpless but to follow it.

Charles reaches for that broad shoulder, hand trembling. Arthur’s arm under his palm is thick with muscle, straining against the familiar blue of Arthur’s favorite shirt. 

“Arthur,” Charles whispers, fingering the sun-warmed fabric. The shift of Arthur’s steady, easy breathing cuts through him like a joyous knife. “Arthur—“ 

One scarred, callused hand lifts the hat from Arthur’s face, baring lake-green eyes under fawn-brown lashes. 

Charles chokes, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. 

“Charles,” Arthur drawls, smooth and easy and fond, fond, Charles’ name off his tongue the sweetest way anyone had ever said it, has ever since—

Charles bites down on the ocean swell of sorrow, swallows it whole. It’ll drown him, soon, but not yet. 

The sand is trickling from the hour-glass, he knows. But he has learned to subsist off stolen moments of joy, crumbs gathered from others’ tables. 

“Arthur,” Charles repeats, seizing Arthur’s jaw in hand. Those eyes shine up at him, crows-feet crinkled in the corners. There’s love there, love that fills Charles’ chest like a hot air balloon, sends him soaring. 

“Arthur,” Charles says, soft, honey on his tongue. 

Arthur lifts a hand to Charles’ hair, fingers tangling gently in the curls as he draws Charles down into his lap. His chest rises and falls against Charles’ own as they settle. Charles can feel Arthur’s heart beating, a steady rhythm that matches his own. 

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Arthur says, lifting a palm to press sweetly against the scar along Charles’ cheek. “Been too long.”

“Arthur,” Charles says, low and soft like prayer. He leans in, down towards that smiling, living mouth, Tantalus reaching for a drink from the river—

And blinks, eyes damp with sweat and fresh blood. The grains of Saint-Denis street dirt, red and fine, cling to his lips, coat the back of his tongue like grave dust. 

The crowd groans as he stumbles his way to his feet before the final count, facing his opponent. He steps back in, swinging, the sting of crushed grass still sharp in the back of his throat. 

It’d been a pleasant, familiar dream.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Beyond the veil of mist

Tamlin x forest fairy reader

Part II

@tamlinweek Day 3

Word count: +3700

Warnings: mention of wounds

Summary: Accidentally entering the forest forbidden even for the High Lord, Tamlin meets mysterious forest fairy who lives there and, in just a few minutes, befriends her enough to invite her to live in his manor. Their friendship runs so deep that to the others they appear to be lovers, but what happens when Lucien comes to visit and confronts his former friend?

Divider by tsunami-of-tears

In the deepest depths of the fairy tale-like forest where spring never ends, lived a group of forest fairy — mythical beings born from the morning mist, peace-loving, beautiful and fragile. Everyone knew better than to evade their territory, their secrets hidden behind ferns taller than male. Respected even by the High Lords of this land, every day in their lives felt like a new beginning.

It was early morning. Soft rays of sun penetrated through the canopy of emerald green leaves, gently caressing the waking up buds of flowers. The entire forest sparkled like full of scattered diamonds, the air smelled sweet and fresh while a light mist floated over the pond with a small waterfall. Its tendrils intertwined through the forest cover, gathering on the rock covered with fresh green moss.

The mist slowly melted away, leaving a small figure sitting on the rock. The petite female stretched out and turned her beautiful face to the warm sun. Her lips curled into a lovely smile as she combed her waist-long hair with fingers. A group of butterflies gathered around her, flickering their colorful wings. One of them landed on her tiny finger, resting, the rest formed a crown on her head. Looking closely at the blue butterfly on her finger, she sighed.

"What a beautiful morning."

A light breeze caught her soft, musical voice, carrying it away. As if on cue, all flowers opened at once, filling the forest with their scent and golden powder of pollen. A swarm of bees circled over that beauty and got to work. The sounds of life joined those of nature in a symphony. A smaller group of fawns calmly walked between the trees and stepped into the clearing to graze, a rabbit running on their heels. It ran straight to the female, hopping around her.

"What is it?" She reached down to pet it.

The rabbit pointed with one little paw towards the deep forest.

"Is there something?"

The little fury animal eagerly nodded.

"So show me the way."

The fairy followed hopping rabbit, her feet hardly touching the ground. The woods were always peaceful, uneventful even. If there was something causing commotion, she needed to take care of it.

As they went deeper into the forest, the sunlight faded and shadows grew longer and darker. If it weren't for faint groans, the sudden silence would have been scary. Whatever was here, it seemed to be hurt, scaring away even the birds that usually sang in the crowns of trees. The rabbit halted, hiding behind a bush of wild raspberries, its fluffy long ears trembling. It pointed to the oldest of the trees with a trunk so wide that it looked more like a tower of a castle than a tree. The weak groans were coming from its other side. The fairy quietly thanked the brave rabbit and sent it back. On feet so light as the mist from which she was born, she carefully rounded the tree.

Between the two enormous roots sticking out of the ground, a huge beast lay curled on its side. Despite its sharp claws and fangs, the beast was so weakened that it posed no threat. When she noticed the long gashes on its side, she didn't hesitate anymore and stepped closer. The beast's emerald green eyes shot open. With great effort, it lifted its head and growled deeply, showing off those long fangs.

"I won't hurt you," she spoke calmly and tilted her head slightly to the side, looking at the beast properly. This wasn't a creature like any other. Looking deep into those strange green eyes, she found the answers she needed. "You know that this part of the forest is forbidden to all of you, High Lord, yet you are here."

"I'm sorry," the beast wheezed, its voice hoarse. "I promise not touch or take anything. Just allow me to catch my breath and I'll leave immediately."

She smiled faintly. "I know you won't. Now put away that armor and show your true form. Whatever happened out there, you are safe here."

The beast slowly blinked. "I can't," he groaned and then fainted, his head hitting the ground.

"Oh my," the fairy covered her mouth with a tiny hand, nearly melting back into the mist. "Poor thing."

She hurried to him. Thankfully, he was still breathing. She looked around, hoping that one of her sisters was nearby to help her, then changed her mind. Maybe it was better this way. They certainly wouldn't appreciate having a wounded intruder around, and even though they were all kind, rules were rules and he would be promptly returned to the outside world.

The little fairy summoned the thick fog to protect them from any prying eyes and knelt next to the beast, lightly touching his fur to check the gashes on his side. She nervously bit her lower lip. She had broken another rule. Touching another magical creature was strictly forbidden for her kind because it was said to be harmful. Praying she wouldn't turn into mist for the rest of her life, she worked quickly. The wounds weren't so deep — the threads of magic were already sealing them, the bleeding had stopped as well.

Reaching for the source of power pulsing deep in the ground, holding this world together, she borrowed a bit of it and pushed it toward the beast. The massive body transformed into shimmering gold dust, gradually carried away on the breeze. Once it was gone, only the body of a tall male with golden hair and pointy ears was left in its place.

He was young and strikingly handsome. The tanned skin of his face glistened with sweat. In wonder, her gaze followed one of the droplets as it rolled from the corner of his eye down the high cheek and disappeared in his long hair. A muscle twitched in his strong jaw and a weak moan escaped through his slightly parted lips.

She sat back on the grass, still waiting for the punishment for touching him. However, nothing happened. It was strange. She was sure she should have already melted away. While watching his broad chest rise and fall, she dove into her thoughts.

The High Lord jerked, sitting upright. He pressed his trembling hand to his chest and then to his ribs where he had been wounded before. Everything was healed, not even pain remained. The fog around didn't allow him to see much. He frowned.

"How do you feel?" the fairy asked him, her gentle voice caressing the wounds on his soul.

"Much better. Thank you," he whispered, afraid he could destroy the peace around him if he breathed out too loudly.

"Then you should go, High Lord. I'll lead you through the fog. Hopefully, nobody else noticed your presence." She stood up and the crown of butterflies on her head fluttered their wings. One by one they flew away.

"Tamlin," he breathed out while scrambling to his feet. She turned back to him with a raised brow. "My name is Tamlin. You don't need to call me High Lord."

"Tamlin," she murmured as if testing his name. "Please, follow me."

They walked in silence for a while.

"Would you mind telling me your name?" He caught up with her, now walking by her side. He curiously peeked down at her. She was small but fast, her movements were so smooth it seemed she was floating above the ground.

"Why do you want to know it?"

"I-.." he stuttered, a flush dusting his cheeks. "I'd just like to know to whom I owe my life."

Her eyes widened. "I did nothing like that."

"You definitely helped me," he pointed to his body. "It's been some time since I was able to turn myself back."

The fairy felt a strange heat, her heart suddenly pounding faster. She shyly put some distance between them and only then she whispered, "I'm Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated. "It's beautiful name."

"Hmm," she broke the silence after a few steps, the curiosity taking better of her. "Is it true that your kind lives in the castles?"

"Where have you heard that?" he chuckled.

"We have stories from the times before we settled in this forest."

Tamlin didn't admit it aloud, but he'd love to learn more about her. He didn't have any particular reason other than that she and the other forest fairies lived in his Court and she helped him out.

"Well, it depends. Most of my kind live in simple houses, though."

She gave him a puzzled look.

"You could come with me and see for yourself."

She looked away dejectedly.

"And where do you live?" he returned the question, suddenly feeling lonely without that melodic voice of hers.

"Everywhere," she vaguely waved her hand. "We are born from the mist and.. we are mist. This is just a form we take on occasionally." She tried to explain it, not paying attention to the forest floor. Her delicate foot got tangled in an ivy and she lost her balance. Tamlin moved fast, catching her before she could hurt herself. She shrieked in panic and pushed him away.

"What have you done?" she cried, backing from him. Her whole body was trembled as she looked down at her hands.

"W-what?" Tamlin didn't understand.

"I-.. I-.." she slowly calmed down, turning her palms up and down. Her back bumped into a tree.

"What's going on?" he asked, seeking an explanation. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't know.. I was supposed to turn into mist."

He raised his brows in surprise. "But you are still here."

"I know. It's.. strange. When you fainted, I touched you," she admitted. "It was just a very light touch, so I thought.." She bounced off the tree she was leaning against and grasped his hand. "Ha!"

"Please, explain me this," Tamlin wasn't sure whether to laugh or run away. Maybe seclusion had turned these beautiful creatures into mad ones.

"We have a rule, one of the most important ones. It says that when we touch or are touched by another magical being, we will turn into mist forever, which is equal to dying. But.."

"You are still here," Tamlin relaxed and brushed his long fingers over her cheek. That perfectly explained her reaction. When she smiled, he forgot how to breathe. He couldn't explain it, but he felt good in her company. All his troubles and pain seemed to vanish and it was so freeing.

The rest of the way, they walked hand in hand, talking. As it usually happens in a good company, their journey came to end too fast. Y/N sadly dragged her gaze over the tall wall of ferns separating her home from the rest of the world. Tamlin wasn't ready to leave yet either.

"You should go before others notice you," she said, but both of her hands were still holding his big one. The feel of his warm skin, sturdy and so different from hers, caused a thousand of butterflies to dance all over her body. It was pleasant.

"You could come with me," he suggested. Ever since everyone left him — forgot him — he hadn't felt this good or seen. It would be nice to have this delicate being as a friend, to be able to meet her every day and talk about anything.

"What would I do in your world?" It wasn't a sarcastic remark. She was seriously considering his offer.

"Whatever you would like. I would show you how we live and the nice places all around the Spring. You could try our food, see different flowers than the ones that bloom here.. You don't need to do anything special, just enjoy your time." If she asked him, he would even dust off his fiddles and play a song or two for her. Years had passed since he held them last. The twists of life had shattered even his love for music.

She hesitantly nodded.

That day, the two of them left the mysterious land of forest fairies and never looked back.

Several months later

Tamlin was taking two steps at once as he hurried down the stairs, balancing a bowl of fruit with ice cream in one hand and a tray with a tea set in the other. It was a beautiful warm day, birds merrily chirped in the crowns of trees while a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves and he couldn't help but smile. Ever since Y/N came to his life, everything had turned to better. Things that used to hurt him melted away, problems that used to bother him were solved easily. It felt like the magic of happiness had finally decided to reward him for all the hardships.

The High Lord of the Spring headed to the garden, looking for the source of his good mood. Turning the corner, he spotted her dancing between bushes of blooming roses, surrounded by colorful butterflies. She seemed to attract not only all the living things but also all the sunlight.

"Y/N!" he called and she stopped, turning to him. When she saw all the food he brought, she happily danced to him and took the tray with pot and cups.

"What is it?" she curiously eyed the mountain of frozen delicacy in the bowl as they sat down on the prepared blanket in a patch of grass in the shade of the trees.

"It's ice cream," he chuckled. She was like a child learning about the world and he gladly guided her through. "Do you want to try it?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure. Is it good?"

Tamlin shoved a full spoon into his mouth, closing his eyes. "Delicious! It's sweet and refreshing. Here. Give it a try."

He scooped a bit of ice cream onto the spoon and offered it to her. She hesitantly accepted. As soon as it touched her tongue, she squealed happily. "So good!"

"I told you," he laughed and scooped a bit of another flavor. "Try this one, too."

This time she didn't hesitate. "It tastes like strawberries!"

The High Lord only hummed calmly.

"Oh, this tastes like.. like.. what did you call it the other day." Her gaze wandered around as she was trying to recall the word.

Tamlin watched his friend with a mischievous grin. He loved these carefree moments. "Chocolate," he whispered playfully.

"Yes, chocolate! I already had it on tip of my tongue."

"Sure you did," he gently bumped his shoulder into hers and placed a kiss in her hair.

After eating all the ice cream and fruit, Tamlin rested his back against the tree trunk and pulled her closer, leaning her back against his chest. They quietly talked about everything and nothing, counting butterflies that flew over the garden and guessing the shapes of clouds. When they grew tired of just sitting, they stood up. The innocent walk soon turned into a chase game, their laughter filling the garden. When they had enough of running, Tamlin grasped her waist and spun her around, pulling her into a dance while the orchestra of birds and nature played a lovely melody for them.

As the sun started to set behind the hills to the west, they picked up their stuff and, hand in hand, headed back inside. They got so caught up in the moment that they didn't notice a male sitting on the stairs of the terrace, watching them.

"And here I thought I would find you again in a bad mood," he mused, his golden eye glimmering in the growing darkness.

Tamlin instinctively shoved Y/N behind his back, ready to fight. "Oh, it's you," he grumbled when he properly looked at the intruder. "What do you want?"

The fox-like male with long red hair and one russet and one gold eye flashed a dazzling smile, unbothered by the way the High Lord spoke to him. "Lately, I've been quite busy and couldn't come over. I've missed you, my friend. I hoped that for once you would share the sentiment."

"Well, I don't. You can go lick the heels of your new friends or whatever you do there."

"Let's go inside," Tamlin told Y/N softly and creating a wall between her and the newcomer, he led her to the door.

"C'mon!" the male called and followed them. "Don't be such a grump, Tam. And where are your manners, hm? You should introduce me to the beautiful lady by your side." He playfully winked at her and she hid behind the High Lord, all flushed.

"No need. You are not staying."

* * *

"I said you are not staying," Tamlin growled.

They were seated around the small dining table, three plates of delicious-looking meals set on it.

"I've already heard that," Lucien scooped a bit of mashed potatoes onto his finger and licked it clean. He seemed to be bored.

In last less than an hour, he managed to annoy Tamlin several times and befriended Y/N. His good and easy-going nature made him a funny companion. Despite Tamlin's attempts to kick him out, he was still there, even joining them for dinner.

"Anyway, how did you end up in the banned forest? While I was living here, I got the impression that it's impossible, deadly quest."

"I have no idea," the questioned one replied angrily. "I was attacked by a group of naga. They caught me by surprise. I was greatly weakened at the time. When I was done with them, I stumbled over a body and fell from a cliff. When I regained my senses, I was already there. However, I believed I was still on the safe side until I met Y/N."

Lucien wrinkled his nose. "What a lovely story. And how did you end up here with this grumpy, sunshine?" He turned to forest fairy, putting his elbows on the table and resting chin on his tangled fingers. A one-sided grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"We talked while I was showing him way out. He told me some strange things about the outside world that I didn't quite understand, but it piqued my interest. And when Tamlin said I could go with him, well.. I accepted."

Tamlin's emerald eyes with gold flecks watched her with affection while she spoke, a kind smile adorning his face. "I was relieved you accepted," he murmured, reaching for her hand.

Lucien watched their exchange with a wolfish grin, his eyes gleaming in the dimly lit room. "Interesting."

"What?" Tamlin narrowed eyes at him.

"Nothing," Lucien swung back onto his chair, hands in pockets, his expression one of pure innocence.

Y/N excused herself after the dinner and the males moved to the sitting room, taking armchairs on opposite sides of hearth with the crackling fire.

"When I saw you messing around with Y/N in the garden today, I was relieved," Lucien broke the silence. Tamlin gazed at him out of the corner of eye.

"I thought I had already tossed you out," he grumbled.

"You tried," Lucien snorted. "Actually several times which means you are doing much better. That's more good news. And all thanks to your new sweet girlfriend. So being said.. Based purely on what I've seen today, when can I expect a wedding invitation?"

"What?!" Tamlin choked out. His fingers dug into the armrests, claws looming under the thin skin on his knuckles. Suddenly, he paled. "Stop joking around before you hurt someone! We are just friends."

Lucien's brows shot to his hairline. "That is not what I've seen-.."

"Then you should consider visiting a healer. Perhaps someone from the Dawn could help you."

"Tamlin," he sighed. "I know you well. Even from a distance, I can tell whether you are in love or no. And she? She shares your feelings. I'm sure-.."

"Stop it!" Tamlin heaved. "Just stop! There's nothing like love in this damn world. It's just an illusion, a fairy tale told to children before sleep to soothe them down and give them hope."

Lucien's expression softened. "Tam.."

"No, that's enough. We are just good friends and nothing more. There never will be more between us." Saying that, he literally ran away, leaving Lucien alone. The redhead sighed heavily.

Later that night, he was striding down the empty, recently renovated hallway to his former bedroom, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He wasn't smiling anymore. There was nothing funny about his friend's broken heart. How deeply had it pained him when Feyre ran away from him? He must have been more devastated by such betrayal than Lucien anticipated. Running fingers through his long hair, he turned the corner, spotting a foggy figure standing in the moonlight penetrating through the window. If he was surprised, he didn't let it show on his face. Pondering whether to say something or just pass by, he kept walking.

Before he could decide, the fairy spoke as first.

"Lucien?" Y/N didn't turn to him, her eyes glued to the world behind the window.

"Yeah, sunshine?" he came to a stop, watching her back out of the corner of eye. She was indeed a mysterious being born of mist, beautiful and unreachable like a dream one sees a second before waking up.

"What is love?" Her melodic voice was no more than a whisper, yet it carried strength.

He tilted his head back, thinking. How to explain such a complicated feeling? He wasn't sure. "That's a good question," he sighed again, which he did quite often since he talked with Tamlin. "How should I put it?"

He rubbed the nape of his neck. "Love.. is a strong feeling. Something like attachment towards someone, devotion."

She was silent for a while. "How do you know you love someone?"

He smiled sadly. "You simply know it.. When you are with that person, you feel all warm inside. You are happy. More than happy. When that person is sad, it hurts you and there's nothing you wouldn't do for them. If you love someone, you would gladly die for that person as long as they would stay safe and sound."

Another silence.

"I see." She melted into the moonlight, disappearing without a trace.

Lucien shook his head. What a strange couple.

[mizusnose]

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

no grave can hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her

cannot express how absolutely insane i’ve been feeling about soft, sweet, tender, vulnerable mizu lately. like, it’s been consuming me. so here’s a little thing :)

summary: takes place in ep.5 where instead of finding her “mother”, mizu loses her way and finds you and the shrine you take care of instead. aka that flop m*k** doesn’t exist and no chance for angst!!

———

Mizu doesn’t remember passing out in the middle of the woods. Only that she’d felt like a blur of colors and heat and blood before she dropped off into a vivid dream of finding her mother again. Her dreams dwindled and led her to a semi-awake state of being nursed back to health.

You notice Mizu’s fluttering eyelashes and quickly set your hands beneath her neck, the tender curve of it. you can feel the bumps of bone there, warm skin and the dried-over blood.

Mizu gasps and coughs, you push the bowl of water against her dried lips. The fire crackles and spits out sparks.

“Thought you’d died.”

You remark, titling the bowl further when you see the muscles of Mizu’s neck work. more, more, more.

“Who. are. you.”

“The one who saved you from frostbite. Don’t get up, your stitches are still fresh.”

Mizu glances down at herself after you’ve left to tend to the fire. The plane of her stomach stretches and she hisses despite the warning.

“Told ya.”

You’re back in an instant. The same hand placement as before, steady against mizu’s neck. You ignore the glare she throws your way and instead poke gently at the stitches. Mizu tenses and curses. You marvel at the muscles pulled taut in her throat.

“D’you have a death wish?”

“Mph..! fuck, can you stop—touching it.”

You sigh, pushing away and standing. The half-dead stranger you found in a snowdrift some kilometers away from the main road wasn’t on your to-do list this week. Dealing with her was also gonna be troublesome.

“You’ve gotta stay, got it? It’d look bad if I turned you away.”

“Is this…?”

“Yama jinja. Small, I know. We get some worshippers here and there. Family-run.”

Mizu cocks a dark eyebrow.

“Plus you’d bleed out on the way back with your injuries. A bloodied path is not very auspicious, you know.”

Of course, Mizu initially tries to leave regardless of your opinions and later, demands. She’s a dam. Closed off and waiting to burst the longer she stays. It’s only with poking and prodding that the pressure starts to break.

It starts with a fever.

You tend to her as best you can, medicinal herbs and tea and salves. You’ve learned that Mizu’s annoyingly stubborn, but the fever persists.

She’s delirious half the time. In and out of dreams and nightmares, rarely awake to notice the crease forming between your eyebrows. It’s violent, the way her body fights to survive.

It’s only after she recovers that you realize she’s an animal: a fawn entrapped in the yawning mouth of a wolf. a raw, bloody thing that’s barely escaped death. That something’s been chasing her.

Mizu doesn’t leave after that. You don’t ask her to.

Mizu remembers little of her fever, but when she lays down on the tuft of hay near your bed every night, she dreams. It’s smeared, the version of you she’s conjured. Barely distinguishable, but Mizu swallows around it. The wide open of her belly, full and warm and vulnerable. She allows it.

Days turn into weeks and then months. The cold fist of winter opens up around spring and then summer floods in.

“You’re going to the river later right?”

“Mn. Need anything?”

“Just some…well, I’ll do it myself.” You say, the same time Mizu says, “Okay, I can do it.”

You look at one another, smiling softly. The cicadas scream outside and the sun is melting into the earth like the yolk of an egg. You nod and she quirks a grin.

“Be careful” You tell her. Her kasa shields her face, but the sharp of her chin moves and you know. Know what she’s doing with her mouth: the lick of her tongue, the bite of her lip. You know.

Mizu doesn’t take long. She’s returned by the time you’ve started dinner, and Mizu thinks of herself months ago. Bleeding out, covered in a pack of snow, barely noticeable, barely alive. She should have died. Didn’t know how she didn’t.

She casts a glance to you, unashamed, staring. The skin of your neck covering the bumps of spine. Right where you’d held her not so long ago.

The thaw of the earth has given way to soft dirt. When you realize this, you get your farming equipment out.

Mizu joins, delighted to be under the skim of sunlight and carrying the bags of rice grains. You don’t comment on the smatter of freckles that have bloomed on the bridge of her nose. You only stare and hope she doesn’t sense it, the way you feel about it all: Her and her voice and her hands and her body and, you both.

It’s with both your arms dug into the dark of the earth that Mizu quiets and stills. The wind settles and the cicadas shudder and stop their song. You hesitate to speak and when you do, she starts:

“You’ve never asked me. Not once.”

You think you know what she’ll say, and you start and she starts and you stop, and she continues.

“The wrong I did. It’s..it’s bad. Worst than you can imagine—than you should imagine. It’s, it’s dishonorable and disgusting and—and.” She’s looking at you then, eyes unfocused and red-rimmed. There’s a freckle on the curve of her forehead. You want to touch it, kiss it, soothe her. You wait. “The gods wouldn’t forgive it. You wouldn’t..wouldn’t forgive me.”

Your palms are damp and you breathe once, twice, stand and settle them back into the wetness of the earth. Right atop Mizu’s shaking hands.

“If the gods don’t forgive you, you’d still have me, and I, you.” You hope it’s enough, the touch, and the words and the way your body wraps itself around her. The plane of Mizu’s back shudders, stops, starts again and you lay your fingers into her. The same place you’d had them the first time. The bone, and the skin, and the person she is.

You think: the chase is over. The blood has been shed. The mouth has fed, belly full.

Mizu kisses you later that night.

Deeply and softly in the low light of the dying fire. It simmers into you, pooling low between your legs. Mizu pulls away, nose crushed up against yours, happy and proud and so beautiful.

“Couldn’t help myself. Was hoping you’d—“ a laugh. “Hoping I’d what” You say, hands rubbing up and down Mizu’s arm. Her shoulder, the elbow, back up again. “You’d kill me. Get mad. Throw me off you.” Another kiss, heady and slow. “Not strong enough for that.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.”

The monsoons start the night she kisses you. It beats down onto the pebbles surrounding the garden and the wood of the roof and the cicadas are white noise. The thunder and lightning fight to be louder than your moans.

Mizu doesn’t stop laughing, doesn’t stop smiling and kissing you, doesn’t stop. Not until she’s pushed up against you body. Both your legs, chest, and forehead touching. Curled into the soft of her.

“I tried, you know” You say.

“Hm?”

“Tried stopping it. This. Couldn’t.” You felt puffy and raw. Couldn’t say it clearly.

Mizu observed you, amused. Her hair down and her freckles dark, and her mouth red.

“Me too. Don’t worry, me too.”

And the summer felt like years. And mizu thought, as she held you: The ground had thawed. It’s thawed.

It’s thawed.

———

title and work inspired by work song by hozier bc cmonnnn

[shadowdaddies]

Hello, could i request some angsty ruhn danaan x reader fic. Im thinking some big fight, Ruhn is an asshole and calls the reader some bad names and then has to beg for her forgiveness, it can end however you like. Hope you hava a lovely day

thank you my love, I hope you have/had a great day as well💜

The Morning After

Ruhn Danaan x Reader angst

warnings: alcohol use/drunkenness, mirthroot use

Your blood boiled in your veins, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as you watched your boyfriend across the room. Arm draped across the back of the couch, Ruhn made no effort to push away the beautiful fawn leaning into his touch.

You weren’t usually the jealous type, but party after party of Ruhn entertaining every female that looked his way began to grate on you. Knocking back the rest of your drink, you stumbled through the crowd as you sought the fresh air in the backyard.

A shoulder jostled against yours, Declan’s amber eyes lit with concern as he reached out to steady you. “Are you alright?” his voice echoed above the thumping music.

Tears welled in your eyes, steadying yourself while you glanced to the open patio. “I’m fine,” you choked out, gently brushing his hand from your shoulder to continue your path through the crowd. 

The backyard was quiet, a few couples scattered around who you easily avoided as you found a seat in the lush grass against the base of a large oak tree. Finally letting your emotions spring free, you looked to the stars, sobbing quietly as images of your boyfriend and the females constantly draped over him.

A sigh sounded from your side, the faint smell of leather and mirthroot interrupting your thoughts as Ruhn sat next to you. “Dec said you might need me,” he drawled, so nonchalantly it made your skin crawl.

Your nails dug into the dirt, heat rising to your cheeks as you whipped your head towards Ruhn, eyes wide with fury. His violet eyes tracked you with the slightest hint of confusion, the prince slowly registering your ire. “I might need you? Ruhn, I don’t just need you, I want you. I want to be with you, but you couldn’t care less about whether I’m even there.”

Mascara was running down your cheeks now, emotions spiraling further out of control at Ruhn’s blank, assessing stare. “Ruhn, do you even care about me? You’re always on my mind, and I feel like I’m never on yours. I’m not even an afterthought. You only care if one of your friends says something because it makes you look bad.”

Your head was pounding at this point, the alcohol and tears shed draining the moisture from your body. You forced your bleary eyes to where Ruhn sat, his gaze turned angry and stiff. 

“Well, say something!” you shouted. “Or go back to that fawn you were eyeing, Urd knows you care for her more than me.” Sniffling, you lifted your drink to your lips, only for Ruhn to pull it away.

The cup crashed in the grass on the other side of him, Ruhn’s posture rigid as he stood, towering over you. “How could you say those things about me? How could you even think that I don’t care about you, after all I do?”

Hands flexing at his sides, Ruhn barely refrained from yelling as people took notice around the yard. “You are so clingy and insecure. It’s not my problem that you can’t function on your own without a male’s constant attention.”

Your chest heaved, seething with rage as you prepared your retort, only to be cut off by Ruhn’s dismissive hand. “I could not care less what you have to say right now. Get your shit together, and we can talk tomorrow.” He didn’t turn back around before storming into the house.

Head falling to your knees, you tried to shut out the world and gather your thoughts. You knew you were being ridiculous, but Ruhn’s dismissal of your feelings made you question if those thoughts might be valid. Stumbling to stand, you wiped the tears from your cheeks and started towards the house to head home.

“Hey, hey,” a soft voice sounded, tender hand cupping your shoulder as Declan stopped you. “What happened? I saw Ruhn come through here crying as well, but he wouldn’t talk.”

Shaking your head, you pulled your friend in for a hug, mumbling against his shirt. “I messed up, Dec. I said some hurtful things to Ruhn, but I just really feel like he doesn’t care about me. I don’t think he loves me like I love him,” you admitted, heart cracking in your chest at the mere thought that might be true.

Dec’s arms wrapped around you, the comforting warmth you’d been seeking instantly calming you. “Ruhn cares for you more than you know. I don’t know what that idiot said, but don’t let a drunk night with high emotions ruin what you two have.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Dec led you upstairs. Stopping at the door to his bedroom, he opened the door and nodded toward the bed. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? I’m going home with Marc, and I’d feel better if you didn’t leave in this state.”

“Are you sure?” you looked to Declan, though your tired legs were already carrying you toward his bed.

A small chuckle escaped him. “Yes, it’s fine. I’ll bring you some water, too. Just get some sleep.”

You couldn’t remember falling asleep, but when you awoke the next morning with the sun filtering in through the windows, you saw the glass of water Dec had left for you on his nightstand.

Memories of last night flooded through your mind, drowning you in doubt and worry while you threw on a spare shirt and dared to pad downstairs.

The scent of salty tears invaded your senses, and you took in the sight of Ruhn crying at the breakfast table, eyes puffy and long black hair a tangled mess. He looked up to where you stood, something like relief flashing over his features as he stared at you as though you were a ghost.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, hands held close to himself, body shrinking inward with insecurity. “Dec texted me that you were staying here. I’m - I thought you might not want to speak to me.”

Taking a tentative step forward, you felt the sharp rays of sun piercing your pounding head, as if to emphasize the many poor decisions from last night. “I think that last night was a conversation to be had, but sober might be best,” you breathed out the last bit with a laugh, wincing at the pain.

“Come here,” Ruhn waved, hand gesturing for you to sit in his lap. You curled into his side, taking a deep inhale before Ruhn scooted a cup of coffee in front of you.

“I fucked up,” he muttered. “I’ve felt like I am smothering you lately, and wanted to give you space last night. It didn’t even cross my mind that you might feel like I could have interest in anyone else. I don’t know, it felt like you were projecting onto me... I didn’t know it was even possible to feel this way about anyone.”

He paused, hand wrapping around your neck as he held you close, breathing in your scent. “I love you, and no matter how much we shouldn’t have had that stupid argument, I shouldn’t have left you.” Violet eyes found yours, sincerity clear within them. “I promise I will never leave you like that during an argument again.”

Your arms wound around his neck, buried in onyx hair as you felt peace for the first time that day. “I love you too, Ruhn.” 

Another shot of pain rang through your head, groaning as you leaned against your boyfriend’s shoulder. “Can we just lay in bed today?” 

A low laugh rumbled through his chest, lips pressing to your temple. “You read my mind.”

[webkinztournament]

[hopefulidiocy]

Landline

Modern!Aemond x Modern!Y/N

Warnings: SFW

A/N: this is mainly dialogue through a phone

📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞

📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞

“Sometimes I think Professor Watkins has it in for me,” Bryony, your nearest and dearest friend, stated as she kicked the long grass; both of you on your weekend hike across the hills in your nearest countryside,

“Why?” You snorted, pulling your heavy water bottle out of your backpack and chugging it like you were in a desert,

“He’s always gunning for me, always, like he never stops asking me such stupid questions!” Suddenly she got annoyed, kicking the head off a Daisy as you reached the peak of the final hill. The views were outstanding, a green river of treetops swaying in the wind; a light blue hue grazing atop the trees that made the sky go on forever; a few spotted people enjoying their walk on this brisk spring day. You turned to your friend as she breathed in the beautiful, fresh air that filled her lungs before she hit her vape. Irony at its finest.

“You know you’ll die one day smoking them,” you laughed, pulling your backpack to your feet, “all those chemicals.” You added,

“At least I’ll die happy,” she sighed and the smoke blew out, swirling in the air and escaping her, “and young.” She added, laughing, knocking you with her elbow.

Both of you continued your walk, talking and whispering about your student lives as your apartment block, white and bright, came into view. Your calves ached as you dropped your heavy bag at the door, shutting and bolting the door after promising a wine night with Bryony later. Your hairband came tangled in your hair after the wind threw you to and fro for the last 20 minutes of your one hour and twenty minute walk, you pulled harshly, hissing when like half of your head came out with it. The shower hit your skin, the sharp pellets cleaning out your pores as you let yourself relax, massaging your calves deeply with your calloused knuckles.

Wrapping a clean towel around your hair, you began your skin routine, rubbing coconut oil over your legs and arms to the point you felt you could slip through the small gap in your door. By the kitchen counter, your empty fruit bowl lays unhappily and you made a comment to finally buy some bananas or something and fulfill your New Year’s resolution… eating more fruit. As you sat, with a nice glass of iced water, your normally silent landline rang; bouncing off your quiet walls.

Perplexed, with broken acrylic nails, you pulled the phone to your ear,

“Hello?” You asked, tapping your nails on the counter,

“Hello,” the voice was male and gruff, slightly feminine, a voice you had never heard before,

“Ummm… who is this?” You questioned, somehow your patience wearing thin,

“Aemond, am I calling Aegon?” He said, his voice slightly wavering towards the end,

“No, this is y/n,” you laughed, endeared by his realisation he called the wrong number,

“Oh! Oh! I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t bother you?”

“No, of course you didn’t.” You smiled, ending the phone on him and sighed. That voice was very calming, what was his name? Aemond? What an odd sounding name, you had definitely never heard that name before and even with modern day technology, your parents had begged you to have a landline so your grandparents could call you and check in with you.

The night drew in, the wine was poured, the comfy pyjamas were on and your favourite k drama as you and Bryony snuggled up together, popping crisps in your mouth as you shouted at the TV. Bryony was absolutely fawning over the attractive male lead, she was actually blushing over him every time he came on screen, kicking her feet… the whole works. The wine made you sleepy and you dropped off over her shoulder.

The dawning sun shot through your living room window, the orange light painting the cream floors as you woke up with an agonising crick in your neck, still against Bryony.

“Morning, sleepy.” She smiled, flicking through TikTok. Your heart puttered against your chest because your friend had been awake for some time and hadn’t moved, she kept you asleep for almost two hours.

“Ugh, what time is it?” You asked, covering your eyes from the sunlight,

“About 8 AM,” she smiled, “you look tired, go back to bed.”

“No, I have an essay to bash out,” you groaned, rubbing your sore temples as you stood on your feet, “matcha?” Bryony nodded. You slaved over your milk and matcha powder for a good fifteen minutes before the drink was perfect, both of you continued the episode of your k drama that you were watching last night.

Bryony had left at 11AM and at 1PM you were halfway through your essay, your head aching from looking at a bright screen for almost two hours so you decided now was the right time for lunch. Normally, you had a chicken salad but you were due a grocery shop and had in only tinned tomato soup… it wouldn’t fill you but you definitely couldn’t be fucked to pop down to the corner store to fetch something more filling so you plopped the liquid into the pan, waiting for it to boil when the landline rang.

“Hey,” you said, resting it between your ear and shoulder as you buttered a bread bun,

“Hey, Aegon,” the same guy from yesterday said, somewhat melancholy, you laughed loudly,

“You’ve got the wrong number again, Edmund,” you licked your fingers,

“Oh, fuck!” You could hear him smack his head, “I’m so sorry, again and it’s Aemond not Edmund.” He laughed, a breathy kind of laugh that had your heart almost racing. Ew, get a grip of yourself, he’s literally accidentally called you twice!

“No worries, Aemond. I hope you eventually call this Aegon guy,” you said, amused,

“Seeing as I’ve called you twice now, can you remind me of your name?” He asked,

“Y/N,” you smiled, “it’s a pretty easy one to remember.”

“It definitely is, it’s also simply a pretty name.” He replied. Was he flirting with you? It was so odd.

“Thank you, Aemond,” you laughed, “it’s been good to talk to you?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, you could tell his head threw back slightly because his voice distanced from the phone, “it’s been good to speak to you too.” He ended the call and you had stared at the phone for some time when you placed it in the holder, before rushing to your stove as the boil began to spill over the side.

Cuddled up on your sofa, your fluffy blanket wrapped around your body, a sore head from so much thinking but thankfully you finished your essay and was having some much needed you-time. The phone rang. You groaned as you shuffled in your comfy socks as you picked it up.

“Hey grandma, you okay?” Despite having two calls prior to this one from that one boy, you genuinely assumed it would be your grandparents.

“Hey, no, sorry, it’s Aemond,” the revelation had you rolling your eyes, it was getting annoying now that he kept calling,

“Oh, Aemond. Did you call me by accident again?” You asked,

“No!” He exclaimed, “no, I didn’t, I wanted to call you well… because I really liked your laugh and just.. wanted to get to know you I guess.” This information had you sitting at the barstool,

“You wanted to get to know me?” You repeated, a slight amusement in your voice,

“Is that wrong?”

“No, it’s just interesting,” You smiled, hopefully he knew you were, “but why don’t you get my mobile number? It could be easier to get to know me that way.”

“I don’t have a mobile phone, only a landline, that’s probably why I keep getting my brother’s number wrong.” He said, somewhat shyly,

“Why don’t you have a mobile phone?” You cocked your head, resting the phone between your shoulder and ear,

“Ummm… mainly because I prefer to live offline and most people I know have a landline so… why get one?” He said. Based on the very little information you had on this man, he seemed peculiar. He had no phone. Constantly got numbers wrong and wanted to get to know you based solely on your laugh. It was a bit weird, most people could agree.

“Interesting,” you hummed, feeling slightly bored,

“Tell me an interesting fact about you then.” That had you thinking deeply about yourself, there wasn’t much interesting or exciting about you because you didn’t do much apart from studying and going on a weekly hike. So sadly you were going to let him down by saying,

“There’s nothing interesting about me,”

“I’m sure there is, y/n,” he said, “everyone has something interesting.”

“You start then,” you quickly said, trying to buy time to think of something exciting that would make him want to talk to you more,

“I have one eye,” he cleared his throat, you scrunched your eyebrows wondering if he was actually telling the truth. Rule number one of talking to strangers… most of them catfish you. Rule number two of talking to strangers… most of them make up wild shit.

“One eye?” You repeated, disbelieving him,

“Yeah, I bet it’s weird to hear about but I really do,” his voice shook with a chuckle,

“How did you lose it?” You played with the ring on your index finger, waiting for him to answer,

“I got into a fight when I was younger, I have a complicated family, and my nephew who is only slightly younger than me sliced my eye out,” he was laughing as he said it and you boiled that down to becoming so numb to his reality that all he could do was laugh about it,

“That is horrific,” you said, “did it hurt?”

“Of course it did, it was the worst pain in the world, I would never put anyone through that, not even my worst enemy,” he laughed, cracking his knuckles,

“And who’s your worst enemy?” You asked, picking at your nails,

“My sister,” he answered immediately,

“Your family sounds complicated,” you smiled, shaking your head,

“Definitely. But I’m a lone wolf, I tend to separate myself from them,” he said. Yep. He was definitely a bit weird. But sometimes the best families were a bit complicated.

“Well then,” you exhaled, “turns out I have nothing as interesting as that. I have both of my eyes.” He laughed at your joke,

“What’s it like to see out of both eyes?” His laugh came from his throat, it was slightly strained,

“Normal. What’s it like to see out of one?” You asked,

“Normal.” Both of you chuckled, “I should probably let you go now, it’s getting late,” you looked at the clock and saw that it was nearing midnight,

“Yeah, I have an early start tomorrow,” you said, “it was nice talking to you.”

“Same to you, call the same time tomorrow, if that’s what you’d like?”

“I’d like that.”

*

The day you had was stressful to say the least because you had your Professor on your ass all day about taking up tutoring for the first years, two years below you. You were unsure, not even 50% sure about the tutoring because the imposter syndrome in your medical studies was so strong that it was something you thought about every day and every lecture. So you came home, kicked off your shoes and poured yourself a large glass of white wine and sat in the darkness of your living room. The silence was broken by the phone ringing, you padded your feet towards it, collapsing on the stool.

“Hey,” you said, “Aemond?”

“Yep, it’s me again,” he chuckled, “how was your day?”

“Stressful. My professor wants me to tutor the first years, but I don’t believe I’m good enough to do it and I’ve said this to him but he just won’t stop jabbering on.” You sighed, taking a gulp of your wine,

“Why don’t you think you’re good enough?” A shuffle rang through the phone,

“Mainly because I got into the course by going through clearing. I’ve got here simply by chance, not by being smart,” you shrugged, resigned to your fate,

“Your course is?”

“Medicine.” He laughed, heartily,

“Of course you’re good enough! Only the smartest people can get onto a medicine course, clearing or not,” his mouth spread into a smile, you could hear it so naturally your mouth journeyed into one as well,

“Thanks, Aemond,” you replied, a blush rising to your cheeks, looking down at the counter slightly embarrassed about getting shy around someone you had never met before,

“It’s Edmund actually,” he joked, his laugh breathy and deep,

“Don’t lie,” you giggled back, “anyway, I should probably head to bed.”

*

After a couple of days, probably a week, you found yourself waiting by the phone, eager for him to call and you’re unsure whether it was because you started to feel some connection for him or whether it was just a nice thing to do during the evening. Every evening, he called at 5PM, ready with baited breath you picked up the phone, bringing it to your ear and waiting for his deep, almost feminine voice,

“Hey y/n,” he said, his knuckles cracking,

“Hi Aemond,” you smiled, a little too eager for your liking and all conversations started like that, continuing through to a deep conversation surrounding life, experience and something philosophical,

“What is a chair?” He asked, munching down the phone,

“Something you sit on,” you said, rolling your eyes. It was now week 2 that you had been talking with Aemond and it quickly became a routine,

“How do we know it’s a chair?” He questioned, his voice having a slight lilt to it,

“Because we’re conditioned to believe it is one?” It came out as a question because it seriously dumbed you when he came out with such interesting theories,

“Hmm… cool,” he said, his mind obviously far away, “hey, y/n?”

“Yes Aemond?”

“I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, it’s been a highlight to be honest,” his voice became somewhat shy and your heart melted into a small puddle at the bottom of your stomach,

“I’ve really enjoyed this too, Aemond,” you said and then realised, “but I don’t even know your last name,”

“Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen,” he chuckled,

“That’s such a unique name, Aemond, where does that come from?” You asked, popping a chocolate coin in your mouth and sucking on it,

“Somewhere old, I’m not even sure myself,” he laughed, “but yeah it’s a pretty cool name.”

*

You and Bryony walked through the mall, mooching around for some kind of birthday night out outfit for a mutual friend who was going to Magic Mike in the coming month. It proved to be difficult though because you had no idea what people wore there, every TikTok has just come up with naked men dancing and not a single outfit check. The day was nearing 5 and you were itching to get home, to have that nice chat with Aemond that you always looked forward too. It was a special moment between you two, like nothing else existed in the world, just the both of you. Maybe it was time to finally meet, you knew he lived quite far away but you would make that distance just to possibly see his face and maybe take that a bit further. You knew you felt something for him, the way your heart slowed whenever he spoke and the way it sped up when he laughed. Even thinking about his laugh made your cheeks heat up and your mouth form into a small smile.

With your bags that you shoved at the door, you ran towards your kitchen island, sitting there like a sad puppy waiting for the call to come through. You looked at the clock: 4:59. Tapping your fingers against the table, you waiting for a minute… for two… for three until Aemond hadn’t called you at 5:30. You wished you had his number saved so maybe you could call him, but you didn’t. He always called you so you felt you didn’t need it, so you waited for three hours, hopelessly waiting for his call. But it never came.

Even a month later, the call never came. At your friend’s birthday, when all the girls were having fun, throwing fake money at the dancers and hollering at their body rolls, you were thinking about where he had disappeared too. Was it something you said? Did you come off too strong? For the past month you had been thinking about what you could’ve done wrong. Bryony tried asking why you were so down, but she wouldn’t understand, no one could. How could you explain that you started crushing on a man you had never met?

During your lecture, scribbling down notes in your italic handwriting, a notification came through on your phone. At first you ignored it, focused more on naming every muscle in the body with your gingerbread chart. But once you had finished, shaking your sore wrist, you picked up your phone. Numerous notifications, mainly from Bryony who had been on five dates with the same guy and it was going nowhere. But an interesting BBC headline caught your eye.

Conservative Leader pays homage to his brother

3:23PM 16/04/24

Leader of the Opposition arrived at the annual Targaryen Spring party exclaimed fiercely about the love for his Late brother, Aemond Targaryen. Sir Aegon Targaryen took to the stand in front of hundreds of guests to express his sadness and gratitude for his brother, he stated:

“My brother Aemond Targaryen came across as stoic, it was hard to talk to him at times, especially when he was younger: he was incredibly stubborn,” this earned a laugh from the audience, “my brother had a lot to deal with, he was bullied from a young age and is the reason I want to put a definite end to school bullying, and when he was ten years old, his eye was sliced out in a cruel attack from a boy just a year younger than him. Affectionately, he was known as “One Eye” which definitely annoyed him at times but it was always said with love. He took his time, talking at schools and becoming one of the best criminal lawyers in the country. He died in a freak accident just a month ago, the driver of the car has since been questioned and will hopefully be imprisoned with manslaughter of my beautiful brother.” Aegon ended the speech with a toast, his mother, Alicent, obviously upset sobbed as she raised her glass to him, she named him her “beautiful son.” Written by Bob Declan, BBC News

Your eyes watered, disbelieving that this could be the Aemond you had spoken to for just over a month. In a room full of silent people, you couldn’t react to the news, you couldn’t let yourself cry over someone you technically didn’t know so you excused yourself to the bathroom. Perched in front of the mirror, hands on each side of the porcelain sink as the tears dropped and disappeared down the drain, you couldn’t stop them. You felt your heart racing as you sniffed and prayed to anything mystical that Aemond, the Aemond you had spoken to, wasn’t dead. With trembling hands, you researched Aemond Targaryen, and with bated breath you waited for the internet to speed.

There he was. Beautiful and smiling next to his family, who all had the same white hair, striking with one shiny blue eye and you just knew it was him. It came to you in an instant, that man you knew through the phone, that man you spent so many evenings talking to was dead. You would never get to meet him, you would never get to hold him in your arms and he never got to see you, with your auburn hair and kind eyes. You zoomed in on his face, a slight smirk, just like you heard through the phone, was apparent on his face and you fell in love with that face in an instant. It just made you cry harder.

[sonics-atelier]

𝐀 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞

Summary: At a boring Spring Court party, Tamlin and Lucien ditch the crowd for a quiet escape, only to end up kissing and realizing they've been awkwardly crushing on each other all along. The night goes from 'let's hide' to 'let’s make out' faster than they can say "Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

WC: 1.3 K. Read On AO3 or below the cut.

For 31 Days Of Tamcien, Prompt - Day 26 “This Party's Boring Let's Sneak Off Together”

. . .

The Spring Court was alive with the kind of celebration that was almost too much to bear. Glittering lights hung from every tree, their warm glow dancing in the night air, as music swirled like the very winds themselves. The laughter of the fae echoed through the grand hall of the Spring Court, mingling with the sound of clinking glasses and rustling silk. It was a scene that should have been beautiful—mesmerizing, even—but for Tamlin and Lucien, it was little more than a suffocating weight.

Tamlin stood at the center of the gathering, his broad shoulders squared beneath the intricate green tunic of his court, the weight of his title hanging like a shadow behind his every step. His golden hair was meticulously styled, though by now it felt more like a constraint than a crown. The incessant chatter of the courtiers seemed to only amplify his discontent. He had no taste for their hollow praise, their cloying smiles and superficial inquiries. They wanted something from him—always something. To be seen, to be adored, to be obeyed. But tonight, none of it held any meaning.

Lucien stood nearby, an ever-vigilant presence at Tamlin’s side. His mismatched eyes scanned the crowd with a sense of detached amusement, but even he couldn’t escape the weight of the evening. The night stretched on, each passing moment a blur of indistinct conversations and perfumed bodies. Tamlin could feel Lucien’s gaze on him—a familiar, calculating look that seemed to speak volumes in the quiet. But despite their closeness, Tamlin felt more alone than he had in ages.

“Tamlin,” Lucien’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and amused. “This party is unbearable.”

Tamlin glanced at him, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “You think I don’t know that?”

Lucien’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Then why don’t we do something about it?”

Tamlin arched an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Lucien’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Let’s sneak off. I’m sure no one will miss us.”

Tamlin’s lips quirked into a smile of his own. “And leave all the little sycophants alone to fawn over us?”

“Exactly.” Lucien’s grin widened. “You’re not one to enjoy these gatherings, and I’m far too charming to endure this alone.”

Tamlin considered the proposition, and then, as if the very idea had taken root in his mind, he nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Without a word, they moved through the crowd, slipping away unnoticed, the noise of the party quickly fading into the background. The quiet of the Spring Court’s sprawling gardens welcomed them as they emerged into the night air, the scent of fresh blooms mingling with the soft whispers of the wind. For the first time that evening, Tamlin felt his shoulders relax, the weight of his title, his responsibilities, dissipating in the stillness of the garden.

They walked in silence, their footsteps light on the cobblestone path, the moon casting a gentle silver glow over everything. Tamlin could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the trees, the soft murmur of distant voices from the party. But here, with Lucien at his side, it all seemed a world away.

“Where exactly are we going?” Tamlin asked, breaking the silence.

Lucien shrugged. “Anywhere but there.”

A quiet laugh escaped Tamlin, the sound rare and unguarded. “You always have such a way with words.”

Lucien grinned, the expression brightening his usually impassive features. “It’s one of my many talents.”

Tamlin couldn’t help but glance at him, truly look at him for the first time that night. Lucien’s features were sharp, his skin the color of sunlit bronze, his mismatched eyes glittering with a humor that Tamlin found both maddening and fascinating. There was an intensity in Lucien, a quiet strength that had always drawn Tamlin in, even if he’d been too proud—or too afraid—to admit it.

As they wandered deeper into the garden, the sound of the distant party fading further, Lucien paused in front of a secluded fountain, the water sparkling like liquid glass under the moonlight. He leaned against the stone edge, his eyes glinting in the soft light as he looked at Tamlin.

Tamlin stood beside him, a few steps away, uncertain of what to say or do. The tension that had been simmering between them for years seemed to thicken the air between them now, more tangible than the roses blooming at their feet.

“This is better,” Lucien said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

Tamlin glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his tone. “Better?”

Lucien’s gaze softened. “No pretending here. No masks. No titles. Just... us.”

Tamlin felt the words settle in his chest, a strange ache spreading through him at the sincerity in Lucien’s voice. It was rare to hear him speak so openly, and even rarer for Tamlin to hear it without the usual sarcasm, the sharp edges that Lucien so often wore as armor. Here, beneath the canopy of stars and far from the prying eyes of the court, Tamlin felt something in him shift. A quiet yearning he had never allowed himself to recognize before.

He took a step closer, his voice low. “Is this what you wanted? To escape everything?”

Lucien didn’t answer right away. Instead, he met Tamlin’s gaze, his mismatched eyes lingering for a moment before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to escape everything... except you.”

The words hit Tamlin like a blow, though the sensation was almost... pleasant. The weight of them settled on his chest, thick and warm, filling the empty space between them. His breath caught in his throat, and before he could stop himself, he was moving toward Lucien, his heart pounding in his chest.

Their proximity shifted the air between them. The quiet that had once been comfortable now felt charged, every inch of space between them crackling with something unspoken, something far more dangerous than either of them had been willing to acknowledge.

Lucien tilted his head slightly, his eyes darkening. Tamlin could see the flicker of hesitation in him, but it was a hesitation that mirrored his own. Neither of them had ever been good at talking about what they truly wanted, what they truly felt. But now, standing in the quiet of the night with only the sound of the fountain to break the silence, there was nothing left to hide behind.

Tamlin reached out, his hand brushing against Lucien’s arm. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of heat through his body. Lucien’s breath caught, and before either of them could say a word, their lips met, tentative at first, but deepening quickly as they gave in to the pull between them.

The kiss was soft, gentle at first, as if they were testing the waters, but it soon became something more—urgent, desperate, as if they had both been starving for this for far too long. Tamlin’s hands moved to Lucien’s shoulders, pulling him closer, the heat of his body mixing with Lucien’s. Lucien’s hands gripped Tamlin’s tunic, tugging him down, desperate for more.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and wide-eyed, it was as if the world had shifted on its axis. The quiet of the garden seemed louder now, and the weight of their unspoken feelings was heavier than ever before.

Lucien let out a soft laugh, though it was strained, almost nervous. “Well... that was unexpected.”

Tamlin chuckled softly, his heart still pounding in his chest. “Yeah. Definitely wasn’t what I thought would happen when I agreed to sneak off with you.”

Lucien met his gaze, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Tamlin saw vulnerability in his eyes. The armor that Lucien wore so carefully—the one that kept the world at arm’s length—was gone, replaced by something raw and real.

“Tamlin...” Lucien began, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I—”

But Tamlin didn’t let him finish. He closed the distance between them once more, pressing his lips to Lucien’s, this time with more conviction, more certainty. There was no need for words anymore—not between them. This kiss, this moment, was enough to speak the truths they had both kept hidden for far too long.

. . .

- @sonics-atelier 2025 ( do not repost or reuse in any way, shape or form )

[artemis-potnia-theron]

How I perceive different deities' energies

(based on personal experiences)

Apollon ☀️: Light coming up from somewhere deep in the gut. An ache that almost burns. And it might if I stare too long. Swelling gold. A chorus of music too perfect to be written, words that could shatter my tongue if I tried to speak them.

Brigid 🔥: A lump at the back of my throat. Tears in my eyes while I smile. Joy and grief mixed together under my ribcage. Melodies sung through the ages, and through tears. Warmth at my back and a hand on my cheek. Baked bread. Garden herbs. Clear water from a well. An embrace that could last an age.

Nyx 🌌: The low, echoing hum of something eternal. Something too ancient to comprehend and too overwhelming to be perceived. Endless. Ethereal. Peace and chaos. Quiet and thunderous. Coffee. Red wine. Onyx.

The Morrigan 🐦‍⬛: A chant of words I can't understand, spoken in a language I never knew and never forgot. The cold steel of a blade's edge. Sharp, precise, and unwavering. Her language of secrets and ancient knowledge could swallow you whole if you let it.

Hekate 🗝: Whispers. Shadows against candlelight. A flickering flame that knows how to dance in the wind and never extinguish. The smell of old parchment and herbs. A ripple on the water. As intricate and mesmerizing as a spider's web. Silent and sharp like a viper. A bark and a growl heard from somewhere too far away for me to see.

Aine 🧚🏼‍♀️: Sunlight breaking over the surface of a river. Citrus. Wildflowers. Fresh grass. Wind sweeping over a meadow. Chimes. Fruit trees finally coming into bloom. The juice from an apple trickling down my neck. Laughter. So much laughter.

Aphrodite ❤️: Flower petals. Something sweet and soft like honey that trickles down the back of my throat and seeps into my belly. It spreads all through me like starlight trapped in my veins. Bells. Bliss. A want that could dissolve me. A yearning that would hurt if it didn't taste so lovely. The pain feels like a lifetime away.

Tiamat 🐉: Clusters of stars. Endless reflections of light on the water's surface. The deep song of a whale that echoes through the pulse of the sea. An eye that gazes down from the cosmos.

Caer Ibormeith 🦢: A lullaby that has been with me for longer than I know. A kiss pressed to my forehead. That place between sleeping and awake, between real and not. Cool air at twilight. Dew on the glass before sunrise. Clean fabric. A veil. Flying over the world as it sleeps.

Artemis 🦌: Freedom. Breath-taking, devastating freedom. A stag drinking fresh water from a spring. A doe and her fawn, sleeping as the songbirds chirp at dawn. A rush. An absolute rush like mountain air in my blood. Fireflies in an open field. Bones bleaching in the sun. The thrill of a wolf pack chasing its prey. The moon over the ocean at night. Teeth. Bird calls. Wildflowers. A great bear that walks in the stars. Hymns only beasts can sing. Jasmine and animal fur and the midnight air.

[freesia-writes]

Ch 30: Wedding, Part 1

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.8k

Song: That Funny Feeling -- Bo Burnham (from "Inside")

.

The bell on the door of the butcher shop chimed, and Hunter was surprised to see Omega coming in. Wiping off his blade and hands, he ventured into the front to greet her. 

“What’s up, kid?” 

“Sorry for embarrassing you at dinner the other night,” she admitted, although the mirth on her face did not convincingly reflect a wealth of remorse. 

“Yeah, well… I probably deserve it,” he chuckled. The few days between had replaced the utter humiliation with more of a begrudging acceptance of the whole ordeal.

“You’re just going through your rebellious phase, since you didn’t get to as an adolescent.” Her diagnosis came with twinkling eyes that earned a groan and an eye roll from him. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted. 

“And that’s alright,” she said sagely. “You’re doing the best you can with what you have. Besides… it’s kind of fun, eh?” She elbowed him in the side, and he squinted at her in suspicion.

“And what do you know about that?” 

“Nothing, of course,” she smiled innocently. “Anyway… I have a favor to ask.”

“You’re not off to a good start.”

“Neither are you,” she returned evenly, surprising him into a chuckle. “Some of my friends are going to a beach bonfire, and it starts… like… now. But I was supposed to drop off all this stuff from the last few internships.” She held up a bundle of datacards. “For some reason, my transmitter isn’t working, so I’d have to go up to the school in person. But by the time I get there and back, I’ll have missed most of the bonfire. So…”

“You want me to close the shop and take them to the top of the island?” He lifted an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He knew he was going to do it, he just liked to point out what a huge imposition it was. 

“You’re closing in eight minutes anyway,” Omega pointed out with an equally knowing grin. 

“Fine.” 

“Thanks Hunter! You’re the best!” She gave him a hug, dropped her datacards on the counter, and bounced out of the shop with a spring in her step. 

It was only then that he was hit with a sudden suspicion of her true motives.

* * * 

The walk to the school ended up being just what he needed. It was a beautifully fresh afternoon on the island, with the perfect balance of sunshine and breeze. The sky was dotted with fluffy clouds that gave periodic respites of coolness when the sun would pass behind them, allowing Hunter to avoid getting overheated as he hiked up the winding path. The brick building came into view, bringing up a scourge of memories and emotions, but he attempted to fight them off with an insistent focus on his singular objective: drop the datacards off in the main office and be done. 

“Well hello, sir,” the main secretary greeted him as he slipped through the door, quickly donning some lipstick when he turned to secure the knob behind him. She shoved it into a desk drawer as he approached the desk, holding up the datacards. A few ladies were packing up for the day in their cubicles behind her, and he noticed a few others finishing a conversation in the back of the room around a small water dispenser. 

“Afternoon,” he said. “I know you’re about to head out. I just wanted to drop these off for Omega. They go to… the internship office.” A quick frown came and went.. 

“Vetana?” came an abrasive voice from a side office, and a greasy figure swaggered out. “I’ll run em back to her.” None other than Mullet Hanker was the one approaching the counter, a smug expression on his handsome face. The front desk lady’s heart rate increased as he approached, and a light flush painted her cheeks as she fawned at him. He gave her a wink as he reached for the cards, and Hunter felt a tightness in his core. 

“Actually,” he said, pulling them back into his hands. “I forgot. Omega needed me to deliver a message too… I’ll just take them around.”

“Oh yeah?” Mullet seemed to recognize Hunter then, and a myriad of emotions danced across his face. “Well I’d be happy to deliver a message as well.”

Hunter stared back at him, keeping his face carefully neutral, but the intensity in his hawkish eyes spoke otherwise. “I appreciate it. But not necessary. Thank you all,” he said, addressing the secretary as well, whose eyes had widened somewhat as she felt the tension sparking between the men. It seemed as though Mullet were about to reply, but he closed his mouth, watching Hunter slip out the door with thinly pressed lips. 

Once outside, Hunter took a deep breath, simultaneously apprehensive and indignant at himself for feeling that way. He toyed with the thought of going back and just leaving them after all, and he wondered why he’d felt so immediately insistent that he take them himself. He didn’t want to, if he were honest, but he’d somewhat sealed his fate, so he headed for the main hallway and began a slow walk down the dark, quiet halls. When he arrived at Lyra’s door, halfway open as usual, he paused, trying to calm the tidal wave of frustration and resentment rising within. Finally, he knocked on the door frame and stepped into view.

Lyra looked up quickly, eyes rounding as she recognized him. Panic and hurt flashed across her face, and she remained in her chair, hands spread flat on the desk as though it were the safeguard between them. Hunter held up the datacards, searching for the right words to say and second-guessing every single one. 

“Omega asked me to bring these.” A sheepish admittance.

“Ah. Thank you.” She stood to take them from him. 

“Yup.” He passed them to her carefully, avoiding any accidental touch of the hands. 

Silence.

They looked everywhere but at each other.

“Well… thanks,” he said lamely, then moved back toward the door, slowly, as though held back by some unidentified force. 

Lyra watched him, mouth opening and closing a few times. He couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder to offer a polite nod, and he was struck by her body language. She was perched on the edge of her chair like a bird about to take flight, hands fidgeting on the desk before her for a second before she clasped them together to stop the movement. She was emanating a disquiet anticipation and he could feel himself being drawn into her tumult like a boat on stormy seas. 

He turned and left without another word. 

* * * 

“Babe!!” Luci exclaimed, beaming at him as he stood in her doorway. “You look a-maaaaazing!” He stepped in sheepishly, straightening the front of his tuxedo. It was an incredibly formal wedding, a stark contrast to the typically laid-back affairs of the island, and he’d been coerced into wearing a full suit, including a vest and white gloves. Again he had that sensation of being in someone else’s life, but the absolute adoration from Luci was distracting him from the spiky discomfort he was feeling. 

She had indeed given him space over the last week, insisting that she would truly be okay with whatever he decided about the wedding. While part of him wanted to refuse out of spite, he had a begrudging compulsion to keep his word. It was a pathetically trivial topic, but the principle of the matter had nagged him into compliance, so here he was, trussed up like a Life Day dinner and being delightedly inspected by Luci.

“What’s this?” she asked, drawing her fingers over a small pin he had added on his left breast pocket. 

“Omega made it for me in a job shadow for a welder,” he answered, glancing down at the small skull with two Aurebesh 9s beneath it. 

“A bit morbid, don’t you think?” she observed, furrowing her perfectly-shaped brows. 

“It’s… an old family crest,” he deflected, standing up a little straighter with an air of authority. Maker, how long had it been since he felt that? Luci read his vibe effortlessly, instead grasping his lapels and pulling him in for a quick kiss. 

“Well you look freaking delicious. Maybe too much, actually. Gonna have to beat the ladies away,” she said playfully. “But maybe I’ll give you a run for your money.” She held her arms out, offering a little spin to show off her own outfit, which Hunter had been trying to formulate words to address. She was wearing a bright red, lacy dress that hugged her curves all the way down her body until it flared out gracefully below her thighs. The scalloped neckline danced across her cleavage in a treacherously perfect cut as she adjusted herself one last time.

“The curse of perfect tits,” she giggled, wagging her eyebrows at him. Her lips had never looked so voluptuous, and she’d applied her makeup expertly to give herself a boldly glamorous look, framed by luscious curls that scattered across her shoulders and down to where her dress scooped across her lower back. 

“You look…” He was lost for words.

“I know. You’re speechless,” she laughed. She was a bombshell and she knew it, and yet it was somehow not a brag that hid a deeper insecurity but rather a seemingly effortless confidence that she carried into virtually every aspect of her life. Turning to look at her floor-length mirror, she tilted her head as she stood beside him. “We look damn good together.”

He nodded and waited by the door as she pulled on some black high heels followed by a dab of perfume from an ornate, gold-plated bottle. With one last scrutinizing glance, she joined him in the doorway, satisfied. Her sweet-yet-spicy scent filled his nostrils, and the heat radiating from her bare chest was palpable. She had skipped on jewelry, which surprised him as she was typically adorned with a luxurious array of gold necklaces and earrings, but her nails were long and bright red, a perfect match to the dress, and the hair and makeup was above and beyond. She’d turn heads, no doubt. 

Luci was in the wedding, which, as Hunter quickly discovered, meant that she was needed for a whole lot of things that didn’t involve him. There were two brides, each uniquely decorated with the customary attire of their home worlds, and a large bridal party made up of friends that all seemed to know each other well.

So he was left to fend for himself as the final ceremony preparations were made, opting to slink around the perimeter of the patio before finding a nice, quiet corner to tuck himself into. The outdoor area was made entirely of stone, with mature trees draping their leaves over the roofs and railing of a balcony that curved across the side to reveal a stunning vista below. As the sun lowered, it painted the horizon with a beautiful, creamy light that gave an ethereal feel to the evening. 

Hunter fidgeted with his gloves, noticing with a wry smile just how odd they now felt, despite the fact that he’d been wearing gloves almost his entire life. Different ones, granted, but it was further proof of the irrevocable shifts of the last few years. An elderly couple approached him, wandering away from the throngs of people that were quickly filling the seats and space, and he stood up straighter, offering a polite dip of the head as they neared. 

“Well aren’t you a dashing young man,” the lady spoke, her quavery voice sweet as honey as she looked him up and down. “Look at him, Arro.” She elbowed the feeble-looking man next to her, who was hunched so much that Hunter was looking more at the top of his head than his face. The labored straightening of a stiffened spine brought the man’s eyes to Hunter, and a mischievous smirk curved his wrinkled cheeks. 

“Quite a delightful specimen,” chuckled Arro, who slowly lowered his gaze back to his frail wife. “But he lacks a certain… jenessekwah…” He drifted off, wiggling his eyebrows and earning a burst of embarrassed laughter from the woman.

“Oh, pulling out the Twi’leki, I see!” she giggled, the wrinkles on her face settling into the smile lines that she had clearly spent years carving out. “What a night!”

Hunter could not have felt more distinctly “other”, and yet there was something about the deep love and familiarity between the two of them that created a dull ache in his chest. He forgot whatever Twi’leki phrase he’d conjured up to impress the two of them and instead excused himself with some genuine well-wishes and a bow. He found an empty seat in the back of the rows, with some space between it and the people further down, and he slipped into it, glancing at his chrono, then checking his comm. 

Minutes ticked by. The crowd grew louder. The seats filled. The host of the evening took his place at the front, giving a five-minute warning that the ceremony would soon begin. Hunter was doing everything he could to avoid the merciless waves of thoughts that seemed to be intent on afflicting him. It was frustrating that, after a lifetime of having clear missions laid out for him, a squad to tackle them with, and a litany of distinct, purposeful plans at his disposal, he was spending the “free” portion of his life in what felt like a complete freefall. Memories flickered at the edges of his consciousness – joy and loss, victory and defeat, contentment and confusion – moving his forehead in tiny flinches as each took its turn. 

“Well fancy seeing you here!” Two women appeared from behind, dressed to the nines and clearly delighted to be there. Hunter recognized one of them from the school office, though he’d never talked to her directly… Unless she was part of the herd that sometimes visited his shop. They stepped past his legs, one being far more careful than the other not to brush against him, and sat down neatly in the chairs right beside him. “Hunter, right?” the office lady said, offering a hand, which he gently shook. “I don’t think we’ve ever officially met. I’m Ketzya. This is my friend Araquella.” The friend leaned forward with a friendly wave and her textured dark hair fell over her shoulders, framing a brilliant smile. She was beautiful, and the mere noticing of such a thing somehow made Hunter feel angry.

“Nice to meet you both,” he replied automatically, forcing the hint of a smile onto his sharp features, but it was immediately frozen. Past the women, across the aisle, he saw a familiar form. Lyra was exchanging pleasantries with a few Xyloan elders, head tilted at their words as she listened intently. One of them clasped her hand, nodding vigorously, and she smiled demurely, lowering her head in humility before picking her way across a row to an empty seat. 

“And how do you know the brides?” Ketzya asked, as Araquella settled back into her seat.

“What?” Hunter said it far too loud, startling himself and both ladies, and he jerked his eyes back to them. “Oh. Uhh. I…Um…” He paused, entirely unsure of the social nuances of a situation like this. 

“Haha, oh I see!” Ketzya giggled, leaning in to gently elbow him in the side, which again irritated him more than it should have. “Wedding crasher, eh? Sweetheart, if you want a free dinner, you just have to say the word.” She batted her eyelashes at him, snickering at her own magnificent wit, while Hunter simply stared, dumbfounded. 

“Subtle,” her friend observed, tipping her head back to catch his eye behind Ketzya’s head. He watched her eyes roll before they crinkled into a smile. 

“What!” came the protest, and the school worker lifted both hands in surrender. “I’m just stating the obvious. You tellin me you wouldn’t do anything he told you?” Ketzya looked at Araquella now, and Hunter wondered if she’d been drinking or was simply always this unfiltered, but her friend huffed indignantly and stared right back. 

“What if all he wants is for you to shut up and leave him alone?” she retorted, but her face was relaxed and Ketzya burst into laughter. They clearly had some kind of understanding. “Besides,” Araquella continued, “No one is bossing me around.” She leaned back again to address Hunter, “No offense.”

“None taken,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He glanced around the patio as surreptitiously as possible, wondering if he could slip out unnoticed and find Luci at the reception. Why did he need to be here anyway? He hadn’t thought to ask and was deeply regretting it now. But alas, the gentle background music gave way to a proclamation, and the ceremonial fanfare began.

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I had to write in Hunter's outfit after seeing this DELICIOUS fanart of tuxedo Hunter by @marymunchkiin!! Click the link and show it some love.

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@techsgalaxy02

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Spending almost the entirety of yesterday sacked out had been great. With Koromaru taking hot water bottle duty as seriously as a military post, Shinjiro had slept so hard that when everyone’s return from class had woken him that afternoon he’d actually kind of felt like a person again.

After the team meeting and brief talk with Yamagishi, he’d stayed awake just long enough to eat the takeout from Umiushi that Aki had shoved at him and do a few bits of basic bodily maintenance before he’d crashed into bed and went right back to sleep, Koro-chan once again tucked warmly against his side.

When he’d surfaced again at a quarter ‘til noon today, he’d felt downright refreshed. Sore still, and not exactly energetic, but compared to the state he’d been in thirty-six hours ago, feeling that alert was a goddamn miracle.

The downside to having enough energy to be anything other than exhausted, though, is that also means having enough energy to be bored.

Everyone’s still at school and will be for at least a few more hours (he’s trying not to think too hard about how that’s going to be him come Monday), so it’s just him and Koro-chan until then.

He fills an hour by taking Koromaru to the shrine and letting him run around to his heart’s content. He sits on his usual bench and watches Koromaru make his rounds, sniffing every nook and corner, pawing at certain patches of sand, and eventually wriggling his way under the foundation of the shrine itself. When he emerges again, he’s got another piece of that weird incense that Arisato seems to have found a use for. Shinjiro pockets it to hand over later and thanks Koro with generous scratches under his chin and behind his ears.

The fresh air and the quiet are like a balm for Shinjiro’s weary body and spirit. It’s so pleasant that the chill hardly bothers him at all. The only reason he doesn’t spend the entire afternoon right in that same spot is that his stomach growls and he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything yet today.

Hm. Maybe he should do a grocery run while he’s out. He hasn’t had a chance to look yet, but something tells him that the fridge situation is probably about as dire as it had been when he first returned to the dorms. It had been stuffed to capacity but somehow also completely empty, at least of anything actually useful for making something other than Aki’s weird athlete meals. He’d meant to get around to organizing it for the entire month of September but never had.

Well, that’ll be another way to keep himself occupied today. Stocking up now will save time later when he doesn’t need to re-reorganize around future purchases.

Koromaru waits outside of the grocer’s for him as he fills a basket with basic staples and the ingredients for a batch of curry large enough to feed the whole dorm. Making enough for everyone to start with will save him time, too– not to mention having to listen to Junpei endlessly bitch about not getting any, or enduring the sad puppy dog eyes Arisato would make at him, or the ulcer Shinjiro knows he’ll develop if he’s forced to witness how Aki would feed himself if left to his own devices.

Besides. It isn’t like a decent meal is going to solve any of their problems, but everyone could really use a bit of a pick-me-up anyway.

He also grabs ingredients to make something for Koromaru, seeing as he does still owe him a meal or three. He buys a small sausage too, as a treat for waiting so patiently. When Shinjiro finally gets back outside, a small swarm of children surrounds Koromaru, petting and fawning over him.

Koromaru is absolutely eating it up, eyes closed and tongue flopping blissfully out of the side of his mouth. Shinjiro laughs under his breath.

Koromaru’s ears perk up at the sound of Shinjiro’s voice and he barks, springing to his feet. The kids all say their goodbyes and elbow each other over the chance to dole out one last hug or pat, then quickly disperse. Koromaru trots to his side and bounces on his front paws.

Koromaru plants his butt on the concrete and paws lightly towards the bag the sausage is in, looking up with gigantic, hopeful eyes.

Shinjiro gives Koromaru his treat. He can’t help rolling his eyes as Koromaru scarfs it down like he’s never been fed once in his life.

Absolutely spoiled. But if there’s one dog that deserves to be spoiled rotten, it’s Koromaru.

Letting himself fall into the rhythm of kitchen work is relaxing in the same way that wrapping up in an old, familiar blanket would be. Shinjiro zens through the rest of the afternoon until the others start showing up. Junpei gets home first after his visit with Chidori– which is odd, since usually he hangs around until the nurses practically have to chase him out with a broom. Sure enough though, the first thing out of his mouth is to ask Shinjiro if there’s enough curry for him. Typical.

But Shinjiro can’t even be all that irritated, because Junpei’s got this hangdog look that would seem more at home on Arisato’s face than his. Still, he manages to smile at the news that yes, there’s a plate of curry with his name on it, even as Shinjiro makes sure he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t leave plenty for everyone else.

One by one, mostly everyone makes their way back. They all gravitate towards the smell of the curry pretty much as soon as they’re through the door. Yamagishi assigns herself the task of passing out plates (again), and they all stick around downstairs to eat. The atmosphere is warm and comfortably rowdy, exactly how it should be.

When Koromaru starts barking, it’s Amada who peers through the window and announces that a black car just parked in front of the dorm. For a split second, Shinjiro thinks it might be Kirijo. Which is stupid of him– there’s no way she’d be back so soon. No way she’d show up unannounced, either.

Of course it’s not her that climbs out of the car. It’s Aigis. Everyone crowds around her, talking over each other like they all want to be the first to tell her how thrilled they are to see her safe and back home. Aigis lets their excitement wash over her with a serene expression for a few minutes, then politely excuses herself to her room. Left behind, the others glance between each other and the stairs, but nobody follows after her.

Shinjiro understands getting so worked up– Aigis’ return is the first really good thing that’s happened since they’d heard the sound of bells echoing through the Dark Hour. But he also understands wanting to be alone after going through something like Aigis has.

He makes a mental note to check in with her later when it seems like she’s up for it.

That leaves just two team members absent now: Kirijo, who Shinjiro knows isn’t coming back today, and Aki. He must have had a late practice. 

It isn’t until the juniors have cleared out of the lounge and Shinjiro has finished all of the clean up except for stashing the leftovers and washing the pot that he finally hears the double doors open again. Shinjiro pokes his head out and watches Aki go still. His eyes close as he breathes in slowly. His whole stance softens, his shoulders unbunching and his hands unclenching. 

Aki’s eyes lock on Shinjiro’s as soon as he opens them. He can see the gears turning in Aki’s head, his expression tightening click by click into irritation. His posture doesn’t tense back up, though. Aki doesn’t argue when Shinjiro tilts his head towards the kitchen and retreats back inside, but he sighs long and loud and pointedly, making sure Shinjiro can hear it.

He’s already put one plate together and is working on the second when Aki comes scowling into the kitchen as well.

Shinjiro doesn’t let him get any further, holding the dish out practically right under Aki’s nose. He takes it almost reflexively, staring down at it like he hasn’t eaten this exact curry a thousand times before.

Aki looks like he still wants to argue, but one more deep breath of curry-scented air has his stomach growling so loudly that Shinjiro can hear it. Aki’s resolve crumbles and he follows Shinjiro out to the counter to eat without another word. 

They eat in silence. Aki doesn’t try and pick any more fights and Shinjiro doesn’t point out that despite all his blustering, he’s getting more and more relaxed as he clears his plate.

When they’ve finished, Shinjiro collects both plates and stands, heading back to the kitchen to finish the rest of the cleanup. Aki’s elbows thunk onto the counter and he drops his head into his hands.

He sounds exhausted in a way Shinjiro hasn’t heard from him in years. His voice is raw and scraped thin, and it makes the inside of Shinjiro’s ribcage feel just about the same way. If he’s already this beaten down by the pressure of picking up Kirijo’s role, how much more is he going to be able to take?

[takeurexam]

dynasty || XVIII

genre:

non idol au, time travel, romance, rivals to allies to friends to lovers, crown prince to emperor taehyun, reader gets appointed as a concubine

pairing(s):

non!idol taehyun x reader

(warning, this does not reflect the REAL idols personality, and no smut will be written to respect the idol, and i am not comfortable as well, and the taehyun in this ff is not the actual taehyun)

story:

in which you, an excellent law student about to graduate collage suddenly gets dragged into the past, meeting the famous-fawned over emperor of the kang's dynansty. but you getting dragged into this mess was beyond a mystery, and it seems like you have something deep to discover. meddling with the past is a risky decision after all.

▪︎ dynasty masterlist

18. Spring Festival

"Spring in the capital has always arrived early, and has been exceptionally sassy." A few older women gathered together, their bond shared through the season and by washing laundry.

Your ears perked up to the sound of spring, one thing you've been waiting for your whole time travel frenzy. You had arrived at Daedo during fall, and now spring had come. It was a nice experiance especially during the historical times- it was fresh.

"Reminds me, Taehyun did mention something like the spring festival just two days ago." You whisper to yourself, walking around with such thoughts. Your sandals click around the stone path, as you pass around people around the palace.

And with a lot of observation, spring had become the hot topic of the palace. Every person you had passed, majority women- had been talking about the upcoming spring festival.

Spring just didn't mean the season, the season of blooming of flowers, or the warmth. Love lingers around the air of spring, and thats a big reason why women talk about it a lot.

Now based on your conclusions, the spring festival was something held around this time of spring. It had arrived early, and wrapped the people in its season.

"Oh, hello!" A boy about your age bows infront of you once you both crossed paths. He seemed to be a merchant, not familliar with his way in the palace. His clothing had looked like someone from overseas, and his sweating face tells a lot that he was running around.

"Hey...?" Your lips close, feeling awkward.

"I was sent by General Beomgyu to call for you." The boy smiled, panting and catching his breath. You shrug, seeing nothing wrong in his words. But if you were to be kidnapped, then you'll blame the universe for it. "Okay. I'll follow."

You both had arrived at his office, the warriors training infront gave off "dedicated general" vibes, to where he had pushed the warriors to their limits, which oddly enough made you feel a lot more responsible.

The boy, who's name you still didn't know, announces your arrival, which silence arrives, but you dont care and just bid farewell to the escort.

"Ehem, he said that her grace has arrived." You barge in the door, welcomed by the wooden and dark office, filled with books and swords in display. This multiplied the "I feel responsible" effect up to ten times more.

"Ew." You catch sight of Kang Taehyun, to he replies with an eye roll, and there stands the General who had called for you. "So, whats up again? Are you here to tell me how spring has bloomed and I'm required to unfortunately go to the festival?" You say, rambling on with your head.

The whole room goes silent.

"I'm right, aren't I...?" You sigh, as your voice fades over time.

"Yeah." General Beomgyu replies, as the Crown Prince laughs with his hearts content, holding the table to prevent him from falling. He laughs as if the world were to collapse, or he was infected by a laughing plague.

You clear your throat, annoyed by his burst of emotion. "Funny? Ha. Ha. Funny." You sarcastically laugh, crossing your arms after rolling your eyes at him. Taehyun laughed harder, as your annoyance added fuel to his amusement.

General Beomgyu wishes his leave lasted a lot longer, which he feels himself wish for another one. He clears his throat at the both of you, slamming the scroll down at the table, which makes the room silent.

"This scroll was sent to one of my guards, without approval and with secrecy. Good enough, my guard showed me the content, and asked if I was aware- which I was not. They even included a meet up place and specifics." He discussed the matters with you, and probably was reporting another stir around the palace.

"It was a letter signed by the Cheol family, and was discussing about the upcoming Spring Festival, to which a national treasure was to be kept safe by the guards and to await their arrival," He opens the letter, and points towards a paragraph. "To where they will steal it without permission, to where it 'really' belonged."

You nodded, grasping the situation. "What exactly is this national treasure they want?"

"It's something the Cheol family used to own, when my great great grandfather had the throne." Prince Taehyun answers, seeming to know the answer.

After all, he was royalty. "The head of the Cheol family owned a sword which played part in a war they fought in. They brought home victory, making the sword a family heirloom."

"The Cheol family's head decided to make it a national treasure, removing it from their hands and instead giving it to the kingdom, to be shown and adored during around the spring festival- where they took home victory from the war." He finished narrating such a story.

You felt surprised, that the Kang dynasty had a lot more depth in history than you knew. "Well, by attending, what's our agenda?"

General Beomgyu answers, "We'll be going in disguise."

The day of the festival had come, where the flowers bloom and bustling streets erupt, spring it was. Everything felt warm and fresh, as the beautiful breeze crawled up to your skin- you watched as everyone had felt the same as you, wearing their best, running around children, and the merchants selling products in season.

And by disguise, you never accepted to look bad. You wore a beautiful piece that reflected "spring" by cloth, and by design, it was the flowers that bloomed during the season, it's colors representing them.

The only thing you hated that it was the dress that Kang Taehyun had unfortunately, gotten you. A beautiful piece can be so beautiful, yet the intention behind it makes your blood boil.

"You really did not accept to be unsatisfying with your disguise." General Beomgyu walks up behind you, he wore something out of his usual armor. He seemed like a nobleman, someone out to do business rather than fighting.

"You look good too yourself. But won't your disguise be recognized due to your famous or infamous face?" You tilt your head, observing how much his disguise covered him.

He chuckles, "I am barely recognized unless I am seen face to face in the prison. And if I am- I have a hat to cover." He tilts his hat, showcading his so called disguise. You laugh, finding him appealing somehow with his outfit.

"General!" Your heart jumps, startled by the sudden greeting. A boy bowed at Beomgyu, and was most likely someone who served him. His face was covered, making you crouch a little to try and peek at his face.

The boy lifts his face up, revealing he was the escort who brought you to the General's office two days ago.

"Oh! My Grace!" He bows once again.

"Long time no see!" You smile, bowing a little at him. He then lifts his head up, revealing the boy smiling sweetly. "I'm Huening Kai, I serve General Beomgyu as a personal assitant and a guard at the royal palace." He introduces himself, bowing again.

You clap, "Woah, it looks like General Beomgyu has good eyes for help. Do you both work for the palace and the Choi household?" You tilt your head, curious.

"Something like that." Kai replies, smiling at you once again.

"Ack! He's sweet as hell, General, when must you learn from this educated boy?" You tease Beomgyu, pushing your arm onto his, which he reacts dramatically to. He pulls away and shrugs, yet his face is clearly offended.

You laugh, absolutely forgetting you lacked one more member in the disguise team.

"Spring arrived so early, and has been exceptionally sassy." A man beside you spoke, making you jump once again, your heart startled that it threathened to leap out. "What is up with people surprising me today?" You scoff.

You eye him up and down, preparing to share your remark. "And what is up with that "exceptionally sassy" line? I've heard it atleast so many times." You shout at the boy, tired of hearing the same line over and over again. It's as if originality never ceased to exist.

"Whats your problem?" The blurred man from your vision turned out to be the missing diguise member, Prince Taehyun, scoffed at you. "It's a famous line from a famous poet. You're outdated, you don't even know the great poet Ae-sun."

"You're dramatic." You snort, holding back laughter. You return your gaze back at spring's ray on the kingdom, admiring the well decorated flowers and the touch of humanity to add to that beauty.

After officially two days from your meeting at General Beomgyu's office, you four had officially initiated the plan of preventing the nations treasure to be placed in the wrong hands.

It was discussed that they would use the main center event of the festival, exactly happening today. A distraction amongst the people as they work behind the scenes.

You sighed, and thought to yourself. "I'm thinking that the Cheol family muat be plotting something else that meets the eye. Regaining the sword does nothing, yet the intention behind it holds deep meaning."

"It must be something related to the politics of the country. Is to regain the glory of their family once again to try and aim for the throne?" You nod to yourself, thinking the possibility was high.

Taehyun drifts his gaze to you, noticing your mind wandering to somewhere else. He smirks, turning his body towards yours. "Mind floating? Where are we supposed to be then?"

You snap out of it, noticing the teasing man beside you. "Right here." Your fingers fly around imitating an airplane, then you suddenly flick his forehead. He winces, holding his forehead as if he was stabbed.

Cackling, the two other men stare at you as if you just cursed someone, General Beomgyu sighing, and Kai holding back a snort, in fear of being drifted out the palace.

"Okay, the sun is about to set, so we should get going!" Kai smiles, pointing towards the road ahead. You two stop bickering, both nodding in unison forgetting the limited time ahead.

As you four walked through out the busy spring festival, where stalls stand, full of games, food and accesories, and more shows where beautiful dancers sway along with the wind. Spring was beautiful, full of life and beauty.

"General, are you here to find- OW!" Kai nudges his arm, teasing about finding a spring date for tonight. It seemed that General Beomgyu wasn't ready to open his heart, yet.

"Shoo! Let him open his heart at the right moment, maybe he'll bring her to the next festival." You giggle, nudging Beomgyu's other arm. You and Kai looked like worms snuggling into Beomgyu, teasing him about a spring date.

Beomgyu scoffs, annoyed at you pests. "You ask him." He looks at the Crown Prince, "He'll need to find a Crown Princess to bring here before he becomes Emperor."

You raise a brow, suddenly having a realization. "In history, as I remember a litte too well, Kang Taehyun never had a wife. Wonder how this turns out after a little altering?"

"You're rushing me too much, Beomgyu." Taehyun chuckles, "And besides, we'll need to succeed in this mission before I can still get my throne." He crosses his arms, seeming to enjoy the warm and playful atmosphere.

"So we have the same theory?" You think as you look at him, catching eye contact with him. He continues, not daring to break the contact between your eyes. He saw the lit up lanterns with flowers in the reflection of your eyes along with his figure.

You notice too, how his eyes drifted onto nowhere else but your figure. It's as if he blurred the things behind you, and had highlighted you.

Feeling awkward, you cough to break eye contact with him. Once you do, he follows, feeling the same awkwardness as you felt.

"Okay, here we are." Kai calls out, as the squad stops infront of a building which seemed to look like a normal fancy shop, where fancy stuff like gold toads, decor, and the building full of marble.

"Wait." You halt, stopping all of them in their tracks. You clear your throat, as if you were to announce such an important thing. "We need a squad name." Which was really far from that.

They all give you a blank stare, confused onto why you needed one. "Why?" General Beomgyu was the first to reply.

Kai on the hand nods, "I think it would be nice."

And Taehyun surprisingly was the last to reply. "That's-" He felt like he didn't need to continue any further.

"Well, you know- to refer to our selves instead of saying "we're actually spies from the palace" which would be awkward." You answer. "I say we should be named-" As you were about to announce the new name, Taehyun hurried to cut you off.

"No squad names. Never." He coughs, shaking his head to this nonsense.

They blink at you, concerned whether you were sick in the head or just really serious. "That's sad." Kai pouts, actually interested in the idea. "See? Kai got it." You clap.

"Let's just go in." Beomgyu sighs, stepping forward and leaving you three behind. You trail behind him, stepping into a leap of danger.

"Excuse me, I'm here for this." Kai changes his tone into something serious, like a true guard. He shows the letter to the saleslady, in which the girl nods, pointing towards a basement level in the building. "Please go down there, then someone will meet you."

"Thank you. I've brought backup." You all bow at her, going down to the ground level she had pointed. Who knew such a building would contain the national treasure, and to find it's way all the way down there.

The four of you head down, going through a series of stone walls with torches attatched over the sides. It seemed like a typical dungeon of all sorts, but it looked fitting for something to hide the sword.

"Wait, once we've reached the sword, what are we supposed to do then?" You ask, remembering nothing about the plan for escaping nor what to do with the sword itself.

"..." No one answers.

"You guys haven't planned this?!"

You raise your hand up towards them. "I'm about to slap you all!" They flinch, backing up far away from you to avoid your rage. "Even you, Beomgyu?!" You point at him, feeling the most annoyed with him.

"I had nothing to do with this." He crosses his arms, seeming to avoid the topic. You then turn your head to the other two, who also turn their head away from you.

"So we stepped here, with no plan?" You cross your arms, all of you stopping your tracks somewhere in the middle of heading down.

"I'm joking. The sword will be transfered to safety by Huening Kai, and will be guarded in one of the palace safes." General Beomgyu chuckles, holding your shoulder to pat you to calm down. You manage to, sighing a breath of relief. "We've placed guards outside to transfer it instead of us, which would be a risky move. Then, Taehyun will make an appearance infront of the palace with me to officially welcome the festival- a perfect cover up."

You smile, "You three almost made me kill you all."

They gulp.

"Finally." You huff, "Those stairs made me lose five pounds of weight." The four of you made it to the room where the sword lays, hanged over the wall with ornaments decorated to avoid such an empty room.

The sword was beautifully made, it's handle perfect for people fighting for the victory of the country, it's brown sharpened hold adds a nice touch of bravery to the vibe, and its golden gem placed to represent the shining aura of the country.

"Okay, Kai, take the sword." Taehyun commands, holding out the scabbard. Kai places the sword into Taehyun's scabbard, as he closes it and places it down to his belt.

Beomgyu checks the area for one more time, analyzing it carefully for anything wrong. He sees nothing and nods at the rest of you. You all escalate to the floor, preparing the last stages of execution of your plan.

"Oh, why did you four go up?" The saleslady hears the footsteps from the stairs, as she goes to check the noise.

The three boys carry your body like a piece of wood as they shout, "She couldn't handle the stairs! She fainted!" They march towards the exit, ignoring the saleslady further to avoid more drama which could lead to confession. You laid against their palms as they carry you up high, tongue out pretending to faint.

The sword was hidden inside your body, somewhere not seen due to you being carried.

Second to the last execution plan complete then.

>next chapter

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authors note:

ty for reading yall 🥳

taglist(open):

@stormy1408 @eclipse777 @yeovnjin

♡

[optimisticgrey]

✨All we have is each other (In another life), Part 8: There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface ✨

virtual library |playlist | ao3 |

summary: You climb all the harrowing way up to the Rosymorn Monestary and find that, in fact, there is a hot spring below. Let's take a break (and sing some more)

author's note: Next week, I will be travelling for work and while I promise to try to keep the schedule of posting, I cannot guarantee it.

content warning: Spoilers. All of them. Recreational drug use mentioned (alcohol)

taglist: @waterdeepwife @worfs-glorious-hair @astarioffsimpmain@sweetgemberry@jeneralmischief @enbyofwaterdeep @whiskeyskin (Let me know if you want to be on/off this list)

Songs used: Electric Callboy - Crawling; Acoustic Cover of Goo Goo Doll - Iris

word count: 3,7 k

Start at the beginning

AO3 Link

“You’ve been playing that for days now,” Gale observes.

You have packed up and left behind everything familiar, stepping into what you think of as Act 2: the Shadow-Cursed Lands via the mountain trail. To them, it is just another part of the journey, another step towards healing.

To you, it is the part you dread most. Not just for what lies ahead, but for what it might stir within you. For what it might do to all of you. The Shadow Curse didn’t get its name by accident, you assume.

You still have not spoken to Gale. Not about the song you sang for him when he was too drunk and too burdened to carry his sorrow alone. Not about the way you held him. Not about your hand in his, fingers curling tight around him, clinging to dear life. Not about the tadpole, the way his thoughts press against yours.

And you do not know how to begin. Not when he keeps looking at you like that, with those impossibly beautiful eyes. Wide and wondering, like a fawn drawn from the woods, fresh moss still clinging to its hooves.

“I have?”

Gale smiles. “You have. I recognize the melody.”

Maybe he is right. You have been plucking at the strings without thinking, absentmindedly tracing a tune as your thoughts wandered. It has always soothed you, even when you were not aware of it.

Now, you let your fingers find the melody again, deliberately this time. “This one?”

He nods, smiling as your eyes meet. Your throat feels tight.

“I can’t play this properly without….” You glance around, searching for something to use as a pick. Stones, bits of wood, nothing looks quite right. Your gaze lands on Halsin’s armour.

“Hey, Halsin!”

He turns, brow raised, curiosity evident. The warmth in his expression makes you smile before you even realize you are doing it.

“Mind if I take a scale from your armour? Just from the edge, nothing that would damage it.”

He tilts his head before nodding. “If it serves a purpose, of course. What are you planning?” He slows his steps, watching as you sling your lute over your back and draw your dagger with a practiced flourish.

“Well done, darling,” Astarion purrs, watching with quiet amusement as you inspect Halsin’s armour for a scale that can be removed without harm.

“Thanks, love,” you quip, flashing Astarion a wink. He taught you this, how to pull a dagger out of a sheath and making it look cool. You are still learning but your progress is evident.

You find what you need and glance up. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” Halsin says without any concern. Carefully, you slide the blade beneath the scale, prying it loose without disrupting the rest of the armour. It takes patience, but finally, it comes free, and you hold it up triumphantly.

“Thank you.” Sheathing your dagger, you run your fingers over the scale’s smooth surface.

Halsin watches, bemused. “And what do you intend to do with it?”

Still grinning, you retrieve your lute, settling the scale between your fingers. Then, you start to play, using the scale as a pick and nod with a satisfied grin.

“Back on my world,” you say, falling into step again, “people would hear this song and start singing along. This is an extremely popular song in my generation.”

You pluck at the strings, letting the familiar rhythm take shape. A quiet hum of magic stirs in your fingertip. Something you still do not entirely understand, but have come to accept. It feels as if it has always been there, thrumming beneath the surface, waiting.

Back home, you never dared to sing this. Your voice had never felt strong enough. But here?

“Oooh, it’s a sad one again, isn’t it?” Karlach teases.

You laugh softly. “All the best ones are, Kalla.”

“Mhm.” She hums, thoughtful now. “Is your world that sad? Or is it just you?”

“Parts of it,” you admit, nodding slowly as you think. “A lot of our art is. And from what I’ve seen, it’s the same here. Art is just… condensed feeling. A big part of our music revolves around what hurts: love, loss, hope,” you smile weakly. “We have happy songs, they just work differently than yours do. For most parts…” Your voice trails off, your gaze drifts ahead, to the winding path before you while you feel the song.

“But yes, it’s a sad one. It works better with a piano accompanying the singing but I think I can make it work.”

You begin again, this time with purpose, letting the first verse bloom into the evening air.

There′s something inside me that pulls beneath the surface Consuming, confusing This lack of self-control, I fear, is never-ending Controlling, I can't seem

Hell yeah! This is it! Your voice finds its place once more, that elusive power flowing through you, as if you were meant to carry these notes. You claim them, each one, each sound. And you absolutely certain, you know you will be able summon the depth this song demands.

To find myself again, my walls are closing in Without a sense of confidence I′m convinced that there's just too much pressure to take I've felt this way before, so insecure Crawling in my skin These wounds, they will not heal Fear is how I fall Confusing what is real

Discomfort endlessly has pulled itself upon me Distracting, reacting Against my will, I stand beside my own reflection It′s haunting how I can't seem To find myself again, my walls are closing in Without a sense of confidence I′m convinced that there's just too much pressure to take I′ve felt this way before, so insecure

Continue on AO3

[persimmonteas]

Donations to Food Banks

Everyone donates Kraft Mac and Cheese in the box. They can rarely use it because it needs milk and butter which is hard to get from regular food banks.

Boxed milk is a treasure, as kids need it for cereal which they also get a lot of.

Everyone donates pasta sauce and spaghetti noodles.

They cannot eat all the awesome canned veggies and soup unless you put a can opener in too or buy pop tops.

Oil is a luxury but needed for Rice a-Roni which they also get a lot of.

Spices or salt and pepper would be a real Christmas gift.

Tea bags and coffee make them feel like you care.

Sugar and flour are treats.

They fawn over fresh produce donated by farmers and grocery stores.

Seeds are cool in Spring and Summer because growing can be easy for some.

They rarely get fresh meat.

Tuna and crackers make a good lunch.

Hamburger Helper goes nowhere without ground beef.

They get lots of peanut butter and jelly but usually not sandwich bread.

Butter or margarine is nice too.

Eggs are a real commodity.

Cake mix and frosting makes it possible to make a child’s birthday cake.

Dishwashing detergent is very expensive and is always appreciated.

Feminine hygiene products are a luxury and women will cry over that.

Everyone loves Stove Top Stuffing.

Check with your local food bank that they accept fresh produce/meat.