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luminescentlyricist · 4 years

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🧡 Autophobia 🧡

AUTOPHOBIA - NOUN - An irrational fear of oneself ; an intense self-fear that is groundless.

Dirk had never been all that emotional, but this was the last straw. He was breaking day by day, teetering on the edge of snapping the carefully constructed mask of apathy he'd worked so hard to maintain. Even before Derse had exploded, there were days where he couldn't slip away into the dream planet. Then, whenever he could - without Roxy there, without having her snoring company - the whispers of the horrorterrors seemed loud enough to deafen him. He'd never told anyone about it. Not even Dave. There were truly no words appropriate for the situation, and it muddled up his thoughts with stupid emotional biases to consider.

He sat in his living room, a hunched-over gargoyle, unmoving and unwilling to move. The larger-than-necessary television screen in front of him blared music, but his own brother's sick beats weren't enough to shake him from his literal and metaphorical slump. For all he knew, it was midnight, but he felt detached enough that he'd disregard the ebbs and flows of tiredness until he blanked out and crashed. Sometimes, his mind and body alike couldn't handle the strain. This was one of those times. Dirk's muscles ached in protest of the awkward position he'd decided to rest into, and as his neck craned downwards - being physically unable to keep his head up any longer - the iconic triangular shades he always wore slipped from his nose.

He made no move to retrieve them. Despite feeling disproportionately vulnerable without them, the Strider barely cared. All of his windows were covered by thick black curtains anyway, the otherwise invigorating sunlight nonexistent.Nobody wanted to visit, anyway, as Dirk was sure they were all sick of each other's company after so long. He was all too used to being alone and looking after himself, so the group's self-imposed isolation period shook him a lot less than it did his peers. He noted that he had been invited to a group board on Trollian - his chat client of choice, as it turned out not to be exclusive to the trolls - but, once again, made no effort to raise himself from his slump.

John had also messaged him, but they had barely spoken. All he knew was that the 'windy boy' was one of his brother's friends.

Dirk's uniquely-coloured eyes slipped closed after a while of vacant staring. He no longer heard the music loud enough to shake the walls. The only thing that met his ears was the low, steady thrumming of his own heartbeat. It was disorienting, yes, having everything fade away, but he was adjusted to solitary ventures and feeling so alone that darkness felt more comforting than seeing.

He'd been wondering whether or not to give Hal a more physical form because he'd been able to salvage the AI from the 'corpse' of ARquiusprite. It felt somehow immoral - even by Dirk's largely skewed moralities - to keep the shades locked away, even though it was to prevent them from tormenting him or driving him to increasingly long periods of sleeplessness. The truth was that Dirk held an emotionless facade as his brother did, though his lack of understanding was left exposed and unmasked in contrast. But he was fragile, as prone to breaking as anyone else was. Hal was an enigmatic being, more than enough to shake him up.

It was haunting, realising just how strangely he had acted when he was younger. How stupidly, how naively. Taken away by his emotions, loud and brash. Was that just how thirteen-year-olds were supposed to be? As detestable as the robot was, he was a reflection of who Dirk had been and who he never wanted to be again. A reminder.

Finally standing, a small groan escaping his lips at the pain of his now-stiff body, the Strider thought. He didn't really know what to do, but never bothered to engage with his friends despite the annoyance of the notification light blinking. Travelling to the fridge with habitually light, wary footsteps, Dirk opened the door and took out a can of Orange Crush. He consumed so much of the stuff it was a wonder his teeth weren't stained. The cold drink seemed like snow - not that he personally knew what it felt like - in the way its coolness slowly spread through his hands. He needed the sugar to snap out of his daze, as strange as it seemed.

The tab of the lid scratched abrasively against his fingers when he attempted to open it, and he cursed aloud, hearing his own voice for the first time in what seemed like an aeon. The surfaces of his fingertips had been caught, and pinpricks of red bubbled up to obscure their swirling prints. Licking the blood away without a second thought, he tried again, ears pricking to the satisfying hiss the carbonated drink made when the metallic seal was broken. Taking a swig, Dirk disregarded the bubbles that seemed to burn his tongue. As much as he hated it, he felt too lonely now, The taste of the drink was familiar and comforting.

Slamming the fridge door with a little more force than was necessary, the young man flinched. His shoulders were raised in a defensive, tight position, so he forced himself to relax. He'd engineered a situation for himself that hindered his emotional and physical growth, the battle bots being the very reason why he was so prone to startling when no one else was watching to protect him. But the one flaw that Dirk seemed to so vehemently disagree with was perhaps his most prominent: He'd largely formulated and fuelled his own misfortune.

Moving back to the couch, he sat, staring at the rotating disc emblem on the screen. It was up at full brightness, as he refused to take off his shades even though he was completely alone. He knew that he should have at least contacted his brother. If he was craving contact so badly, Dave would be the best person to tell about his troubles. They had been raised similarly, after all, regardless of any family ties they might have had. But. for the most part. he felt disruptive.

Watching the rapid spinning of the disc animation, his stomach felt compelled to follow suit. Swallowing another mouthful of Orange Crush, relief washed through his whole body and quelled his nausea to a degree. His thoughts were only becoming louder and harder to ignore, though, so he muted and switched off the television. His ears continued to ring obnoxiously, so he tilted his head back, placed down the can and plugged them with his fingers.

Dirk was procrastinating, denying the need to fidget and tinker in his workshop purely to quieten his Hal-based thoughts, which were beginning to come overwhelming despite his efforts. He just wanted to prevent them from growing.

He still wondered about his Brobots. The boy wasn't one to get sentimental, and he wasn't about to. He'd simply put so much effort into them that it seemed a shame to dismantle them for a cause he didn't truly support. It was one hell of a choice to make, and the self-imposed delays were only hindering his prospects. Surely he was stronger than his thoughts? For someone who'd sat alone with them for so long, something like Hal shouldn't have moved him.

With another few slow swallows of his drink, he forced himself to stand and look towards a corridor. That was exactly where he didn't want to go. The darkness surrounding the area - though purely owing to his laziness, having not installed a lightbulb - was disorienting and even frightening. He'd never liked having his vision taken away because of how heavily he relied on it.

Descending the small staircase, he glanced downwards to check if his boots - normally steel-toed in case he dropped anything onto them by accident, despite outward claims of his own composure - were properly laced. Finding that one was undone, he bent down and carefully double-knotted it, wincing as the normally non-irritating fabric connected with the raw skin on his fingertips. He'd expected such a small thing to heal rapidly, but all it was doing quickly was becoming both a metaphorical and physical pain. Straightening, he pushed open the door to his workshop and stepped inside.

The space no longer seemed as welcoming and relaxing as his memory told him it would be. There was a certain fogginess about it, the windows dark and air colder than Dirk had ever anticipated. The layout was similar to that of Equius', though the benches and worktables were distinctly neater, and various swords and weapons lined the wall. Their metal glinted dully in the waning moonlight. As opposed to bloodied parts of completed and smashed battle bots, Dirk's hosted husks and unfinished or dismantled robots in varying degrees of completeness.

An entire table was strewn with circuits and other electrical components. Dave had once suggested he contact a troll named Sollux to help with those. He hadn't bothered to enquire who that was, but it seemed a little more believable since he'd confirmed that trolls were not just internet idiots but also a bona fide alien race. Some had cool powers, according to his brother, and this 'Sollux' was one of them. He reportedly possessed psionics and eye lasers, though the tech savviness was far more relevant to Dirk's quests.

Checking around for his welding mask, the young man decided to distract himself by turning to the 'wrong' bot entirely. Squarewave and Sawtooth still existed, after all, and his mind was wandering to that uncertain place. He needed a distraction. He didn't want to face that. He was, for all intents and purposes, a complete and utter coward, even more so because he didn't want to admit it. His calloused fingers tightened against the personalised welding mask, so much so that it rubbed against the drink-tab wound, the same one that was so insistent on not healing.

This bot was a loose model, a sort of forgotten 'Davebot', one which he had since decided to abandon the building of. He thought it selfish to construct a model bot of someone who was still very much alive and deserving attention. By this token, he knew that he had broken this unspoken principle by virtue of the bot he had made Jake, though he considered that a separate situation. Dirk wasn't taking any attention away from his original self, and he could also argue that he didn't deserve it at all.

The boy let out a short sigh, rubbing his hands across his face and grabbing a pair of thick black gloves from a hook on the wall. This allowed a streak of red to smear across his nose from the newly reopened finger-prick wound. Although it was a bad idea due to the blatant infection potential, he didn't bother leaving the workshop to get a bandaid for it.

The Dave-esque robot's bright red eye lenses bored into his own with an unnerving glint, appearing far too alive for his liking. Dirk exhaled shakily, reaching out to touch the bot's soothingly cold exterior. Silvery alloy, fused with tight welding and ungodly amounts of heat so that there were no unseemly bolts and such to mess up the appearance of the face. Although he found it unnervingly difficult to display his affections, the care with which he had assembled his brother's likeness was telling enough.

Drumming on the shining lenses with unclipped fingernails, Dirk realised that he had subconsciously removed his gloves while fidgeting. He scanned the room, huffing and looking down at his fingers so that he had a concrete image of himself putting them back on in his head. Without that reminder, the boy was so stuck in his own swirling thoughts he would have forgotten again. He stepped back from the Davebot, wrinkling his nose in disgust - or perhaps a sudden burst of jealousy - despite his prior, awkwardly-expressed affections towards it. He took a nearby cloth, throwing it over the bot if only to obscure its confronting gaze.

The last thing he wanted to do was face Hal, even though it was just like going back in time. He never asked to face himself, no matter the iteration. Dirk knew he was better than that. The flaws that he once had were all locked away tightly, or so he thought. And yet, he had given their metallic prison a name. There was something so disarming about Hal; the stagnancy in growth was awful alone, but seeing himself - or a projection, a perception - so raw and unfiltered was going to break him apart. It just wasn't natural.

As Dirk felt himself spiral into such a distressing pattern of thought, a rare frown took his lips downwards. He picked up a stray piece of scrap metal, turning it over and over in his fingers until he found some peace in the constant action. Placing it into a pocket, he decided to keep it out of the way but nonetheless close by for further 'use'. He also needed something physical to do rather than resulting to his self-jeopardy and facing Hal when he was in such a fragile state of mind.

The tremors that were rippling through his body begun to intensify, and Dirk realised just how useless it was waiting for himself to calm down. There wasn't a whole lot he could do to procrastinate unless he dragged his friends out of the comfort of isolation. Besides, he had a feeling seeing Jake in person wouldn't put him in the best mood. Running a hand distractedly through his hair, the Strider braced himself against a worktable and groaned aloud. Nothing was helping his emotional turmoil, much less the headache pounding behind his eyes.

He'd spent too many sleepless nights wondering about this particular moral dilemma to keep it inside, but that was simply what he had adjusted himself to. Dirk Strider was a bomb, but he was convinced that he could explode if and when he wanted to. But each and every issue he refused to face was only shortening his resolve. What kind of Strider allowed himself to cry? Not him, that was for sure.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, slipping beneath his welding mask and making him his in irritation. Everything, no matter how small, seemed like it was against him. And to someone feeling as sensitive as Dirk was at that moment, it might as well have been the truth. The buzz in his fingers from touching the abrasive metal - despite the gloves - was gradually spreading, vicious pins and needles that were such a rapid sensation every movement was causing him pain or discomfort.

With a shaking hand, he removed his phone from one of his many pockets and opened Trollian. There, in bright red letters, sat the exact help he was so sure he didn't need. Dave would've been able to soothe him, at the very least, but what he really wanted was for someone to just... listen. Dirk hadn't let himself rely on others in the past, and he wasn't about to. Letting the screen fade to black, the young man let out a breath he had no idea he had held in so tightly. The phone fell from his lax fingers and back into his pocket, the dull weight sparking more pain in his midsection that he couldn't ignore.

Teeth harshly grinding against each other, he took one last glance towards the covered Davebot and rounded a corner, pushing back a thin and vaguely dusty curtain that separated one bot from the rest. Exhaling slowly and steeling himself, he stepped inside. Attempting to disregard his various aches and pains. his gaze flickered to a small drawer. It looked as if it were gouged at to try and remove the handle. He had done that, but it had been so long since that he'd forgotten.

Walking slowly towards it, Dirk produced a key from a chain around his neck. His friends had often enquired as to what the chain was for, but he'd never felt the need to answer them truthfully. He unlocked the drawer, closing his eyes for a moment to silently process what he was doing. It was terrifying, as much as he wouldn't admit it. The only thing that scared Dirk enough to break his facade was himself. Facing his own flaws. Hal made everything ten times worse. Nonetheless, he had completed the body, even if it was crafted in a far less personal manner when compared to the Davebot.

Sweat continued to bead at his forehead and drip downwards, irritating Dirk enough that he removed the welding mask entirely to wipe it away as much as possible. Taking a spare pair of shades - which he always had somewhere on his person - out of his protective apron and slipping them back on, a little bit of the tension melted out of his shoulders. It felt more natural to have the shades on, and he had no need for the welding mask. He didn't intend to see to the bot's adjustments just yet.

Although he regretted building Hal a body, all things said and done, it was the only chance he had to try and quash the nightmares and nausea that followed him everywhere he went. There was no logic to the fear, this he knew, but he just wished it'd stop, despite his giving up hope on it a while ago.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, so he retrieved his phone and headphones. They were a special pair that Dave had once painted for him, sleek, black and noise-cancelling with the added bonus of his hat logo emblazoned on each ear. Again, his thoughts drifted towards getting the help of his brother, but there was no time for any of that. He was too entrenched in his personal problem to think about pushing it onto anyone else. Once again, he put Dave's beats on, but this time they were too close to ignore. The headphones were wireless, luckily, because there was no chance he could have untangled them with his uncooperative hands. They weren't going to stop trembling any time soon.

Dirk's hand rested on the drawer, fingers drumming against the fading, once-burnished wood. He looked down to the contents of the drawer and grimaced, taking a small step away from it. He rethought the last hour's efforts, captured all in the single hesitation. He knew it was necessary, but there was something freezing him in place while his head and stomach spun. The boy curled his fingers so tightly around the handle that his knuckles turned white and it started splintering beneath his grip.

He reached into the drawer, placing his fingers one-by-one on the black lenses within and unsteadily picking them up. As the light caught on them - the workshop lacking curtains as the only room safe and secluded enough - he winced, but it was unclear why until he set them back down and rubbed his eyes vigorously. Dirk had seen the red lenses behind the shades, and thought that he was hallucinating for a moment. He hadn't seen them distinctly prior because he just hadn't processed it. He'd developed a habit of blocking things out physically and mentally when he didn't want to see them.

Sighing to the empty room, Dirk fumbled around in his many pockets for his phone, sending a short message devoid of context to his brother.

~ TimaeusTestified [TT] Began Trolling TurntechGodhead [TG] ~

TT: This is it.

~ TimaeusTestified [TT] Ceased Trolling TurntechGodhead [TG] ~

Returning it to his pocket, he made sure it was on Do Not Disturb mode. There was no way in or out of Hell he'd be shaken from his concentration, and no event more important than it to justify that. It also had to be kept a secret for exactly that reason. Picking the shades back up, he glowered down at them. He hated them - and even more, the AI that they contained - beyond expression. But there was no time, and thusly no back-pedalling that he could afford to be doing. He'd procrastinated enough.

Hesitating despite the reassurance that there was no time to waste, Dirk took off his shades one more time. Removing another welding mask from a hook at the wall - this one plain black unlike the one in the main area that he had taken the time and effort to customise - and replacing it with his own pair of shades, a shudder worked its way up his spine again. This time, the associated tension in his shoulders stayed, giving him none of the prior relief. He never expected it to, really. The Striders were a family who were all capable of working with, around or against their obstacles if needed. Highly adaptable. In reality, nothing much was a hindrance to Dirk because of his learned - and perhaps forced - stoicism.

With a stiff and uncertain movement, the young man drew the shades up to his facE, staring into the crimson lenses as if in a trance. They were lifeless and cold, just as he'd trained himself to be. But he knew, deep in his mind where the bad thoughts - or those he personally considered bad, anyway - rested, that it wouldn't be for long. He barely caught himself fidgeting with the scrap metal restlessly for a moment within his pocket. He begun to prepare the final wirings, those that would spiral out from his folly's chest and centre console.

The one advantage of his fear-based procrastination was having ample enough time to hone his craft. He was able put more careful handiwork into Hal's final form than he ever would have been able to give to the Davebot, which was cause for shame on his part. The wires, all of which he constructed himself, were built to be see-through but contained small lights that would change from blue to red according to the artificial rise and fall of Hal's chest, and the 'beating' of the console. It was a small detail, easily missed, but it made him feel all the more unsettling and real.

He hummed along to the beats still thrumming in his ears, a habit he only displayed when entirely alone.

Dirk inserted the chest-piece along with the console, which was neatly connected and hidden behind) into its proper place, the shaking that had once plagued him long overshadowed and disguised under false confidence. Something was telling him to stop. To leave Hal to rust and his careful wirings to rot. But Dirk's stubbornness and characteristically destructive nature caused him to dismiss all judgements, no matter how logical. No matter how much the dismissals would hurt him.

Clearing his throat, the boy's eyes flickered upwards to the lens that was missing in the facial pieces. Realistically, he could have simply foregone the eye-lenses in their entirety because of the shades he'd put on, but it would have felt unnatural. Regardless of the bot-husks scattered across the workshop and the image they conveyed, their creator was highly committed and dedicated to his craft. Under the right circumstances, yes, but dedicated nonetheless.

Straying from the bot, Dirk re-entered the main sector of his workshop and located a box full of perfectly maintained, crystalline lenses. Picking it up, he made his way back into the smaller room and set it down onto a makeshift workbench, sifting through them in quiet. He had somehow listened to the majority of his brother's discography, even though the intensity of his concentration caused him to block out all else but his work. As such, he hadn't properly realised the magnitude of either achievements, disregarding the bot-related work as well.

Soon, Dirk found the lenses he was searching for, holding them up to the windows and discovering there was no light left to shine through them. Another thing that he'd let slip unwillingly under the radar was just how long he'd been working for at that point. Nonetheless, he knew well enough that their colouration was a near-exact match to his own eyes. They were chosen in stark contrast to the red and black dominating Hal's outfit.

Stepping backwards from the bot in question, the Strider dug the toes of his boots into the floor and started to count silently. He was grounding himself in both a mental and physical manner. He needed to prepare himself for what he was about to finish. For any normal person, the task wouldn't have been so daunting. For him, on the other hand, it was facing his fears. Regardless of his own wants or desires, Dirk both pressed and stepped forwards. He placed the lens in the appropriate eyepiece, and realised that he no longer had to fake his confidence. He was sure of himself.

Slowly soldering the wires with his welding mask pulled down against the embers and sparks, he steadied his once-erratic breathing as much as he could. Upon completing this, he took off the mask and let himself observe Hal, a slight frown turning the otherwise neutral expression he'd maintained. Checking that the kill switch was working - and, despite his loathing, hoping that he'd never have cause to use it - for a moment's distraction, he retrieved the iconic shades.

Connecting them to the bot, he reached down to the centre console and pressed in a final panel. Looking back towards Hal, Dirk realised what he was truly seeing.

These were the eyes of someone more human than he was.

#luminescent lyricist writes #dirk #dirk strider #hal #hal strider #dirk homestuck #hal homestuck #if you tag this as stridercest I'll kick you in the nads #🏠 stuck at home 🏠

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roman-writing · 5 years

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A Study in Hospitality (2/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses / Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Marianne von Edmund

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,886

Summary: There’s a new student at camp half-blood. Hilda, daughter of Aphrodite, has been tasked with showing her around. A Percy Jackson and the Olympians AU

read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3

"I heard about your little 'weed killer' accident." Claude made air quotes with his fingers. "Is that really the best you could do? Weed killer?"

Hilda was in the armoury. She was sharpening her favourite axe, which -- she had to admit -- was a brave moment for Claude to approach her. She slapped the power button to stop the wheel that spun the belt grinder, and tested the edge of the curved blade against the hair on her forearm.

The hair didn't cut. The blade wasn't quite ready yet.

Lifting her personalised pink safety goggles away from her face, Hilda glanced over at Claude. "You know, it's funny you should ask about that, actually."

"Oh?" Claude leaned forward a bit. His eyes held a hungry gleam, the same he always got when he was curious about something that refused to immediately provide all its secrets.

"Yeah. I was just thinking about how it was none of your damn business."

Hilda slammed the goggles back into place, and flipped the switch to start the belt grinder again. Sparks flew as she expertly angled the blade of her axe against the grinder, making Claude jump back a step or risk singing his clothes.

Claude raised his voice slightly to be heard over the sound of grinding metal. “Oh, c’mon, Hilda! Weed killer? You really expect me to buy that?”

“Yup!”

“You have got to tell me. Not knowing is killing me.”

“And you came to cry on my shoulder? Wow. You must really be desperate.”

“Well, where is she now?”

Hilda shrugged. She paused to dip the axe’s blade in water before continuing to grind. “No idea. I haven’t seen her for a few days.”

“I thought Seteth had arranged your schedules so that you two shared everything together.”

“Yeah, and she’s just bailed on the back end of this week. And you know what? I respect that.” Hilda stopped the belt grinder again. She tested the blade, and deemed it suitably sharp for hacking off monster limbs.

Claude was leaning against a nearby wooden pillar. He played with an arrow from one of the legion of quivers that lined the walls. The shaft twirled easily between his fingers. “Won’t you even tell me about what exactly Seteth told you to do.”

With a much put-upon sigh, Hilda perched the safety goggles atop her head. She turned the axe over so that the head was firmly on the ground, and she rested her elbow against the pommel. “Fine. Since you’re being such a pain. I’m supposed to be hospitable, or whatever.”

“Sure, sure.” He used the arrow to gesture towards the surrounding armoury. “Which is why you’re here. Leaving her all alone. Makes sense.”

Her mouth opened, but every witty retort died on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes narrowed. “Hang on. Did Seteth send you?”

Claude gave her one of his signature lopsided grins, and held up his hands in surrender. The arrow dangled between his fingers. “You caught me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“He wants you to prep Marianne for next week’s lessons.”

“Did he at least say where she was?”

At that, Claude shrugged.

Groaning dramatically, Hilda tossed her gloves and protective glasses onto the nearby work bench. She then hefted the axe in one hand. A press of her fingers against key points in the long engraved handle made the axe fold into itself until it had turned into a pair of pink sunglasses, which she then perched atop her nose.

When she turned to leave, she paused. Claude was still watching her as she glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, Claude. Have you ever known a Demeter kid whose magic kills flowers? By accident, I mean.”

His expression did not change a whit, but something keen flashed in his eyes. He feigned thoughtful contemplation, then answered, “No."

“Yeah,” Hilda began striding away. “That’s what I thought, too.”

Of course, Marianne wasn't in Demeter Cabin. Hilda was beginning to think that Marianne never actually spent any time in her own damn cabin. Almost like she didn't feel at home there. It couldn't have been that the other Demeter kids were mean to her. They couldn't be mean to a fly. The idea that they could bully anyone, when they felt bad about saying something mean to plants -- like, really? plants? -- was laughable.

But still. Regardless of why Marianne was never in Demeter Cabin, it was a pain in the ass. Hilda groaned, and stomped away. She checked the woods, the only place she had actually seen Marianne go to by choice. Which was weird in and of itself, because nobody liked the woods. They were dark, and damp, and literally crawling with monsters. Thankfully though, Marianne was not to be found there either. At least, not along the edges of it.

And so it was that Hilda started the arduous task of working her way through every major site in camp half-blood. She interrogated the pegasi for a good ten minutes. Minty was particularly unhelpful, and told her that he had never heard of Marianne, which was clearly false.

He did remember the carrots, though. Crystal clear memory of that. And did Hilda happen to have brought more perchance?

Fucking pegasi. Typical.

As she was storming from one of the rear stalls however, a pair of quiet voices gave her pause. Quickly Hilda backpedalled, and hid behind the stall door.

“Did you bring the carrots I asked for?” Minty asked, sticking his head into her space.

“Fuck off,” Hilda hissed.

“Wow. Rude. And in my own stall, too.”

She pushed his head away, and tried to listen to the voices drifting over from near the coach house, where the pegasi were draped in tack to carry chariots. When she peeked out to see if she could catch a glimpse, Hilda could just make out the slope of Seteth’s profile as he spoke to Marianne.

“You are still struggling with your new environment, I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

Seteth sighed, “I know your childhood was sheltered. Your father enrolled you here because he wished you to understand what it was like to live among others. He tasked me with ensuring not just your safety and instruction, but also your personal development.”

Marianne continued to hold her silence.

Seteth waited, then said, “I am talking about making friends.”

“I -” Hilda could hear Marianne swallow past an obstruction in her throat before she could speak. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Oh, come on. Even after Hilda had thrown her a friendship bone and everything? What more did a girl have to do? Write it out in a binding legal contract?

For a moment Seteth made no reply. Then he asked very softly, “Has anyone been -” he seemed to mull over the right word, “- inhospitable towards you?”

At that, Hilda bristled with indignation. He may have not mentioned her by name, but he didn’t have to; she could tell from his tone alone that he was referring to her.

Inhospitable? As if!!

Marianne shook her head. “No. Everyone has been very kind.”

Hilda nodded along enthusiastically from her hiding spot, even though neither of them could see her.

“Hmm.” Seteth sounded like he did not believe her. “But if they weren’t, you would tell me?”

Silence.

“Marianne?”

“Yes,” Marianne said.

“Good. That’s all I ask. Now, I shall leave you to your own devices. Remember to come to dinner this time, please. It is not good to skip meals, even for one such as yourself.”

Marianne gave no reply, but she must have given some indication -- Hilda could not see if she nodded from this angle -- for Seteth strode off in the direction of the armoury. He had to walk past her hiding spot, and she plastered herself against the wall. When she was sure he was gone, Hilda hesitantly leaned forward to peer out again.

“Oh! Hey, it’s that weird girl with the carrots!” Minty shoved his head and neck past Hilda to get a good look out the door, and in doing so he squished her against the wall even further. “Do you think she brought more?”

“If you step on my Loubotins, I will turn you into glue,” Hilda growled. Her sunglasses had been knocked askew on her face.

“Your what?” Minty swung his head around, tilting it to look down. “Nice shoes, by the way. Very shiny.”

“Exactly.”

She pushed him away, straightening her sunglasses and extracting herself from the stall. It took a great deal of skill to avoid any patches of pegasus dung on the ground. If Hilda had known she would’ve been hanging out in the stables today, she would’ve worn her work boots, which she had bought especially for these situations.

Having successfully extracted herself from the stall without making a complete mess of everything, Hilda looked up. And Marianne had vanished. Poof. Like smoke.

“Shit,” Hilda muttered.

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Minty said, not sounding sorry at all.

“No, not you!”

Shooing him away, Hilda marched off towards Marianne’s last known location. The air smelled faintly rotten, but that may have just been pegasus droppings. It was difficult to tell.

She couldn’t have gotten far. Even by magical means. Magica had its limits, after all. Hilda individually tapped the high heels of each shoe against the dusty ground, frowning at a few smudges of stubborn dirt that required a bit more magic. Then, clean and fetching as ever, she set out once more.

It made a bit more sense if Marianne was new to this whole demigod shtick. Some kids had a real rough time learning of what they were. Hilda wasn't one of those kids. Her older brother was a child of Aphrodite as well. Their father was something of a favourite of the goddess. Hilda had grown up knowing what she was, and how to use it.

For her, being a demigod was pretty damn great. And all those kids who struggled? Well, she was sympathetic, for sure. But she just couldn't relate.

Hilda found Marianne by the lake. She was sitting on a stretch of driftwood that looked like sun-bleached bone. Her elbows were tucked firmly into her sides, her hands clasped in her lap, watching a group of oreads and naiads playing. In her outdated formal attire, she looked like an antique doll that had been wound up with a spring-loaded mechanism.

Approaching on silent feet, Hilda waved a hand in front of Marianne's face and said in a sing-song tone, "Heyooo!"

Marianne started. She leaned away when Hilda plopped down on the log beside her. "Oh. It's you."

"You sound so enthusiastic to see me! I'm touched." Hilda placed a theatrical hand over her heart. She followed Marianne's gaze towards the group of nymphs. "They look like they're having a good time."

“Yes. They do.”

Marianne sounded a little wistful. On anyone else, the emotion would have been written clear as day across their face. Normally, Hilda could read people like an open book. But with Marianne, she had to really prise the book open. Like trying to read an old paperback when it was windy outside; the pages just kept trying to fold over one another until the book was shut.

Good thing Hilda had the right kind of magic at her disposal. She didn’t know what Marianne must’ve looked like to everyone else.

“You know,” Hilda drawled. She leaned back, and stretched her legs out before her. “I did promise to take you for a swim.”

Marianne’s gaze snapped down to her own feet. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt them.”

“Oh, pffft. It’s a big lake. There’s enough room for two more people. At least.”

At that, Marianne’s eyes wandered once more towards the waterline, where the lake lapped up against the pebbly shore. “I don’t really have any appropriate swimwear.”

A wave of relief swept through Hilda. She grinned. “Is that the problem? You should’ve said so sooner! We can totally get you some new clothes!”

“Where?”

Hilda leaned in closer and lowered her voice as if telling a secret. “I have my ways. Alright, so. Wardrobe.” Turning sideways so that she faced Marianne, Hilda held her hands pressed together beneath her chin. “I notice you wear a lot of dresses. Which is totally fine. In fact, you look great in them.”

Marianne seemed more confused by praise than anything else. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome. Anyway, my point is, this week has just been, like, orientation stuff and chores, but next week is when classes start. Do you happen to have anything -- anything at all -- that’s more, you know -” Hilda tilted her hands so that her fingers were all pointing towards Marianne’s current outfit, “- athletic?”

Marianne mulled over the question for a moment. “I have a chiton.”

A chiton. Like, from honest to god Vogue 330BC.

“Oh, boy.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hilda said, “Okay. That’s fine. We can deal with that. We’ll just take you to the armoury. Two birds, one stone. And all that jazz.”

Marianne’s brows furrowed. “Why would the armoury have clothes?”

“It doesn’t. It’s just going to be our first stop. Right after you show me all the skeletons you have rattling around in your closet.”

At that, Marianne’s eyes widened. Her face, if it was at all possible, went even paler. “Wh - What? Why would you think I -? I don’t -!”

With a snort of laughter, Hilda rose to her feet. “It was a joke. Let’s head on over to Demeter Cabin. I want to see what sort of overhaul your wardrobe needs.”

It was a short trek to the cabins square. Marianne let Hilda do the knocking. She tried to hide behind Hilda despite the fact that it was her own damn cabin, while Hilda banged her fist against the ivy-clutched door.

"Looks like nobody's home," Hilda said, when they received no response. She turned to Marianne, then gestured towards the door. "Would you do the honours?"

"Oh. Sure."

Marianne reached past her, and grasped the door handle. The woodgrain darkened for an instant -- or maybe that was just the passage of a cloud between the sun and earth -- before the door creaked open. Hilda frowned down at the handle, but now it looked perfectly fine.

"Huh."

"What's wrong?" Marianne asked.

"Oh, nothing," Hilda said. She pushed the door open, and it swung inwards. "Though I don't know why I'm the one going first."

"Politeness?" Marianne said after a second of thought.

"Nice try. But I'll buy it, I guess."

The inside of Demeter cabin was awash with sunlight. The wooden walls were overgrown with plants, and vines trailed from the rafters. The bunk beds grew from the floors. Bundles of herbs were hung to dry from the windowsills. Warmth wrapped up the space like a cosy fireplace in winter. It was like stepping into a cottage in another world after days of long hikes across the mountains. Hilda had the sudden urge to curl up with a cup of floral tea, and maybe sleep for a week.

In other words, it could not have less resembled Marianne if it tried.

When Marianne followed, stepping into the cabin after Hilda, the door shut on her heels like a dog snapping at her calves. She started, her shoulders hunching, but she tried to mask the motion by clearing her throat.

"There was," Marianne said in the most unconvincing manner possible, "a - uh - breeze."

Hilda nodded slowly. "Right."

She had to internally remind herself that she was supposed to be hospitable. Accommodating. And also that she was supposed to be looking over a wardrobe, which was actually far more exciting a prospect.

Hilda turned back to the cabin. "So, which station is yours? Let me guess." Closing one eye, she pointed a finger and trailed it around the room as if trying to lock onto a target. She stopped when she was pointing at a bed all the way in the back corner, shrouded in the only pool of shadows in the whole place. "It's that one."

"How could you tell?"

"I have a gift for these things," Hilda said dryly.

She strode across the room until she reached Marianne's station. A chest of drawers leaned lopsidedly against the wall, and there was a bar for Marianne to hang some clothes out in the open.

Hilda pointed at the chest of drawers before touching it. "Can I -?"

Sitting down on the edge of the bed as though unsure if it even belonged to her, Marianne nodded.

Hilda opened drawers. She rummaged. She was very good at rummaging. At least, she normally was. In this instance however, there was very little to rummage through.

A few stockings. Some old-timey pantaloon things. Was that a petticoat? At least that explained how Marianne's skirts always managed to maintain such excellent shape all the time.

A few more sets of dresses were hung from the bar. Hilda pulled each back to get a better look at them. She had only seen Marianne wear two since her arrival. And always Marianne wore a gold pendant strung from a white ribbon around her neck. No other jewelry or accessories. Two of the other dresses were far more elaborate. Not in their cut -- they all made her look like an old Christian priest -- but in their fabric and embroidery. Heavy velvets with fine hands. Needlework in the richest gold that shimmered along every edge. Like she had expected to attend a ball, or an emperor's court.

"Is this everything?" Hilda asked. She still held onto the edge of one of the fine gowns, stretching the hem of its skirt, which rippled like black water in the afternoon light.

"Mostly." Marianne leaned over and pulled from beneath her pillow a set of pajamas which were an eggshell blue so pale they appeared almost white.

Or, hang on. Not pajamas. A nightgown. With an ankle-length hem, and a lace collar, and sleeves gathered into loose ruffles at the wrist.

Hilda let the dress drop. Its heavy velvet hems swung from its hanger. "Okay. I lied about the armoury being our second stop. We need to go next door stat."

"Alright?"

Marianne appeared puzzled, but she rose to her feet, and followed Hilda from Demeter cabin. It was a hop, skip, and a jump over to Aphrodite Cabin, which only had Sylvain lazing about in it, pretending to be sleeping. Hilda swatted at him with a pillow until he -- and the girl hiding under his bed -- left.

"There," Hilda tossed the pillow back onto Lorenz's bed, and walked over to her own bunk. "Now that we're alone, you can try on some of my stuff."

Marianne remained standing while Hilda pawed through her own dresser, which was literally overflowing with clothes. Shoes were piled up in a mountain beneath the bunk bed, and an additional series of bars had been strung up for the multiplication of raw stuff in Hilda's wardrobe.

Tossing various pieces of clothing across Lorenz's nearby bed without a care for his personal space -- he wasn't here; he wouldn't care unless he found out -- Hilda said, "You won't fit them perfectly, but it's better you have something for next week until I can get you some stuff in your own size. Try some of those on, and let's see how you go."

For a moment, there was silence behind her. Then, the gentle rustle of fabric. She could hear the slump of cloth to the ground, but did not look around until Marianne gently cleared her throat.

Hilda turned. She cocked her head to one side and scrunched up her nose. On her, the black track pants and branded t-shirt combo were trendy in a casual kind of way -- she could make anything look good just by virtue of proximity to herself. On Marianne however, the track pants stopped well above her bare ankles. Marianne stooped and tugged at the hem of the t-shirt in an attempt to cover her stomach more. If she straightened to her full height, the barest glimpse of skin at her waist would have been visible.

At least it would have, if not for the fact that Marianne had opted to wear an additional long-sleeved, high-collared turtleneck beneath the shirt. And she still wore that weird gold pendant over it as well. The entire effect made her appear gangly and out of place, like she had experienced a sudden growth-spurt. All knees and elbows.

“It’ll just have to do for now,” Hilda sighed. She waved towards the small pile of clothes that she had accumulated on Lorenz’s bed. “Keep them. Wear them. Return them. Or don’t. Whatever.”

“Are you sure?” Marianne asked. She was still fiddling with the end of the shirt, twisting one of her hands in the fabric.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get some more clothes in for you late next week. Luckily, you’re on the blue team.”

“Why is that lucky?”

“Because you look great in blue. Also because that means we’re on the same side. I mean -” Hilda plucked at her own blouse. “I look way better in red, but that would require me to cooperate with the Ares boys. So, you know. Needs must.”

“Could you please -?” Marianne made a twirling gesture with her fingers.

“What?” Hilda blinked. Then it hit her. “Oh! Sorry! Yeah.”

She turned back around, and could hear the whisper of fabric against skin. She removed her sunglasses, and toyed with them. She polished the pink lenses on the edge of her blouse. It would only take a flick of her wrist to extend them into an axe once more. Which reminded her.

“Hey, do you have a weapon?” Hilda asked, perching the sunglasses back upon her nose. She remained facing her own bunk bed and closet explosion across the ground.

“I have a sword,” said Marianne.

“Oh, good! You can use that during training exercises and classes, then.”

“No.”

Hilda paused. She had to resist the urge to sneak a peek over her shoulder; it was so much easier to read people when she could actually look at them. And Marianne was hard enough to read with magic, let alone without visual cues. “No, as in: no, you are unable to use a sword? Or no, as in: no, you are unable to use that sword?”

More shuffling and soft cloth noises. For a moment, the only reply was the creak of a floorboard as Marianne shifted her weight from foot to foot, until finally she admitted, “The second one. And you can turn around now.”

Hilda did so. Marianne was back in her own dress. Her hair was still a disaster of a messy bun.

“Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool. We’ll just get you a different sword, then. Or maybe a scythe,” Hilda joked. “Just to make your mother proud.”

"My mother?" Marianne repeated, her brows screwing up in confusion. Then her eyes widened. "Oh! Yes. I mean - um - of course. Demeter. My mother."

Alright, that was just plain suspicious. And obvious. For being such a mystery, this girl sure was a really really bad liar.

Hilda feigned nonchalance. "And your father?"

"Oh, well, he's -" Marianne pointed to the ground beneath their feet, and Hilda's eyes widened in understanding.

"Sorry," Hilda said with a grimace.

"It's alright."

"Who was that guy, then? The one that dropped you off in the limo?"

"Oh, him." Marianne wrung her hands together. "That was my adopted father. In a sense. It's complicated. He's a - well - a banker? Sort of. We don't really need the money, but he primarily handles loans during his day job. With - um - big stakes."

“Sure.”

So, Claude had been on the mark. She was a rich heiress. Ugh. He was going to be so insufferable when he found out. What a pain.

Wait. It also meant she was an orphan. Half-orphan. That counted, right? Did that mean they both won the betting pool?

Marianne shuffled her feet nervously. As if on cue, something clinked to the ground. Hilda looked down. A few coins scattered around, fat and gold and gleaming, as though they had spilled from Marianne's pocket. Marianne flushed, her cheeks going pink. Quickly she crouched down, and began scraping together the coins from the ground.

One of the coins rolled towards Hilda, coming to a halt by her feet. She bent down to pick it up, but hesitated before touching it, though she could not explain why. The coin seemed to resist her fingers, like it weighed far more than it should. Its face was worn smooth, as though from years of being rubbed by an anxious thumb in someone’s pocket. Upon it Hilda could just make out the emblem of a disfigured trident with only two prongs instead of three. When she turned the coin over, the other side bore the symbol of a cornucopia.

Or maybe it was a bearded face. Honestly, it was so time-worn she could barely tell.

Hilda straightened. "You - uh - you dropped this."

"Thank you," Marianne mumbled.

She held out her hand, so that Hilda could give it back without touching her. The coin fell into the centre of her palm with a heavy thud. She closed her fingers, and the coin vanished. Like some sort of mortal magic trick.

Alright. That was enough weirdness for one day. Hilda was going to make this conspiracy-theory bullshit go back to normal if it killed her.

Hilda squared her shoulders and marched over to Lorenz’s bed. “C’mon. Let’s go gear you up.”

She helped Marianne gather up all the clothes she was lending her, and carry them over to Demeter Cabin. And after that, she dragged Marianne over to the armoury to pick out some basic armour and a new sword. Marianne thanked her about twenty times on the way. Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration. But she still thanked Hilda way too much. It was enough to make Hilda feel uncomfortable.

Couldn't a girl just be nice for the sake of being nice? And for the sake of a good grade?

"It's fine. Don't mention it. No, really," Hilda said, adding a bit of nervous charmspeak into her words. "Don't."

The magic washed over Marianne, but she merely blinked. "Okay. Sorry."

Now, that was just plain weird. Titans like Seteth, and pegasi, and major gods, sure. They were immune to Hilda's charms. But -- and she didn't mean to toot her own horn -- but she really was Very Good at charmspeak. The best, even. Better than her brother anyway, and he could convince a billionaire to part with their last dollar.

Apparently however, Marianne was utterly immune.

Hilda dropped a heap of leather armour onto Marianne's bed. "Alright. Well. I'll see you later."

The last thing Hilda wanted to do on a hot afternoon was sit out in the sun and work. Toil, even. This was officially in the 'toiling' category. Overhead the sky was a blue so pale it hurt to look at with the naked eye. The sun wasn't even that high up yet, but already Hilda could feel a bead of sweat gathering between her shoulderblades. Her bra would need to be peeled off later today. Ugh.

She leaned back on her hands. She, along with a host of other students all in her age group, were gathered together in the amphitheatre. The stone offered no respite from the sun's merciless heat. Pale marble burned beneath her hands and through the sheer fabric of her very short shorts. Hilda did her best to make sure the naked skin of her thighs did not actually touch stone.

Professor Manuela was delivering some sort of instructions to the class. Hilda wasn't really listening. She lent half and ear to the usual drivel about health and safety or whatever, and cast the rest of her attention towards complaining bitterly under her breath.

"I mean -- really -- we can't, like, opt out of these things?" she grumbled. "If I throw Dimitri onto his back, that means I should be exempt from every practice until the end of time."

"You haven't thrown Dimitri onto his back, though," Claude pointed out.

"Hmph. Details. Details."

Dimitri himself, the head of Ares cabin, sat a few rows in front of them. Their conversation passed right over his head. Which was lucky, really. He had a calm exterior, but Hilda knew better. She'd seen that wrathful streak of his in the forest once.

To be fair, there had been a few big scary monsters involved, and he had single-handedly staved off half of them without any regard for his own personal safety. So, like, wrath it up, War Boy.

Manuela had stopped her pacing, and was now contemplating her students. She pointed at two of them to be the first sacrifice of the day to the arena, and Hilda almost had a heart attack when Manuela pointed in her direction.

"Mr. Riegan, if you please," Manuela said, then pointed at Dimitri. "And Mr Blaiddyd. Could you both please come down for our first demonstration?"

Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck." She slapped Claude on the shoulder as he rose to his feet. "Try not to lose a limb!"

Claude flashed her a broad beaming smile, as well as a middle finger. She returned the smile and waved cheerfully as he sauntered down the steps towards the arena floor, drawing his bow from his shoulders as he went.

"Um -?" said a soft voice beside her.

Hilda half jumped out of her skin. She had forgotten Marianne had been sitting to her left this whole time. It took all of her vast reserves of skill to make a graceful recovery. She lowered her pink sunglasses down the bridge of her nose so she could meet Marianne's eye. "Sup?"

At least today Marianne somewhat blended into the rest of the group. She was wearing a set of clothes Hilda had given to her, while doing her best to cover as much skin as possible. She clutched her new bronze sword between both hands, the leather scabbard well oiled and tended, even if it was plain. She tilted the sword a little. “When you mentioned we would be using these in classes and things, what you meant to say was -?”

Hilda nodded towards where Claude and Dimitri were squaring off under Manuel’s instruction. “You know. Fighting monsters, and sparring, and stuff.”

Marianne’s grip on the scabbard tightened. “What if someone gets hurt?”

With a shrug, Hilda dismissed the idea. She pushed her sunglasses back into place. “There’s usually someone around with healing magic. The worst I’ve seen is a scratch or two. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

In the arena, Claude managed to hold his own for a surprisingly long time. Too bad an open arena really wasn't suited to his fighting style. Had there been places for him to hide and use the geography to his advantage, he would've won. No question.

As it was, he peppered Dimitri with blows and arrows from a distance until, with a roar, Dimitri closed the distance between them. Hilda gave a sympathetic wince as Dimitri's spear swept Claude's legs out from under him, and he fell onto the ground with an audible thump.

"Ooooh that's going to leave a bruise," she said, inhaling a sharp hiss of breath when the butt of Dimitri's spear swung down. "Not the face! Not the face!!"

Claude rolled out of the way, and the blunted spear end smacked against the dusty ground of the arena. Manuela called the sparring session to a halt, awarding tips and pointers as she saw fit. She had to go up to Dimitri and place a hand on his shoulder to stop him from stalking after Claude.

The wild look in Dimitri's eyes faded, and he lowered his spear. Then he lowered his head to Claude, sweeping his hand to his heart and murmuring something Hilda couldn't hear. An apology probably, based on the way Claude waved him off with a grin.

As the two of them shook hands, Manuela's eyes sought out two more contenders from the crowd. Hilda ducked down as far as she could in an effort to avoid her gaze. It worked.

"Miss Ordelia, and Miss -" Manuela cocked her head. "-von Edmund. If you would both be so kind."

In the front row, Lysithea rose to her feet without hesitation. She bore no weapon, nor did she reveal one as she stepped out into the arena, dusting off her skirt. Meanwhile, Marianne shot Hilda a panicked look.

"Go on!" Hilda urged. "Kick her ass!"

Marianne grimaced. Or perhaps that was her trying to smile. Still, she loomed to her feet, holding onto the sword as though she had already forgotten which end she was supposed to point at the enemy. When she started to pick her way down the stairs, Hilda scooted over to join a few of the Hermes and Hephaestus kids who sat nearby.

"This should be interesting," said Ignatz. His leaned forward in his seat, his thick spectacles refracting the light. "I hope Lysithea doesn't completely wipe her off the map."

At that, Hilda lifted her hands to her mouth and called out, "Don't go easy on her, Marianne!"

Marianne's shoulders hunched up a little more around her ears, but her stride lengthened; she walked with a bit more purpose. But only a bit.

"Yeah!! You can do it!" Raphael yelled beside Hilda, as eager for a brawl as any Ares kid despite the fact that his father was Hermes. Then he lowered his voice to a rumble, and asked, "So, who is that? I’ve seen her around, but -?"

"It's the new girl in Demeter Cabin. Though Claude has his doubts about that," Ignatz explained, not looking away from where Marianne and Lysithea were squaring off; Marianne was tugging her new sword free and placing the scabbard carefully on the ground.

Hilda turned to the both of them. “Do either of you know what she even does in her free time, anyway? Because I’ve pretty much only ever seen her at meals, or during chores.”

Ignatz shrugged. "Prays, mostly."

With a snort, Hilda said, "Who prays when you can just ring up mom, and talk to god?"

"Apparently she does."

"Well -” Hilda was at a loss. “What the hell."

"I saw her talking to animals the other day," Raphael added.

Hilda gave him a flat stare. "You're joking."

"Nah, I swear! She was talking to a bird!"

“Is that even something Demeter kids do? Talk to animals?”

He shrugged.

"What kind of bird?" asked Hilda.

"I dunno." Raphael scratched at his broad chin. "An owl? It was up on a branch, and it looked like it was listening when she talked."

“What is she? A child of Athena now? Auuugh!!” Hilda let her head drop into her hands. Her voice mumbled against her palms. “Tell Claude I give up.”

“Tell Claude what now?” said a familiar voice beside her; he had returned from his sparring match.

“You win,” she groaned, dislodging her sunglasses so that she could rub at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “You’re right. Marianne’s an unknown entity. Forever. Mystery solved. You’re welcome.”

Claude patted her on the back. The side of his face was already blooming with a fresh bruise. “I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this. Now, move over, won’t you?”

Hilda made a face, and shuffled over.

Down in the arena, Marianne lost before either she or Lysithea could break a sweat. But rather than appear disheartened, Marianne seemed relieved at the outcome. She sheathed her sword, while Lysithea frowned down at her own hands then at Marianne, as though puzzled by something. When Manuela instructed them to shake hands, Marianne instead inclined her head in a weird bow, like the one Seteth had offered her upon her arrival at camp. Lysithea, utterly flummoxed, returned the gesture, but continued to shoot Marianne funny looks as they walked back to their seats.

It certainly wasn't the most invigorating sword-fighting Hilda had ever seen. That was still reserved for Petra when she was filled with battle-lust during a mission to the outside world -- a sight Hilda would never forget; it haunted her dreams. In a good way.

But while it wasn't a flashy show of strength and skill, there could be no doubt that Marianne had some skill with the blade. Lingering beneath the surface. Like looking at something at the bottom of a fast-flowing stream, it was distorted yet in plain sight.

Hilda opted to not mention anything, when Marianne returned to sit beside her. Instead offering enthusiastic praise -- which was taken up by Raphael -- and a high-five -- which was also taken up by Raphael, since Marianne still refused to touch people.

“You went easy on her,” Hilda said, loudly enough for Lysithea to hear. Lysithea glowered, but made no reply.

But Marianne only said, “She is very magically talented.”

Which wasn’t denying what Hilda had said at all.

Nothing at all remarkable happened over the course of the next week or two. Classes. Chores. More classes. More chores. Boring. Unless you counted cool-headed, snide Hubert screaming like a little girl during pegasus-riding training.

Hilda would have to make sure to actually give Minty some carrots for that.

Midway through the third week of camp, Hilda and the others gathered in the amphitheatre for some magic sparring lessons under the beady eye of the resident pedantic satyr and overall magic enthusiast, Hanneman. Hilda seated herself midway up the steps, confident that she wouldn’t be called upon for any demonstrations.

Sure, she had magic. But Hanneman always liked his magic big and loud. The kind where you flung explosions, and branches, and ice, or whatever at each other in the arena. Hilda’s kind of magic involved batting her eyelashes so effectively that the enemy just dropped their guard, leaving an excellent opening for her to kick them into the stratosphere. And for some inexplicable reason that magic wasn’t good enough for public demonstrations.

Not that Hilda was complaining. Far from it. She put her sunglasses on, propped her feet atop the step in front of her, and settled in for an afternoon snooze.

Of course, Hanneman called upon some of the Athena kids first. Then moved along to a few Hephaestus kids. The usual nonsense. Fire. Sparks. War magic. Scorched craters in the arena ground. Yawn.

But as the latest student to perform a demonstration was sitting back down, Hanneman turned his attention towards someone new.

"Miss Edmund," Hanneman said with a gesture for Marianne to stand beside him. "I understand you have some talent in earth magic."

Well, that was news to Hilda. The last time Hilda had seen Marianne perform magic, it had resulted in everything in a ten meter radius turning to withered ash. One look at Marianne’s face only confirmed it, however. She was doing that thing where she hunched up like a hermit crab hiding in its shell.

“I’m not sure if -” Marianne started to say, but Hanneman shook his horned and bespectacled head.

“None of that now. This isn’t a sparring match, so there’s no danger to you or anyone else.”

"But -"

"You cannot be exempt from everything, my dear," Hanneman added, scolding lightly. He waved for her to join him again.

Marianne hesitated. She looked over at Hilda, who flashed a feeble thumbs-up. That seemed to be all the persuasion Marianne needed, as though she would only do what Hilda approved of in this situation. Or perhaps as if she were hoping Hilda would save her.

Hilda did not realise it might have been the latter until it was far too late.

Marianne slouched to Hanneman's side. He directed her to face the others, so that she wilted beneath the full attention of the amphitheatre.

Gesturing towards their feet, he said, "No need to fear. I have known many children of Demeter during my time here. Just focus on the earth, and it will answer."

Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She did not move. Her gaze darted from side to side, before finally she squeezed her eyes shut, and held out her hand.

Absolutely nothing happened. For a long time. Hilda could hear someone in the row behind her yawn. The birds were chirping happily away in the distance, until suddenly they weren't.

Hilda sat up straighter. The back of her neck prickled. An odd silence settled over the amphitheatre. Like sound-cancelling headphones. Like being plunged beneath water. A pressure rising up like the tide until it seized everything in sight.

And beneath them, a faint rumble.

"That's it," said Hanneman, encouraging yet calm. "Don't force it. Just ease the plants out, and they should grow."

Hilda had been around the magic of Demeter kids before. Hell, just last week she had convinced Mercedes to save her bacon with those flowers. This was nothing at all like that.

Marianne's eyes remained squeezed shut, as though she were anticipating the blow of an open hand. Her outstretched fingers trembled, and suddenly the earth erupted beneath her feet. Fissures split the surface with a sound like thunder, cracks extending in every direction. Some of the other students leapt to their feet, and scrambled back as the ground yawned open. It swallowed up columns, great chunks of marble and debris falling into a mephitic chasm that continued to widen.

Hilda grabbed another student, who almost went careening into the chasm, hauling him back onto solid rock. In the arena Hanneman was yelling. Marianne's face was screwed up in a sustained flinch. When he grabbed her by the shoulder, she jerked. And in a flash of eerie light, Hanneman was flung backwards. His body crashed into the side of a pillar, and the ground went still.

Plumes of dust distorted the air. People coughed and waved, trying to see through the murk. From here, Hilda could just make out Marianne with her hands lifted to her mouth in horror.

"Sorry!" she said, over and over. "I'm sorry!"

Marianne rushed over to Hanneman, reaching out to touch him, but stopping herself from doing so. His only response was to groan something wordless. Something dark matted his grey hair, and one of his curled horns had snapped, oozing red.

The dust began to settle, and with it silence. Everyone stared. Marianne seemed to shrink before their very eyes. Before anyone could speak, she turned and fled. The moment she was gone, pandemonium broke loose. A few of the students raced over to Hanneman, Mercedes foremost among them, her hands already aglow with a healing spell.

Claude looked at Hilda. "Child of Demeter, huh?"

Hilda pursed her lips. "Now's really not the time, Claude."

"On the contrary," he gestured to the gaping wound in the ground, splitting the amphitheatre nearly in twain. "I think now is the perfect time to be asking these questions."

A pillar crumbled and crashed to the ground. Hilda winced. “Okay. Yeah. Fine. But I’m going to go find her before we start debating.”

“Good luck! Try not to get swallowed up by another freak earthquake.”

Already, Mercedes was helping Hanneman to his feet. Or -- hooves. Same thing. Another student, a red-headed Athena kid by the name of Annette, was repairing his spectacles, and handing them over for him to don. Before anyone could notice her absence, Hilda slipped away in the ensuing chaos.

Outside of the amphitheatre, Marianne was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, Hilda started off towards the woods.

When Hilda finally found her, Marianne was perched atop a branch halfway up a tree. She was talking quietly, but when Hilda approached, she fell silent. An extra set of eyes peered from the branches above her, wide and golden. An owl. Early evening shadows gathered around the woods, clustering around Marianne as though she were a magnet for twilight. She hugged her knees to her chest, and sat, completely still.

The owl took flight when Hilda drew too near. It vanished into the surrounding trees.

Hilda placed her hands on her hips, and craned her neck back to look up. “How the hell did you even get up there?”

There were no branches between the ground and the branch Marianne sat upon. And that branch was a good twelve feet in the air. Maybe more.

Marianne peered over her knees down at Hilda. “Why did you follow me?”

“Well, that seems like a weird question.” Hilda gestured at where Marianne sat. “Then again, you are halfway up a tree after having turned some of the amphitheatre into rubble, so. Y’know. If it walks like a duck and acts like a duck.”

Marianne stared. “Then,” she said slowly, “it climbs trees?”

Hilda couldn’t keep a snort of laughter at bay. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“That satyr -?” Marianne asked. “Is he -?”

“Who? Hanneman?” Hilda scoffed. “He’s fine. Satyr’s have notoriously thick skulls. It would take more than that to kill him.” She beckoned. “Now, can you come down? I’m going to get a crick in my neck.”

That only seemed to make Marianne curl in upon herself more. If anything, the branch looked further up now, though Hilda had no idea how that could have been possible.

"You shouldn't spend so much time around me. Bad things happen around people who spend too much time with me. And I -" Marianne swallowed. Then she mumbled against her knees, "I think you're nice."

"Well, that's awfully sweet of you. Really. But I think I'll be fine."

"Hilda -"

"Listen. I'm a half-blood. Apart from your demigod step-father, all the people you spent time with must've been mortal, right? I’m tougher than I look. Now, come down, and we can go back to your cabin. I won’t even drag you to the dining pavilion. In fact,” Hilda wheedled, her voice lilting into a sing-song tone. “I’ll go get you a platter and bring it over, so people don’t stare at you. If that’s what this whole fleeing into the woods thing is even all about.”

For a moment there was silence as the offer was considered. Nervously, Marianne tugged at the long sleeves of the shirt Hilda had given her. “Can you - Can you turn around? I don’t want to do it while you’re watching.”

Truth be told, Hilda had been anticipating needing to catch her on the jump down. But with a bemused shrug, Hilda turned around on the spot. Behind her, she could hear the faintest rustle of the wind through trees, or perhaps a draught flickering through torches along a dimly lit corridor. When she turned back around, Marianne was sitting on the ground in the exact same position she had been in while atop the branch. Knees curled up to her chest. Hands firmly chained about her ankles.

Hilda held out her hand as a silent offer to help Marianne to her feet. To her utter shock, Marianne actually took it. Her fingers were soft and very very cold.

Hilda tightened her grip, and hauled Marianne upright. “Geesh. You’re freezing.”

Immediately Marianne pulled her hand away, clenching it into a fist at her side. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Hilda tilted her head towards the direction of camp. “C’mon. Let’s go back.”

#marianne von edmund #hilda valentine goneril #hildamari #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #roman writes #a study in hospitality

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alltheloveflowerh · 6 years

Text

Let’s Hurt Tonight

inspired by: onerepublic

From Y/N: Can we cancel the dinner for tonight? There's something we need to talk about later on.

Harry felt a thug at his heart as he skimmed over the text his girlfriend had sent him. Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps he made a mistake and he was going to apologise; but "This could get rough" Harry thought to himself.

There was two more hours before he could go home, but ever since he had received the text, Harry dreaded each passing minute. Thoughts started overflowing his brain; he was thinking of ways to apologise, because maybe he was wrong but at the time, Harry wasn’t quite aware of it.

It was a Sunday, or rather cleaning-day in Y/N’s and Harry’s household. They hadn’t been living together for too long, but since every now and then one would have slept over at the others place, after two years of dating it was time to move in. That Sunday was their fourth Sunday together in their new place and with moving came a lot of boxes and quite the mess, but with each week it was less messy and more home-y.

Harry would always be the one to clean the kitchen and the living room, while Y/N took care of the bedrooms and bathrooms, and well, Y/N hated doing the dishes so when Harry said that he would be taking care of them, it was a blessing.

The last boxes Y/N unpacked were their clothes for the closet, but as she was first unpacking her clothes and putting them into its place, she noticed an unusual box already in the closet but in Harry’s bit. ‘’Maybe it’s his jewellery’’, she thought. It was probably out because Harry didn’t want to go through ten boxes just to find some of his rings, so he put them into one box and places them on the top shelf, right?

Y/N reached for the box she had never seen before, and opened it. It was filled with some kind of pictures and letters, but turning the pictures around Y/N noticed they were rather personal and romantic pictures. The problem was, it wasn’t Y/N on the pictures. Some of them had a date behind, there were two different necklaces and one ring, as well as handwritten notes which Y/N decided not to read.

Her mind became a small mess, and her heart was on the verge of breaking. The box was still in her hand, shaking due to her hands shaking, as she got out of the room and headed towards the kitchen where Harry was.

‘‘What is this?’‘ Harry turned to face her as he heard his girlfriend speak in an unusual tone of voice.

‘‘Oh that’s just a box.’‘ He said nonchalantly, drying his hands with a small towel.

‘‘I don’t think it’s just a box...’’ Y/N answered coyly, ‘‘It’s rather... personalised.’’ Her voice was small and shy, not wanting to cause trouble but wanting to know about it because it did hurt her.

‘’I’m just like keeping them around, nothing special.’’ He shrugged his shoulders, turning around and continuing with the unboxing.

‘‘Harry.. It’s not nothing. You have a box of..’‘ Y/N was confused, and the more he answered with short replies the more it hurt her, ‘‘a box with memories of your ex-girlfriend.’‘ She avoided saying that sentence because she actually didn’t want to believe it was that.

‘‘Bloody hell, yes it’s a box. Yes there’s pictures of me and my ex, but it’s literally nothing. Stop making a big deal out of it.’‘

‘‘I’m not trying to..’‘, despite him snapping at her, she continued to speak lowly and slowly, ‘‘It’s ... I never even knew you had this box and-’‘

‘‘Because you don’t need to know about it, or well, didn’t, since you snooped and found it.’‘ Harry waved his hands in frustration, not seeing the problem. So what, he kept the box, why wouldn’t he? It’s a part of my life - He thought to himself.

‘‘Okay. I-I’m sorry for bothering you. And snooping.’‘ Y/N hung her had low in embarrassment, turning around and leaving the kitchen.

She put the box in its place and went to the bathroom, locking herself in. Sliding down the door, tears stared to form in her eyes and slowly fall down her cheeks. Y/N was never insecure about their relationship, nor did she ever doubt Harry’s love for her, but finding a box of memories and pictures of his ex-girlfriend was something else. It was the fact that that specific ex-girlfriend wasn’t his last before he started dating Y/N, it was the one that completely broke his heart. It was the one that made Harry doubt each woman in his life, even Y/N. It was that she was the reason Y/N and Harry’s relationship took a little longer than it would have if he hadn’t had that rough break up with his ex.

As Harry was cleaning and unpacking boxes, Y/N was in the bathroom breaking and crying, but he wasn’t aware of that.

Recalling the memory of what was the beginning of their biggest fight, Harry shook his head at how stupid he had acted. Of course it was a big deal. He kept a box of memories with a girl that broke his heart, the same girl that made him doubt Y/N’s intentions and her, who had been the best thing to ever happen to him. Of course it wasn’t just a box, it’s a box filled with pictures of his ex, for fuck’s sake.

Harry buried his head into his hands, trying to stop himself from crying because he knew tonight was going to be rough. He quickly replied to Y/N’s text before anxiously waiting for her reply.

To Y/N: Of course, baby. I love you.x

But there was no reply.

Since the beginning of their relationship, Y/N and Harry had this thing where at least one time a week, they would go to a cafe order two coffees and two muffins and just talk. And on those little dates, they talked about anything without picking an argument or being judged, not that either of them ever judged the other, but it was their time to be alone while in a crowd.

Although this date was different. Ever since the box, things had been a bit off, at least to Y/N because it seemed like Harry didn’t notice much. He didn’t really notice how every night Y/N cried, nor how she didn’t lean into him while sleeping like she always did. Maybe he had noticed, but Harry never said anything.

But of course them waiting in a line couldn’t go without a blast from the past. She just had to reappear in the weakest time of their relationship.

‘‘Hey you!’‘ A voice behind the said, in an excited tone, causing them to turn around. ‘‘How have you been?’‘

‘‘T-Tori, hey! I’m good, yeah, Yourself?’’ Harry replied, looking straight into his ex’s eyes, with a small smile on his face, while Y/N stood frozen next to him wanting to leave every second.

‘‘I’m alright. I’m back in London for a few days, so that’s good yeah.’‘

‘‘Oh that’s great, how is your family? That’s why you’re back, right?’‘

‘‘Yeah yeah, they’re good. They mention you from time to time actually. You should visit some time while I’m still here.’‘ It was obvious to Y/N that Tori was flirting with him, and yet Harry let her. She fluttered her eyes at him, sent him cheeky smiles, swayed while talking to him - it was obvious.

‘‘Ah, I’ll see. Maybe I do. I’m a bit busy right now. But I will let you know.’‘ He chuckled at her.

‘‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s like still know each other.’‘ Neither of them acknowledged Y/N, not Tori but also not Harry. ‘’Still keeping the box?’’ Tori asked, hopefully.

‘‘Yeah, it’s like we never faded, so I never really threw it out.’‘ At this point, Y/N turned around leaving both of them alone. She could hear Harry calling after her, but she straight up ignored him and ran. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision, but not once did she stop running until she was in a small park far too away from Harry.

Her phone kept ringing and blowing up with messages, but she ignored those too. She was sitting all alone on a bench, just looking up the sky being insecure about herself and their relationship, something that had never happened before.

Being alone and sitting on that bench made her furious the more she kept thinking. Having an urge to hurt Harry the same way he had hurt her.

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted when someone walked into his office. His friend was standing by the door, holding some files in his hand and the doorknob with the other.

‘‘You ready for the meeting?’‘ His friend asked suspiciously, seeing the state of him.

‘‘Is there any way I could skip this one?’‘ Harry’s voice was a whisper, his head still in his hands.

‘‘Are you, are you alright mate?’‘ Jack closed the door behind him, taking a seat in front of Harry at his desk.

‘‘Y/N is gonna break up with me.’‘ He looked up, meeting his friends concerned eyes that widened in surprise as he answered him.

‘‘What? Why? I mean, why do you think that? Wait, how do you know that?’‘

‘‘Because I’m a stupid shit and I just fuck up. Because that’s what I am, a fuck up.’‘

‘‘What did you do? If you don’t mind me asking...’‘

Harry briefly explained the situation to his friend, not wanting to seem like he was complaining but still keeping it detailed.

After many failed attempts of reaching her, calling and texting her even driving around certain spots he thought he was going to find her, Harry gave up and went back to their place. He still kept calling her every five minutes, just wanting to know she’s safe, but Y/N had ignore each attempt.

To Y/N: Please tell me where you are.

To Y/N: come home, please.

To Y/N: please come home, i want us to talk

To Y/N: i want us to be okay, please baby.

To Y/N: i’m so sorry

To Y/N: i love you much, okay? you’re the love of my life, please come back to me

To Y/N: please

There was many more texts but not once did she reply. But sitting on their bed with the godforsaken box in his lap, he heard a ding on his phone, immediately reaching for it only to feel even more like shit and ever more broken.

From Y/N: Stop texting me. You’re annoying.

Harry threw the box at the fall, watching it break into pieces just like his heart was. The pictures flew around and the metal jewellery hit the floor. He was sat on the floor with his back against the bed, with tears falling down his face the whole night before Y/N finally returned.

When he heard the doors open, Harry immediately got up, running down the stairs to greet her, but he was in for a surprise because it was Y/N standing in front of the door, but it wasn’t his Y/N. Because the Y/N standing in the living room had a stern look on her face, her eyes filled with anger and a brown box in her hands.

‘‘Hello, Harry.’‘ Her voice was reeking of sarcasm, accompanied with a very sarcastic and evil smile on her face.

‘‘Hi baby..’‘ Harry’s voice was small, carefully coming closer to her, tiptoeing.

‘‘How have you been? Because I had a fantastic day, I even went down a little memory lane, you know? And it was sooo good.’‘ The smile never went away and her voice kept being more evil with each second. ‘‘Wanna see?’‘ She quickly added, pushing the box in front of her, nodding at it.

‘‘I’m-I, um, I’m not sure what to say right now...’‘

‘‘Oh! Don’t you worry! Here let’s sit, yeah?’‘ Y/N sat down on the couch, opening the box quickly and taking out some pictures and setting them on the table. ‘‘Oh my, I remember this day like it was yesterday! Sit and listen, yeah? So this day we actually went on a our first date and it was the day of our first kiss too, you know? So David said maybe we should take a picture to remember it, right? But as I was snapping the picture he kissed me, so it’s a picture of us kissing.’‘ Y/N explained, pushing the picture down the table of her and her ex-boyfriend kissing, while taking another out.

‘‘Oh this one is a bit.. exposing but hey! It was one morning after we woke up, obviously I was half naked, and it was the morning selfie, you know? But that was a nice day, because I met his family then and we had lots of s-’‘

‘‘Stop! Stop talking!’‘ Harry snapped, not wanting to listen to her stories about her ex-boyfriend. ‘’I get it, okay?! I fucking get it.’’ Once again, tears streamed down his face.

‘‘What’s wrong, Harry? I mean, it’s just a box.’‘

‘‘No, no it’s not just a fucking box. You know I hate him, you know I hate your stupid ex-boyfriend. You. Know.’‘ The wasn’t as much anger in his voice as there was pain. ‘‘And where the hell did you even get these pictures? Didn’t you delete them all? Why do you still have them?’‘

‘‘Isn’t that a bit hypocritical, you know, coming from you?’‘

‘‘No it’s not. And do not ignore my question.’‘

‘‘But it is. Because you have the same box, you kept the box, so why can’t I have one of my own? I mean, why would you make a big deal out of it?’‘

‘‘I get it, okay? You’re getting your way back at me. I was wrong and you were right. Can we stop this nonsense now?’‘ He rubbed his eyes, feeling even shittier than before. His voice was low and he wasn’t snapping at her anymore.

‘‘Sure, I’mma go to bed now, go through some more memories. You do what you wanna do.’‘ Packing the pictures into the box, Y/N stood up heading towards the stairs to go to the guest bedroom, because there was no chance she was going to sleep next to him tonight. But Harry had other plans; he snatched the box from her hands and threw it away, making Y/N jump in surprise.

‘‘You’re not taking the box with you. We’re gonna throw it out tomorrow, Hell, I’m gonna throw it out now.’‘

‘‘No you’re not.’’ Even though Y/N wasn’t always the stubborn one, she wouldn’t let this one slide. She crouched down, picking the stuff and putting it into its place.

‘‘Yes I am, stop picking that shit up.’‘ He crouched down next to her, taking the stuff away from her, ready to throw it once again.

‘‘No, you don’t get it. You’re not gonna throw it out. I don’t care that you hate my ex. Who knows? Maybe he comes back to me one day, so I won’t have to print them out again, maybe it will be like we never faded.’‘

‘‘Stop. Stop. Stop.’‘ He kept rubbing his tears away, his heart breaking with each tear, ‘‘Just stop, please?’‘ He begged her, ‘‘you’re hurting me, please, stop.’‘

‘‘What about me? What about the fact that you’ve hurt me, hm?’‘ Y/N asked him, crossing her arms in front of her.

‘‘I’m sorry, okay? I will throw the box away, and I’ll donate the jewellery. Just please stop, I’m sorry.’‘

‘‘You’re sorry?’‘ A sarcastic chuckle escaped her lips, making Harry look up and meet her gaze, her sad but angry gaze. ‘’You’re sorry. Great, everything is perfect again. Yay. Go us.’’ She put her hand up, mocking the victory fist. ‘’You’re unbelievable, you know?’’ It was the last thing she said before she went to the guest bedroom and locked herself in. She left the box in the living room because all she wanted to do was cry and just call herself stupid. Doubt herself, doubt everything, break from inside out.

Harry didn’t follow after her, instead he took the box going over the pictures because he couldn’t help himself. With each picture, he hated her ex even more. It made him furious and sad at the same time, because that wasn’t him. He knew that back then, they didn’t even know each other but the fact that there was a time where she wasn’t his hurt him, because now she was the love of his life. He couldn’t imagine a life without her, but he had fucked up. He had realised how stupid he had been, how she must have felt when she found that stupid box of his.

‘‘I don’t think she is going to break up with you, but I think she is just really mad at you, because don’t get me wrong but you did fuck up.’‘ Harry’s friend, Jack said.

‘‘You don’t get it. That was four days ago and she left. Like she’s perhaps staying in the same place as I am, but it’s like she isn’t there. Not once did she text me or call me, she doesn’t sleep in the same bed as me. She just... left me, maybe not physically, but mentally. It’s like she just gave up on me, you know.. which I get because I deserve it...’‘ Harry was ranting to his best friend, because he didn’t speak to anyone about the whole fight, not even his mum.

‘‘Wait, so if she’s so mad at you, how come you were supposed to go out on a date tonight? Before she cancelled, of course.’‘

‘‘I don’t know..’‘ He brushed his hand through his hair, ‘‘I do, it’s just... I asked her friend if she could ask Y/N for a double date, you know? But of course, it wasn’t going to be a double date, because they weren’t going to show up, and it was gonna be just Y/N and I.’‘

‘‘Don’t you think that she kinda caught onto that? Because I’m pretty sure Y/N isn’t as stupid.’‘

‘‘She probably did, that’s why she probably asked me to cancel.’‘

‘‘Go home, right now.’‘ Jack insisted, ‘‘Leave, fuck the meeting. Go buy her flowers and go apologise because you were a right dick.’’

Harry just nodded his head and did exactly that. He bought her a big bouquet of flowers and some chocolate and drove home. The silence as he drove was killing him and he was so anxious and nervous.

When he got home, he was worn to the bones. He locked the door and headed towards the living room, but he was her sitting down in front of the counter looking at him.

‘‘Hey.’‘ Harry said, coming closer to her and putting the flowers and the chocolate in front of her, ‘‘These are for you.’‘ He smiled softly at her, trying to ease the tension.

‘‘I wasn’t aware you were gonna be back earlier.’‘ Y/N replied, not acknowledging the flowers.

‘‘I-I, yeah, I just didn’t have much to do, so I came home.’‘ Y/N winced at the word home, because was it? Was this a home?

‘‘I hate when you’re lying.’‘ She looked straight into his eyes because she knew he had quite the important meeting today.

‘‘I, um.. sorry.. I just wanted to come home...’‘ He hung his head low, feeling the heat of his cheeks, ‘‘come home to you.’‘ He whispered.

‘‘Do you think, the fact that it took us this long to move in together is actually a sign that maybe we never should have?’‘ Y/N asked, looking down at her lap fidgeting with her hands.

‘‘What? No, no, no. No! That was not a sign.’‘ He waved his hands and shook his head at her, ‘‘No, it was just we were always so busy to have some proper time to actually move. We’ve spent so much time at each others places, it’s just we never had time to pack and move to our own place.’‘ His heart was beating at an unusual speed, fearing her next words.

‘‘I think it was.’‘

‘‘No, Y/N stop.’‘ Harry came closer, putting his hands on her hips only to be pushed away.

‘‘Please don’t touch me.’‘ Y/N moved away from him, hugging herself tightly.

‘‘Baby..’‘ he was hurt, his heart hurt, ‘‘Please. Do not think that, please.’‘

‘‘You know, I never doubted you, or our love, or anything really.’‘ She looked out of the window before adding, ‘‘But in the past week or two, I’ve doubted everything.’‘

‘‘You shouldn’t, because I love you. More than anything in this world. You can call mum if you want to, because she is gonna tell you that I never shut up about you. You’re the love of my life, okay? And that... the past week has been a lot but it was a simple mistake, not something that should break us apart.’’

‘‘A simple mistake?’‘ She narrowed her eyes, looking at him, ‘‘if a simple mistake like that could make me doubt everything, from myself to you, your love and to our relationship. Then I don’t want to know what a big mistake could do to us.’‘

‘‘I-I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. It’s just, please do no doubt me, okay? You know I love you more than anything. You should know that, because there isn’t anyone I love as much as you.’‘ He took a step towards her, but still keeping the distance because he was afraid of her stepping back.

‘‘Maybe we should take a small break from each other.’‘ She stated, no emotions on her face.

‘‘No! I’m not- we’re not breaking up. No!’‘

‘‘I didn’t say a break up, but we should separate from each other for... a little while.’‘ Y/N couldn’t dare to look at him, because if she did, she would break down.

‘‘Separate? You didn’t even look at me for the last five days, not once! That’s enough of a separation. You didn’t even sleep next to me. So we’re not doing that. We’re gonna be okay, do you hear me? We will talk. Tonight, we’re gonna talk all night and we will be okay.’‘ He was scared, because if they take a break, he knew that would be the first step to a break up, and he wasn’t having any of that.

‘‘We’ve said enough, Harry. There is nothing more to be said.’‘

‘‘Yes there is. There is so much I want to say to you and the most important bit is how much I love you.’‘ Coming closer to her, Y/N kept taking steps back until she hit the wall. Harry was standing right in front of her, hovering over her body.

‘‘Stop, please just move.’‘

‘‘No, baby, I-I can’t.’‘ He leaned down his forehead against hers. ‘‘Please let us talk. I love you.’‘ Harry whispered, but Y/N only sighed and closed her eyes.

‘‘This isn’t good for us, Harry.’‘

‘‘But it’s love, and it’s supposed to hurt. That’s what love is, love is pain.’‘

‘‘No! It isn’t! It’s not supposed to hurt this much! This isn’t love! This is pain, and there is so much of it that I cannot handle it!’‘ She wanted to push him away, but she just had no strength.

‘‘Then let’s hurt tonight. Let’s hurt together. Let’s go to bed, lock the door and hit the lights. We’re not gonna leave the room until we resolve our problem. They say love is pain, so let’s hurt.’‘

‘‘I don’t want to, Harry, because I’m already hurt enough and I don’t want to hurt even more.’‘ There was no sarcasm in her voice or anger, it was just sad and low.

‘‘Let’s say all the things we couldn’t before. If you want to yell, then yell, if you wanna cry, I will hold you and cry with you. Hell, if you want to punch something, I’ll even let you punch me or just hold up a pillow for you. But please do not give up on us.’’ His hands found their way up to her hips, holding her closer; his body completely pressed against hers.

‘‘I’m tired Harry. So tired.’‘ She trailed her hand up his chest, placing it just above his heart, feeling the speed it was beating at.

‘‘And I’m tired of sleeping alone, because I need you and I am not ready to lose you. I won’t lose you.’‘ He put his hand over her cheek, brushing the tears away.

‘‘I threw the box away, and sold the jewellery and donated the money from it. The box is gone, okay? She never meant anything to me, it was just there. That box isn’t important.’‘ Harry added, reassuring her that he was hers, and he was always going to be hers. ‘‘My heart belongs to you. I’d give my life for you, I’d even give my life to you.’‘

‘‘Let’s go to bed.’‘ Y/N spoke, for the first time in a while. She wiggled away from his grip, heading towards their bedroom but waiting for him to join her.

They were sitting on their bed, backs pressed against the board, neither of them saying anything. But Harry was holding her hand, brushing his thumb over it lightly and placing kisses from time to time.

‘‘Do you know why I asked for a place with four bedrooms and not only one or two?’‘ Harry suddenly asked and Y/N just shook her head. ‘’Because I want a family.’’ He looked over to her, meeting her eyes, ‘’I want a family with you one day and I wish for it to be soon. Not right now or next month, but soon because that’s all I want.’’

‘‘You want a family with me?’‘ Her eyes widened in surprise because this topic never came up before and she indeed was surprised.

‘‘I wanna marry you, Y/N. Of course I’d want a family too. My mum has been nagging too, surprised she didn’t send you pictures of baby clothes to hint she wants a grandchild.’‘

‘‘Oh.. I-I.. I didn’t know that...’‘

‘‘That’s because you found the wrong box. I know I hurt you a lot, and please forgive me for that. I was really stupid to say those things because I get it and I just cannot get over the fact how much I hurt you.’‘ Turning to face her, he placed her in his lap and softly stroked her cheek with his thumb. ‘‘But you found the wrong box. I know you weren’t searching, but I wish you found the other one. The more important one.’‘

Y/N’s mind was running wild, and her heart beating so fast. She felt like shaking because Harry just admitted to having a box...with a ring in it. Her eyes were wide as she kept looking at Harry, trying to see if he was messing around or really serious.

‘‘I’m not lying, I promise you.’‘ He placed her down on the bed before going inside the closed to take the red velvet box and place it in front of her. He crossed his legs as he sat down. ‘‘Do you want to open it?’‘ Harry carefully asked, scared out of his mind. Y/N carefully took the box in her hand and opened it. There was a silver ring with love written on it; it was similar to his peace one, but this one wasn’t as wide and it was smaller.

‘‘I’m begging you, do not ever doubt my love for you again because you truly are the love of my life. I know I’ve fucked up and maybe this isn’t the best timing but please, just let me have you. Forever.’‘ Harry took the box from her, placing it on the bed while he took her hand hovering with the ring over her finger. ‘‘Marry me, Y/N. Let me be the man you deserve, let me love you for the rest of my life. Let me be the best father to our children. Please, I will be all of those things, just please, will you marry me?’‘ He was on the verge of crying but he contained himself. Hope in his eyes and his voice, as he waited for Y/N’s answer.

‘‘Yes, I will marry you. A hundred times, yes.’‘ Harry’s heart burst out of happiness when she answered the way he wanted her to.

‘‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’‘ He leaned himself and hugged her tightly, ‘‘I love you so fucking much. Thank you.’’ Placing kisses all over her face, he couldn’t calm himself down because of happy he was.

‘’I love you more.’’ Y/N replied through his hungry kisses.

Love was pain, and they did hurt, but that bit of pain was good because now they had each other and they were never gonna let go.

#this is a bit of a mess but enjooooyyy #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry #styles #harry styles writing #harry x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb

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muellercorn · 5 years

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Basically I Love Taylor Swift

Heyo I want to talk about how important of a figure Taylor Swift has been in my life since 2006. In 2015 I attended my firstTaylor concert (and my only to date) so now that we are on the verge of a new era (and hopefully tour) I've started saving to try to attend a concert soon. Therefore, I eventually feel ready to talk about my experience of attending the 1989 world tour at Hyde Park. This is a story I never even spoke about with friends because I was so desperate to attend a concert for so long that I was ashamed and embarrassed to admit what happened when I attended.

I've been a Taylor Swift fan since day one, I was 6 years old and just completely in awe. So after 9 years of dreaming and wishing I was seeing Taylor live and I could not have been more excited. My parents and I travelled down to London from our home in the North East of England, checked into our hotel then headed towards Hyde Park. Crossing over the road to Hyde Park my vision suddenly went to black and in a split second I'd completely disassociated from everything around me. You see, at age 6 I'd founded my love for TS, but I'd also been put in therapy for what would remain undiagnosed for 11 years but later be named as Emetophobia, OCD, anxiety among a few more. At age 15 I was absolutely no stranger to panic attacks, I'd had several a week since I was 6, however this was only my second time ever disassociating and by far the worst. As we got to Hyde Park I immediately needed to sit down, it started with a panic attack that I felt too tired to have. I couldn't accept that the world around me was real, I wouldn't let my parents touch me as I kept thinking and shouting that I didn't know who they were and they didn't seem like my parents. I just froze on a bench afraid to move for the fear that I'd black out. I just wanted to go back to my hotel, I begged and begged, I was willing to completely abandon my dream of seeing Taylor live. I was getting laughed at and mocked by passers by and I was just done. My parents however were not, although it felt like torture at the time they stayed with me and helped calm me down for at least 2 hours (if not more) because they knew I'd be heart broken if I missed the concert.

So eventually I got myself through the gates, got my light up wrist band and found a spot on the field. Literally just in time for Taylor coming on stage. I still wasn't all with 'there' mentally, but physically I'd made it. Obviously by this time I was right at the back of the field and I couldn't cope with trying to get amongst the crowd anyway, but I couldn't have cared less. I always denied it to others and said our train got there late and we couldn't get to the front, but at the time I was just happy to get to see my idol. I was having anxiety attacks every few minutes and my parents had sworn this was the last concert they'd take me to (and I haven't had the confidence to go to one since). A few months prior they'd decided to stop taking me to the theatre (my other great love) because despite my adoration for the arts, the anxiety the situation caused, resulted in me walking out and wasting a lot of money. All I know is if it weren't for how much Taylor inspired me that night, I would have given up on myself and denied myself so many opportunities and so much happiness in the future.

The concert is a blur to me, the best night of my life, but a blur. However, I have one incredibly distinct clear memory - listening to the speech before Clean, my favourite song from 1989. I'd watched previous speeches on YouTube so as soon as I heard the first few words I knew what was coming, but nothing could have prepared me. Taylor talked about how we were all going through our own anxieties, worries and hard times, but right now we were in awesome outfits and having the best night of our lives. The tears started to flow and it felt so surreal and magical it felt as if I was standing by myself in Hyde Park, just me and Taylor and she was giving me personalised life advice. Then I realised that despite the fact I had never met a single person in that crowd, we were all connected, we all had similar hearts and minds, and as Taylor said in hard times we all turn to music to get through. I cried my eyes out at this moment, I needed to hear what Taylor had to say and more over I needed to feel that inspired and moved.

That moment I decided to not give up on myself, to keep going, to return to a Taylor Swift concert when fates would allow. What made this moment even more special was that I knew it came directly from Taylor's heart, this wasn't the same speech that she'd given at the previous concert or the concert before there were ad-libs that came from raw emotion and passion and it was beautiful. I will never forget how I felt during this and the feeling I felt walking back to my hotel, hope that I hadn't felt in years and I'm so grateful. This is why I've loved Taylor for 13 years. She writes music that matters, that really really matters. This isn't music to make money it's art to heal, to comfort and to provide company.

I can not wait for this new era and to (hopefully) see Taylor Swift live again! It feels like she's written her song specifically for you each lyric related to the human condition at its core and that truly is enchanting. My battle with mental illness still goes on, I'm frightened at the thought of going to another concert, however there's nothing I'm more excited for right now than the idea of seeing Taylor perform live again, I trust her, I trust that the wisdom she'll bestow on me that night will make any prior anxiety completely worth it and will be laid to rest. I'm so grateful and beyond excited for this next era, music is my salvation and I'm ready for my soul to be nourished.

@taylorswift @taylornation

#taylor swift #taylurking #taylor nation #1989worldtour #1989 #1989 era #mental health #emetophobia #anxiety

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lives-by-moonlight · 6 years

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💍 + Garrett and Lilith

@insatiablelilith I got waaaay to into this but it’s adorable. There are somethings I thought would be better if you answer or if you wanted to add

where they get married

Garrett and Lilith agreed that they wanted to have a small venue, just their family and closest friends, so the venue itself is more intimate

they agree on going to the lodge Garrett’s grandfather has

it’s within a wooded area that is still right alongside a lake

also along a path it is within walking distance of a medium sized waterfall and a bit farther away is an apple orchard (that is run by a close family friend)

it has a gazebo-like area that used to have a swinging bench and picnic tables for when Garrett and his siblings would visit as kids

(it’s also close to a resort but far enough to get their own privacy for the guests)

I imagine that it’s something like this:

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

they decide on a summer wedding

it’s in late August (though before the long weekend) and have it on a weekend so it’s easier for people to come

they have it late afternoon so that by the time the reception dancing starts it is dark and when they are giving speeches the sun is setting

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

They do some of the same traditions, such as the something borrowed, something new, and something blue

however the wedding doesn’t have a lot of religious tones/traditions, it’s more legality wise then religious wise

however as a twist on the ‘tying the knot’ Celtic tradition, instead of tying a knot they are handcuffed together (as a joke to his job as a police officer) and the Minister calls it ‘The linking of the cuffs’

what their wedding cake looks like

every other layer is chocolate and the rest white

they also have a cake topper:

….who smashes cake into whose face

Garrett has it all planned to smash a piece of cake in her face, however Lilith gets help from his family to distract him so that she can sneak up on him

the instant he turns around she smashes the piece into his face

however, as he’s laughing, he moves to hug her and kiss her despite her trying to get away and kisses her so that cake and icing gets on her face as well as they laugh

there are many pictures of this and Garrett laughs at them every time

who proposed to who first

Garrett proposes to Lilith on the top of a mountain over looking water near sunset. He plans it as a ‘hike’ but then proposes to her when they get to the top

(if following the Jurassic World AU: they take the hike on the Isle and he proposes on one of the mountains. He’s not even sure how Simon knew it, however when Lilith says yes fireworks go over the water for them (of which none of that was planned by Garrett and he wonders if they had someone trailing them) but it is beautiful)

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

Lilith walks down the aisle and Garrett is waiting at the altar

(Garrett also cries as he sees her walk down the aisle)

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

Garrett wears a general black suit and tie

(I didn’t want to choose Lilith’s wedding dress, I thought that you’d want to do that :) )

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

they mostly follow the woodland theme since the wedding is a woodland venue so most of the colour schemes are mostly green with wood and light flower themes to complement the space

here are some other things that I found that would fit their decor and woodland theme for their wedding

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

(also thought that you’d want to choose this :) )

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

they decide on their own vows but will say the ‘with this ring’ traditional promises

in Garrett’s vow he comments on how she is his ‘partner in crime’ as a joke

however his vows are sincere and express how much he loves her

he makes the promise to always make her laugh every day, to make her smile when she’s sad, to always take her on adventures, and to love her every moment because he knows that he’d never be able to stop

if anyone’s late to the wedding

no one is late, however during the end of the reception some kayakers go past along the lake and call to them congratulations

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

Garrett’s best man is his brother and the rest of his party are close friends

Garrett’s sisters are also a part of the bridal party

(didn’t know who Lilith would choose for the maid/matron of honour)

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

the groomsmen are also wearing general black suit tuxes with grey or white underneath

the bridal party is wearing light green dresses to match the venue with brown touches (such as sash, top or bottom lining, etc)

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

the best man and maid/matron of honour obviously give speeches

his brother shares some funny (and slightly embarrassing) stories about Garrett, but also shares the sweet memory of how he remembers Garrett meeting Lilith and the time when Garrett first told him that he loved her and how he thinks they are a perfect pair that complement each other

(didn’t know what the maid/matron of honour would say I wanted to leave that more for you to decide since it more concerns Lilith)

Garrett’s mother also gives a small speech about how much she loves Lilith and how she thinks both of them are an adorable pair and wishes them the best

a few friends of theirs also share some stories and best wishes for them

who catches the bouquet( s )

one of Lilith’s friends?

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

there are some sweet couple-y pictures such as the wedding ceremony and the nice pictures they take by the lake, on the deck of the lodge, by the water fall, and a few wedding party ones at the apple orchard (that they drive to)

however there are far more funny ones of them also at all these locations, and especially at the wedding reception because they love to get silly and wild with each other

these can range from goofy faces to funny poses (such as funny dramatic kisses, Garrett lifting Lilith over his head or holding her bridal style)

they are a wild and goofy pair the silly pictures fit their wedding and the night much more

what sort of food they have at the reception

they have the general choice of meat and spiced herbs potatoes with pasta and salad, however the food is delicious

who cries first during the ceremony

Garrett and it comes the moment he sees her, and then comes again during their vows

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

it gets pretty wild, however not trashy

people are hardcore dancing and having a good time but no one is smashed drunk to the point of ruining the party

also it’s Garrett who claims to be a “Dance Master” (even though he fully knows hw’s dramatizing his dancing and that it sucks for laughs)

I mean:

he knows he’s a dork

what their rings are like

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

as favours they allow the guests to take home one succulent plant and a baby tree that they can plant (or can take two of one if they don’t want the other) and they plant the leftover trees at the venue spot or will keep the succulents

where they go for their honeymoon

they spend the night at the lodge when everyone leaves and a few days after before going to the plane

they go to Austria for two weeks to look over the beautiful mountain and lake landscapes after those weeks they decide spontaneously to spend a week in Venice, Italy

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

after the speeches and people are mostly done the deserts, the power goes out

there is still a bit of daylight so people can see

in the meantime, Garrett’s mother runs around the lodge and finds all the candles that they have and light them while Garretts sisters make a run to a craft store in their formal wear and basically buy out their stock of LED/fairy lights and candles and put them around the outside and lodge so that people can see (and it makes for some nice romantic lighting). Garrett’s brother grabs his bluetooth speaker so that there can be music

it comes on around eleven at night, but they decide just to keep it off

who officiates the ceremony

a general minister that did Garrett’s brother’s and his youngest sister’s wedding

what song their first dance is to

I was thinking maybe Everything I Do (I Do For You) by Bryan Adams

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

I didn’t know how to answer this? More about Lilith’s choice

#insatiablelilith

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classicmemorialbenches · 2 years

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Personalised Memorial Benches

Personalized memorial benches are a unique and meaningful way to honor the memory of a loved one. These benches are typically made from high-quality materials such as wood, metal or stone, and can be customized with engravings, plaques, or other personal touches.

Personalized memorial benches can include the name and dates of the person being remembered, as well as other personal details such as favorite quotes, hobbies, or interests. The engravings or plaques can be created in a variety of materials, including brass, bronze, or stainless steel, to ensure they withstand the elements and maintain their beauty over time.

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soapdish290 · 2 years

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I had a dream a couple weeks ago.

I very, very seldom remember my dreams and this was a strange but nice one.

It was three years ago, and my father had just died. Unlike what happened in reality, I was given support through this, and for some reason it was eventually decided that I should take a break, and I ended up hanging out in isolation with a (fictional) friend of my step mothers and his (fictional) kid.

The kicker is that this was in isolation because it was in space.

Fella was one of the only human beings living on the edges of some sort of multicultural alien civilisation, and I was shadowing him as he travelled for his job, which was making personalised memorials for the dead.

Which he did by terraforming barren planets or asteroids into personal landscapes based on whomever he'd been commissioned to memorialize. And this wasn't the equivalent of a VIP having a park named after them, but something much less fantastic. It was the cosmic equivalent of a plaque on a park bench.

And he cared about his work. He'd find out what the deceased would have wanted, what they found beautiful or effecting or calming, and he'd shape it. I don't have to spell out the parallels here or the cliches and tropes when a grieving dream version of myself is surrounded by this very literal celebration of life and death, so I'll refrain.

Needless to say my dreaming consciousness managed it in a way that was very kind to me.

It was just such a calming, healing atmosphere in a bittersweet way.

And it's been weeks but the concept just will not leave me. The idea of building a calm and peaceful space for the dead and those that survive them, built with and out of love.

I don't often remember my dreams. I've never before remembered one that felt so like my own self conscious giving me a hug.

#i don't know what this is #dreams #i haven't slept and that always makes me verbose #And overshare

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childrenofslumber · 2 years

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☾✧.° ( @thefearedsouls said: 💍 TRARTIE EVEN THO WEVE PROBABLY DONE IT BEFORE ) °.✧☼

where they get married: i’m picturing an art museum/gallery

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. ) late spring/early summer wedding sounds like them

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. ) artie follows the something borrowed something blue, they definitely do the garter/bouquet toss

what their wedding cake looks like this but their colors and their initials.

….who smashes cake into whose face: both.

who proposed to who first: tre.

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither ) tre gets walked first, fight me on that. then artie in the usual bridal way.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like: artie’s dress / tre’s suit (the painting is different, his is a painting of the bench where they met)

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have: pink, blue and yellow pastels is the colour scheme, their decor would kinda simple but very them. like this.

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? ) pink peonies, they’re just her favorite flowers.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. ) improvised, half written down, full of tears and love.

if anyone’s late to the wedding: no, gen would kill someone.

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other: gen is her maid of honor, her sisters and her friend maley are her bridesmaids. his brothers plus adonis and harlow are his groomsmen.

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing: dresses / suits / gretz / harley

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? ) her dad, his moms, the best man and the maid of honor. they’re all sweet. ollie’s is like this.

who catches the bouquet( s ) gen probably.

what sort of food they have at the reception: i just discovered a gourmet mac and cheese buffet and i wanna go with that.

who cries first during the ceremony: ollie.

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. ): like this. it’s a happy day surrounded by people they love.

what their rings are like: hers / his

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. ): these 100%

where they go for their honeymoon: PARIS.

who officiates the ceremony: i wanted to say ollie bc he usually does but idk.

what song their first dance is to: this.

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle: his moms, gretel and claudette, give him away and then her father gives her away.

☾✧.° ( clearing out the inbox ) °.✧☼

#( hold onto me cause i’m a little unsteady ‣ artemis & tre. )

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farewellfuneralsau · 1 year

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Personalised Cremations Services in Ipswich

The loss of a loved one can be extremely upsetting. Making funeral arrangements can be complicated and stressful, especially if you are unfamiliar with the options available to you.

Our funeral directors can help you arrange a cremation service or memorial ceremony. We will explain the different choices that are available and give you ideas for a meaningful memorial such as a plaque or bench. To know more about Personalised Cremations Services in Ipswich, visit the Farewell Funerals website or call 0404660974.

Cremation is a common choice for people with religious or cultural beliefs that don’t permit burial. It’s also a good option if you’re looking to save on funeral costs and avoid environmental pollution caused by the use of chemicals in embalming.

A service is held in the private chapel at the crematorium, which can seat up to 105 guests. This can follow a traditional funeral or be personalised to celebrate the life of your loved one. The service can be led by a clergyman or non-religious celebrant and can include a viewing, visitation, wake or other social gathering.

Once the service has concluded, pallbearers will carry the coffin to the crematorium, unless it’s wheeled in on a bier. Most crematoria have video streaming facilities for absent family members to watch the service. The coffin will be lowered into the chamber where it’s exposed to intense heat for about two hours, reducing it to fine ashes. Items like jewellery and medical devices like pacemakers are removed before the cremation process starts.

The decision to opt for cremation can be a difficult one. But it doesn’t have to mean that you miss out on a special ceremony. You can still have a service (before or after the cremation) to console family and friends, pay their respects and celebrate your loved one’s life.

Before the funeral or service the coffin can be hidden from view by curtains, glass or a gate to allow people to pay their final respects. It can also be left open to provide an opportunity for the deceased’s close family to spend some time with them before the cremation process begins.

The body is then prepared for cremation in a container which can be an ordinary casket, urn or something specially designed to hold the cremated remains. The crematorium will remove any jewelry or medical devices like pacemakers to help prevent them melting or exploding during the cremation process. They will then use an efficient tagging system to ensure that the cremated remains are always returned to the correct family.

Many people choose cremation with a service because it offers the same comfort and familiarity as attending a burial, however with the difference that no one is required to tend a grave site. Those who opt for this type of funeral are still offered the choice of a memorial service, which can take place immediately after the cremation or days or weeks later.

This service will see your loved one's coffin brought into the crematorium chapel before being lowered and hidden from view behind curtains. During the service your family and friends can pay their respects before the coffin is withdrawn from view again and deposited into the cremation chamber.

Your Funeral Director will explain what options are available for your memorial, including the opportunity to have a tree or bench dedicated in their memory within the cemetery grounds. In addition, they will advise you on options for displaying your loved ones' ashes, such as a memorial plaque.

Many people are now choosing cremation for the peace of mind it brings in terms of end-of-life arrangements. It is also a popular choice for people who receive means-tested social security benefits as they can often claim a funeral payment which covers the costs of a cremation.

Following a visitation and/or service the deceased is placed in a simple casket or sometimes a special urn before it is taken to the crematorium for cremation. This is often followed by a memorial service either in one’s own church or at the crematorium chapel.

A memorial can be a traditional headstone or a carved sandstone, wall plaque or rose garden memorial. Memorial urns can also be displayed in the Temple of Remembrance and there is an option for the remains to be scattered in the grounds. An entry in the Book of Remembrance can be made online or a physical copy is kept on display at the Temple. To know more about Personalised Cremations Services in Ipswich, visit the Farewell Funerals website or call 0404660974.

#Personalised cremations services in Ipswich #burials services in Redlands #Farewell Funerals in Redlands #Farewell Funerals in the Gold Coast #No Service Cremations in Logan #Prepaid Funeral Plans in Ipswich #Farewell Funerals in Logan #Farewell Funerals in Ipswich

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jeremystrele · 3 years

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An Adventurous Apartment Interior For Avid Art Collectors

Interiors

by Amelia Barnes

Candy pink Vola kitchen tapware in ‘Crane In The Sky’ by YSG. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

High enough to conceal kitchen clutter and food prep, the kitchen bench enables views of the harbour and immediacy with people in the living and dining area. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

Also interesting about this kitchen bench is its stacked material arrangement (inspired by Jenga blocks) including crocodile green Vitoria Regia marble. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

Other materials in the overall palette similarly reflect the desire to open up the space. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

Bronzed mirror on the bar amplifies the dimensions of the living area while bouncing natural light about. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

Candy-striped ‘beach ball’ lights levitating above the dining table tie in with the Warlimpirrnga Tjapaltjarri painting behind them. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

A custom-designed Tappeti carpet runner in the hallway mimics the free-flowing gestures of a Ken Done painting (Outback) above. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

The owners stipulated the colour scheme (including a strict request for no white or beige furniture) should complement their prized pieces and new selections. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

Ken Done painting (Outback). Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

A previously dark base palette with enclosing charcoal shades (including walls, carpets and joinery) and jarring red feature walls was flipped to a neutral sprinkled with dollops of colour. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

Textured Marmorino plaster walls created by Uprising Cement Renderers. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

The hand-painted main bedroom ceiling feature by Creative Finish was inspired by ancient Chinese folding screens and features walnut timber batten bracing. Photos – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

A waterscape of lilies and pond ripples on the ceiling expands the room’s depth, inverting the water views beyond the balcony. Hand-painted ceiling– Creative Finish. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

Rich with memories of adventure, the art and collectables in this penthouse are as diverse and eclectic as the couple who lives there. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

Upon the bed, a golden Japanese vintage silk quilt glows with a beautiful golden shimmer in the daytime. Photo – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

Textured Marmorino plaster walls, long-lasting polished and brushed Isernia stone floors, and pitted travertine bathrooms enhance fluidity between all the spaces. Photos – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

The magic lies in the range of finishes and their application to expand the confines of every room and surface. Photos – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

The updated scheme emphasises two key elements lacking in the once ‘compartmentalised corporate cavern’: harbour views and the owners’ impressive art collection. Hand-painted ceiling– Creative Finish. Photos – Prue Ruscoe. Styling – Felicity Ng

When you live on glorious Sydney Harbour, your home’s interior should reflect the beauty of its iconic surroundings – literally!

YSG took this approach in ‘Crane in the Sky’, a colourful interior makeover of a dated ‘90s penthouse. The updated scheme emphasises two key elements lacking in the once ‘compartmentalised corporate cavern’: harbour views and the owners’ impressive art collection.

Everything down to the height of the kitchen bench has been carefully considered to frame these views, without compromising on functionality. Yasmine Ghoniem, principal of YSG explains, ‘High enough to conceal kitchen clutter and food prep (it was originally an enclosed room), the kitchen bench enables views of the harbour and immediacy with people in the living and dining area.’

Also interesting about this kitchen bench is its stacked material arrangement (inspired by Jenga blocks) featuring dominant crocodile green Vitoria Regia marble. Yasmine explains how this came to be, ‘Because the slab was pricier than other varieties, we limited its application just to the top (the surface the owners and guests will interact with the most), selecting a durable granite for the other countertops and layers of pitted travertine and plasterboard for the base of the structure.’

Other materials in the overall palette similarly reflect the desire to open up the space, from a hand-painted main bedroom ceiling (‘a waterscape of lilies and pond ripples [that] expand the room’s depth, inverting the water views beyond the balcony,’ as Yasmine describes the work by Creative Finish), smoked bronze, and golden silk textiles.

Several furniture pieces (no beige allowed!) directly reference the couple’s existing art collection, such as the candy-striped ‘beach ball’ lights levitating above the dining table that tie in with the Warlimpirrnga Tjapaltjarri painting behind them. A custom-designed Tappeti carpet runner in the hallway similarly mimics the free-flowing gestures of a Ken Done painting (Outback) above.

The plump, cartoon-like dining chairs by Poltrona Frau; candy pink Vola kitchen tapware; and of course the living room bar all add to this home’s sophisticated frivolity.

‘Given the owners have had to spend so much time at home over the past year, there’s an eternal optimism that practically sings the moment you set foot inside. A well-stocked bar has added to this enjoyment!’ says Yasmine. ‘Its smoked bronzed mirror amplifies the dimensions of the living area whilst bouncing natural light about. Most importantly, it reflects the harbour view, so it can even be appreciated when tending to the spirits!’

‘Crane In The Sky’ proves playful choices can complement sophisticated design, infusing spaces with palpable energy and a highly personalised free spirit.

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jincherie · 7 years

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Inheritance | Pt. 1

Pairing: Yoongi x reader Genre: hybrid!au, fluff (later), smut (later later) Words: 2.6k+ Warnings: The MC gets a lil sad, mentioned death of a family member, swears Notes: This was going to be a oneshot, then a two-shot, and now it’s a mess. I split it so the transitions would be smoother and it wouldn’t feel as rushed as it would were it all in the one scenario. More parts to come! (forgive the terrible summary)

After your grandmother passed she left everything to you. Her house, her fortune, and apparently… her cat? The grumpy male hybrid you encounter at her house is anything but the tame housecat you’d expected to find. Fulfilling your grandmother’s last request to look after him becomes a lot harder when he seems to be avoiding you, and your dissatisfied relatives start stirring up trouble.

Masterlist | Next.

You still hadn’t quite recovered from the shock as your relatives all stood, grumbling and complaining, before pushing past you and storming out. Your mind was stuck replaying the events of the past couple of minutes, wondering if that all had really just happened.

Your relatives and yourself had gathered for the reading of your late grandmother’s Last Will and Testament, and her wishes had been… surprising, at least. You were pleasantly surprised, but the same could not be said for your money-hungry relatives.

Your grandmother had been incredibly wealthy, but unlike the rest of your family, she didn’t flaunt it. She had been a humble, lovely woman. After your parents died she had cared for you by sending you money and heartfelt letters to comfort you, paying your rent, and making sure you were okay. She lived too far away to visit you herself, and you hadn’t been to her mansion-esque home since you were a child. However, after the events of today, it seemed like you’d be making a visit, and probably moving in.

While your grandmother could have been a saint, the same could not be said for the rest of your relatives. You had no idea how they could have come from such a lovely woman and yet still be so warped and twisted. The only good people in the family besides your grandmother had been your parents, and now both were gone and you felt like a mouse in a snake nest. Every single one of your relatives only cared about money, prestige, and themselves. It was why so many of them had rocked up and demanded your grandmother’s will be read to everyone at the same time. They all knew what snakes the others were, and knew that if the will had been sent out to particular people then there would have been a lot of foul play.

They had never expected the reading to go as it had. Your aunt Priscilla had been vying for the pearls your grandmother kept hidden in the house, and your aunt Penny had been seeking the box of jewels she’d once glimpsed in your grandmother’s closet. You knew for a fact your uncle Jay had had his eyes on the property, most likely so he could sell or demolish it to make more profit.

To eveyone’s surprise, your grandmother had left almost everything not to one of your aunts, or uncles, but to you.

And now you had the distinct feeling you were going to die in your sleep.

In a way, you were beyond amused. It was incredibly satisfying to see your grandmother stick it to her horrendous children and grandchildren one last time from beyond the grave. She’d given everyone but you a mere three hundred dollars. In another way, you were also shocked, and a little worried. You had no idea what to do with yourself and all of this stuff you had been given. Her entire fortune, her house, her possessions— they’d all been left to you. You planned on making a visit later just to make sure everything was as it should be, but you’d also travelled a fair while to get here for the reading and would be needing a place to stay. You may as well go visit and take care of the place somewhat while you were at it.

All of your relatives had already left the room, each one giving you a personalised dirty look as they passed you, some even going so far as to hit their shoulder into yours. Soon, it was only you and the estate attorney in the room. He gave you a warm smile.

“Personally, I’m glad she left everything to you,” he spoke kindly, a stark change to the cold tone he’d had earlier when speaking to your relatives. “I don’t want to know what they would have done with everything if it had been given to one of them.”

You smiled, laughing a little. “I don’t either, but I have a good idea. Thank you for doing this.”

He shook his head with a small smile. “It’s my job,” he said, before his eyes widened suddenly. “Ah, right. Your grandmother left this note for you. She was clear about you receiving it when the others weren’t around.”

Your eyebrows rose as he procured an envelope from his jacket pocket. Your grandmother had left one last letter for you? With careful hands you took it from his grasp, glimpsing over the front. Your name was scrawled in elegant cursive over the paper, a sight that nearly made your eyes water. Your grandmother always had beautiful handwriting.

Swallowing in an attempt to keep the tears back, you looked to the man and smiled. “Thank you,” you said once more as you rose from your own seat to leave. “Have a nice day.”

He nodded and returned the sentiment, and you left the room, looking around as soon as you were outside the building for the nearest café. Seeing one just down the street, you made your way there. You needed some comfort food and a hot chocolate to calm you down before you visited your grandmother’s house.

You spent the next hour or so at the café, waiting until you were truly ready to go visit the house you hadn’t been to in years that was filled with memories of the grandmother you missed with all your heart.

. . . . . . .

You sniffed, wiping the last of your tears as you reread the letter. You’d taken a taxi to your grandmother’s address but hadn’t managed to muster the will to go in. Instead, remembering the letter you’d been given earlier, you took a seat on the bench outside the wall surrounding your grandmother’s property, and opened it.

It was a heartfelt letter, as were all letters your grandmother wrote, but this one was different. Maybe it was the fact that you knew, and that she knew, these would be her last words to you. Whatever it was, as soon as you’d finished reading the first line you’d felt warm tears slipping down your face.

She wrote about how she was, and how she hoped you had been. She wrote about how much she loved you, adored you, and how glad she was that you were a part of her life. It was everything you would expect of a goodbye letter, except for a single paragraph at the end.

‘I’m giving you everything, y/n, because I know you will care for it more than anyone else would. That is also why I leave you with this request. Please, take care of Suga. I’ve never told you about him before, or introduced you, but that is only because I was doing my best to keep him safe. With me gone, he has no one. You, my sweet girl, are the only one I can trust to take care of him. He acts like he doesn’t like anyone, but I know he’ll love you. Just give it a while. He’s a tricky cat, my Suga, but I know you’ll be able to warm that cold heart he has locked up. I just know it. So please, y/n, take care of Suga.’

Sniffling once more, you squinted at the letters in front of you. Suga? She had never mentioned she had any pets. She’d called him a ‘tricky cat’. Perhaps, to fill the emptiness of her large home, she had adopted a kitten? That would make sense. Your grandmother adored cats and kittens, you were sure this cat had led the best life possible ever since coming under her care. She would have spoiled him rotten.

Shivering a little in the cold air, you decided you had been moping around enough. You missed your grandmother, and grieving the loss of a family member was healthy, but you didn’t enjoy the amount of crying you were doing today.

Standing with a sigh, you tucked the letter away and turned to the house behind you, drying the last of your tears. The neighbourhood you were currently in was, in short, one for the wealthy. There were many mansions and estates, all of which had ample property and space surrounding them. The fences and gates were fancy and ornate, some leaning more towards simplistic and others to decorative in the extreme. Your grandmother’s property had a more modern, simplistic feel. She wasn’t one to flaunt her money with things such as golden gates and household items that looked like they belonged in a palace.

Along with the letter from your grandmother, the envelope had contained a key and keycard for the front gate and front door. You weren’t sure what the key was for yet, considering the keycard was what allowed you entry into the house. Shaking your head, you swiped it at the gate and slipped in once you heard it unlock. The walk to the front door was beautiful, the massive house being covered beautifully by trees and plants. You grandmother had prided herself on her gardens, and you could see why. In the time since you’d been here last it had grown much more, beautiful flowers and exotic looking plants lining the path towards the front door.

You were almost sad when you reached the end, wanting to see more of the beautiful flora. You took the few steps up, coming to a stop before the front door. On instinct your hand rose to knock, or ring the doorbell, before you realised what you were doing and with a painful jolt to your heart lowered your hand. No one would be home to answer it. You bit your lip, inhaling deeply to school yourself before raising the keycard and unlocking the front door.

The house was warmer than you expected it to be inside, considering no one had been here to turn on heating or anything. You peered around with a small smile as you wiped your feet on the doormat. Not much had changed. It still felt like home away from home.

You tried to channel that warm feeling you got from this place. Your grandmother wasn’t here, but you were sure she was happy where she was. So, even though you were hurting right now, you should try and be happy too. You nodded to yourself, moving further into the house and closing the door firmly behind you. It clicked shut and locked automatically.

You let your feet guide you through muscle memory to the living room, gazing upon the white couches fondly. The house was still decorated in the same simple, minimalistic style that was only broken by vibrant and colourful pictures of you and your parents that lined the shelves and top of the fireplace. You gripped you bag as you turned and took in the room, closing your eyes for a moment. You really had missed this place. You wished you had been here sooner, when she was still…

Frowning a little at your mind’s persistence in travelling down that lane with your thoughts, you turned and began walking towards the kitchen. From the corner of your eye you thought you saw a movement from the staircase, but merely dismissed it as shadows. No one else could have possibly been here.

Idly you wondered, as you reached the kitchen and retrieved a glass of water, where the cat your grandmother had mentioned was. Suga, wasn’t it? Should you look for him? You’d feel stupid if you just started calling for him in this big, empty house, with your own echo there to mock you. You decided you’d rather look quietly. You would probably be more likely to find him that way.

Placing the glass down after drinking all the water, you turned and made your way towards the stairs. To your surprise, the light at the top of the stairs was on. You didn’t want to know what that meant for the electricity bill if it had been on this whole time. Adjusting the strap of your bag you began up the stairs, when a slight movement from the corner of your left eye caused you to turn your head and subsequently miss a step. You gripped the railing in time to stop yourself from tripping completely, but still ended up banging your shin painfully. You let out a startled, pained yelp before cursing lowly, standing still in your spot on the stairs before inhaling deeply to mask the pain and continuing up. You made it to the top of the stairs without incidence this time, forgetting about the movement from before, your eyes shifting and falling instinctively upon the doorway to the room you used to stay in when you came and visited your grandmother. A small smile spread your lips as you limped lightly inside, attempting to walk the residual pain off.

The room was just as you remembered it, much like the rest of the house. You placed your bag on the bed, surprised there wasn’t any dust in this room, let alone any of the other rooms you’d been in. Perhaps someone had come by to clean? Hopefully they’d fed the cat too. That reminded you, you needed to find this ‘Suga’ your grandmother told you to look after. It was a big house, but it hopefully wouldn’t take too long.

“If I were a cat, where would I be…” you mumbled thoughtlessly to yourself as you left the room, deciding to look down the end of the hall before searching the rest of the house. Maybe the cat would be in your grandmother’s room? Here’s hoping.

With light footsteps you made your way down the hall, entering and quietly looking through each room on the way to the end. So far, after four rooms, you’d had no luck. Your room, the one you used to stay in, that is, was down the opposite end of the hall to your grandmother’s. There were only a couple more rooms before you would reach it. Almost every bedroom in this house had an attached bathroom. Your grandmother had wanted to ensure the absolute comfort of all her guests in any way she could.

Finally you reached the end of the hall, where there were two final doors facing each other. The one on the left was your grandmother’s, and the one on the right was another guest bedroom. Funnily enough, unlike the other guest bedrooms, there was a light coming from behind the door. Curious as to what light could possibly be on, you gently pushed the door open and peered inside. You quickly saw that the light was spilling from the door that lead to the attached bathroom. Peering around to see if you could see the cat anywhere, you shrugged lightly before stepping forward and pushing against the bathroom door.

It all happened very quickly. The door opened, light falling upon your face from the bulb above, and your gaze was drawn like a magnet to the sight before you. A boy with black feline ears and a tail was crouched near the tub, glaring at you with such hostility you stuttered to a stop in your steps. His ears pressed back and he hissed, snarling loudly at you before his arm shot out in a threatening swipe. Shock ran through you as you gasped, quickly moving back, but in the process slipping on the bathmat. You felt yourself falling backwards. There was an abrupt, sharp pain in the back of your head and suddenly everything went black.

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#yoongi x reader #suga x reader #mini series #hybrid au #hybrid yoongi x reader #hybrid suga x reader #hybrid!suga #hybrid!yoongi #eventual smut #wtf is this #inheritance #inheritance pt 1 #rbuns #my work #bts hybrid au

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