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yoonia · 20 days

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the bedroom hymns ● chapter xxii

⟶ Chapter summary | Anyone would think you daring to gamble with your life, to keep using the magic doors to escape despite your circumstances. But you cannot help to feel restless, unable to stay still when you still have too many questions to answer, nor when fate keeps pointing a new path for you and doors to enter. So when fate once again points you towards a new door, you cannot resist stepping into the next world, to see what kind of surprises that fate has in store for you.

⟶ Author's note | Forgive me for the delay, but we finally have a new chapter and we'll continue our little adventures. I know I said that I wasn't going to split this part into separate chapters, but after finishing it, the lengthy word count didn't seem fitting for me to post this one as a full piece. I hope the change won't ruin your reading experience! Enjoy reading and have fun!

chapter xxii. serendipity-2

The silence in the hallways of Stargrave feels peculiar today.

The sun is still up. You can hear the palace maids chatting in their break rooms and service halls when you walk past after you are done with your lessons with Lady Laurel at the library, yet you have yet to see any of them walking down the corridors and halls when you make your way through the castle.

Once again, your day was filled with long, exhausting hours of tutoring—hours of reading through a variety of tomes on magic and old folktales of Ancients and Kings—and minor royal duties, which ended only once afternoon comes and your tutors retreated to their quarters. With Lord Gordan once again absent for your afternoon lessons, still busy filling in for His Majesty King Aneas and dealing with the royal duties until the King returns, it leaves your afternoon free of any activities.

But your mind is still too lively for you to retreat into your bedchamber and find a moment to rest. The adrenaline that you felt from the previous days still keeping you high-strung to remain still. So you fill your free time strolling down the hallways of Stargrave, finding some entertainment in memorising the long-winding corridors, mapping out the halls and rooms and the indoor atriums that you walk past just to keep your mind busy.

Normally, you would be spending the time browsing for the magic doors, either finding one that would tempt you into using the magic key to venture through the portal or simply learning more about their characteristics and the secrets behind each door.

But not this time.

Not because you are reluctant, or that you are disinterested in having another journey so soon after the last one you had. But it is because of the lack of privacy you are getting after stepping out of the library.

Aside from your mealtime and the designated time for your daily tutoring sessions, you are rarely escorted by the royal guards. You would usually see them standing in their posts during this time of the day, all staying alert even when there is barely any threat coming to Stargrave.

But today, you have Sir Stephan following you close, watching your every move and making sure to be there while you are making a stroll from one place to another.

“Do you have nothing to do with your time, Sir Stephan?” You finally speak to him after walking in silence together for quite some time with him keeping only a few steps distance behind. “Or do you wish to have another sparring today?”

You hear a soft chuckle from him before he speaks. “Lord Gordan has caught wind of what happened the other day,” Sir Stephan responds with a slight tilt on the corner of his mouth.

You raise your eyebrows as you look at him. “Did he scold you for indulging me?”

“No, Your Highness. He didn’t seem pleased, but—” His lips twitch, as if amused to say, “He seemed oddly intrigued by the news when he learned that you have beaten me during our sword fighting.”

You let out a scoff. “As he should, since he’s been the one training me in place of my father.” Your hand twitches, suddenly aching to have a grip on the hilt of your sword again, to have a grip on something.

You suddenly feel the desire to have your body moving again with another practice. The golden dagger that you had slipped under the skirt of your day dress this morning feels tight against your upper thigh, reminding you that it exists there, even if hidden from sight, ready for you whenever you find the need to pull it out.

And you do have enough free time to mess around with it this afternoon.

Only that your muscles are still aching, caused by the rigorous sparring and the intense fight happening on the same day. The wound from the fight against the guards of Arselon itself has mostly healed—thanks to the medicinal herbs that Gaia pasted on your skin and possibly some kind of remedial spells that she might have slipped in—but the faint scar was still visible when you took off your bandage this morning.

Instinctively, you move your other hand, reaching up to your forearm and pressing against the scar from over the sleeve of your dress. Choosing a long-sleeved day dress this morning raised some questions from the maid assigned to help you this morning, as the weather is quite warm today and she had expected you to request a thinner and shorter dress instead. But you managed to alleviate her worries simply by telling her that you wanted to have a nice change.

The healing scar might be hidden now under your sleeve, yet you can still feel the phantom pain pulsing when you move, reminding you that it would be too soon for you to raise your sword again.

Your arms fall back to your sides as you turn toward a corridor leading to the side courtyard, the sounds of Sir Stephan’s footsteps echoing close as he follows. You take notice of the silence and bring up a different topic to get your mind out of it—of the fight, the scar, and the empty feeling in your hand with nothing to hold.

“It seems that Lord Gordan has been rather busy.”

“He is indeed, Your Highness. The royal duties never stop coming for the royal aide.”

You look over your shoulder, meeting Stephan’s gaze. “And he has since sent you to make sure I’m not causing trouble when he’s not babysitting me? Or is this some sort of a punishment that he has given you for accommodating my actions from yesterday?”

Again, the guard’s lips twitch to a broken smile. “I won’t dare say that the royal aide sees you as a troublemaker, Your Highness.”

Holding back a chuckle, you turn away to continue your stroll, your escort quickly following close behind. “Everyone seems to be busy today, more than other days,” you muse, almost to yourself. “Is something happening?”

“I cannot dare say—”

“Without my guardian’s permission, I take it?” you retort back with another scoff. “Nanny Abigail has been my guardian since I was a wee babe. Well, supposedly older, if I recall correctly. And she has always been open to me about the business with the empire, no matter what it is,” you find yourself sharing a bit of yourself before you can stop it, before glancing back at your guard again. “I assume that Lord Gordan has taken over the duty under the King’s order? Seems like he’s doing things differently when it comes to sharing information about the happenings in the empire.”

It makes you feel bitter just thinking about it. You have always hated being kept in the dark about certain things. Including all the things that should have mattered to you. And you will surely hate it should you be placed in such position once again.

Sir Stephan takes a moment to consider his response, which only confirms your suspicion. “It has been officially passed on to the palace staff that you are currently under Lord Gordan’s guardianship, though Lady Abigail still retains her role as your governess,” he carefully explains instead of giving you a direct answer. “If there’s any news that may involve your wellbeing and your duties in the palace, I am sure that either the royal aide or the Governess will inform you themselves.”

Sighing, you can only nod. You keep your eyes looking towards the courtyard for a moment before smiling at him. “And until then, you’re going to have to remain patient as my babysitter?”

This time, when you turn to look at your guard again, he makes no effort to hide his amused smile. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head up, relishing the warm late afternoon sunlight falling on your face.

This is quite a nice change, you wonder with a grateful sigh.

After your previous trips, where you were taken to sacred places where you were met only with twilight and dim grey of sunlight, having this kind of warmth blanketing your skin and being surrounded by all the radiant colours spreading around you feels like a nice treat to enjoy.

Having an adrenaline rush flowing through your blood may have alleviated this feeling too. A mixed sense of thrill and relief that you had gotten after fate gave you the chance to slip away from your temporary shadow of a guard.

Any hope you had for being able to find the time and a chance to escape so you could travel today had started to dwindle, when Sir Stephan continued to follow you, shadowing your movements. Even when it was obvious that you had simply been walking down the long hallways and quiet corridors of Stargrave with no obvious direction, the guard was relentless.

He only kept quiet, letting you continue exhausting yourself for quite some time. Barring you from entering the hallway where the magic doors were located so you could slip away to a different part of the realm. Until fate intervened.

Another guard came in just when you were about to give up. Announcing that Lord Gordan had summoned Sir Stephan to come and meet the royal aide in his office. Not expecting the sudden change of duty, Sir Stephan looked hesitant about stepping away, while you couldn’t have been more eager to relieve him from his duty before he could even get a word in.

“I should at least walk you back towards your bedchamber,” he said before he departed. You may have only known him for a short time, but it was quite obvious that he was displeased to know that he was being let go from his post.

You held back a smile as you teased him, “To make sure that I won’t escape and cause some trouble?” From the corner of your eyes, you could see the other guard widening his eyes. He seemed baffled as he looked back and forth between you and his fellow knightly guard, amused to see the other guard bantering smoothly with their princess.

Sir Stephan’s lips quirked to a grin. “Just making sure that you’ll be safe without an escort,” he said, stressing out his words as he regarded you with, “Your Highness.”

“I’ll be safe between these walls. My bedchamber is merely a hall away,” you answered him by tilting your chin towards the small connecting hall leading you towards the West Tower. “It seems that your business with Lord Gordan is more urgent than sending me off to my afternoon nap.”

Sir Stephan said nothing to respond, but the way his gaze flickered towards the next hall was sharp and quick, and you could tell that he had to hold back. A lot. Keeping his words to himself, the guard merely nodded and bowed.

“Then I shall take my leave,” he said. “I shall inform the royal aide that you are on your way to your quarter.”

You returned his bow with a nod and turned away before he could say anything else. And you kept on walking towards the next corridor, listening closely to the sound of their footsteps as they walked the opposite way. Only once you were sure they were no longer in sight, you quickly turned to a different hall to begin your afternoon exploits.

You walked through some more corridors and then headed down some stairs, finding yourself in the Apex Hall connecting the center palace and the tower housing the king’s chambers, where lines and lines of doors appeared before your eyes. The hall was devoid of any form of activities, as there were only guest bedrooms and galleries for royal guests available in this part of the castle. But after going through a royal guest room the one time to find your way to Aeris, you were curious to see if you could find any portals hidden among these doors that would be able to lead you to places similar to the mage city.

Places that wouldn’t be as daunting and gloomy as the previous places you’ve recently been to, that aren’t as dilapidated from hardships or haunted by their dark history.

The ground floor hall was filled with charming things, trinkets and decorations that made the place look even more alive than the other parts of Stargrave; royal portraits of who you assumed to be your ancestors or the previous kings and queens; sculptures and vases filled with fresh flowers; tables similar yet smaller to the ones you saw in guest rooms, all carved similarly to the ornate doors standing all round the atrium.

You walked up some steps and stood by one of those doors which had caught your attention among others. Made of old cherrywood—much like these other doors, only slightly darker—with carvings of tendrils of ivy looping around its frame, the door had a delicate charm which was alluring to look at.

It was the image carved at the center which had mostly drawn you to it; the carving of a chalice and crescent moon, similar to the image painted on the banners you saw at the temple of Arselon.

The only difference you saw was that the crescent moon wasn’t hovering above the chalice but instead carved within its core, as if it was portraying the moon as being presented like fine and holy wine.

The grooves around the carvings were filled with threads of silver lining, glinting under the dim light of the afternoon which penetrated through the glass windows under the arch ceiling above your head. Silver dust floated from the keyhole as you pulled out your magic key, beckoning you to reach it.

The same silver dust seems to have followed you to this place, floating in the air where the streaks of sunlight are falling, floating above the lake filled with crystal-clear waters vastly spreading before you, and between your fingers when you reach out to touch the vibrant petals of the wild roses growing all around you.

There is magic here, pulsing in the same rhythm as your heartbeat as if living and breathing. Strange how it makes you feel like you have become one with the place, and you barely spent more than an hour strolling across the grassy plains.

A spread of green grass as thick as the rugs you find back at the palace lies beneath your feet. Your low heels sink into the soft grass with each step you take, yet you find no discomfort as you continue to stroll down the small forested hill where you had emerged from. Excitedly, but cautiously at the same time, you cross the meadow with your eyes drawn towards the glittering lake.

Beautiful, you wonder to yourself. And it feels so peaceful here.

You look at your surroundings, enjoying the scenery that is presented for you to see. All around you, there are only trees, spreading all around and to the top of the hill. A myriad of colours appear before you as the shades of yellow and beige and brown are mixing into the green as they grow from the trees, a sign that autumn is seeping in. Some leaves have also dropped onto the ground, covering the green grass with yellow dots sprouting here and there among the vibrant roses. The air is fresh, filled with the scent of fresh grass and damp soil. A cool breeze flows all around you, and the warm sun feels comforting against your skin.

Looking over across the lake, you see no sign of a town or anything that may indicate the presence of humans. But the more you look, the more you are curious, seeing that the trees on the other side of the lake appear to be bigger, stretching up to reach the sky, and thicker. The foliage seems denser, enough to hide something in the shadows.

Just like the grove back in Arselon which kept the Keep and the shelters where the humans lived in hiding.

You continue to stroll around the lake, hoping to find a way to get across and see if you can find anything on the other side. Once again, fate seems to be on your side—or perhaps you are just getting lucky today—as you find your wish fulfilled the moment you see the bridge crossing the lake.

Without any hesitation, you walk up to make it across. From up the bridge, you find the chance to fully marvel at the nature around you as you get a better view of everything. And you cannot help but marvel at the structure stretching over the lake, connecting the two separate plains together.

The sturdy bridge rises from the lake, standing firm from one end of the woodlands to another and high above the water like a solid gate. The structure is built with weathered stones, the foundation below covered with moss and lichen, adding a touch of green to the grey and brown. Thick ivy weaves its way along the stone bannister, softening the hard edges with its delicate tendrils. Looking down to the body of the bridge below, you see arches formed high enough to allow small boats to come passing through.

On the top, the bridge’s width is enough for a single horse carriage to travel across, while the passage is covered with natural stones that are smoothed by countless footsteps and slightly etched by marks of wheels from carriages that may have come across from time to time. It’s obvious that this isn’t some simple structure that manifested itself from nature, nor was it built by lesser beings. Although the earthly colours do make it seem like the bridge has blended into the nature it is built on, causing you to nearly miss it the first time you looked.

Halfway across the bridge, a gentle breeze flows around you, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, and something more succulent and vibrant and fresh, a different vibe from the quiet woodlands you had just stepped away from. Slowly, you come to a halt, taking this moment to take another look at the lake as you get to see it from a different angle.

From up here, it seems as if the lake is stretched out endlessly, its surface is clear like crystals, with the glimmers coming from the silver specks of dust and the reflection of the warm sunlight glowing all the way up to your skin. Small ripples disturb the mirror-like stillness, appearing in multiple spots where you think you might find fishes swimming beneath the surface or leaves falling from above.

Smiling, you take a deep breath, taking in the scents before continuing your journey across. At the end of the bridge, a canopy of leaves welcomes you as thick branches appear to be growing and stretching low, covering what is hidden on the other side. You keep your eyes forward as you step off the bridge, and the moment your heel lands on the less solid gravel pathway, the air around you seems to ripple and shift.

With a gasp, you feel a rush of magic coursing through your body. It doesn’t feel painful, yet strange enough to make your head spin a little before you finally regain your bearings. Only a short moment later do you finally realise that you have just walked across what seems to be a border, where a protective spell has been cast to cover the land before you. With a jolt, you realise that your arrival has somehow disturbed the spell, unlocking the magic to allow you passage to continue your journey.

Still reeling over your sudden encounter with a foreign magic spell, you continue walking down the gravel-covered pathway without a word. The sparks from the magic cling to your skin for a moment longer before it slowly wanes as you walk deeper into the thickets, clearing your senses just as the low branches in front of you begin to sway.

The movement is quick, as if they are suddenly forced to hold some kind of weight. As the rustling sound of leaves begins to grow violent, its shaking sends drying leaves falling down your path, your steps falter until you completely stop.

The swaying of branches intensifies, and before you can even reach your dagger to protect yourself, something pops between the leaves.

“Hello!”

A small, cheerful voice greets you, coming from a creature that is just as small—tiny face, tiny smile, with a pair of pointy ears that remind you of the elves, yet a version of it which is probably merely a palm-sized big—hanging upside down from the low branch hanging right in front of your face. Only once your shock subsides when you recognise what kind of being is greeting you from behind the leaves.

A pixie.

A smile grows on your lips. You have learned about them—the pixies—through one of the books in the library that Lady Laurel made you read. The Magnificent Beings of The Elements.

In the book, the pixies have drawn your interest more than others. Known as little magical creatures that hide in the woodlands, the pixies were treated almost like dragons—mythical beings that are rare but most sought after. They are known to create the magical element, the pixie dust, which has a myriad of effects which are valuable to many.

To nature, pixie dust helps cast magic into the land—helping plants to grow more affluent and flowers to bloom more vibrant, for water to be cleansed of any toxin or grime, and for the air to remain fresh even in the bleakest of weather.

To other beings, pixie dust can be used as a cure for ailments, to heal physical wounds, and to alleviate the ailment of the mind.

But for most humans, pixie dust can act like a drug, giving them psychedelic sensations and causing them to feel high and happy and filled with joy or to have intense hallucinations.

For these reasons, the pixies were once hunted down, captured and sold as pets as part of illegal trade, to be made into house slaves, or to be used to create as many pixie dust to be sold illegally in the black markets as drugs that humans can use to get high. That was until the protection law for magical beings changed, forbidding any form of trading involving the pixies and other mythical creatures of the fairy tale land. They have since been declared as one of the most protected creatures, mostly hidden in sanctuaries that were built on higher grounds, up in the mountains, and the deepest woodlands.

“Oh, hello there. I didn’t see you up there,” you greet them back, smiling, and you can see the creature’s smile widening further.

“Of course, you didn’t. You weren’t supposed to,” the pixie pridefully boasts, before flipping back into the leaves and jumping into another branch, this time sitting down with their legs swaying beneath them.

“But we’ve seen you,” the tiny thing adds, while you tilt your head, wondering what they meant.

“Have we met before?”

The pixie excitedly nods, throwing the short strands of their honey-blond hair up and down their face. “We work with our master, Trish, at the magic shop in Aeris. We helped Master find some spell book for ‘ya.”

Blinking, you suddenly remember the day you spent in Aeris. And then you remember entering the magic shop—l'Équinoxe—and the female elf who was running it, and your eyes grow wide at the memory of seeing tiny pixies jumping between the racks to fetch orders for their customers. Some with their hair pinned or tied up in ponytails, while others wore floppy hats that clung to their heads even as they moved quickly from one corner of the shop to another. And all of them wore the same bright green top and white pants, exactly what your new little friend is wearing right now.

“Of course!” you cheerfully say, clapping your hands when you recall seeing a pixie with honey-blond hair perching atop the bannister on the mezzanine floor above the shop, where the shop owner—Trish—disappeared into to fetch your spell book. “So you were the—staff, in the shop?”

The pixie’s lips curl to a sneaky smile. “We were not taken in to work in the shop as slaves, if that’s what you’re worried about—” the creature says, while you are taken aback and feeling guilty that the pixie can guess what you were thinking, “Trish has helped a lot of us in the sanctuary and when we wanted to do something in return, she gave us the job in her shops. We earn our wages, benefits, and even some vacation time when we need them, just like any other creatures in the mage city.”

“So you mean”—you look around with a new sense of awe—“this is your sanctuary.”

“This is home.” The pixie says, sighing with a content smile on their face. And then their eyes flicker with curiosity as they question you, “So what are you up to in this place?”

The smile that comes to your face is small, but unguarded. It feels refreshing to hear the same question given to you, only without any underlying threat or suspicions this time. For the first time, you aren’t feeling like a criminal for crossing a border to a new land. To be seen as a regular traveller instead of a stranger trespassing into others’ land.

“I was merely passing through,” you answer with a tilt of your head. “I was running away from home because I was having an odd day.”

The pixie snorts. “Odd day isn’t good.” A frown forms on their face as if the thought of you having an unpleasant day is making them unhappy too. “It’s weird that you choose to hide here.”

You shrug. “Why would it be weird?”

Shrugging—the action coming out as a mirror to yours instead of it being something natural for them to do—the tiny thing nonchalantly answers, “Because only elves and fairies can pass through the gates. That was a part of the condition in the protection spell that was given to the sanctuary to protect us from danger.”

Your heart skips a beat. A tiny slip that makes your breath catch, while something starts nagging at the back of your mind. Every single peculiar event that you have encountered before comes rushing back to you; from your previous journeys, from the words shared by the people you met, and the things you inadvertently learned from them—

“But you won’t regret it,” the pixie continues, oblivious to your wandering mind. “There are many things to see here.”

You brush away your thoughts to smile. “Is that so? Then it’s a good thing that I’m here.”

“Do you need a guide? We can show you around. We know every place to see here and where not to go,” the pixie says, jumping up and down on the branch with excitement, as if guiding you through their land seems like some kind of a fun game for them.

Seeing this, and noticing the playful gaze in their eyes, remind you of something about them that you’ve learned from your books that cannot resist teasing, “Will it be okay? Are you sure you wouldn’t trick me into anything nefarious?”

You grin at the pixie while they cock their head to the side, narrowing their eyes at you. Based on the texts you read in the books, their kind is often portrayed to have childlike personalities; mostly friendly and kind-hearted, but other times mischievous and playful, with a bit of naughty nature as they all love to play and have fun.

There were stories written in those books where pixies, who live mostly in the deepest woodlands and higher plains, would come out at night and use their pixie dust to trick travellers and hunters, manipulating their minds with the potent magic of their dust to leave them astray between the woods.

But there were also stories of pixies helping little children in distress, saving them from any kind of peril and guiding them home when they were lost in the woods, making them one of the most contradictory beings among any other mythical creatures you’ve learned about.

The pixie merely rolls their eyes. “We might be naughty bits, but we promised Trish to not cause trouble as long as we live here. We’ve lost our old home a long, long time ago, and we want to keep this one for as long as we’re allowed to.” Their words are filled with grief, yet the way they are talking about it doesn’t show much about their loss, as the tone of their voice remains playful.

As if their mind is already jumping to the next topic, the pixie leans forward with a grin to ask, “What’s your name?”

“I’m ________,” you answer with a smile. “What should I call you?”

“Eydan,” the pixie introduces themselves by standing upright on the branch and bowing down to their waist—like a royal greeting. A wide grin appears on their face when they straighten up again, the strands of their hair flowing with the breeze. “That’s the name. The only pixie here with honey-blond hair”—Eydan flips their hair—”never forget it.”

Y'ethmelle is the name of this place.

A town where elves reside, those with a deep connection to the earth and plants and deep respect for nature. Their home becomes the source of their power, their magic, and it breathes and pulses together with the lives within.

And this place has become the perfect sanctuary for pixies like Eydan, who had once been through the kind of hardship just like what you have read in the books.

While sharing a bit of their past before entering Y'ethmelle, Eydan guides you through the trees, entering the woodlands until you finally get to see it—a town hidden in the forest, blending in with the trees, the boulders, the hills, before rising up the stone wall where water was cascading from the top to the banks below. There are structures built along the thickest giant trees, forming from the ground and up the thick branches were small houses made of timber and glass that look like crystals.

The same structures appear on the stone walls; small wooden houses floating on either side of the waterfall; hanging on top of the massive boulders framing the riverbanks; and some sinking into the foot of the cliff wall. Some houses were built extremely low and just enough for the pixies to reside in, as they blend into the small hills or hidden between the roots of the giant old trees that you saw during your stroll through the magic town.

Eydan points out their home—the one small opening hidden between the roots of a giant elm tree—before pointing to a house built with stone structures at the very end of the tree line. “That’s where Master Trish lives. The pixies that work with her live in small houses like ours, all built close enough to her home, so she can often invite us for dinners and other celebrations when she’s free.”

“Where is your boss now, then?” you ask when you notice that the house is quiet.

Eydan hops from one branch to another, and that is when you realise that the pixie never truly stops moving. They are constantly jumping, hopping and swinging on the branches, rarely ever stepping foot on the ground unless when they are sitting atop a stone.

“At the city. Aeris. She mentioned having some business to take care of at the shop. The shop is closed today, that’s why we’re home,” Eydan explains, “But Master Trish is always working. Even when she’s not busy at the shop, she would be away on trips to gather some new things to sell.”

“Is that why you have enough free time to guide a human across your homeland?”

Eydan grins. “Yes, but it was also an odd day for us.”

“How come?”

Flopping onto a nearby boulder, Eydan stands on one leg, balancing themselves as they answer, “We weren’t supposed to be off work today, but Master Trish suddenly said she had something important to do and people to see, so we were told to stay home. But then we had so much free time that we played all morning, dancing, and jumping around the river, but then we got bored. That’s when you came.”

The pixie flips to balance themselves on their hand when they continue, “Besides, it’s nearly the full moon. Us pixies always grow restless when it is time to celebrate the memorial of our found freedom.”

And that is when Eydan sits you down, sharing with you the tale behind the pixies’ freedom and how they all got to this place.

“Once upon a time, a young pixie managed to escape from their master. Seeking freedom in the woodlands, the pixie hid between the trees, claiming the forest as their new home and shelter and away from dangerous people looking to exploit their magic for nefarious uses.

One night during their hiding, the pixie sensed a human walking through the trees. While staying in the shadows, the pixie cautiously watched the human, thinking that the human had come to harm them. But upon closer look, the pixie found out that the human was just a little girl. A princess who got lost in the woods and couldn’t find her way back home. So the pixie revealed themselves, offering to use their pixie dust to guide the princess to find her way home. Once she was saved, the princess returned to favour by fighting for the freedom of all pixies.”

You listen to their story with a fond smile. Among every single tale you’ve read about the pixies, you have never seen this part of their story written in the books, nor the old scriptures you found in the library which told about old, forgotten tales of The Land Far Far Away.

“That was how we finally got our freedom. All because one pixie escaped their master and became friends with a kind-hearted princess one night. The princess was the one who wrote the law to protect us, to free us from anyone who tried to keep us like pets and slaves.”

Eydan’s eyes glow with pride as they continue with their tale, while your heart feels warm, feeling privileged to be able to hear this story. “Each full moon, pixies gather around the waterfall or any revered places in each of their sanctuary and sing under the moon to pray for the princess. It’s our way to send our gratitude to our saviour.”

Once your new friend is done with their story, the tour around the sanctuary continues.

From the homes, the pixie guides you through the small town, passing some more houses that are intricately built to blend in with nature. They greet some of the elves that come peeking out their windows, introducing you as one of their friends, and then do the same with some other pixies that you come across during your mini tour.

The tour continues until you reach even deeper into the woodlands, past the heart of Y'ethmelle, and past the old structures that look like an old Keep, completed with a tower built in the same weathered stone as the structure of the bridge on the lake.

“This was where the warriors and guardians of the sanctuary used to live. We still have elves that take the role as guardians, but the elves no longer have warriors to guard the place ever since us pixies started living here,” says Eydan, as they guide you to follow the river, going down the stream until you reach the part where it is quiet and peaceful and safe.

This place turns out to be the meeting spot where Eydan would hang out with their little friends, where Eydan had been earlier before meeting you by the bridge.

A few of Eydan’s friends are in the middle of playing down the stream of the river when you arrive. A couple of pixies who look no different than Eydan, hop between boulders and branches while splashing water with their tiny feet, while two others have wings on their back, allowing them to float and soar in the air as they dance between the rosebushes.

At first, they seem cautious, as they probably didn’t expect to have their wayward friend returning with a random human after missing for hours. But right after Eydan finishes introducing you to the little gang of mischievous pixies, they become more curious about you as they start throwing questions at Eydan while examining you closely.

“Where did you find her?”

“You didn’t kidnap her from the human town, did you?”

Eydan huffs. “Of course, not. She came in by herself. Passed the bridge and the borders after the thing we felt earlier,” they explain with their small hands waving around as if describing what they saw.

“Oh, the invisible magic ripple that came from the lake?” asks one of the pixies, surprising you once you realise that they are possibly talking about the ripple of magic coming from the portal when you came.

“You felt a magic ripple?”

Eydan nods. “Yep. It was rare for us to feel any magic of that kind. That’s why we left the others here and went to the bridge to see what it was, and then we saw you walking across the lake.”

The chattering and the line of questions continue right before you get the chance to ask them about what they felt. The other pixies who kept their distance at first soon begin to join in, asking you where you came from, how you managed to find this place, and why would a human like you need a spell book from their master. You barely manage to answer each one before they get distracted when a couple of butterflies come fluttering in between the bushes, and they soon lose any interest in your evasive, non-answering responses.

You join them for a while as they play around the stream. You even take off your heels to splash around in the water, feeling your body cooling down with it. It has been a while since you’ve felt such joy. The pixies are skilled in showing you just how to have fun and enjoy yourself the way they do, helping you forget all of your troubles without them realising it.

Exhausted, you choose to rest at the edge of the river, soaking your bare feet in the stream as you watch the pixies continue to play around, showing no sign of their energy draining. You enjoy the cool ripples of water pressing against your sore ankles, while the stream also washes away the soil tainting the hem of your dress that you had gotten after the long walk you had through the elven town.

Your heels, once covered in mud and slightly tainted from the twigs brushing against their sides, are now resting on the ground beside you after it was cleaned and mended using one of the pixies’ magic dust.

The same pixie is the only one who chooses to stay with you, studying you closely with their curious eyes while ignoring the sound of giggles and cheers from the other pixies playing in the rosebushes.

“You smell like human,” the pixie says as they flutter around you, sniffing at your hair, your back, and then pinching at the sleeve of your dress before going back to your front with a tilt of their head.

“You can—identify a person from their scent?”

Illyn, the pixie with fair skin and long golden hair nods, their delicate wings—which look like firefly wings, with silver dust sparkling from each —flutter behind them as they move around. They have their hair gathered to a braid, long enough to reach their ankles. You wonder if their hair ever gets tangled with the wings, yet the pixie has kept the braid hanging over one shoulder, keeping it away from the fluttering wings.

“Every living thing has a certain smell in them. For walking beings such as yourself, those scents come from blood, skin, soul, or even magic,” Illyn explains with wide, curious eyes, while your eyes grow wide with intrigue.

“Can you smell—my magic?”

Illyn nods as they fly around you. “Yes, we can. It’s faint. That’s why it’s confusing.”

The way they speak draws a soft laughter from you. “Why does it confuse you?”

The pixie makes a humming sound. “You smell human, but also something else. Your magic isn’t like what most humans have, and we’ve met many human mages in Aeris to know the difference.”

You raise your brow. “Really? How odd,” you hum softly, although you have no idea what that really means. You keep your eyes on the pixie as they continue to float around you, their eyes locked on parts of your face, as if searching for something. “So that’s not normal?”

Instead of answering, Illyn inclines their head to ask with a whisper, “Are you sure you aren’t a fairy?”

Hearing this, you begin to laugh. “A fairy? No, I’m pretty sure I would’ve known if I’m secretly a fairy. Why would you even think that?”

“The way you came,” they say, still keeping their voice low as if sharing a secret, “you came with the ripple of magic that we felt from the end of the river. It’s been long since we’ve felt something like that.”

Creasing your brows, you recall the way they talked about the magic flow earlier, remembering how they seemed unsure about what they felt. “And you don’t know what that magic was?”

Illyn fell silent for a moment. “Well, not really, but—” The pixie considers their answer for a moment, thinking deeply before continuing, “There were old folktales about magic portals hidden all over the land of the Far Far Away.”

Their eyes blink rapidly as they add, “Fairy portals.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Have you ever seen them?”

Illyn’s hair nearly flips back when they quickly shake their head. “No, we haven’t. But some naughty ones who went across the bridge claimed they had. We think they all lied to us and exaggerated things, because fairy tales are stories for children.”

Your lips twist to a smile. It is adorable how the pixies believe that they are normal beings, when their existence seems more like a part of a myth. Characters told in children’s bedtime stories and folktales shared by the people—humans—back in the mortal realm.

But then your mind begins to register through the information that Illyn had just shared with you about the magic they felt. You wonder if they had truly sensed the magic coming from the portal. You can still feel it on your skin, lingering like a delicate touch. And if the same magic portal you have been using to go through these various places had truly been the same as the portals known as what they believed as part of the myth among the fairies—

Just like always, when the wheels in your head are turning and you are thinking deeply about something, your hand reach up, taking hold of your necklace that has been humming with its own magic—it has been that way since the moment you stepped through the border, you realise.

Lowering your gaze, you carefully lift the ruby pendant so the pixie can have a look. “Could it be that the magic you are sensing from me actually comes from this?” you ask them, referring to how they claimed to have tried to sense and recognise the magic coming out of you.

Cocking their head, Illyn flies closer. They examine the necklace for a moment before shaking their head. “No, your magic is vibrating from inside you,” they say, before they begin rambling rapidly, “I can sense your mana. It smells a little bit like Master Trish, with a little bit of the magic that felt similar to the one we felt from the woods”—they stop with a gasp—”do you perhaps have elves where you live?”

“I don’t suppose—” You begin to answer, even if your mind can barely keep up with the quick flow of their words.

And then any chance for you to respond to their question is soon stolen when Illyn suddenly turns away, distracted by the sudden shout of their friend coming from a rosebush a few feet away. Soon, the thought of your magic and your smelling of humans is forgotten as they start fussing about a wild rose that seems to have bloomed at the heart of a dying brier. You can faintly hear them cheering at its peculiar size and colour, before they start fighting about how they should be saving it before it withers.

Seems like they have a short attention span, you wonder with a soft chuckle. Just like a child.

You continue to watch them play for a little while until Eydan returns to your side. After chasing off an innocent hummingbird that had appeared from the nearby meadow, the pixie flops down to rest on the boulder next to you, though still restless, their feet kicking out the white mist that is starting to form from the rushing water. The cold that comes as the sun begins descending beyond the trees only causes the mist to grow thicker.

“How come you don’t have wings?” you ask Eydan, pointing at the two pixies who are floating and dancing in the air, laughing as they toss each other around between the rosebushes, having a blast in their wild dance.

Eydan blinks and begins to explain to you the differences between each pixie. “Us pixies gain different characteristics depending on which element our magic comes from. We”—Eydan points at themselves—”and Aela are earth pixies.” You look over at Aela, the auburn-haired pixie who is dancing with the dark-haired pixie who has been mostly silent, and instantly start comparing the two.

While Eydan keeps their hair short, reaching only to their jaw, the other two have long hair—Aela keeps their hair in a thick, high bun which looks like a crown on top of their head, while their dance partner lets their hair down, swaying with them as they dance to some music that only they can hear.

“We live closer to the land, our homes built on the ground, while Illyn and Jolyn are air pixies. They live on trees, the ones that grow close to Master Trish’s home,” Eydan continues, pointing at the two pixies who are flying over the nearest rosebush, their wings fluttering wildly on their backs, picking up speed as they banter loudly with each other, debating about what colour the rose they are pointing is called—maroon red, according to Illyn, while Jolyn insists that it’s the colour of blood.

Just like Illyn, Jolyn’s hair is long, but in the shade of brunette. Unlike the other pixies, Jolyn is the only one with curly hair, and they have kept it untied, leaving it as a mess of wild curls fluttering with the wind as they float around with their little wings.

Eydan points at Aela’s dancing partner next. “Emara is a water pixie. They live near the lake, while their family live by the riverbank. They are good swimmers, always playing with the fish in the summer.”

“That’s interesting,” you muse as you watch them all play together. “I suppose the same can be said about the elves? About how they gain their magic from elements?”

Eydan considers it for a moment in silence, furrowing their brows as they answer, “For the elves that protect us, they do gain powers from elements, but mostly nature. But some types of elves gain power from the moon, giving them similar powers and traits to those of moon fairies.”

“You know,” you gently muse as a thought comes across your mind. “I’ve always assumed that fairies are small creatures just like you are.”

“No, obviously, they’re not,” Eydan says with a scoff. “That’s only true in children's bedtime stories. Perhaps they thought children wouldn’t be interested in fairies if they all knew that fairies look like regular humans—sometimes they even look like ghouls, depending on where they live—so they took our looks instead when they started writing stories about fairies, all to make them presentable and cute for children to love.”

Once you feel rested enough, you cannot resist joining the pixies to play on the grass. Watching them play has been fun, and you want to join in while you still can.

You join them in their little hide-and-seek—mostly as the one seeking—and then let them teach you how to do tricks on the grass. They have you join them in their group dance, following the tune of their music that only they know about. And now you are joining them in a messy game of charades.

You are in the middle of trying to guess what Jolyn is trying to mimic—as the little pixie hides behind a small boulder at the edge of the river and acts as if they are singing in high tune while seducing you to come closer—when all of a sudden, everyone around you grows still.

A gasp comes from Jolyn, the only one facing the opposite way from the others, and the pixies turn to look at the woods behind you. Everyone seems tense and wary that you start feeling worried.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, just as Eydan steps forward, standing right in front of everyone, while the rest gather closer around you.

“There’s another stranger!” One pixie hisses as you try to look beyond the thickets.

You carefully trace the hilt of your dagger with the tip of your fingers. “Are you sensing danger?”

“We’re not smelling danger, but this scent is not familiar to us,” the silent one of the bunch—Emara—speaks. Their voice sounds more like a whisper. But their fear tramples their shyness as they slide closer to hide behind your dress.

For a brief moment, nothing happens.

The darkening sky is also making it hard for you to look beyond the line of trees. You can only faintly see the shadows moving in the forest, yet you are not certain whether you are looking at swaying branches or if it is an actual figure, that something else—or someone—has arrived in the woods and is now moving in the thickets.

The trees sway a little—or perhaps the low branches?—and there are rustling sounds coming together with the heavy sound of boots landing on hard ground, stepping over fallen leaves, as if someone is walking slowly towards you and your little friends. While the pixies remain alert, you can feel a warm hum rising in your chest. A sensation that is quite familiar that every tension in your body is immediately lifted. Your heart thuds, rising slowly with a different kind of feeling that has nothing to do with fear.

There is only one person who can incite such a feeling from you. The one person who has been occupying your thoughts and dreams, even on the days that you spent without him being present. Within moments, he finally emerges from the line of trees, like a piece of a dream emerging into the waking world.

Wearing a white tunic on top of dark trousers, his leather boots sturdy at the bottom, and his half sword hanging from his left hips, Min Yoongi looks just like a prince; a dreamy character plucked out of a fairy tale written in storybooks as he walks into the dim light.

The Prince Charming coming to life.

The length of his hair falls to frame his perfect face, fluttering with the gentle breeze as he slowly comes closer. The urge to pinch at your skin comes over you—because you cannot tell if you are simply dreaming—yet you make no move, too mesmerised by the sight of him.

Because every image of him which you tried to conjure in your thoughts and your dreams didn’t do any justice to the real him.

As Yoongi stops, a smile slowly forms on his face. His eyes, upon finding you, seeing you completely left stunned, seem to glow brighter. A look of mirth dancing in his gaze when he gently greets you,

“There you are, little dove.”

You briefly close your eyes, relishing the shudder that Yoongi’s deep voice brings. This isn’t an imagination and I am not dreaming, you muse to yourself as you open your eyes to see him still standing right before you instead of dispersing with the wind. The white mist forming around the stream close by and from the temperature drop curls around his boots, breaking away when he takes another step closer.

You listen to the sound of your heartbeat for a drop of a moment before finding your voice again.

“You’re late.” Too many long days, three different trips late. “I almost believed that I wouldn’t be so lucky to see you today before I leave.”

Your gaze flickers towards the darkening sky as you say this, noticing how close it is for dusk to come. With merely a short time left to spare, he would have made this the fourth time you would be missing him if he had come once the sunlight was gone.

A painful pinch shoots right through your heart when you take a sharp inhale of breath. You never realised how badly you have been hoping to see him. How you kept wishing that you would cross paths with him again.

You didn’t realise until now, how often you kept looking over your shoulders during your previous excursions, or how you’ve kept your eyes open the entire time with the hope that you would see him again, that he would suddenly appear the way he had done it before. You were starting to lose hope, believing that fate may have decided not to give you another chance to see Yoongi.

As you look up to him again, you are surprised to see a hint of remorse in his eyes. As if he feels the same way as you do.

“I must admit that I was losing hope of seeing you as well,” he gently says. You know you shouldn’t, yet you find how pleasing it is to hear that he is feeling the same.

In your fascination and delight of meeting Yoongi, you fail to realise that your pixie friends—who have remained in their places and have been watching closely at your interaction—have begun to move out of their hiding. Except maybe Emara, who is still clutching at the skirt of your dress, too wary about the other human suddenly interrupting their playtime.

“You’ve made some friends,” Yoongi muses, his gaze softening as he looks at the pixies that are watching him curiously.

You shrug. “I was getting lonely in my travels, since the only one I was expecting to accompany me has been absent,” you tease him with a smile, and for a brief second, Yoongi’s eyes widen at your playful tone, before his own smile grows just as wide.

“Do you know him?” you hear Aela asking you as she flutters by your head, cautiously flying closer. “Is he a friend?” asks Eydan, and you answer them without pulling your gaze away from Yoongi.

“Yes. A good friend.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk to a grin. His eyes move to find Eydan, who is standing right in front of you with their shoulders rising as if to make themselves look bigger. You aren’t too sure if the tiny creature has been trying to protect you, or if they were just too curious to remain hidden, but it is still quite amusing to see them acting tough in front of the newcomer.

Yoongi elaborately bows in front of the curious pixie. “You mustn’t worry about me. My name is Yoongi. I’m also a traveller like _____, and I meant no harm.”

Neither of the pixies says a thing at first, until Emara slips out of your skirt to gingerly say—their voice sounds so gentle it almost fades with the wind, “Well, if _____ trusts you, perhaps we can trust you too.”

Once again, Yoongi bows. The gesture looks perfectly elaborated to make him look like a royal. His gentle smile nearly melts your heart when he answers, “It’s an honour that you would accept me just as much as you have welcomed her into your home.”

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 9 months

Text

Ikemen Villains - Harrison Gray

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

Tall man: "You're unlucky to witness our deal like this."

Kate: "Let me go!"

Round-faced man: "There's no way we can let you go after seeing everything."

Today is December 31st.

I was helping with the preparations for the countdown party at the castle. But I got lost on the way to the store and witnessed a suspicious deal involving two men.

I ended up getting caught, and now my hands and feet were tied.

(I need to escape!)

Recalling the escape method I read in a detective novel I borrowed from Harry, I subtly move my hands to gradually loosen the ropes without the two men noticing.

(I need to find an opening and get out of here!)

Round-faced man: "Hmm? Who are you people?"

Suddenly, one of the men called out to the entrance of the warehouse, and standing there was一

Kate: "Harry, Liam!?"

Liam: "Ehh!? They've got Katie!"

Harrison: "Why are you here?"

Harry and Liam, seeing me tied up and lying on the ground, widened their eyes in surprise.

Since I had just been captured a moment ago, they probably didn't even know that I’d been kidnapped.

(Did the two of them come here as part of the Crown's mission?)

(I think they were supposed to bust an illegal drug deal today. So are these guys the culprits?)

Round-faced Man: "Do you guys know this woman? If so, it'll make things easier."

One of the men pointed a gun at me.

Tall man: "If you care about her life, then drop your weapons."

Harry and Liam held their breath at the man's threat and tried to put their weapons on the ground.

Kate: "Wait!"

I quickly raised my voice to stop them.

Round-faced man: "What's with you? Do you want to get killed?"

Kate: "This gun is real. It's loaded and dangerous, so you guys could get killed!"

Round-faced man: "Ha?"

Kate: "Drop your weapons quickly! These two also have other weapons!"

Liam: "What's wrong, Katie? We obviously intended to do that."

Harrison: "I see. Got it."

After hearing my words, Harry pretended to place the gun on the ground and then shot the men.

Tall Man: "Gah! It hurts!"

With precise control, each of the two men was shot in the leg and arm.

Although it wasn't life-threatening, their injuries prevented them from fighting.

Round-faced man: "What do you think you're doing? Do you not care about this woman's life!?"

Harrison: "Sorry, but your threat won't work. That gun is fake, yeah?"

Round-faced man: "Why you...!"

Tall Guy: "Damn it! We're at a disadvantage now. Let's scram!"

The two men, protecting their injured legs and arms, fled from the warehouse through the back door, leaving me behind.

Harrison: "Are you okay?"

Harry quickly ran over and helped me up.

Kate: "Yes, thank you for helping me."

With Harry's assistance, I finally freed myself.

Liam: "I'm glad you're safe."

Liam: "But I was surprised when Harry suddenly shot those guys, even though you were being held hostage."

Harrison: "Their gun was fake."

Liam: "Huh? Does that mean..."

Kate: "Yes. Everything I said was a lie."

They couldn't really harm me, as the gun they pointed at me was fake and they didn't have any other weapons.

To convey that information, I deliberately shouted the opposite to make Harry see through the lie.

Harrison: "You didn't tell the truth to catch the opponent off guard, right? Well done."

Kate: "I didn't want to be a burden to the two of you while being captured."

Kate: "But they escaped, so we need to catch them quickly!"

Harrison: "They're injured. All we need to do is follow the bloodstains."

The blood droplets eventually split into two paths, so Liam and Harrison decided to split up and pursue each trail.

After a while, Harry and I arrived at the market.

Perhaps because it was close to midnight, the market was bustling with people eager to watch the fireworks for the New Year.

Kate: "Harry, over there!"

Amidst the crowd, we saw a tall man with an injured leg dragging himself away. Before we could even catch up, a carriage stopped at the man's side.

It didn't look like a regular public carriage but a privately arranged one.

Harrison: "So there were others in your group, huh?"

There's no way we can catch up with them if they get on the carriage.

I hurriedly looked around but could not find any other carriages.

Kate: "We can't catch up on foot. We have to give up the pursuit for now."

Harrison: "No, there's still a way."

Saying that, Harry took out his pistol and aimed it at the carriage.

Harrison: "If I aim for the wheels, it will stop."

Kate: "But shooting a gun in the middle of a street like this?"

The Crown is a secret organization under the edict of Queen Victoria.

Their existence and their evil deeds should not be noticed by the general public.

Harrison: "No one will notice. After all, it's almost time."

As if to dispel my anxiety, Harry smiled nonchalantly.

Kate: "Almost time?"

Townspeople: "10! 9! 8!"

As I was about to ask, I heard loud voices counting down.

(Could it be?)

Harrison: "3, 2, 1!"

A dull roar shook our bodies.

It wasn't the sound of Harry's gun, but the sound of fireworks being set off to celebrate the new year.

I was momentarily distracted by it, but when I looked back, I saw the carriage overturning, its wheel distorted by a bullet.

Kate: "You timed it with the New Year's fireworks!"

Timing the gunshots with the sound of fireworks made it less likely for the gunshots to be noticed. Moreover, people were looking up at the sky, making it easier to overlook what happened on the ground.

Harrison: "They say the best place to hide a tree is in a forest, but..."

Kate: "W-What's wrong? Is there a problem?"

Harrison: "I just thought I turned something you were looking forward to into a bloody memory."

(Come to think of it, I did mention before that I wanted to spend the countdown with him this year.)

(I'm glad he remembered my words.)

Kate: "Hehe. It's a little disappointing, but it was a countdown I'll never forget."

Kate: "Let's make next year's countdown even more wonderful, Harry."

Harrison: "The bar has been raised, huh? Well, I guess it's fine."

Afterward, we were able to safely capture the man from the carriage and hand him over to William, who said he had things to ask the man. After having the meal prepared by Victor, we finally returned to our room and took a breather.

Kate: "The first day of the new year was quite an ordeal."

Harrison: "The season doesn't matter when it comes to our duties. But if I could wish for something, it would be to spend more time with you this year."

I widened my eyes, surprised by his unusually straightforward wish. Sensing my reaction, Harry mischievously smiled.

Harrison: "Now, was that a lie or the truth?"

Kate: "I believe it was the truth. And if those words were a lie..."

Harrison: "Yeah?"

Kate: "I will stay with you so you will feel the same way."

Kate: "I'll do my best to make sure your lies change."

Harrison: "Heh? But that effort might not be necessary."

With a few words, Harry pulled me in and kissed me.

It was a sweet kiss that proved his wish was really true, capturing me and not letting go.

#ikemen villains #ikemen villain #ikevil harrison #ikevil #ikevil translations #ikevil jp #harrison gray #cybird

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officiallyossy-haywooddent · 25 days

Text

August 29th.

This is a fanfic / open rp starter so it’s kinda long. The writing might not be great, sorry.

TW for child death, loss of a sibling, minor mentions of bad parenting, minor drug use, minor toxic relationship

Every year without fail the week of August 25 was maybe the worst week of Ossy’s life. Every year they’d go through the same calls, same arrangements, same people. It never changed, even if their life circumstances did. Every year they would end up with a crown of flowers and a box of Halloween candy, completely and utterly alone.

It had been the same when they were eight and had been flown home from camp to give their testimony to the police. It had been the same when they were twelve, reeling from the loss of their brother and best friend and so, so many others; lost and alone in the middle of New York.

It had gotten worse when Ossy was thirteen, their palm sliced open over a marble altar, clasped in the hand of their best friend somewhere in the wilderness of the Yukon. Being fifteen in Gotham would be no different.

—

August 25.

It began, the preparations; the prayers. They called Frank first. Ossy hadn’t talked to him in years when it had first happened, he’d left the island with his mother to live with his grandmother in Vancouver, and they’d drifted apart.

A three hours on the ferry was a long time to travel to see someone, it wasn’t like they’d been good friends. They’d been five and eight, quietly talking in the forest behind their school every couple of days. That was all, Ossy didn’t think they’d ever speak to him again.

Then came the second war. He was there; they weren’t. He stopped by the med bay, asked where they’d been. They answered. He’d talked with them for hours, but he would always have to leave.

Nevertheless Ossy picked up their phone, dialled his number. They let it ring, once, twice. They hung up. It wasn’t right to bother Frank nowadays, and he hadn’t really known her anyway. Most people hadn’t.

They ordered a bulk box of Halloween candy. It would arrive in two days. They wished it would never come.

—

August 26.

Ossy’d found a place that did rush flower arrangements. They ordered three flower crowns, one for them, two for her. The place they’d gotten it, Belle Flore, was this tiny shop in North Gotham that imported seeds from everywhere in the world and grew all the flowers in a grow room above the store. The clerk, a red-headed guy probably less than a year older than them named Rhys, had been nice about the whole thing, suggesting an arrangement of Pheasants Eye, Prince’s Feather, Baby’s Breath, and Buttercup.

The combination was odd but sweet, symbolic. Buttercup had been her favourite after all. The crowns would be done in three days, the 29th.

Ossy would pick it up in the morning, flowers were always better fresh.

They spend the rest of the day asleep. The tranqs they’d gotten from Peter were nice, though they’d had to ration them out. They’d told him 2 wasn’t gonna be enough.

August 27.

Ossy sleeps through the day. They don’t move, but it’s fine. They don’t need to. Sleep is quiet, calming. Hypnos must have taken pity of them, each dream is an altered memory of their life before everything, a kinder one.

August 28.

The phone rings five times before going to voicemail, their mums soft voice letting them know to leave a message and that she’d get to it in the morning. She wouldn’t, not when she saw the caller ID.

“Hey, mum. It’s me. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and I’m..I’m doing something for the 29th. You can always join me, I’ll pay for your flight and everything.”

Ossy pauses, taking a shuddering breath. It’s been a while since they’ve cried properly.

“…I miss you. And Grandpa. I’m sorry..about everything.”

They hang up quickly, regretting every second of it. She’d just delete it when she saw it, she always did. They leave the message anyway.

The package with the candy arrives at the manor, nobody asks what’s in it. Ossy doesn’t know if anyone even noticed it arrive. They request the day off tomorrow from the Deli, Mr. Maroni approves it. He’s been nice since he found out about the mugging, probably thinks they’re still scared of doing the night shift. They are, but they wouldn’t tell him that.

The night roles around and they pop the second half of a tranq. They don’t know if they want to wake up in the morning, sleeping away the 29th doesn’t sound half bad. It would be mean though, she would never have done it. She didn’t sleep, it was genetic. The gene had skipped Ossy.

August 29.

At 5:30 AM they show up at Belle Flores, it’s the same clerk, Rhys. He quietly hands over a pastel blue box with a subdued smile. He knows what the crowns are for, they’d told him. It’s easier to talk to strangers about these things.

Ossy stops back at the manor, grabbing the cats before hopping on one of the busses. They need to get out of the city again. Sometimes Gotham, with its constant noise and soaring buildings, felt like a maze. This then made them the rat, trying to find its way out before getting zapped.

The concrete held an energy they could never quite get used too. Ossy missed the blue pine of the salmon and rain forests; trees so large and thick they muffled everything within their shade, where oceans crashed against the conifered cliffs of their piece of home. They’d stolen that line from John Vailant.

The bus pulled to a stop outside a rocky beach. The cats had been quiet for the ride, good travellers. Ossy realized she’d never gotten to meet them.

They set up camp on a fallen log near the tree line, setting up a fence so the cats could be let loose to roam. Two of the flower crowns were laid side by side, the third resting on their head. It was good work, better than either of them had ever been capable of.

Ossy sat there for a while, listening to old songs they had long forgotten the words to, taking two bowls and pouring them full of the candy. It was stale, but that didn’t really matter. Stel had always saved her Halloween candy until Easter. They ate quietly, watching the cats play fight.

Ossy wasn’t sure how long it took for them to break down but they’d like to think it was close to an hour, a respectable amount of time to hold vigil before they imploded.

It was stupid for them to think they’d escaped it, moved past it. Not her death, no, they could never get over that, but being alone each year.

Not even having a picture of the family together. It was starting to get to them. Ossy would never admit it but they were starting to forget her face. People had always said they’d looked similar. They could never believe it. Stel had been good, so much better than any of the rest of them. Ossy would never be sure how she came from a family like theirs. Truth be told, they weren’t even sure what they looked like anymore, but that had little to do with the comparisons.

Ossy pulled out their phone, dialling half the numbers in their phone before deleting each one. They didn’t want to feel the need to explain it all to anyone. Deanna had told them to stop over analyzing their emotions, it wasn’t actually a form of processing apparently.

Finally, they landed on someone they wouldn’t mind calling. The gnawing sensation in their gut growing ever stronger as the phone rang, the soft click of the receiver letting them know there wasn’t really a way back.

“Hey.”

#angst #open rp starter #open dc rp #open pjo rp #oc fanfiction #oc angst #mun is tired and can’t decide if they like this or hate this #but go apeshit if ya’ll want #dc rp blog #dc rp #gotham city #pjo rp blog #crime alley #gotham reports #maroni’s deli #bruce wayne #park row #red hood

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shatcey · 2 months

Text

My cherished doll (Alfons BE)

Bitter ending Secret ending

I found here a translation of the first two chapters, a premium ending and even an epilogue. So I recommend reading it in advance.

I really appreciate the work of translators. They do a huge job, and I will never be able to express how grateful I am to them. My free interpretation is nothing compared to what they do.

So...

Alfons with Kate went to the drug store. On the way a lot of people say hello to Alfons and invite him to some shady places… He smiling non stop don't promise anything, they seem to get used to it. Kate feels a bit conflicted about it.

Alfons noticed this and assured her.

Awww… Just today?.. No, I take it back, it's not cute.

They went into the drug store. The old pharmacist said that he had prepared the medicine that Roger had asked for, but it was under the shelf, so he asked Alfons to take it himself. Alfie agreed quite easily, completely forgetting that Kate was in his pocket (chest pocket), so when he bent down, she almost fell out of it and screamed. And of course the old man noticed her.

And he started looking for a syringe. What's wrong with you guys? Why do you think that if she is small, then you can do whatever you like? I've never thought how hard it must be to be Thumbelina…

Alfons took a dramatic breath, added that he had no choice, and told the old man that she was just a doll

Why do you even need a pet doll? No, no, no! Don't answer. I'll have to live with this information somehow.

They went back to Crown Castle and Kate thanked him for his saving, but he tried to say, as usual, that he hadn't helped her and all. But she insisted.

They returned to Roger, who had finished preparing the medicine right in front of them. And Kate drank it right away. It was quite bitter, and Roger only mentioned it after she had drunk it.

Good point, honey… this person never thinks about others.

And she returns to her original size… naked, of course…

Well… You know them! Why are you even surprised?

Alfons said he was glad he didn't have to do whatever he wanted with her. But if she wants to… he doesn't mind doing it to her even now. Roger commented on this

Do you remember? She's still naked… And there are two adults and quite active men nearby… I don't know who to praise more… them or her.

She said she didn't need either of them, wrapped herself in a sheet from the examination bed and rushed away. But on the stairs she remembered that had survived this day thanks to Alfons. He didn't just save her at the drug shop. He cheered her up for the whole day. And it's not good to run away just because you're embarrassed.

And having said what she wanted, she left the room.

Well… He does knows you…

Alfons also leaves the room but turns around at the last moment

I don't really remember if he said anything else, but I think he was talking about her thanking him. He's not used to it… and he is surprisingly pleased with that.

First of all… This Roger's suggestion… If you remove Roger and add literally any other guy from the "Crown"… I would agree)))) I mean, I'm fine with just Alfons, but… What's the point of even thinking about it, he won't let me anyway.

I like that Alfons has demonstrated here a little bit that he is not just obsessed with pleasure, as he likes to claim, but also hides much more. And it usually appears in completely unexpected moments in a completely unexpected way.

I'm really looking forward to this event in EN. I would like to check how well I understood it. It was originally released in September, so we should expect it in about two months.

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🔝 Start page 🔝

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#cybird ikemen #cybird #ikemen series #ikemen games #ikemen villains #ikemen villians #ikevil #alfons sylvatica #ikemen alfons #ikemen villians alfons #ikevil alfons #ikemen villains roger #ikemen roger #ikemen event #ikevil jp

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takeurexam · 3 months

Text

dynasty || 1

genre:

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

pairing(s):

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)

summary:

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

1: Twist of Events

The tapping of your hand eased your anxiety for a bit as you waited for your paper to be examined by your professor. This paper was your key to passing law school and graduating.

You've been through hell and heaven for this. If you dont pass, then your whole career is basically over and you'll become a failure and-

"You passed."

"I PASSED!!!" You shout and jump around happily with your papers in hand as the professor looks at you with a disgusted and tired face.

"Uh.. Congratulations." He sighs and shakes your hand as you shake his hand happily and smile at him widely.

You left the room and shouted happily as the people in the hallways stared at you weirdly, oddly enough, people didnt really care and continued doing what they were doing.

"All my hardwork was worth it. I went through hell and heaven to finish this and become a lawyer. Fuck it, im getting beer." You thought as you grinned and sprinted to a nearby convience store and buy some beer to celebrate at your apartment. (throughout the story, texts in italic are thoughts)

"Why are you buying some beer, maam? If I may ask." The convience store worker asked, you grinned at him and say, "Im graduating, I passed my finals so im finally free from hell. A good sip of beer is like a reward for my hardowork."

"Mhm, I agree." They finish of packing the cans and give it to you, "Well, be careful, its late at night." He winks at you and smirks.

"Gross." You thought and you just smile and laugh awkwardly.

You rushed to get your paper bag and basically sprint away from the store because the cashier was a little weird, okay, not little but weird as hell.

Finally arriving at your appartment, you see the lady who manages and takes care of the building in the main floor.

"Hey kiddo, its late at night, and congrats!" She smiles and you smile back, "Finally someone whos not a weirdo." You think about the cashier and thank the heavens that you're somewhere safe because he mightve been a stalker and followed you.

"Yeah, but it was just for a short time, and thank you! I'll be in my room now." You excuse yourself as you happily jump to your room.

You open your door and set up the table on the floor and pour yourself a drink.

"Cheers to a future lawyer!"

Psst....

"What?"

Pssst!

"Wake the fuck up!"

"WHAT!" You open your eyes as you see your.. mother? And your sister flashing her phone flashlight at you.

They notice you stir and slowly wake up, "Did you pass out on the floor or something? What a mess." Your mother complains as she looks around the room with a concerned face.

"Why are you here?" You manage to mumble out even though your head hurt so badly. "Im hungover.. like hell. And these women are adding to it."

Your sister and mother take their time to look at each other, eyebrows raised and smirking at each other made it clear that they had either terrifying or good intentions.

"So, me and your sister decided were gonna take you out for shopping, make overs, and fix yourself up!" They both squeal and giggle at the same time while jumping around the living room.

"My family might be on drugs.. who are these people?" Your face scrunches up a bit and you pray that you'll come out alive before your graduation.

"Its fine-"

"You have to."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Okay. Got it."

"Mom are you actually serious?" Your mom drags you by the ear as you three stroll through the mall to prepare you for your graduation. Anything to fix your.. style. My sisters words, not mine.

"Yes. Now stop whining like a child and find something to glow yourself up!"

"But im perfectly fine-"

"Yah."

"Okay sorry."

You were silent, well, silenced for now, and you three were at the department store looking for clothes for an 'after party' that was never mentioned until now.

"Hey, you should look for jewelry over there." Your sister points towards a weird looking witchcraft type of place.

"Thats jewelry?" She nods and shrugs, "Check it out, and dont even try escaping. If you're done, meet us at the balcony area, if were not there it means were just a little late."

"Well dang." You look at her and just shrug and walk towards the weird shop to look for jewelry, boredom washes over you and suddlenly a little strolling by yourself wouldnt be too bad.

You push the door as a bell rings on top of you, "Is this some kind of witchery shit? I cant die yet."

"Hello, please take a look around.." An old lady with weird jewelry surrounding her whole body with her cloak and accesories.

"..Okay?" You become a little frantic but you push aside your worries and call yourself out for being judgemental.

"No way. This actually looks cool." You grin as you look around the shelves and cabinets containing crystals, jewelry, paintings, and some other stuff that you know, old people like her use. Sorry.

"Well young lady, found anything yet?" The elder woman asks.

"Not yet."

"Come here."

You raise a brow but still walk closer to her, as a grin forms in her lips as she chuckles and leads you to a couch with her weird witchfraft items displayed all over the place.

"Sit down, young one." You do as she says, and sit down the okay looking couch she has.

"Here." She opens my hands and gives me something, "A silver chopstick?"

"Are you gonna make me do something..?" You look at her perplexed and a little astonished.

"I swear to the heavens above, if I get kidnapped because I accepted a chopstick from a stranger im sprinting out of here. Im too judgemental, but the world is dangerous!"

She smiles and gives you a ribbon to go along with the silver chopstick, "Its on the house. Have a nice day." She creepily smiles as you frantically smile back at her.

"Weird." You mumble under your breath as you sprint out of the shop. "Anyways where to... Oh. I need to go to my mom and sister at the balcony."

You run to the balcony as it was decorated nicely wirh fairy lights, benches and fake grass to match the aesthetic of the area. There was also a swing that was decorated nicely with flowers, but weirdly enough, you were the only one there.

"Are people this busy shopping?" You mumble to yourself as you head to the swing to wait for your sister and mother.

Swinging around, with your phone in hand watching random instagram reels or tikrok videos as you wait for them to finish their glow up shopping spree for you.

You do notice people approaching you but due to the blurred glass, you couldnt see them that much.

Shrugging away the thought and looking away to look at the view was very much a wrong move.

You turn back to the direction where you saw them heading towards you, you see them ganging up on you with their arms crossed and face covered with masks decorated flamboyantly and covered with black cloaks.

"I dont have money." You stare at them in awe as you cross your arms and sigh at them, "Dont mistaken me for being a rich ass lady. Im broke as hell!"

The masked people look at each other and look at you concerned as if you were a patient from a mental hospital.

"Just knock her out, she sounds annoying." One of them says.

"I gladly volenteer." Another one replies.

You get knocked out and darkness surrounds your vision as you hear people screaming as they see you get hit by the masked people.

"She looks like she hasnt had a wink of sleep."

"Speak for yourself."

"You look terrible."

Your vision still engulfed in darkness as you hear two men speaking to each other as you feel the cold breeze and fire sparkling beside you which you found very weird.

Slowly waking up, you sit up and rub your eyes and revealing the two voices you heard while gaining conciousness.

"...YOU WOKE HER UP!"

"NO I DIDNT YOU DID??"

"YOUR VOICE IS TOO LOUD THAT IT CAN WAKE HER UP EVEN WERE WHISPERING TO EACH OTHER."

You look at them with fear and disgust as they both pause as they notice you looking at the two of them weirdly enough.

"Uh.. Hi." You manage to speak out.

"We found you passed out in the middle of the forest, are you okay?" The nearly bald with spikey thorn hair guy says.

"Im Soobin, and he's Hobak." The guy with fluffly hair introduces themselves as you digest this information.

"Im Y/N. Nice to meet you too?" You feel a little more at ease with them as you shift around the bed.

"Hobak says you passed out right? We carried you to my cabin and gave you some herbs to make you stay healthy." Soobin smiles as his dimples show with Hobak running his hands through his spikey hair.

"Well, wherever you live, we brought you here to the North from Daedo." Hobak says.

"...Where?"

"North from Daedo. Me and Soobin were exploring in Daedo but we live here in the north."

You were perplexed as you looked around the room, herbs, silk, jewels, plants and most importantly, paintings of a somewhat familiar historical figures.

"Is that.. the Kang family?" You manage to utter out weakly.

"Yeah, its the Kang Dynasty, whats the matter?"

"Where the hell am I."

★ ✶✮✭✯☆✰⛥╰

next chapter

a/n: so sorry this took like one week to release, i had to do alot of stuff and couldnt finish the chapter because of my schedule. i'll be back ofc to write more of the chapters, and hope you enjoy! make sure to leave a heart!

-isabelle

#txt #txt x reader #taehyun #kang taehyun #taehyun x reader #kang taehyun x reader #kpop #beomgyu #hueningkai #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu x reader #huening kai x reader #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt au #txt x you

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instantezra · 4 days

Text

Highlights

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader (gender neutral reader and only like, one use of y/n!)

Summary: danny lets you do his hair that's it that's the plot

Content Warnings: this is mostly just fluff but there is consumption of alcohol and marijuana (don't do drugs or w/e!), adult language, danny being suggestive so i will say this is 18+ minors do not interact!!, use of pet names, mentions of golf (lmao)

Word Count: 2.4k

Author's Note: this is my first fic for gvf!! and my first fic i've written in uhhhh 4 years! disclaimer that this is a work of fiction i do not personally know anyone in GVF i just write my thoughts. this is my offering to tumblr for more greta pals/moots 🙇 also sorry idk if i ever learned how to end a fic so

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It was a good thing Danny trusted you. Maybe too much, considering his current position. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt from his early high school days – slightly raggedy, faded, and giving you a glimpse at his shoulders through some of the holes that had formed over the years. He sat on a chair from the kitchen that had been dragged into the living room and tried to find something mindless to put on in the background on TV. You stood behind him and surveyed the supplies laid out beside the snacks and wine on the coffee table.

Danny had finally agreed to let you put highlights back in his hair. You felt confident in your abilities, but he had a different outlook on this whole operation.

“You know I’m only letting you do this because I couldn’t get an appointment soon, right?” he stated as he landed on a channel replaying highlights from the last U.S. Open.

“You’re letting me do this because you love and trust me and know I would never steer you wrong!” You leaned in, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. “Besides, if I fuck up, I can just shave your head.”

“NOOOO!” Danny dramatically grabbed at his curls, tucking his chin in and leaning forward, almost out of the seat. Both of you burst into a fit of giggles. “What if my head is shaped weird?”

“I’m sure I could find a way to love bald Danny. But we won’t be finding that out! Because I’m a professional. Now watch your golf and shush, I need to read this wikiHow article…” He whipped his head back to look at you incredulously. Giving him a quick wink, you scrolled through the article. Danny had made sure to not wash his hair for a few days, the two of you had spent too long in the beauty supply store finding said supplies, and he was wearing a throwaway shirt in case any dye had spilled. Now all that was left was to get started.

He sat still in front of you, sipping his glass of wine as you sectioned his hair off into different parts. He looked a bit goofy with the various clips and mini buns dotting his head. Sneakily, you took a picture and shared it on your Close Friends story on Instagram, captioned with a few stupid and cryptic emojis. You knew he’d give you shit for it later, but it was still cute. The rattail comb caught into one of his curls, and you almost got to work.

Danny leaned forward, shaking his head to knock your hands away. You popped up an eyebrow inquisitively. He put his glass of wine down and got up to crack open one of your windows. Early autumn air came blowing through, the smell fresh and a slight chill permeating the room. You couldn't help but close your eyes to relish in the crisp air. The next smell you caught was that of the joint Danny had lit. You chuckled lightly as you put on the latex gloves from the highlighting kit.

“You want any? Thought now would be easier than during.” He blew smoke towards the open window and leaned back in his seat, extending an offer.

“I don't think being crossed is a great idea. I will have literal bleach near your head, Dan.”

“What happened to ‘I’m a professional’ and I ‘trust you’, hm?” he asked, teasingly doing air quotes with his hands. You sighed and reached for the joint. He was hard to say no to.

“It's your hair,” you stated and took a small hit. A little wouldn't hurt, right? If anything, it would probably just mean Dan was going to get a great head massage out of it. You loved running your fingers through his locks, but when you were high it was a way to self-soothe. Plenty of nights the two of you could be found lounging in the couch after a few hits, Danny's head in your lap as your fingers mindlessly played in his curls.

Well, usually you did that. If you ended up fucking up his highlights, that would be a bit harder. No curls to run your fingers through after you'd have to shave him.

You poured the remainder of your wine into Danny’s glass and declined any more weed. Your head was already feeling a bit fuzzier. With newfound focus on the task at hand and gloves on, you mixed in the developer and stared down at the wikiHow article opened on your phone.

Between your fingers you held a strand of curls and laid it on a strip of foil. Danny’s hair was getting long, so he probably should have seen an actual hair stylist. The boys had a very brief break in their tour, and the break was scheduled in such a way that he wasn’t able to make any actual appointments. Danny wasn’t complaining; he wanted to spend as much time as he could with your in your place. You insisted your apartment wasn’t as nice as his place, but he said it felt more “homey.” A place of solace from his life that had changed so much in the past five years. It was a constant, just like you were for him.

You began brushing what Dan had dubbed “the potion” onto his hair, making sure to keep undyed portions separate. Wrapping foil around each wet strand, you got into a rhythm. The only sound in the room was his occasional commentary on the golf on TV and soft crinkling of tin foil. For some reason you weren’t nervous about doing Danny’s hair. Sure, you had only ever dyed your roommate’s hair in college, and that was usually just an all over single color. Those nights consisted of the two of you splitting a bottle of wine, watching the same historical romance movie for the umpteenth time, and chatting about anything and everything. Now you got to share those moments with Danny. Everything with him was just easy.

Occasionally, he’d reach his arm back, offering you the joint (which you refused) or a Twizzler (which you happily accepted). He’d start going off on a tangent about a certain golfer, giving unsolicited opinions that made you giggle. Sometimes he’d get so heated about it, he’d move his head and you had to hold it still with your gloved hands. He’d try to crack a joke and make you giggle, briefly breaking your concentration.

Moments like these were when you realized truly how much you cared for this boy. Not necessarily when he was a rock god, performing for thousands of adoring fans. Not when he travelled the globe, sending you pictures of otherworldly sights and making you yearn for him to return. It was always the quieter moments. It was the comfortable silence of not having to talk, just enjoying each others company. It was the delicate tug of each strand you were going to highlight, him trusting that you wouldn’t hurt him (or worse, make him be bald). When he was home from tour or rehearsal, he always wanted to spend time with you, in your place. He always mentioned it felt like a second home. Even if it was something as mundane as vegetating on the couch together. It was domestic, and it made your heart flutter.

—

Most of “the potion” had run out, but you had just enough to do the front curls that framed his beautiful face. You tried to set the last few strips of foil into his lap as you circled around to the front of the chair. Apparently whatever had been on the television now wasn’t as enticing to him, because he set the foils on the table and pulled you into his lap. His eyelids were heavy, covering his bloodshot eyes as he shot you a smirk. You playfully rolled your eyes and continued brushing product onto a few stray curls near his forehead.

“That does it, I think,” you exclaimed and reached towards the coffee table. The brush clattered slightly in the bowl when you set it down. You snatched the unlit joint from its ashtray and flicked the lighter. “Now we just have to check on the color every 5 minutes and then rinse!”

“I can think of a couple things we could do for 5 minutes,” he said and leaned forward to kiss your neck. You giggled into the joint as you struggled to lean away, blowing smoke through your nose and accidentally into Dan’s hair.

“Okay, well, I was going to help you rinse this out but maybe you do need a cold shower by yourself.” Your hips shifted to try to get up and out of his grasp, but his strong hands pulled you back down.

“What!? I was just gonna say we could list our favorite golfers from the last 5 years and why.” He feigned hurt by putting a hand to his chest and pouting. You leaned forward to kiss his pout, which in turn made it a smile. “But actually though… will you help me rinse it? I don’t want to fuck it up.” There was a sincerity to his statement. No matter how silly he had been before - he really did trust you.

It was always the quieter moments. Pinching the end of the filter to his lips so Danny could take the last few hits. Feeling the haze of smoking hit your head. Comfortably sitting in his lap like it was made just for you. Peaking under the foils to see how the color was developing. His dopey smile as he squeezed your hips. Just being together, those were the moments you lived for.

Both of you were shot out of your dazed states by the alarm on your phone. Next thing you knew you were floating down the hall, following him into your tiny bathroom and sitting him down on the closed seat. A fit of giggles erupted from both of you as he tried to lay his large frame against the toilet lid with his hair dangling into the tub. Danny was used to getting this done in a salon, but your shitty apartment bathroom would have to do.

His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear it over the rushing water coming from the faucet. He seemed to be talking about some dumb idea Sam had, but that quickly turned to a yelp once you redirected some of the water onto his head.

“Shit, why is it so cooooooold?” His whines made your chest clench. The position he was in looked incredibly uncomfortable and the icy cold water probably didn’t help. But you couldn’t help but notice the scrunch of his nose, the freckles sprinkled across the bridge and his cheeks, the redness in his face from laying with his head nearly upside down. He looked so adorable, even with a tangle of curls flopped into the tub.

“Sorry, hon, but it’s gotta be cold,” you reassured him by massaging his scalp gently. The pressure applied from your fingertips mixed with the acclimation to the temperature had Danny closing his eyes. A hum came from his chest, and he relaxed into your touch. You took this as a good sign and leaned over him to make sure all the product was rinsed out.

“I d’know if it’s cuz I’m stoned or if you’re just magic, but this feels really really good,” he mumbled, leaning up to trail kisses down your jaw and neck.

“I think it’s a bit of both, bub. Keep that up though and you’ll be doing shampoo and conditioner yourself, Mr. Wagner.” You tugged his hair gently, not necessarily to rile him up but moreso as a warning. This elicited a chuckle, and he leaned his head back once more.

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint.” You smiled down at him, continuing your ministrations. There was another comfortable silence between the two of you. Danny carefully folded his hands across his chest while you carefully shampooed and conditioned his hair. He didn’t even complain when you poured a cup of water over his curls, gently working the products out of his freshly highlighted hair. You used an old plush towel to catch the drips from his waterlogged locks and helped him sit up on the toilet seat. He beamed up at you lazily as you softly scrunched his curls a bit drier. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispered.

“Of course, lovey,” you softly replied. “Now, you do that mysterious curl routine of yours and tell me how it looks. I’m gonna go start us some dinner.” You left him alone in the bathroom, knowing he had some products in the medicine cabinet that he’d left at your place just in case. The dye job had honestly come out not too shabby. It probably wasn’t as great as his professional stylist’s job, but it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. You wouldn’t know until you returned to the bathroom, though.

You went to check on him after prepping some food and pouring two more glasses of wine. The sound of the hair dryer stopped, so you knew he must be close to done. Turning into the doorway, you stood behind him. His gaze in the mirror went from his hair to your eyes, giving you a soft smile. You snaked your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“So… not too bad, right?”

“It looks great, y/n. Really, it does. Thank you,” he said gently.

“You’re so pretty, Danny.”

A blush rose to his cheeks. That shy smile of his appeared on his face, and you got that funny feeling in your chest again. The amount of poetry you could write just on the features of his face would make Keats and Byron blush in embarrassment. Danny had to know he was handsome, but he still hadn’t gotten used to you calling him pretty. Or beautiful. Really, any time you complimented him he felt on top of the world. There was a slight tension in the air, though, and you hoped you hadn’t made him uncomfortable. So you cut the tension.

“So… you don’t want me to shave it?” You poked at his side and he let out a bellowing laugh.

“No, no, no. No bald Danny,” he said, twisting around to face you. “I like being your pretty Danny.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

uwu if you got this far yippee also thank u to my bestie for beta reading this (they don't use tumblr but i love them) and to @godly-sinsx for helping me brainstorm <3

also idk if i need to do pic credit it's literally from daniel's insta tho

#maddy writes #gvf #greta van fic #danny wagner x reader #greta van fleet fluff #danny gvf #gvf fluff

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snowivivienne · 1 year

Text

VIVI GLOW UP GUIDE: HAIR

“Invest in your hair, it's the crown you never take off.”

STEP ONE : THE NECESSITIES

- Wet Brush

- Gentle Hair Ties / Claw Clips / Scrunches

- Wide Tooth Comb

- Regular Shampoo

- Clarifying Shampoo

- Conditioner

- Leave in Conditioner

- Hair Mask

- Hair Oil

- Microfiber Towel or Cotton T-Shirt

- Silk Bonnet or Silk Pillow Cases

STEP TWO : HAIR ASSESSMENT

- What type of hair do you have? Oily, dry, or normal

- What is your hair texture ? ( 1a through 4c )

- What state is your hair currently in? Is it breaking, stretching or frizzy?

- Do you have split ends?

- Do you have colored hair?

- Do you use heating tools, take hot showers ?

Use these answers to these for helping picking products, use labels that target your complaints

STEP THREE : CUT THOSE ENDS

You want pretty hair? Cut. Those. Split. Ends. As much as people want to think you can 100% repair split ends with bonding products, you can’t. Split ends will find a way to creep up, and soon your split ends can become split miss and now your hair will not grow. Do this one time in the start of your hair care journey, and then from there on out you can learn how to cut your own split ends with the “no length lost method”.

STEP FOUR : WASH DAY

Find you wash days, it is okay to wash everyday or less with more days in between, as long as your scalp stays clean.

Your wash day should look like this, a coconut based pre-oil treatment to the ends of your hair for 30 minutes prior to getting into the shower. Weekly, take the oil up to the roots and massage in before doing the next steps. When you get in the shower star with a double shampoo cleanse if you skip days in between washes. If you wash your hair everyday only wash it one time (unless you did full hair oil) Lather the shampoo in your hands and start at the nape of your neck working your way up, only focuses on the scalp. Wash thoroughly then add conditioner after squeezing out all access water. Apply onlyto the ends and let it sit, pinning it up with a claw clip to keep the conditioner of your skin to avoid body acne. Rinse out.

Once you get out the shower, gently squeeze hair with microfiber towel and apply your leave in conditioner or oil. Let dry, the best way is mainly air dry with some help from a hair dryer on a cool setting at least 11 inches away from your head. Only after your hair is dry should you brush it.

Before Bed put your hair into a protective lose hair style or silk bonnet.

Once a week, swap your conditioner and pre-oil for a hair mask. I recommend getting your hair wet outside the shower, squeeze the water out, apply the hair mask and then let it sit for 20 minutes prior to getting into the shower.

STEP FIVE : IN BETWEEN WASH CARE

- only brush your hair what you need, don’t do the 100 strokes.

- always use detangler (you can use conditioner in a spray bottle mixed with water)

- Damp the ends of your hair and adds tiny bit of oil, before putting in a protect style.

STEP SIX : STAY INFORMED

- Ingredients are listed from highest concentration to lower, if all the helpful ingredients are the last on this list it’s not the best.

- Don’t fall for gimmicks not approved by dermatologists, such as hair training, keep your scalp clean.

- Don’t think you need only expensive products, despite what hair stylists say, there is very good drug store products that could easily be high end.

- Sulfates, Parabens and silicones are good for most hair, i love them.

STEP 777 : AFFIRMATIONS AND SUBLIMINALS

- Make a subliminal playlist

- Create a vision board for your hair, and maybe a wishlist of some dream products.

- Always use affirmations !!

If I hope you all find this helpful dolls, let me know if you want any requests or more information ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ - Vivienne

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archiveikemen · 7 months

Text

『 The Past Records 』 Collection Event: Chapter 5

Jude Jazza & Ellis Twilight

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

They took Liam’s word for it and followed Ellis and Jude to a warehouse at the harbour.

Alfons: It’s not like anyone would hold a business meeting in the dead of the night, so what on earth could they possibly be here for?

Harrison: Assuming that they’re here to make a deal with one of those former inmates, depending on the contents of said deal—

Liam: They might be dealing with someone who deserves to be punished by Crown… right?

Liam: Although I find that hard to believe.

Alfons: Shh… looks like there’s someone already inside the warehouse.

Harrison: That’s—?

Jude and Ellis boldly entered the warehouse, causing the people inside to get chaotic.

Jude: Ahh, you're that guy who tried to sell me inferior goods the other day.

Business Partner: …!?

Jude: But this person next to you… who is he?

Wilson: My name is Thomas Wilson. I’m the representative of Wilson Tradings, birdbrain.

Jude: Ah, I remember you. You’re that chap who ran a damn shitty business that went bankrupt and even tried to swindle us.

Wilson: …!

Ellis: Is he the number one bad guy?

Jude: Yeah. That pale coward over there doesn’t have the balls to have dealings with a former inmate.

Ellis: Pale… uhh… if not Mr Wilson…

Jude: Dennis Donald.

Ellis: Mr Dennis.

Dennis: W-Why do you know… my name…

Ellis: It’s the bare minimum to know the name, family structure, assets, and background of your business partners.

Ellis: So, Mr Dennis, you were threatened by Mr Willson to store dangerous drugs in this warehouse you rented. Correct?

Dennis: H-How did you know about that…

Wilson: You idiot! Why would you admit to it!?

Jude: Stashing illegal goods in the warehouse you rented from us, said drugs to ex-inmates fresh out of prison to make a quick buck…

Jude: Then at the end, you’ll very conveniently say that “Jude Jazza is the mastermind” and frame me to take your revenge. Was that your plot?

Wilson: — Exactly. I did all of this to take revenge on you!

Wilson: The dealings with the ex-inmates will start tomorrow, and this information has already been sold to a newspaper publishing house.

Wilson: There’s no way you can get rid of everything in this warehouse by then. It’s game over for you now… haha, HAHAHA!

Jude: You seriously think it’s fun to waste your life on such bullshit?

Jude: You put in all that effort just to do business with some bad guys, and now there’s no turning back for you. Poor thing.

Wilson: Hmph, enjoy your peace while you still can…

Dennis: AAAHH…!?

Wilson: Shut up! What’s with you all of a sudden!?

Dennis: T-The drugs… the drugs are not here!

Wilson: What the hell…!?

Ellis: Sorry. I know you went into debt to obtain those drugs, but…

Ellis: I got rid of them all.

Wilson: What…!? I-Impossible… when did you… how…

Jude: Your clients are coming tomorrow. Who knows what those ex-inmates with a criminal record for drug abuse will do to you?

Wilson: Ughh, ARGGGHHH!

Ellis: Oh, he’s coming at me.

Jude: A move only a small fry would make.

Ellis: What should we do? Can I knock him out?

Jude: No need.

As Wilson raised his fist, Jude swiftly kicked him in the leg.

Wilson: Ugh!

Jude: Dennis, drug and human trafficking are against the rules. This was stated clearly in our contract… ah.

Jude: You made use of that coward to threaten others while you watched from a safe distance, so you don't know it.

Wilson: This is all your fault...

Jude: You’ll never know how many people’s lives would be ruined by the stuff you’re selling, because you let others do the dirty work for you.

Jude: You're a scumbag who wants to enjoy while others suffer because of you. — You would’ve been killed by someone else even if I don't do it myself.

Jude: Since you're going to be my servant for the rest of your life, I’ll lend you a hand before those ex-inmates rat you out, yeah?

After Wilson apologised profusely and begged for his life a few minutes later, his face had footprints vividly imprinted on it.

Ellis: Mr Dennis, as you’ve also violated your contract, you’re now Jude’s servant.

Dennis: *sobs*... if you’ll free me from Wilson, I’ll follow you for the rest of my life…

Ellis: Are those tears of joy…?

Jude: Gross.

Jude: So, what do you guys intend to come out of hiding?

Alfons: Oh, you noticed us?

Liam: Erm, I can’t really say for certain, but was all of this because that man lying over there holds a grudge against Jude?

Liam: He tried to frame Jude for doing illegal business in this warehouse, is that right?

Ellis: That’s exactly what happened. Jude’s involvement in high risk business deals tends to get him a lot of hatred from others.

Harrison: So the reason behind you declining to take tonight’s mission and your suspicious activities every night…

Jude: I just wanted to settle one thing that's been a pain in the ass, before I get busy with completing missions.

Ellis: The person Mr Wilson was about to make a deal with to frame Jude seems to be a former aristocrat who drugged and held captive the people he abducted…

Ellis: I’m guessing that he plans to commit the same crime again, once he obtains the drugs from Mr Wilson.

Alfons: Goodness, that’s rather villainous.

Jude: I’ll do the missions or whatever stuff Crown has, after I’m finished with the culprit this guy will lure to me.

Jude: He thinks he can return to the free world so easily? I’m going to show him what hell is like.

Harrison: Do you have some sort of personal vendetta against that guy…?

Ellis: Nope. He just happens to be the type of person Jude detests.

Jude: I’m allowed to torment bastards like him when it’s a mission for “Crown”, right?

Jude: Getting paid to torture corrupt aristocrats sounds like one hell of a good job.

Liam: Whoa… he’s got a bad look on his face.

Alfons: There might not be anyone more suited to be a member of Crown than Jude.

Harrison: … Miraculously, we have arrived at a conclusion for the report.

Ellis: Report?

Harrison: Nothing.

…

— On another day, Harrison submitted the completed report to Victor.

Jude: Thought they were snooping around for something… this is so stupid.

Victor: This means the case is finally closed!

Harrison: Well… there is still one more thing that remains a mystery.

William: A mystery?

Harrison: Why is Ellis always with Jude?

Harrison: He doesn't seem like he’s being blackmailed…

Jude: Oi.

Liam: Indeed, they don’t look like they get along.

Ellis: … It’s because of a promise.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil collection event #jude jazza #ellis twilight

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theboywithburninghands · 3 months

Text

Alright. This chapter is quite short, but heavy. Probably the darkest the story will get. I’ll include all the triggers obvs, but just be prepared okay? It’s also the third to last chapter, I can’t believe I actually made it this far… @fernstarsblog I owe you big time.

T/W: Violence, lost teeth, parental/sibling abuse, drug addiction, withdrawals, vomit, era appropriate sexism

Primum Peccatum Ch. 15: Hey, Brother…

Two days came and went. Jax’s symptoms grew slightly less severe over these 48 hours, but not tremendously. He was still vomiting several times a day and his fever had peaked back to 101 degrees. The first day of just one drop of opium, he had been scarcely lucid enough to speak, what with the fever and his insomnia soft-boiling his brain. Pomni read quietly at the desk while Jax stared off into space, occasionally muttering something in delirium or vomiting into his sick bucket until the sun rose.

Luckily, he dozed off around eleven in the morning the second day, and managed to sleep undisturbed until nine that evening. He was still feverish upon waking, but his mind received long overdue rest and put him in a better mood, even if that meant staying awake for another night. Pomni utilized his impromptu nap to get some sleep and rest her voice as well, and was thus more than up to the task of staying awake with her fiancé again.

Pomni began another novel with him that evening, The Box by Eudes Lafitte. It was rather fitting for Jax’s situation, a novel detailing a nameless narrator’s time looking after his wealthier friend’s flat and pets, and losing grip on his reality from the isolation. Pomni thanked The Allfather that she was there to look after Jax, and he wasn’t entirely alone like the narrator of that story.

It wasn’t until 3:30 in the morning when Jax’s eyelids finally began to droop, and he fell into a gentle sleep. Pomni tucked him in (not too far up, though, she didn’t want him to sweat), and went downstairs to one of Mr. Kinger’s moth-eaten armchairs, on which she sat and dozed for a few hours. She awoke to the sun peering through the dust-smeared sitting room window, and she promptly rubbed sleep from her eyes and got to her feet, putting on her sunhat. She would be right back at Jax’s side as soon as she obtained his medicine delivery.

She had sent a telegram to the hospital two days ago that she required more medication for Dr. Altonicus Romero Krolik’s youngest brother. Since Alton worked there, he could obtain what was needed anonymously. Pomni refused the eldest Krolik brother’s offer to pay out of his own pocket for the medicine. She had a good deal of crowns stored away for emergencies, and mailed the appropriate number of them to Alton. He was impressed at how accurately the flat envelope was addressed. Most mail going to the hospital was turned away for not including a proper attention or department name, and thus circled the limbo of non-delivery for ages. His future sister-in-law accepted none of that, no sir. Alton telegrammed The Rooker Estate that he would be sending someone to the island with a parcel of medication first thing the next morning.

Pomni was drowsy, but relatively content as she walked down the hill towards the pier. It was a pleasant early summer morning, the air warm and the breeze cool. The sky was baby blue, with a white and fluffy platoon of clouds slowly advancing on the horizon. They might gray out and bring rain later, but that wasn’t an issue. Perhaps it would serve as a natural soporific for Jax, allowing him to rest his overworked mind.

She had almost made it down the hill when a figure stepped into view. Pomni felt her stomach knot upon recognizing them.

“Pomni. Well, just who I was looking for!”

Boone wore the same orange waistcoat that he wore for the dinner the previous week, but was clad in a different white shirt, this one having ruffles on the front.

“Good morning, Boone,” Pomni replied.

“You say my name as if you were cursing. Tell me, what have I done to offend you so?” he asked.

“I’d rather not idly chat with you. You’re here for a reason, aren’t you?” Pomni demanded.

“Goodness sakes, how hostile. And here I thought we were family,” Boone said, grinning.

“By law only, and even then, not yet.” Pomni replied, arms crossed.

“Very well. My father sent me here to deliver this medicine for Jax,” Boone showed Pomni a small white paper bag.

“I’ll see that he gets it, thank you,” Pomni held out her palm.

“Don’t be hasty, Pomni. I have a few questions regarding the contents.” Boone replied.

“The contents of the medicine bag? That would be medicine.”

“Liar,” Boone chuckled. “I had a look inside on the way here, and I saw a bottle of opium. Tell me why.”

“I don’t much wish to tell you anything, Boone,” Pomni snapped. “You showed me just how trustworthy you were with sensitive information. Shame on you for doing that to Osvaldo, might I add.”

Boone put a paw to his heart in mock pain.

“Oh, shame on me, truly! Listen, little lady. My father would have found out eventually. If I hadn’t told him, and Osvaldo sang at your ceremony, my father would have tanned his hide five times as badly for being ‘womanly’ in public. It was thanks to me that he escaped with just chores and a slap in the face.”

“What a savior you are. Are you also here to have Sister Ragatha nominate you for Sainthood?” Pomni asked.

“Perhaps. Now, tell me why my younger brother requires opium to get over the flu.” he asked.

Pomni chewed her thumbnail. She absolutely couldn’t let Boone in on what was going on. She racked her brain for anything that might assuage the rabbit.

“Opium is a pain relief drug. The flu, in case you were unaware, causes aches and pains throughout the body. You can put two and two together, can you not?”

“Liar,” Boone said again. “Opium is a Physick for pain, that much is true, but only for extreme pain. Not for something as minor as a flu. I’ve read about it in some of Alton’s books. Broken bones or surgical scars or pain brought about by cancer. Not a flu.”

“If I am a liar, Boone, then how do you explain the fact that Jax is currently bedridden with a fever and nausea? Is he playacting, perhaps? What purpose would such an idiotic ruse serve?” Pomni ground her teeth together. As much of a rascal as this beastman was, he was drifting much too close to the truth.

“That’s a fair point, his condition looked extremely genuine. But I wondered on the boat ride here, what sort of disease mimics the flu and yet requires opium to cure it? And then, eureka!”

Boone held out his paws with a wolfish smile. “Opium withdrawal! Very similar to the flu and eased by nothing but poppy. Soooo, Jax has a laudanum habit, does he? Well, that’s simply unacceptable for a new bride! I’ll simply have to inform my father, won’t I? He’ll know precisely what to do!”

Boone turned to walk back to the pier. Pomni felt her blood freeze. He couldn’t ruin everything now, not after Jax had suffered so much already! She had to slow him down somehow, what would get him to stop?! She selected the first question that came to her mind, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

“What did you tell Jax the day you pushed him off that bridge?”

Boone froze mid-step, like a wind-up toy that needed cranking. He put his bare foot down, and turned to Pomni.

“I beg your pardon?”

Pomni instinctively took a step back. His eyes were piercing and his voice deadly soft. She was alone out here with him.

“…I said… I-I-I asked what you said to him, that made him fight you. The day you pushed him from-”

“I didn’t push him. He fell. Did he tell you that I pushed him?” Boone’s voice was cold, the edge of a knife on one’s skin just before it slit it open.

“He did,” Pomni said, unable to stop the words now that they were unspooling. “He told me you made his childhood miserable, and he told me that you said something so awful to him that it makes him sick to repeat it. Tell me what it was.”

“I did no such thing,” Boone murmured.

“Now who’s lying?” Pomni shot back. “It seems to me that you’re in denial. I would be too, if I hurt a family member that badly!”

“You don’t know a thing about me,” Boone said.

“I know that you’re a bully! You’re frightened of your father and bored constantly, so you take it out on those who don’t fight back! The textbook definition of a bully!” Pomni took several steps back at this point.

“Who do you think you are…?!” Boone growled.

“I think I’m right about you! You’re a narcissistic, selfish little twit!”

“You BITCH!!!”

Boone lunged for her, throwing the medicine bag aside. Although he was the shortest of his brothers at five feet, ten inches, that placed him a head above Pomni. He closed the distance in the blink of an eye and tackled her to the ground. Pomni shrieked in terror, grabbing his face in retaliation. He reared back, prepared to grab her about the throat with a look of deranged vengeance on his face.

There was a swoosh, and a sharp, wet crack as a flash of gold hurtled through the air and directly into Boone’s skull. The rabbit fell from Pomni, who scrambled away and pressed herself against the trunk of a pine tree. Someone in a red tailcoat clutched a cane tipped with gold, stepping into the woods before Pomni could say a word. The Gentleman in Red..?!

Boone, on his back in the middle of the road, made a sound like a sob mixed with a groan and spat out a mouthful of blood, a single, shiny white object in the middle of a puddle of red. He arched one leg and managed to push his body forward, rolling over and spitting out more blood onto the hard-packed dirt. He shakily rose to his feet, whimpering, before stooping again to pick up his luxated tooth. He ran a thumb along his teeth to locate the empty space, wincing from pain upon prodding it and trying to fit the tooth back in its place, to no avail.

Pomni kept her eyes, wide and frightened, locked on the beastman. Eventually, Boone’s yellow eyes met her blue, and they stared for a long while. He took a step.

“Keep back,” Pomni ordered immediately. “Put another paw on me, you reptile, and I’ll drive my thumbs into your eye sockets.”

Boone said nothing, turning and spitting a mouthful of blood onto the dirt road. He looked at the tooth in his palm.

“Milk…” he said.

“What?” Pomni snapped.

“I need milk. A cup of milk. To save the tooth. I read it in one of Alton’s books on first aid-”

“You’re utterly deluded,” Pomni said incredulously.

“No, I’m not, I’m- I know these things!” Boone insisted.

Pomni only stared.

“Stop looking at me like that!” Boone cried.

Pomni said nothing.

“STOP IT! V-Very well then! I apologize! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” Boone shouted, pacing back and forth and clutching his ears.

“Get out of here, Boone,” Pomni said. “You’ve done quite enough. That would be the best thing to do… Just… Leave.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him.

“I…I won’t.” Boone replied, spitting out more blood. The wound seemed to be staunching. “Why is my brother battling an opium addiction in the first place..? You owe me an explanation for that.”

“I owe you nothing,” Pomni replied icily. “But, if it will inspire you to leave, very well.

“When you pushed Jax off that bridge, he took opium for the pain and became addicted. We’ve kept it a secret from everyone in your family barring Altonicus and Kali, because we know your father will-”

“It wasn’t my fault…” Boone interrupted distantly.

“Shut up. We know your father will react violently. Not just towards Jax. All of us. Alton, Kali, perhaps even me and you. And I know you find the pain of others amusing, but-”

“I do not! I-” Boone began.

“Shut up! I assume you aren’t as amused if you’re in the line of fire. So, if you’re going to be a quisling, so be it, but know that you’re undoing weeks of progress for a problem that was your fault in the first place! I can assure you, cretin, that if you intend on causing mayhem because you’re bored, I will make it my life’s mission to see you in agony as well! I’m sure your father would be delighted to know you lost that tooth trying to put your filthy paws on me, and that you caused the injury that-”

“STOOOOOOOOOPP!!!”

Boone’s scream caused birds to scatter from the treeline in shock. He had grabbed hold of his ears and clenched his eyes shut. He crouched to his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs, burying his face into the backs of his elbows. Pomni could hear sobbing.

They remained as they were, her against the tree and him in the middle of the road. Pomni slumped back, eyeing the quivering green and orange ball that was Boone.

“You have a choice now, Boone. I can’t promise you a reward, but-”

“I told him that…” Boone interrupted. “I… I told him that it was his fault.”

“Pardon?” Pomni inquired. She leaned forward just a touch. Not too close.

“I told him that it was his fault.” Boone said, his eyes puffy and red. “That father was like this. Alton and Oz told me that he used to be completely different when our mother was alive. He would give them rides on his shoulders, or take them on hikes, or, blazes, even smile now and then… and then she died after having Jax. And I never knew that mother, or that father.”

Boone spat out a last mouthful of blood, smaller than the previous.

“The father I grew up with may as well have been a stone. I don’t believe he’s ever told me ‘Well done, Boone.’ a single time in my entire life, and the same for my brothers. Apart from Dr. Perfection, Altonicus R. Krolik, and even then, it was just a handshake. Can you imagine that? Eight years of blood, sweat and tears in med school and my father can scarcely manage the most basic of congratulations! But if we got in trouble, oh, would there ever be consequences! Floggings and skipped meals for all! There was one time, when I was sent to the headmaster for too many tardy demerits, that father made everyone at the house pretend as though I wasn’t there for a week. If anybody spoke to me or even acknowledged me, he would crack them across the palm with his cane… By that Thursday I was sobbing for anyone, even Zuzanna, to just look at me.”

He put his head back in his arms and let out a series of fresh sobs. Pomni remained beneath the tree, knees drawn up to her chest as well. She waited for his tears to subside, mouth slightly open and blue eyes wide. Eventually, Boone picked up his head from his arms.

“I did make Jax’s life a misery. It was a loathsome thing to do, but I felt so powerless otherwise… And it’s done nothing, because I’m still powerless, aren’t I? Still trapped in that house with that thing I call father and having no prospects… It hurts. It hurts unbearably so that I haven’t created anything in my life… only problems.”

Pomni looked at the rabbit for a long time. Boone pressed his tongue to the void left by his missing tooth, but did not raise his eyes to her. She licked her lips.

“Boone. Do you recall what I said earlier?” she asked cautiously.

“I am aware you think me a reptile…” Boone said.

“Not that, you ignoramus! …Apologies. But I meant the fact that you have a choice.” Pomni said. “I understand now that you regret the past. Well, there’s nothing to do about that. But… If you want to start making amends, hand me that medicine bag, turn around and return home. Say nothing. Make any plausible excuse for the missing tooth. Understand?”

“You needn’t speak to me like a child,” Boone replied. “We are the same age.”

“Then act it,” Pomni said. “Do these things, and that will be something you’ve… helped create, as it were. I promise you nothing else.”

Boone attempted one last time to fit the tooth back in its socket, only to catch it in his open palm when it fell from his mouth. He groaned, touching a glove to his face and examining his paw. His fingers came away tinged with red.

“May I at least have a handkerchief..?” he asked.

“I haven’t got one. And even if I did, no. You attacked me, have you forgotten already?”

“…I am sorry.” Boone said. “…I won’t lay a hand on you again, Miss Shutnyk. I am sorry for that and for the hateful name I spoke.”

“If you truly are sorry, do as I asked and breathe not one word of what happened this morning. Hand me the medicine bag.”

Boone gathered the supplies that had been jettisoned from the bag, including the thankfully intact tincture bottle of laudanum, placing them back where they belonged and placing the bag at Pomni’s feet.

“Thank you. Goodbye.”

Boone turned to leave. He held his tooth in one paw, staring at it like a beggar given a single measly crown. His face was smeared with blood, the expression vacant.

“Boone,” Pomni called. The rabbit turned to look at her, mouth very slightly agape.

“If you aim to tell your father, just know that The Gentleman in Red, the one who cudgeled you? He will be watching.”

This was something of a bluff. Pomni didn’t know the first thing about that man, not even his name… He must have owned a carriage service he operated on the mainland, but why did he keep showing up on Primum Peccatum? And where had he gone just now..? Nothing about him made even a sliver of sense. But, that was to her benefit, since she could make up any tall tale about him to frighten Boone.

Boone looked at her. She hadn’t moved from her spot under the tree.

“…I’ll see you at the wedding, Ms. Shutnyk.”

#the amazing digital circus #funnybunny #tadc pomni #tadc jax #oh no cringe #jax x pomni #tadc #tadc arranged marriage au #tadc oc #tw sibling abuse #tw abuse discussion #tw drugs #tadc caine

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