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marleyybluu · 23 days

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Four and Counting

husband!Oscar Diaz x fem!black!reader

Word count: 4.4k (oops)

Warnings: everything is fluff, the cutest couple alive, another pregnancy, hints at abortion (but supportingly?), Oscar being the cutest fucking husband, self-indulgent asf cant lie like I want be in love like this

if i missed any lmk

AN: yall do not know how long this mf has been in my drafts omg I finally finished. This fic is just drowning in love. No smut 🤷🏾‍♀️. A bit rushed in certain places but it all fits pretty well in my opinion. this is not the end of the series but its like the end of the main chapters. there will be lore on the couple obvi, updates on the kids and the family as a whole bcus i am obsessed. hope yall enjoy.

You didn't know how it happened, you blinked and soon there were four. You had four kids running around your home filling it with innocent joy and laughter, and the occasional attitude. It was a full house and a busy life, but it could be enjoyable. You'd become a stay-at-home mom. At first, you weren't sure if you'd be able to manage, you loved your job a lot and worked extremely hard for it but with your growing family, your kids needed you more.

With Oscar opening a second restaurant you thought it'd be a good idea to bring up what's been gnawing away at you and he tells you that he's behind you no matter what path you choose. You put in your letter of resignation and bid your co-workers a teary-eyed farewell with promises to visit as much as they can. You had to admit it was a nice break, you didn't have to wake up as early, you weren't on your feet as much and the house was nice and quiet for a few hours when your children were either in school or at daycare. But then you had baby Rosie and your house had returned to a screaming, hollering mess.

She was a loud one and very expressive, babbled and cooed to anyone who would listen. "And then what happens after that?" You say laying next to her gently stroking her hair. She kicks her feet with excitement and responds in her usual baby language. "Oh my goodness." You respond. You could do this all day. You hated to admit it but you missed the baby stage so much and you were grateful for your little one. You'd been lounging around all day, only getting up to shower when she had fallen asleep and the occasional time when you needed to grab her bottle.

You pepper her chunky face in kisses and she squeals with happiness. "Que hermosa." You giggle. You two are so wrapped up in your world you don't even hear when the door unlocks and Oscar strolls in, he decides to check in on you since everything at the restaurant was going fine today. He notices the obvious vacancy of your presence downstairs and stumbles into the kitchen thinking you were feeding Rosie but he was wrong. He hears his baby's infamous noises from upstairs and smiles following the sweet noises. He creeps in on you two.

His head lolls to the side and rests on the door frame. He'd seen you like this many times (clearly) and it never got old. The way you lovingly interact with each child at any stage in their life, it was sweet to witness you give the same sweet eyes to Rafa at his big age as you did when he was a baby. Just a gentle reminder that he chose the right woman to marry, the best one to make a mother.

Rosie turns her little head and screams when her eyes land on her father. "Hola, mi corazoncito." He coos entering the room matching the same excitement as his baby which causes her to become even more riled up. He scoops her up and holds her in the air and all you can do is watch and grin like the Cheshire Cat. He brings her down and kisses her cheeks. "Cómo estás, mi mariposa?" He asks Rosie and she nuzzles her forehead in his cheek. Her nonverbal way of saying she missed him. Oscar takes his place next to you on the bed. "How are you, mama?"

You pucker your lips and he smiles dropping a kiss. You pout at how quick it was but quickly subsides when he gives you a forehead kiss. "I'm good. Sleepy. Hungry. Missing you."

"Missed you too, that's why I came home. And I brought some food from work."

You squinted. "Who cooked it?"

He chuckled. "Jason."

"Yes!" You fist pump. "Jason makes the best fucking food I swear."

Oscar's head seems to tilt even more, he's insulted by your statement but you smile sheepishly placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "Not as amazing as you do." He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple. Rosie babbles as her little reminder that she's still in the room. "No one forgot you chica" He affirms giving her some more smooches. "Let's go get mommy her food."

You sit up and stretch; some much-needed cracks are heard via your aching bones, and when your arms come down, you feel much looser and less tense than before. "It's okay, iré contigo." (I'll come with you.)

The three of you plop down the stairs and you part ways as Oscar heads to the kitchen while you shuffle to the living room and drop onto the couch, your lounging was short-lived when the doorbell rang. You huff getting back up on your feet. You swing the door open with a mean mug on your face until your eyes land on your mom and your features immediately soften.

"Hi, Mommy." You smile reaching out for her. "Hi sweetie, how are you?"

"I'm great," You pull her inside and close the door behind her. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugs off her jacket and hangs it up on the rack nearby, her shoes slip off her feet and she places those next to Spooky's on the mat. "Came to visit, figured you'd need some... company..." She trails off and— not so subtly— stretches out her neck to see if she can spot the baby. "Mhm." You say crossing your arms, you call bullshit.

"She's in the kitchen with Spooky."

And just like that, your mother leaves you in her dust. You hear her high-pitched, "Hiiiii GG's babyyyyy, helloooo." And you can't help but smile. Your mom always seemed to become happier with each grandchild you produced.

You begin to feel left out when you hear all the commotion in the kitchen so you decide to join them. Your daughter has your mom's nose in her small fist while your mom blows raspberries in her little tummy, she erupts with laughter and you catch a glimpse of Oscar with nothing but heart eyes for his baby girl. You sneak over to him and slide your arms around his abdomen, he drops his arm over your shoulder and draws you close. He plants a kiss on your head. The microwave beeps behind you signalling that whatever was in there had finished heating up. Your eyes widen when the aroma of cheese hit your senses. "Is that lasagna?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He made a little dish for you, told him you've been craving it lately."

You squeal with excitement as you take the hot dish out of the microwave, you set it on the counter and danced over to the drawers in hot search for a fork, your successful in finding one and greedily stick it inside the soft noodles that were jam packed with delicious ingredients. You take one bite and practically faint at the taste.

"Just needs one more thing." You think out loud, you hustle over to the pantry and grab a bag of barbecue chips, you snag a handful and crack them in your hand, sprinkling them on top. Oscar stands there... confused.

"Girl, what the hell is that?" Your mom asks equally appalled.

You shrug and take another bite. "It's good though." You muffle with a full mouth.

"I love you." Oscar sighs and you laugh at his adoration for anything you do, you blow him a kiss before taking another bite. You don't see it but your mom has her eye on you with a very interesting theory brewing in her head. Your husband's phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it leaving you alone with your mom and Rosie, who is quiet and happy on her grandmother's chest, her little eyes slowly closing with sleep.

You try your best not to make too much noise while you reach for more-

"Are you pregnant again?"

You nearly choke on your saliva at the ridiculous question. You quickly shake your head. "No!? Are you nuts? I just had her and she is the last one." You assure but your mom isn't believing it. "This little concoction says otherwise."

You roll your eyes. "I just... like pasta and chips... together."

It did sound ridiculous.

"Since when?"

"Like... a month ago..."

She sucks her teeth. "Mi amor, I'm telling you, I think you're pregnant."

This was insane, this was an insane conversation to be having. You were one hundred percent sure there was nothing and no one in your belly-- just the mere thought of having two under two was giving you the heebie-jeebies. "I'm just saying-"

You groan like the irritated teenager you once were, "Ay Mama, no más charlas de bebé, por favor." (No more baby talk, please.)

She agrees to ease off the topic but it remains in the back of her mind.

-- --

Later that day after Oscar's gathered the others from school, you sneak out of the house to do some grocery shopping. It was a bit of time for yourself, a time when you didn't have to keep your eye on your tiny little humans. You go through the aisles for the essentials and when that's done you browse for treats and snacks for your kids (that you and Oscar will eventually munch on as well.)

You cautiously approach the next aisle that is stacked with condoms, contraceptives and pregnancy tests. You meant to move, your hands ready to push the cart forward but your feet are firmly planted on the floor. You sigh and turn in, quickly grabbing a box and dumping it in the cart as though it's not for you. "She better be fucking wrong." You mutter to yourself.

-- --

With all kids fed, bathed and in bed before twelve it allows you to have the bathroom to yourself for a while. You wedge the knuckle of your index finger between your two rows of teeth, you stare at the box and sigh. "Please prove her wrong." You whisper to no one in particular. You pop open the box and rip open the wrapping of the test. One original and one digital. You sit on the toilet and do what you've done a hundred times, you pee on the sticks and set them aside until the timer goes off.

You clean yourself up and wash your hands, you know better than to just stand there and watch the sticks waiting for that fate-sealing answer but you go against yourself and stare. You're in a trance until there's a knock at the door, it startled you and you clutch your non-existent pearls for dear life. "Que?"

Oscar asks, "You good? Didn't need company tonight?" He's referring to your commonly shared showers which, now that you think about it, is probably one of the reasons you're in this predicament again!

"No, it's not that. I'm just..."

You huff and unlock the door swinging it open with displeasure on your face, your arms crossed as you nod over to the tests on the counter. His eyes follow your actions and pop out when he sees them. "How-"

"Mom said it was weird that I ate the lasagna like that."

He chuckled. "Didn't want to say anything."

You whine saying, "It's not funny, I just thought it was a change in my palette or something, I mix random foods all the time. I-" You searched for every excuse you could find. Oscar's face softens at the worry in your voice. "I just had Rosie." You sigh sounding depleted. You turn your back to the tests when you hear that all too familiar sound. You squeeze your eyes shut, if you don't look you won't know the answer and you can go about your merry way. Your husband offers to look for you and leans over. You hear the quietest gasp he's ever uttered and you know. You spin around to look at them yourself.

Positive. Both of them show positive.

You look up at Spooky and he's already looking at you waiting for your reaction so he can curate his own. "How do you feel about it?"

You shrug. You truly didn't know, you didn't even have words. Your throat was dry. You pick up one of them and look at it. And you feel nothing. Empty. Just waiting for a sense of gratitude to come across and for some reason, you can't seem to produce it. You put the test down and leave.

Spooky's still standing there with his heart in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should've listened to you, that two was enough, and then three and four. He's after you, right on your heels as you enter your bedroom. You sit on the bed and fall back onto the sheets, you cover your eyes and shake your head at yourself and him. "I just had Rosie." You repeat to yourself. And then it happens. A tear slips and as quick as you are to wipe it, he knows you like the back of his hand— your breathing gets choppy and choked, you sniffle. The bed dips beside you and the sound of the sheets ruffling as he lays down.

"Háblame." (Talk to me)

You take a deep breath. You can be honest. "I don't know how I feel. I'm not sad but I'm not happy. I just hoped Rosie would be a little older. They all have good age gaps and- Oh god, what if they don't want another sibling? And Rosie and I spend so much time together, they just got used to her-- Emilia was so clingy when I had her, she felt so left out and-and-"

Oscar presses his hand over your thigh. "Cariño. Respirar. Por favor.

You breathe shakily. "It's okay not to know how to feel. If this is not what you want... I'm here for you, your moms here... the kids are here. We have more than enough, Sí?"

You nod. He reaches over and pulls you into him, you rest your forehead on his chest while he rubs smooth circles on your back. "We have some time for you to think about it right? It's your world mi amor, we're just living in it. I got you no matter what."

"Spooky."

"Mhm."

"Thank you."

He smiles and kisses your head. "It's my job baby."

— — You'd been hiding your belly from everyone, even the kids. It was easy for the most part because you only wore baggy clothes and they made you look a little large anyway but then there were not so subtle signs— like the heavy breathing from doing just about anything, and your walk? Oh, your walk was not normal no matter how hard you tried. So you decide to come clean to your kids and other close family during a little gathering that Spooky's brother, Cesar, was hosting. Cesar was the only person who knew and you two asked if it'd be okay to announce it tonight.

He was fine with it, excited actually.

Your hands shake. You were cautious in deciding on having this baby, it took you a while to feel anything. At first, it was uncertainty, did you want another? Would you be crushed if you didn't have it?

But as the weeks passed you couldn't help but fall in love with the growth, the bigger you got the giddier you became. Modelling in front of the mirror any chance you got, and when all the kids were asleep you'd talk to your belly and giggle with every shift they made.

"Listo?" He asks and you nod confidently. Oscar whistles over to Cesar giving him a thumbs up. Cesar turns down the music to gather everyone's attention. "I just want to thank everyone for coming out, it's been a while since we've all been in one place, right?"

The crowd mumbles in agreement. "But it's great to see everyone in good health and good spirits—" He raises his Corona bottle and the crowd follows with their drinks (including the kids and their juice boxes) "Salud." He smiles.

"Salud." The crowd repeats. You clear your throat and enthusiastically say, "Oh let me see if I can get a picture. Everyone gets in."

They shuffle into one pile as best they can, you grab your phone and hold it landscape, you press record and say, "Alright everybody in... great, now saaaay... Y/n and Spooky are having another babyyyy!"

There were collective gasps, the word "what!?" Being thrown around in every language. "Excuse me!?" Your mom hollers. You unbutton your cardigan and turn to the side having worn a tight dress on purpose. "Surpriiiiiise." You sing out.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Jasmine screams stretching her arms out for you, you gasp and playfully smack her hand. "Not in front of my kids, puta!"

She tells you to shut up and hug her, your mom joins in and soon the children and in that moment it hits how loved and supported you are by everyone around you. This was your village and it was a damn good one too.

Oscar's friends dap him up and congratulate him. They hug you as well and whisper that they hope it's another girl. They loved spoiling your daughters. Anything they asked for the boys were sure to buy it no problema.

"Well, actually," You begin to say. "We know what we're having."

Rafa, your oldest comes up to you. "Is it a boy?" His eyes gloss over with the hope that you would say yes, he'd been hoping that Emilia (your third) was going to be a boy but he lucked out. You had an idea. You hunch over to match his eye level. "You see that cake over there." You whisper and he nods. "Papi and I were going to cut it, but I think you should get the first slice."

He shrugs and you walk him over to the white cream frosted cake. You and Oscar help him hold the knife and carefully slide the blade into the spongey treat making one incision and you help him make another. He pushes the knife under to take the slice out and plops it on his plate, he reaches for a fork when he looks down to see the inside was blue.

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved with the understanding this was his moment. He looks up at you. "You're having a boy!?"

You nod with tears spilling over and ruining your makeup. "I am."

He puts the plate down and hugs you tightly and that's when the crowd goes wild. "Thank you, Mommy." He sobs which makes you cry even more. "Oh, you're welcome sweetie."

— — Nine months had sped past you and it seemed as if it was just yesterday that you found out you were pregnant. Now, you lay on a hospital bed, covered over by a few blankets to help with post-partum shivers, your jaw rattling and fingers dancing involuntarily. But that wasn't your main focus.

Oscar hovered over you staring at the sleeping newborn in your arms. He made the cutest noises while he nuzzled against your chest. Your finger ghosts over his nose and he reacts by moving his head and sighing. "Are you sick of me already, mi hijo?(my son)" You joke nudging him with your nose. "You get used to her." Oscar chimes in and you suck your teeth hitting him as hard as you could. "Cállate culo."(Shut up, ass)

"Hitting me in front of my son?"

"And I'll do it again."

He smiles and leans down to kiss you. "You know I like you a little feisty, mami."

You sigh, so in love with your new baby, in love with your husband— just filled with overpouring affection. You can't stop staring at your new son and your husband couldn't stop gazing at either of you. He'd been in this room over and over and he swore up and down you made it look so easy, that you looked like a goddess bringing new air and life into this world. Even though you thought you looked like a monster from the swamp.

Oscar tells you in a loving tone. "You're doing an amazing job, seriously, you... you're just amazing."

You blink rapidly to keep tears from spilling over. When you met this man he was so rough and tough, such a brute that it seemed impossible to get him to even admit that he liked you, but under all that fake-cold persona, was the gentlest giant and the biggest sweetheart you'd ever met—a man who spreads nothing but positivity around you and your children.

"I'm so happy, I met you." He mutters. You were his wife, the mother of his children and his best friend rolled into one and that's all he wanted out of this life. You look up at him with glossy eyes. "I'm happy I met you too."

You share a kiss as a tear slips out, you just can't hold them back any longer. He kisses your forehead as his thumb swipes over your cheek. Your attention is drawn back to your son when he begins wiggling in your hold, you press your nose against his hair taking a whiff of that fresh baby smell. As you soak in the presence of your child, your husband's phone buzzes against the fabric of the diaper bag, he looks over and your mom's name catches his attention. He looks to you for some sort of permission and your brows furrow together. "It's okay."

He rushes over to answer, and just then your nurse walks in with a smile on her face. "Just came to check on mommy and baby." She announces.

"Ok... yeah, I'll meet you guys downstairs... bye." Oscar hangs up and looks over at you. "Your parents are here, with the kids. I'll just be back okay?"

"Mhm." You hum. He gives you a quick kiss before he speeds out of the room. The nurse smirks as she helps you adjust yourself into a somewhat comfortable sitting position, asking you if you'd like your son to be put back in the bassinet to which you respond yes and she gently takes him. "I apologize if this is forward but... I've seen a lot of couples in here and let me tell you, I've never seen anything like you two. He is so attentive."

You giggle. "Thank you. I just got really lucky with him."

A few minutes had passed and she had finished her check-up letting you know that she'd be back in a bit for another check-in. Once she left that's when your family, quietly, barged in. Oscar approaches you first with a sleeping Rosie in his arms and you happily reach for her and coddle her in your arms. Rafael, Elliana and Emilia gently charged over to you, shuffling off their shoes and finding their places on the bed with you. You greeted them as best as you could, with restricted movement all you could do was reach for their faces. Your parents and Oscar stand in the background of it all observing you in your motherly nature and Oscar can't fight the grin that has been plastered on his face since the day he met you.

"Baby." Emilia chimes in drawing everyone's attention to her now. "Yeah, mira, mommy had the baby."

Rafael seemed enamoured by the presence of his new sibling. He loved his sisters, you knew that, but by the looks of it-- this would be a special bond. "Rafa, would you like to hold him first?" Oscar asks.

He nodded eagerly and readied himself by sitting up straight and folding his arms. Oscar removes your son from his bassinet and carefully places him in Rafa's arms. The baby was a bit squirmy, upset that he'd been disturbed but with the soothing 'shhhh' from his mother's lips he settled down. Your two girls surround their brothers with curiosity.

Emilia giggles. "Hi, cutie."

"He's so tiny," Eliana mutters. Your parents finally make their way over to you after letting you have your moment with the kids. They congratulate you and your dad holds up a Chipotle bag and you beamed. "Thank you, this hospital food sucks." You whisper.

They attempted to take Rosie from you but you assured them it was fine, having missed her snuggles anyway. "Want me to feed you?" Your husband asks and you snicker shaking your head. "Está bien papito, I'll eat when I'm ready. But thank you."

— — After all the kids had their turn holding the baby their attention spans had turned to you and their father, telling you everything that had happened since you left the house.

"And then Ellie licked the cookie and put it back in my bowl," Rafa whines and you hold back a laugh. "Eliana you do not do that, that's gross."

She shrugs and nuzzles closer to her grandfather on the couch who is causing a ruckus with all his snoring. Your mom nudges him awake and he hits his famous line, "I'm not sleeping, I just closed my eyes."

"Think it's time for us to go." Your mom says. "Um.." Rafa chimes. "Is it okay if I stay?"

"I- yeah, I guess so." You answer. Oscar says that you'll keep Rosie since she has now found a new sleep space in his arms. Your mom carries a sleeping Emilia and your dad carries Eliana on his back. They say their goodbyes and are out the door.

— —

The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Rafael had fallen asleep on the couch while Rosie, who'd only woken up to ear and fell back into slumber, lay under her older brother's arm. You sigh contently as you gaze at them.

"Did you ever think when we met at that laundromat, that we'd be here?" Oscar mumbled as he held your baby boy, tracing his finger along his little nose. You turn to him. You shrug.

"Maybe with one kid... two.... But not five." You joked. He chuckled.

"Did you?"

He nods. "I knew you were gonna be my girl from the moment I picked up that sexy red bra you dropped-"

"Spookyyyy." You gasped gently hitting his arm.

He laughs. "Que? Man, once I saw those cups I started barking."

"You are so fucking stupid."

He shrugs. "I know. But I'm stupid in love with you."

You playfully rolled your eyes at his corny, yet sweet, line.

"I'm stupid in love with you too."

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs are appreciated. hopefully, I'll be back a whole lot sooner. peace and love

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @realhotgurlshit @skyesthebomb @librarian1002

Who might be interested: @miyahmaraj @bigenergy777 @educatorsareslutstoo @missdforever

#marleysfanfictions #spooky fanfic #on my block #marleywrites #fluff #on my block fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfiction #oscar diaz x black!reader #oscar diaz fluff

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loksthegreat · 6 months

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» In her youth princess Alysanne had been close to her mother, and while she remained a permanent fixture at her fathers side all throughout her teenage and early adult life and was known to be his sole favorite among lord Ottos many sons and daughters, she without a doubt was the daughter most alike to Queen Visenya. Alysanne had been born twelve years to late to be considered as a bride for her eldest brother Maegor, and while she was close to her brother Aerion both in age and mind, the two shared no great love as found between some of their siblings. Maesters believe that Queen Visenya had sought a powerful marriage alliance for her headstrong daughter early on, for if her daughter could not be queen after her she should at least be a great lady. The queen was no stranger to violence, both in war and marriage, she had encouraged Alysanne to claim the small red she-dragon called Evening as her own and taught her how to wield a sword herself, so she may defend herself, whether it be in the brooding conflict between Visenya and her half brother Aegon or against a unkind spouse. It was the knowledge of the princesses affiliation with unladylike activities and her lack of old Valyria’s beauty that made her a harder prize to sell than one would expect for a Targaryen princess. It was in the year 129 after the conquest, that the then princess Visenya and her fourteen year old daughter made for a tour through the Riverlands on dragonback. On the tenth day the two princesses arrived at Riverrun, to the great demise of old lord Grover, whom had been fearsome of the Targaryens possibly taking action against his rule to place his younger brothers children with princess Daenera, a daughter of the old king, in a position of power. It is unbeknown just what was discussed throughout the five day stay of the princesses, as the current Maester at the castle was terribly young and unorganized, but the fool of Riverrun known as the lord of fish or Fishlord, published a play that supposedly depicted the events that led to the engagement of princess Alysanne Targaryen and young sir Kermit Tully, the great grandson of Lord Grover Tully, within the same year before the fool was found to have been thrown into the water surrounding Riverrun with his throat sliced one morning, a spectacle that only let to popularize the tale he paints between Lord Tully and princess Visenya. Fishlord claimed that the rumors surrounding sir Kermit’s fancy for his fellow knights were true and that the princess had come to see her daughter wed to him with the promise that she would see the Tully line continued and keep her husbands interests under wraps, while also bringing her great aunts bloodline into inheritance again, when Lord Grover had asked how she intended to do so princess Visenya supposedly said: “You’ll need a girl who can keep her mouth and legs shut as loneliness tears at her heart, a girl that will not be lulled into bed by the comfort a handsome singer or knight has to offer, my daughter is such a girl. She will be Lady of Riverrun and she will give birth to strong and healthy sons, with red hair and blue eyes and there will be no question as to their true parentage. My aunts sons are young and strong yet, one of them will surely manage to sire a boy on her, and if not your grandson may have a try at it, seven hells, if it so be, you may try to fuck a babe into her yourself, for as long as you still can.”. And while it is highly unlikely that these were the actual words used by the future queen, Alysanne was betrothed to sir Kermit and married him shortly after the end of the dance in 132 AC and gave birth to five sons by him, red headed and rosy cheeked and without a hint of the brown hair her companion and later second husband, sir Rohan Longrivers, sported. « Daughters of the She-Dragon by Maester Riven

#asoiaf oc #hotd #asoiaf #digital art #otto hightower x oc

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fuwapower-prettycure · 9 months

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Episode 1: Living My Dream! I Am Cure Reverie!

“Oh dear, are you okay?”

In an aisle full of colorful books, Yumeno Eiko found a child. She was a skinny young thing; With well-worn sandals and a rosy dress that swamped her tiny frame. Her cheeks were wet with tears, as if she had been crying for some time.

The girl was startled at Eiko’s voice. She looked up from the floor and met the kind woman’s ruby eyes, momentarily mesmerized.

“Your eyes are pretty.” She whispered through tiny sobs.

Eiko chuckled at that. She supposed her eyes were unique, though this little one surely had more important things to worry about than a pair of irises. Lowering herself as gracefully as she could, Eiko met the child at eye level.

Her soft words came out slowly. “I could say the same of your dress, darling. Tell me, what’s a sweet thing like you doing here by yourself?”

That seemed to have been the wrong thing to say, as the girl once again found fat tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was with my dad, a-and I saw the coolest book! I came here to look at it, but then da-daddy was gone,” she cried.

A thin hand reached out to the child. Eiko lifted herself and gave the small girl a grin; Her smile widening when a soft grip connected with hers.

“Worry not, dear! Let’s find a helper and have them call for your father, yes? I’m Ms. Yumeno.” She waved at a nearby employee, looking at the small body now cuddled against her leg. Her tears seemed to have dried by now. The girl gazed at her with wonder in her large green eyes.

Eiko patted her head, proud of the child for composing herself so quickly. “Now, little one, can you tell me your name? Your father must be worried about his darling girl.”

Her little companion nodded, bouncing in place slightly. The scowl she wore seconds ago now replaced with a small grin.

“I’m Maika! Mochizuki Maika!”

~☆~

“Mom! I need to go in!” An auburn-haired girl whined, trapped in her mother's embrace. The thirteen-year-old’s voice held little hostility, and despite her verbal protests, she made no effort to escape the hug.

The tall woman holding her daughter in her arms chuckled and stepped back, reluctantly pulling away. “I know, Maika. It’s just difficult to see my baby moving out. I thought it would be 6 more years at least! You’re absolutely sure you want to stay in the dormitory? We’ll be quite the drive away.” Although Mochizuki Aina desperately wanted her child to stay at home, both her and her husband, Kazue, knew their daughter needed to expand her social circle. One can only make so many friends while attached to their parent’s side.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to do great!” With determination and a hint of anxiety, Maika pushed up the round wire glasses resting on her nose. “It's now or never! I’ve got to unpack! I don’t want the room to be a mess when my roommate gets here!”

A deep voice sounded from behind her. “Mai-Mai, your roommate is starting the semester a few days late. That’s plenty of time to tidy up your dorm.” The proud father said, chuckling at his daughter’s spirit. He came to his wife’s side, putting a hand around her waist. The couple gazed proudly at their little girl.

Three loud chimes came from a nearby clock tower, signifying the end of student dorm drop-offs. Maika looked down at her overstuffed backpack, then back to her parents. “Is this the last bag I have to bring up?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

Kazue nodded and gave his child a warm smile. The family of three embraced tightly, savoring the short time they had before parents were asked to say their farewells.

“Chin up, baby.” Maika’s mother lifted her daughter’s face and ruffled her soft hair. “No daughter of Mochizuki Aina backs down from a challenge! You’re ready, and you’re going to do awesome.” She pressed a kiss to her baby’s forehead. “If you ever want a weekend away, let me know. Papa and I will get you as soon as we can.”

Kazue tightened the hug one last time, nodding at his wife’s words. “We love you so much, Mai-Mai. You’re going to do great. Nothing can stop you.” He kissed the space just under Maika’s bangs where her mother had done so seconds earlier.

A speaker crackled to life as the family’s farewell ended.

“All first-year students report to the gymnasium for a short informational speech. At this time, we ask parents to say goodbye to their students, as their junior high journey is about to begin. Welcome to Fuwayama Prep!”

~☆~

Maika let out a breath of relief as she emptied the final box of her belongings. Her bed looked as comfortable as can be, the side pressed against the wall covered by the stuffed animals she had picked for her dorm. Looking at her bedside alarm clock, Maika sighed. It was nearing noon. There was so much of the day left!

“No roommate until Tuesday and nobody to hang out with. What's a girl to do?” She wondered. Her room was as ready as it could be without a second inhabitant, and most other dorms were still filled with the chatter of excited students. Maybe she could simply stay in and draw, or reread her favorite manga; but it would be the third time this week. She could look for a new book, but didn't get to see where the Fuwayama public library was. Were there any other options?

Suddenly, Maika lit up. She snapped her fingers in excitement. “I’ve got it! The school library!”

~☆~

“This place looks huge! I’m over the moon!”

From her position outside the building, Maika could see through ceiling height windows just how impressive the Fuwayama Prep library was. There were cushions and couches in every corner. In the back of the room, far from the windows, a row of computers were barely visible. She couldn’t see the full catalog, but the shelves her bright green eyes scanned over were bigger than any there she’d ever seen!

Colorful sneakers marched towards the door. Maika already knew this wonderful place would become her best friend.

A soft voice piped up as a hand was laid on the door. “The library isn’t open, you know.”

The illusion broke. What was once an inviting opportunity became a dead end just like that. “What? But the students are here! Don’t we need the library?” Maika turned around to face a slightly taller girl with dull pink hair and a kind smile.

“Yes, but the school year doesn’t truly start until tomorrow. The only staff on campus are the ones running move-in day and orientation.” The girl, clearly an upperclassman, gave her junior an encouraging pat on the head. “No worries, though! As soon as classes start, you have almost unlimited access.”

Maika’s frown lifted slightly. She wouldn’t have to wait too long then. Maybe she could walk around the city, surely there are some interesting shops nearby.

Bowing, she quickly thanked her senpai for the information. “It’s such a nice library. I can’t wait to see it all!” With a new plan in mind, Maika stepped back and moved her gaze to the campus entrance. Just beyond the opened gates was a brand-new adventure named Fuwayama City!

“I hope you like it here. Fuwayama is a wonderful place filled with surprises. I hope to see you around!” The pink haired upperclassman chuckled at her kouhai’s visible excitement.

Maika bowed once more, noticeably quicker. “Thank you so much, senpai! I can’t wait to meet again.”

With a spring in her step and no particular goal, she rushed into the city. Who knew what magic awaited!

~☆~

Strolling through a city by yourself is a strange experience. Maika had only recently started staying home alone and building a sense of independence. She knew Fuwayama wasn’t dangerous, but a small part of her longed for her mother’s reassuring touch to remind her that she was safe.

Pink sneaker-clad feet led the girl to a nearby shopping strip. Many of the shops she looked into seemed brimming with customers. Shoppers looking through electronics, racks of clothing, merchandise from popular TV shows gave the street a lively energy. Each establishment teemed with laughter and conversation. None of them had that pull, though. The desire for new reading material still occupied Maika’s mind.

A sigh escaped her mouth as she approached the corner of the sidewalk. Fuwayama Prep was still visible from where the student stood. Since she was still fairly unfamiliar with the area, it was a good idea to stay as close to campus as possible. The hope of finding something near the school to occupy her empty time diminished more and more as the end of the small strip came closer.

“Hm?” Just as the area was deemed a fluke, her eye caught a glimpse of a small sparkle coming from the last shop’s window display. “Is that a,” Maika stepped closer, “is that a Card-Catcher Sakuya bookmark? I’m over the moon,” she exclaimed! With sparkles in her eyes, she took in the gorgeous display. It was an adorable shade of red and decorated with an image of the titular character. What tied it all together was an adorable charm of Sakuya’s magical companion at the end of the attached tassel. Even as a Sakuya superfan, Maika had never seen this product before, despite thinking she discovered them all.

A newfound determination washed over her and compelled Maika to look up at the shop’s name. “Mahou Monogatari? I’ve never heard of it. Is this a local store? One with local employees and local products? Maybe even local customers who are,” she paused as an excited smile spread across her face, “local Sakuya fans?”

She raced into the establishment without another thought. To her delight, it was devoid of boisterous shop goers, being perused only by a pair of young women and a young father holding his child on his hip.

“Why, hello there, dear.” A kind voice sounded from a checkout counter on Maika’s right. She turned her gaze to the source of the greeting and was met with a familiar pair of eyes. Only once had she met someone with irises whose red rivaled that of a ruby’s. The memory was hazy yet comforting.

The woman standing behind the counter chuckled and moved towards the entrance where her potential customer stood. The gentle thuds of a rubber-bottomed cane accompanied the clicking of her low-heeled boots. “I know my shop is one of wonders, but never before has it left someone speechless. I’m only slightly concerned—mostly impressed. With myself, of course.” She joked. A worldly hand moved cautiously to Maika’s upper back. She accepted the guiding hand and walked with the store’s owner to a small seating area beside the checkout counter.

After taking a seat in the most comfortable chair she’d ever had the pleasure of resting in, the questions that had been held back finally came out. Although they were being asked at a near lightning fast pace, the subject of said inquiries seemed to take in every word without fault.

“Do you know Card-Catcher Sakuya? Did you make that bookmark in the window, or was it someone else? Was it made by someone my age? If it was you then that’s totally awesome because I’ve never heard anyone older than my parents even mention that series! Not that you’re old because most people take that as an insult. Not my grandmother, though she takes pride in it, but not everyone's the same and I just met you. Wait, no, I just met you and then I called you old! I didn't mean to insult you, I swear. It’s just so exciting because if somebody my age made that bookmark, then maybe we could be friends. I just moved here into the school dorms down the street and I really suck at making friends because I talk so much just like I am now! I’m so sorry, I’m talking way too much. Can I just buy the bookmark and leave, so there’s no need to—” Maika’s overflow of words were caught off by loud laughter? She looked at the source and realized it was the store owner, while simultaneously realizing she must have started looking at everything but her conversation partner in her nervous ramble.

The woman wiped a few joy-induced tears from her eyes. She took a moment to regain herself and removed the reading glasses that sat upon her nose. Finally, she leaned back into the cushioned back of her seat. “I like you, dear. I’ve never seen this much energy and passion in one so young. May I ask for the name of such a charming young girl?”

Maika froze in embarrassment as her cheeks were covered in a red blush. She looked down at her fingers, playing with them to keep her focus. “I’m Mochizuki Maika. I just moved into the Fuwayama Prep dormitories. I’m a first year student, so I don’t know a lot about this place yet.” Her wire-framed glasses slid down slightly. She didn’t bother to push them up

“You’re in luck if you found this place then!” The dad she noticed when entering the store spoke up as he walked to the checkout counter. His baby had fallen asleep and was now strapped into a carrier against his chest. The pair of girls had since left. “Ms. Yumeno’s store is the perfect place for book lovers like us. My older daughter had her fifth birthday party here. No one can beat Mahou Monogatori!”

Rising from her chair, the owner—Ms. Yumeno—grabbed her glasses and walked over to verify the man’s purchase. “You’re far too kind, Mr. Furuya. I don’t know what little Hinako sees in this old coot. I’m not interesting in the slightest! Unlike this young lady.” Surprisingly nimble fingers made quick work of the checkout. Before bagging the books, she reached under the desk and pulled out a small lollipop. “Although, I think it’s fair to assume my stash of candy has put me on her good side.”

After the father gathered his bag and slipped the sugary treat inside, he waved goodbye to Yumeno and Maika. “You seem like a wonderful girl, I hope Fuwayama treats you well.” The bell above the entrance jingled lightly as he made his exit.

“You two are so nice.” The student’s voice regained the wonder it had lacked minutes earlier. From her seat, she watched as Ms. Yumeno made her way to the recently shut door. “I love it here already! I was so scared city people would be mean, but everyone I’ve met so far has been amazing.” She looked at her potential new friend with endless admiration.

Said potential friend looked at the clock hanging above a nearby shelf and then back to her energetic visitor. “Well, I could say the same about you. Would you care for some lunch? It’s about time I close up shop for my break.”

Maika knew it was often unwise to get so comfortable so quickly, but she felt safe and welcome around this kind figure. She nodded enthusiastically, eager to eat with and learn more about Ms. Yumeno. Besides, the less money spent on buying lunch, the more she could spend at her new favorite place!

A small sound drew her attention to the checkout area. She tried to get a good look at the source, but a glimpse of pink was all she could take in before being drawn back into a conversation with her fascinating new friend.

~☆~

“Goodness, look at the time!” Maika startled as her lunch partner stood up halfway through her talk on their meal’s recipe. “We’re lucky no customers showed up. It’s 15 minutes past lunch!”

Yumeno moved to her shop’s front door while mumbling to herself. When the woman grabbed the open/closed sign and flipped it to indicate the end of break time, she sighed and looked back at her guest. The red-haired girl approached the front desk with a curious look. If her hearing had still been that of a spry young adult, she would have noticed the buzz sounding from under the counter.

The device—a pink tablet upon closer look—was lit up despite seeming in disrepair. “Ms. Yumeno, I think someone is calling you?” Maika said, hesitant to reach under the top and retrieve the gadget. Why would the shopkeeper have such an odd looking thing? It looked broken and even dangerous, with small sparks appearing occasionally. “Though this doesn’t look like it could take those.” She said to herself, wonder clear in her expression.

With a surprisingly swift gait for a woman of Yumeno’s age, her aged form made its way to the desk and grabbed the device. Youthful hands lifted to stop her in fear of the sparks hurting her. Strangely, the sporadic sparks did nothing and seemed to even swirl around the grip holding the tablet. That was not normal, but it was pretty in a way. They almost sparkled and added a shine to the weathered fingers around which they swirled.

“This old thing? A call? You crack me up, dear! It’s nothing but a past toy of mine. I hoped to give it to Mr. Furuya when he stopped by but forgot. I swear, my old lady brain would be lost if it wasn't trapped in my noggin.” Ms. Yumeno placed it on the countertop, the lit screen and sparks having disappeared.

Maika’s overactive brain highly doubted that statement, hoping for a more fanciful answer. “That thing must have been well-loved because it’s super worn down!” She stepped forward to get a closer look. “What does it d—”

Yumeno tensed suddenly as an almost inaudible laugh reached her ears. She seemed to recognize the tiny sound, as her face contorted into one of horror and hands clenched into tight fists. Ruby eyes darted towards the district’s park area a block away. She seemed unfocused, alarmed.

“Ms. Yumeno, are you okay?” Maika worried over her friend. She tried to place a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder but flinched as her object of concern whipped around to look at her with a serious face.

Weathered hands gripped the startled guest’s arms. “Ms. Mochizuki, I need to go check on something very important. Please stay inside the shop. Flip the sign, so nobody comes in and if you hear anything suspicious, hide in my office. It’s the safest room in my building.” Yumeno stepped back and almost immediately made her exit, quickly disappearing as she rushed towards the area she had been staring at moments before.

~☆~

Stunned, Maika took a moment to reorient herself. Only minutes ago she had been on cloud nine talking with an amazing new friend, and now she felt more on edge than she ever had, the instructions given implying there was an imminent danger approaching.

With slightly unsteady steps, she completed her given tasks. After flipping the sign to say ‘CLOSED’ her hands hesitated. She said to herself, “should I lock the door,” as her thoughts spiraled.

Yumeno had left her lanyard with the shop keys on the counter beside the mysterious tablet. If the door was locked, she wouldn’t be able to enter in the event she needed to return. Besides, she hadn’t given the order to lock up.

Maika’s thoughts were halted when a ‘BOOM’ sounded in the distance. Her fight or flight kicked in as she rushed to grab the keys on the counter, her panic keeping her from noticing the pink device’s screen, which had lit up once more.

Just as she picked out the shop key, the sparks from earlier returned at full force and began swirling around their source. They held a renewed power which shook the tablet and brought attention to a…voice?

“What?” The word slipped from Maika’s mouth as her body tingled with adrenaline.

“It’s working! Hurry, Twyla!” That high-pitched sound grew louder as the device’s screen grew brighter.

The curious girl stepped forward to look at the phenomenon, but just as she leaned over it—

“OW!”

A flash of blue and a direct hit to her forehead made Maika stumble to the floor. “Eiko! Yumeno Eiko, we need your help~hoo! It’s Nighty!” A small owl-like creature fell to the floor just as their accidental target. “Queen Chiharu has fallen and Nocturna has taken over! You must help—wait, you’re not Yumeno.”

Green eyes meet a tiny yet powerful glare coming from the talking bird. She stared at them in awe as a slightly bigger sheep-like creature floated down from the counter where the forgotten device lay. “I’m not Yumeno. I’m Maika, and you two are fairies, like from Cardcatcher Sakuya!” All worries disappeared when her words announced the realization. Was this happening? It all made sense! That tablet, these fairies, and possibly even Yumeno, were magical.

“Technically yes, but that doesn’t matter~hoo! An elderly woman with a beaded necklace and cane; have you seen her~hoo?” The owl, Nighty, asked. The sheep that now stood beside their partner looked at Maika quizzically.

Ignoring the somewhat unnerving stare from the pink lamb, she answered, “yes! I was with Ms. Yumeno before she ran outside. She looked scared. Do you think there’s trouble there?”

The pink lamb suddenly lit up after silently analyzing the new face. “Papa! We found her~twi! She’s a—“

Nighty shot up into the air and gestured for his daughter to follow. “Yes~hoo! Come on, Twyla. The Dream Eater General could already be here!” He dashed to the door and tried to push it open, with the winged sheep flying closely behind.

Maika followed and took over for the owl. When the three finally made it outside, she paid no mind to the silence of the streets and the unconscious bodies of customers laying across the area. She ran after the flying duo, who seemed to know where Ms. Yumeno was.

Panting, she let more questions slip. “Does this mean I can be a magical warrior? Because now that I know you exist, I’m the only option, right? I’m able-bodied but have terrible stamina, so maybe we could train!” Time for questioning ran out when, after turning the corner to a secluded area in the park, the trio was met with an alarming sight.

Yumeno kneeled on the ground with her cane holding most of her weight. She huffed, glaring at a checker-clad girl who wore a smile that oozed mischief.

“Admit it, Grandma. You’re no match for the Dream Eaters. We’ve already won. Finding the Precure and destroying them is merely a precaution.” Her haughty voice taunted. She reached her hand out and pointed directly at the center of her target’s forehead.

Maika leapt forward and yelled, “WAIT,” at the lavender-haired attacker.

Her adversary aimed an annoyed look at the disruption for a moment before smirking. “Sorry kid, you’re too late. Ran-Ran’s gotta show Grandma what happens when you anger Queen Nocturna.” The finger pointed at Yumeno summoned a small golden star and shot it before anyone else could interfere.

Yumeno and Maika stared at each other in shock. “Ms. Mochizuki! Run!” were the final words spoken before the star, hovering in front of the target, summoned a coffin-esc glass case to trap its victim.

“No.” Nighty yelled. The star shot out from the front of the case, hitting the ground with an impact strong enough to knock the on-lookers a few steps back.

From the ground, a shadow rose and solidified. After gaining shape and color, Maika realized the creature had taken the form of the bookshop! A single red light shone from the top window and looked down at the trio. It took a step forward and let out a mighty cry, “OSOROSHII!”

Ran-Ran cheered and jumped into the air, hovering beside the case holding Yumeno. “Now that’s some mighty Yumeki. We were smart to choose this place. Right, Nighty?”

The blue owl growled as his daughter hid behind a surprised Maika. “You have no right, Ran-Ran! Yumeki is not yours to steal~hoo!” His shouting stopped abruptly as the monster—Osoroshii—lifted a fist and brought it down where its new targets stood.

“Papa! We have to hide~twi!” Twyla cried, forcing her father and their ally to hide in a nearby wooded area.

The girl sat down with wide eyes. She squeezed her hands together over and over in order to calm herself. This was real, but it was nothing like she imagined. Her fuzzy friend nuzzled into the pink flower decorating her sweater, over her pounding heart. “T-This is crazy, ri-right? Th-that thing is so… so big! We ca-an’t stop it”

Nighty peeked out from behind the large tree they laid against. Ran-Ran and the Osoroshii had lost them, but not for long. “We can’t fight back. Where are the Pretty Cure~hoo? At least one should’ve shown up by now, but all the clocks are still with us~hoo. Why haven’t they awoken yet?” He mumbled at a rapid pace.

The questions floating in the air lit a spark in Twyla’s eyes. She separated herself from Maika and grabbed the bag that rested between her wings. The clasp opened and moments later she pulled out a blue clock with a small pink charm. “There is a Pretty Cure right here~twi! It’s you, I know it~twi!” the fancy trinkets were pushed into pale hands. Nighty’s beak dropped open in surprise.

“Me? Pretty Cure? Is that like a superhero?” her starstruck daze interrupted as the ground below them shook.

The tree they hid behind was suddenly bent to the side, the Osoroshii's gloved hand pushing the bulky trunk with ease.

“Found Ya!” Ran-Ran snickered.

They screamed and made a run for it, sprinting through the trees to reach the open field. The monster and commander were hot on their trail, and Twyla struggled to keep up. She faltered for a moment when the Osoroshii reached out to grab at her.

Maika glanced to her side, only to see her ally about to be swept up by the threatening creature. “No!” She cried and dove to wrap her arms around the lamb. She narrowly escaped with Twyla and continued forward to run away from their attacker.

“Are you okay?” Her words came out in short pants as she checked on her companion.

The pink lamb seemed shaken but thankfully unharmed. She nodded. “You saved me~twi!” Her voice was filled with admiration for her rescuer.

Maika gave an exhausted smile. “I couldn’t leave you with that monster,” she responded, “Ms. Yumeno is counting on us, so we aren’t going to give in!” The vigor with which she spoke reflected in her quickening pace, which kept strong even when the clock in her firm grip gave a small shake.

She felt a strange energy shoot through her. Twyla must have felt it as well, perking up and saying, “Maika! The Clock, you woke it up!”

Nighty reached the duo and spoke excitedly. “This is it~hoo! When it lights up, place the charm at the center of your Cure Clock and say, ‘Pretty Cure! Dreamy Switch On!’ The clock will ring, and you’ll transform~hoo.”

Twyla flew from Maika’s grasp, allowing her tense hands to lift the glowing charm that now emanated a bright pink.

A cackle sounded from just above them. “Finally! You are a pain to catch. I’m getting bored, so let’s finish up!” Ran-Ran and her Osoroshii towered over the three. On command, the monster swiped at the trio, knocking Maika onto the ground and grabbing both fairies.

“NO!” Even from her place on the ground, the pained cries of her allies were clear as day. Her sneakers shakily planted themselves on the ground as she rose with a renewed strength. “I won’t let you hurt them!” She yelled. “I can do this, because no matter how scary…” Her hands clenched the shining objects. With determination filling her being, Maika placed the Charm at her Clock’s center.

“I will protect my friends! Pretty Cure! Dreamy Switch On!”

~☆~

A melodic ring sounded as sparkles exploded from the clock, covering Maika in a pink glow. Her normal attire was replaced with a garment of silk fluorescent fabric. The world had become nothing more than an endless colorful space with lights decorating every corner.

The source of magic attached itself to the center of her chest. A pink ribbon and collar popped out from under it, and suddenly the dress molded into a puffy pink costume. Around her waist was an over skirt made entirely of the softest fluff. She twirled around and extended both arms. Small shooting stars latched onto each wrist and her neck; exploding with a colorful burst as they became a pair of short gloves and purple choker decorated with a single charm at the center.

Spotting a star much larger than the previous three, Maika jumped into the air and grabbed it. She bounced onto a nearby cloud and brought it to her head. As she leapt onto another cloud, the star burst just as its predecessors. It became a decorated headband in the shape of a sleep mask, the magic spreading over her hair as it grew longer and styled itself into a fluffy bob with twin buns and long low ponytail.

With her hair now the color of gold, Maika made one final leap down a swirling tunnel of magic. The mystical glow crawled up her legs and stopped inches below her skirt. Falling onto the final cloud solidified the energy into thigh-high boots decorated by ribbons and a star charm each.

She dove through the space as a trail of magic followed behind, as if she was the personification of a shooting star. A platform appeared beneath her to catch the heels of her newly acquired form. She landed gracefully, her presence causing the entire surrounding area to become a gradient of pinks and purples.

“Full of fantasy and endless dreams!” Newly gloved hands clapped together as she gave one final spin and struck a pose, her finger pointing directly to the sky.

“Up and at it, Cure Reverie!”

~☆~

Where a bespectacled girl once rested, Cure Reverie stood proudly. The Clock at the center of her chest’s ribbon shone brightly as if to announce her arrival.

It only took Reverie a moment to break from her stance to marvel at her dazzling new appearance. She squealed and touched the plush over skirt as well as her fluffy golden hair. “This outfit is too cute! It looks like a real magical warrior’s!”

Ran-Ran yelled in surprise and anger, which caught her transformed rival’s attention. “A Pretty Cure already? I swear, you love being a thorn in my side!”

The Osoroshii took a step forward on command to try to squish Reverie, who cried out and jumped much higher than her normal self ever could. She found herself floating high above the ground. Small translucent wings hovered beside each ankle while in the air, keeping the girl afloat.

“If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up!” She cheered and propelled herself downwards, letting out a mighty cry as her eyes locked onto the Osoroshii holding her allies captive.

The monster looked up just as Reverie reached her target, striking it with enough force to make the ground rumble slightly. Twyla and Nighty flew free of the monstrous grip. They took cover as quickly as they could, admiring the confidence with which Cure Reverie fought.

She flipped away from the Osoroshii as soon as her punch landed. She landed softly on the grass and looked up at the Ran-Ran, who stared at the girl in shock. A gloved finger and determined eyes pointed up at the monster’s creator, “I’ll fight as hard as I can! I won’t let you win!”

From her place beside Yumeno’s slumbering form, her attacker’s eyes lit up in fury. “We can’t let this Pretty Cure beat us. Osoroshii, get rid of her—NOW!” Ran-Ran screeched.

A large fist shot out to strike Reverie, only to be stopped by her launching forward with a roar and halting the punch with her palms. The strength of the impact shook the area between them as both forces tried as hard as they could to overpower their adversary.

“I’ll protect my new home!” The pink-clad hero shouted as the Osoroshii gained a slight upper hand, being able to push her back a few inches. Even as her heels dug into the grass behind her, Cure Reverie stood her ground. “I won’t let you hurt anyone!” She declared.

Before anyone could blink, the monster was flung backwards. “OSOROSHII!” It bellowed as it skidded across the field and came to a stop. Ran-Ran blinked from her captive’s side to hover above the shoulder of her monster. “I thought I said to get rid of her! Quit dragging this out and destroy that Precure!” She growled with malice.

In a rapid response, the Osoroshii charged forward. Its deep shouts grew in volume as it started to release a series of swings to catch Reverie, who moved as fast as she could. She barely kept up, jumping and bending on reflex to narrowly avoid the flying fists.

“AH!” A high scream rang out as the Osoroshii at last landed a hit, and a pink blur flew backward and crashed onto the ground. When the impact’s dust cleared, Reverie rose shakily to her feet.

Twyla shouted in concern. “The monster can be purified, Cure Reverie! Your Clock will stop it~twi! You can do this~twi!” The two fairies moved forward as if to take the fight on themselves, but were stopped by their warrior holding out her hand. She glanced back and sent a bright smile.

“Mhm! I don’t know why I was chosen, but being unsure won’t stop me,” She turned her eyes back to the monster, “I’m still going to give it my all!” With a final burst of energy, she sprinted forward, facing the approaching monster head on. It thrust a final punch towards her, but just as it was about to hit, her blonde hair ducked out of sight.

Reverie slid under the Osoroshii’s form with momentum that carried her through one final strike. She delivered a powerful kick which knocked her foe to the ground one last time.

When her target went down, the Cure Clock began to glow. She moved the wing-shaped hands through a full rotation and tapped the PreCharm at her clock’s center.

Reverie slapped her hands together. When she brought them apart, stars the size of a scholarly tome followed each hand. “Pretty Cure!” She spun around herself with extended arms; a trail of stars forming a ring around her figure.

The ring of stars rose in tandem with her right hand and moved to hover vertically in front of her. “Reverie,” she shot her hand forward with a raised thumb and pointer finger, “Revolution!” Her outstretched hand struck a space in the dead center of the circle, causing the ring of stars to shoot across the field with a ‘BANG’ and engulf the Osoroshii in a pink glow.

The monster’s red light slowly disappeared, as if it were an eye closing. “Good Night!” It said groggily before it vanished in a flash.

Ran-Ran pulled at her fluffy ponytail in annoyance. “You brat!” She yelled and crossed her arms. “Looks like the Pretty Cure are going to be much more of a nuisance than we thought,” she growled through clenched teeth.

The glass casket broke from her control and descended to meet Reverie. Ran-Ran scoffed and made to escape, vanishing with a puff of purple smoke.

“Ms. Yumeno!” Reverie cried. She stopped in front of the glass and saw a peaceful expression on her friend’s face.

Nighty and Twyla rushed over to stand beside the pink-clad Cure and sighed in relief when they saw no harm had come to the Osoroshii’s victim.

Reverie brought her hand up and noticed that her pointer finger had begun to glow softly. With a cheerful “Wakey, wakey,” her rescuer and tap to the tinted surface, Yumeno was freed.

Red eyes opened as she was gently laid on the grass. When the figures above her came into focus, Ms. Yumeno gave a tired chuckle.

“Boy, do we have a lot to talk about.”

~☆~

“Ms. Mochizuki, I don’t think you realize how dangerous this task is. Pretty Cure must fight for the good of everyone. Are you sure you can handle such a heavy burden?” Yumeno asked. The two humans and pair of fairies sat on a bench not far from where Ran-Ran had appeared.

Maika held Twyla in her lap, stroking her soft wool when she responded. “I’m positive. It might be dangerous, but I know I can handle it. Even if I fall, I know I’ll be in good hands.” She gave her friends a warm smile and went back to petting the lamb fairy.

Nighty spoke enthusiastically. “She can handle it, Eiko! The Pretty Cure are legendary warriors meant to handle anything~hoo. This girl has proven that not only is she meant to be a Precure, but now we have a fighting chance~hoo!” The blue owl boasted about the strength he had witnessed Cure Reverie fight with. He seemed to know Ms. Yumeno quite well, especially considering his lack of formality with her.

Twyla nodded in agreement. “MaiMai is amazing! I know she can help save Sweet Dream Kingdom~twi!” The subject of her adoration nuzzled her fuzzy head as thanks for the encouraging comment.

“Since I could talk, I’ve wished to become a hero like the characters in my books.” Maika began. She wore a soft smile and looked up at the sky. “I was told it’d never happen, but today has proven otherwise. I’ll fight for you with all I've got.”

Ms. Yumeno placed her hand over Maika’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I knew you were a special girl. We’re eternally grateful, dear.” She then took hold of her cane and stood up, giving the girl sitting below her a proud look. “Now, Ms. Mochizuki, let’s get to work. Are you ready?”

The soft smile gracing Maika’s face grew into a beam brighter than the stars. With the afternoon sun shining down on her, she nodded in response.

“I’m over the moon!”

#magical girl #oc artwork #precure #precure fanseries #pretty cure #pretty cure fanseries #fancure #magical girl oc #magical girl mascot #oc writing #pretty cure oc #precure oc

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kxowledge · 8 months

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The Home-maker, Dorothy Canfield Fisher

The Home-maker by Dorothy Canfield Fisher was such a lovely read. I dare say it’s what got me back into sitting down in the evening to enjoy a book. The book is built on the simple but intriguing premise of a story of (traditional) role reversal between husband and wife (housekeeping / earning an income). There’s so much more than this.

The writing is brilliant and it’s all I love about all of the Persephone Books selection. The subject matter might be mundane, yet each character is treated with so much depth. Through her word choices she conveys so much and paints a small window into the inner thoughts of each character, reminding us how lived experiences and thoughts differ (the nuances! the different povs!) and how everyone (even, and especially, the children) has a rich interior life and a lot to be valued for. Each having his own merit and his own intelligence. I found her approach of telling the story through the minds of the different characters very refreshing. Not one single character was one-dimensional. We get to see different facets of Helen, the wife, for example: we see her overlooking and frightening her children (involuntarily) but we also understand why she’s behaving like that and what’s making her miserable [“What she thought was her duty had held her found fast in a death-like silence and passivity” is such a good sentence]. We get to see Lester, the husband, and both how society sees him and how this reflects on how he sees himself. But we also see them evolve throughout the story, both becoming more at ease, changing their views of each other, and also dedicating more time to the children.

The kids are at the centre of the story and you can see between the lines some of the Montessori principles at work – mostly, I think, Canfield is arguing that children needs respect. Next to the recognition of the value of homemaking, this is very much central to the book. The “little human souls” are as worthy as the adult ones. I can say it did make me think about raising children a lot.

I was hooked from the first chapter, where I could relate a lot about the duty and stress of housekeeping – all the little things that need to be done, the thoughtful considerations, the sense of duty and of never-ending work. I found that I could understand a lot of the subtext because I could relate in many ways, either because of my own experience or because of that of people close to me (my grandmother came to mind for example).

The children’s reaction (fawn / flight / fight) for example. The description of anxiety. The psychosomatic connection with stress as a catalyser, which is a prevalent theme throughout the entire book for pretty much all of the Knapp family (Henry and Lester and their stomach issues, Helen and the eczema). Considering when this book was written, I found it eminently brilliant.

Yet, there’s still so much more. She touches on the role of poetry and the arts. She comments on how this arrangement can work only as long as it is socially acceptable (which is when it is forced upon the family, not chosen). She comments intelligently on consumer trends. She hints at conflicting values and different dispositions. Her portrait is a nuanced one, that is not all rosy.

Towards the last few chapters I had a growing anxiety – I was left waiting for a bad turn. Yet, like the other Persephone books I read, it has a happy ending. I wasn’t prepared for that. I somehow can’t have only good things happening, not being thwarted.

Overall, it was a great piece of fiction that’s both insightful and relevant to the day, while being also a comfortable, good read. The introduction and the final essay written for the edition were equally great.

#book notes #the homemaker #dorothy canfield fisher #so listen. it's not a newsletter but. i thought i'd try to write more about what i read and share it. so here you go.

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cdyssey · 1 year

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Apology Gifts

Summary: Though they've already reconciled, Melissa and Barbara also exchange apology gifts. [Post-2.18]

CW: Alcohol/Drunkenness Mention

AO3 Link

—

They exchange pitch perfect apology gifts that next morning.

Melissa raps on the window of Barbara’s sedan with reddened knuckles, holding up a small box of donuts and a crooked smile that is stretched across her lips like a sagging clothesline. And Barbara, noticing the strain—(how can she not?)—gamely forces herself to chuckle in reply, ignoring the sharp twinge of guilt just behind her navel long enough to elegantly gesture to her cupholders, where there are two coffees waiting.

Just the way they like them.

One black (Melissa’s) and the other so sugary that it might as well be a cavity in a cup (her own).

They didn’t text each other beforehand, didn’t call, didn’t so much as hint yesterday, as they were walking to their cars—their forearms sometimes brushing in reconciliatory relief—that this should be a thing.

They just know each other so well after nearly two decades of friendship, she supposes, that they anticipate one another. They wordlessly understand. For both of them, saying sorry in the teacher’s lounge was not enough; it was a bandaid; the wounds they exacted were devastating bullet holes.

Because, of course, that is the flip side to their total intimacy. Maybe if they hadn’t known each other so perfectly, they would have hurt each other far less.

Melissa walks around to the other side of the car and all but throws herself into the passenger seat, her cheeks rosy, her hair whipped from the wind, and together, they take communion, breaking bread and drinking something nearly as beloved as their favorite wine. They talk about nothing that really matters for the first few minutes. They canvas everything except for the one subject that they should probably be adults about and maturely unpack, smoothing past the initial awkwardness with traded anecdotes about what they had for dinner yesterday and how they felt about the most recent episode of Masterchef.

“Mm, this weather is nasty, isn’t it?”

“Pssh,” Melissa snorts, her nose still chafed from the cold. “You’re not kidding.”

The second-grade teacher tells her about how she got drunk off her ass the other night, and by the other night, they’re both deeply aware that she surely means the evening after they fought, even though neither of them has the guts to say it aloud. The metonymy keeps them safe, provides the illusion of distance from their most recent schism.

But realistically, it’s only been what?

Less than forty hours since Barbara had languished in her recliner until midnight? Worrying her hands together in the suffocating dark of the living room? Replaying the hurtful words that she and Melissa had so easily exchanged over their round table over and over again? (Yes, their round table—their safe space, their chosen sanctuary, their two-decades-and-counting home away from home. Naturally, it, too, is a metonymy, a convenient shorthand for something else entirely.)

(Something deeply and utterly unspeakable.)

Melissa had started it.

She had hit Barbara where it hurts, and what hurts is the vague insecurity—that becomes more defined with each passing year—that her necessity at Abbott is just another lie that she tells herself to go to sleep at night.

I’m perfectly content with my life.

She has a wonderful husband to come home to every night. She goes to church every Sunday and punctually attends Bible Club on the subsequent Wednesdays. Her daughters call her a few times a week. She and her loved ones are healthy, praise God. So many other people cannot fortunately say the same. What more can one woman ask for in this lifetime?

I don’t love her like that.

Melissa.

Her dearest and most beloved friend.

Who daily inspires an ungodly heat smoldering somewhere in the raw pit of her belly—despite the wonderful husband, despite the professional churchgoing, despite the perfect nuclearity of her family.

(She dutifully ignores this pain, though; she carries it with her to her personal Golgotha and crucifies it nightly as something to be atoned for in her prayers until the next morning when she begins her journey of self-martyrdom all over again.)

Friends set each other on fire, she rationalizes.

Friendship is about making the other burn.

I am still needed as a schoolteacher.

She is far from ready to retire yet.

Moreover, she absolutely can’t, even though her age is starting to suggest that she probably could. She is a staunch pillar at Abbott Elementary, long-established, intertwined in its storied matrix in a thousand different ways. If she retires now, who will educate the next generation of children? Who will teach them their shapes and sing silly songs about the alphabet with them? Who will assist them with their numbers? Who will help them finger paint rainbows for their loved ones?

Maybe anyone could do it—(that’s what people who don't know a damn thing about the public school system seem to think anyway)—but precisely no one can do it like Barbara Howard.

She continually soothes herself with this assertion anyway, and so perhaps that’s why she had been so devastated to hear Melissa argue against it.

Call her crazy, but she had just automatically assumed that her best friend wholly believed in her too.

And so Barbara had struck right back with all the incision of a scalpel, the tip of the stainless blade against the younger woman’s pulse point, the quip dripping from her lips with sickening ease.

Yes, it had been easy, almost effortless even, to vivisect her friend on the spot.

She had been well-aware, even as she said it, that Melissa has spent parts of her adulthood constructing herself against the perpetual insinuation that she was less than. Kids had teased her about her reading difficulties, so she didn’t talk about them. Barbara hadn’t even known that she struggled until they were a little over a year into their friendship, and during a double date, she’d heard Joseph complaining about how long it took for his wife to skim menus, causing her to flush the same arresting shade as her hair.

She’d snapped back, “You know it takes me a minute to process stuff.”

And for the rest of dinner, she’d been incapable of fully looking either Barbara or Gerald in the eye, spearing her food on her fork like it personally offended her.

The kindergarten teacher had never particularly liked her friend’s husband, but after that, she had absolutely loathed the man; she kept insinuating that Melissa should divorce him at least once a month for the next fifteen years, nearly shouting alleluia in relief when her most fervent wish finally came to pass.

And knowing all of this, Barbara had still gone there anyway, had taken a dig at Melissa's grammar, had so perfectly twisted that knife into her friend’s gut, and the memory of that lapse in judgment makes her stomach clench all over again.

But far from wallowing—an adamant non-practitioner of the art—the other woman doesn’t allow the moment to stick to either of their ribs. For Melissa has already clearly turned their harrowing fight into a joke—as she does, as is her wont, her most obvious and reliable coping mechanism. With infectious zeal, she colorfully describes how she’d almost greeted the pizza delivery guy in nothing but an Eagles t-shirt.

“And so I was yellin’ at the sucker through the door, telling him to hold on ‘til I could find my pants,” she elaborates, talking with her hands, waving a donut about, “but I was three beers and a marg popsicle in, and trying to make it up my staircase without wanting to upchuck was harder than my nephrectomy.”

“Almighty God in Heaven, Melissa,” she laughs in spite of herself, hand loosely splayed at the base of her throat. “How is that you always find yourself in these pantless predicaments?”

“The common denominator’s usually booze,” comes a coy reply. “Lots ‘n lots of booze.”

And they both laugh and they laugh because Melissa’s so proficient at spinning their collected hurts into the most outrageously funny yarns, and they laugh. And Barbara temporarily forgets to be anguished about the freighted remembrance of the other night and how it apparently undid them both. And she blushes profusely at the striking image of her friend naked from the waist down, her mind spiraling to unaccounted for places. And she knobs the heat down in the car like that’s the crucial tension that she needs to clearly resolve.

If Melissa notices—(and it's Melissa, she probably does)—she doesn’t say anything, taking a hearty bite of her donut and subsequently smearing chocolate icing on the side of her maraschino-red mouth.

It’s a singularly endearing effect.

“Sweetheart,” she rumbles fondly, “you’re making an entire mess.”

“Nothing new,” Melissa snorts. “You got a napkin?”

“Oh, mmmm—let me see.” She briefly roots around her console and the side compartment to no avail. “No, goodness, I’m sorry. I think I used the last of mine to clean up a small drink mishap last week...”

“Ah, don’t be. I can just—“ And Melissa reaches upwards to clearly use the back of her hand, but Barbara abruptly jolts, emphatically shaking her head.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Just let me—“ And rather than ever complete the thought, Barbara unthinkingly makes quick work of wetting her thumb and reaching over to swipe the stain away. The spines of her knuckles scrape the outline of that strongly hewn jaw. The pad of her thumb sinks into that soft, creamy skin and lingers there—like a gentle kiss.

Like a tender bruise.

She suddenly remembers, in the same maddening instant, that there are surely baby wipes in her purse. (She’s a kindergarten teacher; they’re a staple and an absolute necessity.) She doesn’t volunteer that information for some reason, though, her shuttered breath caught in the column of her throat as Melissa’s dark eyes visibly dilate, unblinking at the intimate contact.

Whatever there had once been of laughter and mirth slumps in the barest space between them, limp, all its falsities exposed.

They can laugh about the other night all they want.

That doesn't mean it didn't hurt to have lived through it.

“I’m sorry, Barb,” Melissa whispers, her mouth barely moving, clearly conscious of the geometry of their bodies in relationship to each other. Every dendritic nerve in Barbara's fingertips shivers in quiet anticipation.

“What for, silly?” Barbara tries to joke, stealing a leaf out of the other teacher’s book, but the effort is rather pathetic, undermined by the fact that she's still cupping the other's cheek. “It’s just chocolate.”

But, of course—

“It isn’t, though,” Melissa insists, the first to withdraw from the touch. She turns her head away, her fiery hair whirling wildly over her shoulder, and Barbara’s hand—where it had been touching, grasping, thumbing, holding—hangs in the air for a microsecond longer than it should. “I hurt your feelings the other day, and that was crappy of me. What you do is so important, hon, and I’m really sorry if I made ya think otherwise.”

A pause then, long and vulnerable, filled only with the telltale shuffling of their breaths.

Barbara doesn’t exactly know what to do with what is being offered to her: complete and total accountability. She demands it of herself, of course—each and every blessed day—and yet, receiving it from another is somehow too much.

Undeserved even.

(It’s lost on her why she believes that she merits any of her accumulated injuries. She has longed to hear these words; upon receiving them, she only knows how to neatly discard them on the doorstep.)

“And I hurt your feelings back,” she eventually returns, reaching out again, but this time placing her hand on Melissa’s forearm, fingers curling over her leather-clad wrist.

The touch has its intended effect. It brings the younger woman back to her with a slight sniff and a shy, almost girlish tilt of the head.

“I swung even lower than Janine’s height,” she continues softly, holding on to her, clinging even. “That makes us two of a kind, sweetheart.”

Even though she doesn't know how to accept an apology, she sure as hell knows how to give one back; accountability is a two-way street, and she's long been familiar with its well-worn path. She traverses it every day, always finding something or another to vaguely feel guilty about in the end, for accountability is her personal Golgotha is her own martyrdom is her Sisyphean hell is her daily and lived-in reality.

“God, you’d make a good priest, Barb,” Melissa grins at this, shaking her head fondly.

“Pardon me?” Barbara can’t help but chuckle at the apparent non-sequitur.

“Always absolvin’ me of my sins,” Melissa chortles in reply, though the expression in her eyes is still complicated, tinged with a quiet and clearly practiced melancholy. Barbara slowly drags her thumb up and down her friend’s sleeve, feeling the resistance of the fabric and continuing anyway, idly pushing and pulling, back and forth and back again…

“Oh, well, I certainly don’t have that right,” she shrugs softly. “I just… very much prefer it when you and I are on the same page, Melissa.”

And she meaningfully tips her free hand towards the coffee cups still between them and the box of mostly eaten donuts on the sun-weathered dash.

“We just work, don’t we?”

It’s a highly rhetorical question, of course, as she gestures to these tangible gestures and tokens of their love, as she grips Melissa’s arm, as she stares at her like she’s the only person in this cold and lonely world.

They work—the two of them. They always have. It's their shared presumption that they always will.

Melissa decides to say the quiet part aloud.

Jokingly, of course.

It always has to turn into a joke with her.

“Hah, maybe more than we probably should.”

#work wives #reginianwrites #s: abbott elementary #I love sad and tender conversations between women tm

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cursedfortune · 7 months

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“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

Fantastical Prompts @fallesto

"You're no saint." The witch answered her beloved's compliment with a simple fact. Their proclamation one that made her heart flutter all the same - a feat only her Regulus was capable of achieving, it would seem.

She eyed the Sin of Greed with a particular gleam in her eyes, a warmth reserved only for him. It was quite the greeting to be met with as she had been sitting, reading to pass the time until his inevitable return. Without taking her eyes off of him the book was shut as she slid it from her hand to drop onto the tabletop she had been leaning upon. He was home and she had lost all interest in whatever little things she had been doing to occupy her time.

Feel it. The uptick of her heartbeat within his chest. Feel how safe she kept his own that rested in hers.

Rising to her feet the witch's gaze flitted over his form before lifting to stare at the unseen crown atop his head. He didn't need one to be worn for it to be known just whose domain this was. In fact, plenty of crowns from fallen kingdoms were discarded within his treasure trove of a room. Enough trinkets from the said to start his own country - had this palace alone not been enough. "But you are a king." Her lips curved into a slight grin as her hand touched upon his shoulder. Fingertips danced along his shoulder, across his upper back to meet the other as she moved around his form. It was easy to admire her beloved who stood flawlessly before her - prim and proper without a single wrinkle to his name. Unruffled by the outside world.

Rounding in front of her husband once more she leaned forward, her chest softly brushing against his. "Yet you do not kneel." Mortem whispered, the barest hint of her lips against his jaw.

A hum of amusement escaped her as she straightened once more with a playful squint of her eyes. Was he suddenly shy to make good on those words? It wasn't as if she hadn't experienced him on his knees before - not all of which were lewd situations, even! Though, those were her favorite to tease him about just to provoke rosy cheeks.

She'd forgive her Regulus. He was lucky he looked better standing tall than on his knees - she mused to herself. But of course she'd think such; this dangerous Archbishop was one she fully endorsed, a partner she wanted to see stand proudly and powerfully. This unsuspecting face of his was the very one so many saw last. She couldn't help but cup his cheek a moment before moving to sink her fingers into his pale locks, beckoning him to near her. "If you will not kneel, then what will you do instead to proclaim your love for me, hm?" Mortem coyly teased with that of a matching expression. For if her husband wished to compliment and flirt upon returning home, who was she to not return it?

#fallesto #asks

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rubin-therubix-loverofblorbos · 2 years

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I SOLVED IT OH MY FUCKING GENIUS ASS WOOOAH

GUYS, OH MY FUCKING GORSH. JACK ISN'T BON HE'S SHOW-BEAR. OH FUCKIT ALL MAKES PERFECT SEnSE BUT I DON'T KnOW HOW TO DESCRIbE IT. BON IS LIKE THE ANTAGONIST RIGHT BUT JACK LOVED HIS FAMILY WITH ALL HIS HEART AND SEEMS LIKE TOO GOOD A MAN TO BECOME A SERIAL MURDERER, FELIX, ON THE OTHER HAND, WAS AN ALCOHOLIC WHICH MEANS HE COULD LOSE ALL MORALS WITH A FEW STRAY GULPS OF THAT VODKA AAAND HE IS BURDENED WITH OVERWHELMING GUILT WHICH MEEEANS HE HAS THE EXACT TOOL KIT TO BECOME A " IF I HAVE TO SUFFER EVERYONE ELSE WILL TOO" VILLAIN.

ALSO, IF WE LOOK BACK TO BUNNY FARM JACK AND FELIX HAVE REMOTELY SIMILAR VOICES AND ROSEMARY WAS SO DESPERATE TO FIND HER HUSBAND THAT EVEN A REMOTELY SIMILAR VOICE COULD LEAD HER TO BELIEVE HER HUSBAND WAS CALLING HER. ALSO, IF YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY FELIX WAS CALLING HER ROSIE, HE HAS BEEN FRIENDS WITH JACK SINCE COLLEGE AND HE HAS PROBABLY FIGURED OUT THAT JACK {AND JACK ONLY} CALLS ROSEMARY "ROSIE".

ALSO, TO EXPLAIN THE "JACK IS SHOW-BEAR" PART OF THE THEORY, JACK WOULD BE HEARTBROKEN AND HE WOULDN'T WANT HIS DEAR DAUGHTER TO BE AS WELL, SO HE WOULD TRY AND MAKE HER FORGET HIS, ROSIE'S, AND HER YOUNGER SIBLING'S DEATH, WHICH GIVES HIM A VALID REASON TO TRY AND GIVE HER THE FORGET-PILLS. LET'S NOT FORGET THE LITERALLY FIRST EPISODE IN WHICH JACK IS IN LITTLE BON'S TV, WHICH HINTS AT THE FACT THAT SHOW-BEAR IS IN THE GAME BUNNY FARM. THERE ARE PROBABLY SO MANY OTHER EASTER EGGS THAT CONFIRM MY THEORY BUT I CAN'T THINK RIGHT NOW

#why was this in all caps #BUT LIKE IT MAKES SENSE #TWF #the walten files #jack walten #felix kranken

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undertheashtree · 10 months

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Creating My Own Version of the Pat McGrath Mothership XI Palette

If you haven’t checked out my YouTube channel, then something you need to know about me is that I love the Pat McGrath Mothership palettes. I own the first ten (nine of which were given to me as gifts by my husband and my mother-in-law). I’ve lusted after these palettes for years, though I never actually thought I would own so many of them.

Since “completing” my collection at the beginning of this year, I’ve had no desire to add to my Mothership collection. I also wondered if the brand would end the line at ten palettes, mostly because the last three received a lot of criticism for being too similar and too pink, but here we are with number eleven.

(This picture belongs to Pat McGrath, I just took a screenshot off the website.)

Upon seeing this palette for the first time, it immediately reminded me of Divine Rose I and II (the seventh and eighth palette). Everything appears to have some level of rosy pink to it, with the exceptions of the dark matte brown (bottom row, first shade) and the gold (bottom row, last shade). I can acknowledge this palette is pretty, but it’s painfully boring and repetitive, especially since I have every other Mothership palette. Without trying, I know I could easily dupe, or at least come extremely close to, this new palette with the Pat McGrath eyeshadows I already own.

Furthermore, the name of this palette—Sunlit Seduction—speaks to its wasted potential, in my opinion. Sunlit Seduction. I saw the name and was overwhelmed with the idea of what this palette could have been. Sunsets and sunrises came to mind, with their bold, fiery, warm color palettes, with just a hint of blues and purples. I spent some time Googling sunsets and sunrises, along with noting the names of the original eyeshadows, and set to work creating my vision of this palette.

By the way, there is a video of me building this palette up on my channel, if you’d like to check it out.

I used the names of the original eyeshadows as additional inspiration for what colors I wanted to use in my version of the palette. I’ll talk about the eyeshadows going top to bottom, left to right. The first shade is called Skintense Radiance, and it appears to be a champagne metallic with a pink undertone. I felt this should have been more yellow, something more sunshine-y, so I opted for a pastel yellow metallic. This is a franken-shadow I mixed together a while ago, and I don’t remember what went into it.

Next was Nude Rose. This felt too cool-toned, almost mauve. Looking at the sunrise/sunset pictures, some of the pinks do lean somewhat purple, but more like a lilac and not mauve. There were also a lot of warm pinks, although the majority seemed softer than I was imagining. I settled on this warm, peachy pink called Eden. The pigment is soft, but still bold, which mimicked the pink in the pictures really well.

Then we have Hypnotic Bronze. I’m not a fan of these orange-leaning bronzes/coppers, like what’s in the original palette, and which Pat McGrath insists on including in so many of her palettes. Also, bronze, the metal, can look blue and green. In the sunrises especially, I was seeing hints of pastel green, and thought this would be a good opportunity to include a small flash of green in the palette. The eyeshadow I included is called Crystal, and it’s got a pinkish brown base color with lots of green and blue shimmer.

Onto our first “special” shade, called Astral Pink Fetish. Another eyeshadow color I’m not a fan of is pink to gold duochromes, and no amount of sparkle—and this one seems to have a lot—will change that. This is also a duochrome that we see a lot from Pat McGrath, which makes this “special” shade the least special in the palette. I wanted to keep the pink but wanted the finish to be more blue/purple, so I went with Good Gawd for this shade. Even though this isn’t the same formula as Pat McGrath’s “special” shades, this eyeshadow is definitely special in its own way, and I felt it would replace that particular formula really well.

Then we have Blitz Crimson Ecstasy, which is the most disappointing shade in the palette. Nothing about the original eyeshadow says “crimson”. It’s incredibly pink and seems to have very little red actually in it. I have a few really lovely metallic reds, but I chose to go with a multichrome, which is called Lucid. It’s a black-based multichrome that shifts purple, magenta, red, orange, gold, and a hint of green at the end. I felt this really embodied the vibe I was trying to go for, especially the sunset side of things, and I wish the brand would include some bolder multichromes in their palettes.

Next was Xtreme Vermillion, which isn’t vermillion in the slightest. The color vermillion is more of a red-orange, leaning more towards red. The eyeshadow in the palette is a dark, warm brown. To be fair, I also didn’t go with a real vermillion, but I did want a primary red matte. One day, I hope Pat McGrath puts out some bolder colorful mattes like this one, called Button Bush, so I suppose this decision was partially driven by wishful thinking. I also love a good, matte, primary red, and I felt this was a good palette to include it in.

Next was Copper Dawn, which looks more gold than the bronze, but still very warm and orangey. My vision for this palette warranted a strong gold, but I didn’t want anything too yellow, or that leans orange. The one I chose, called 365, is a gold with brown undertone, giving it a bronzier look. It also has a subtle green finish, which, I think, added something interesting to the palette.

Then we have Sienna Mystique, which is a warm, midtone brown matte. Looking at the color sienna, it’s more of a burnt orange, so that’s what I went for. I considered going a little more neutral, but the brightness of this shade, called Enigma, embodied the fieriness of a sunset really well.

Probably the only shade in the entire palette that I enjoy is Astral Amethyst Allure. It’s a hazy kind of purple, lots of sparkle, and has a pink finish. My initial instinct was to dupe this shade, but I didn’t have anything close, so I went with a grungier brownish purple with lots of silver glitter, called Wild & Free. It has a similar vibe to the original shade, but adds an interesting amount of grunginess to the palette that I quite enjoy.

Finally, we have Astral Gilded Aura, which is a sparkly gold. It looks really bright, but also like a glittery gold in the Mothership X. For this shade, I chose to put my dislike of orangey metallics aside and opted for a gold with an orange base, called Stardust. It’s similar to 365, but the base color is bright, more red-orange, and it’s got a strong gold finish.

This is far from my usual color story. I’m much more drawn to greens, blues, purples, and greys, so this warm, orangey palette is out of my comfort zone, but I think I like it. It’s at least more interesting than Pat McGrath’s version, so I’m counting this as a win for that reason alone.

I’ll leave you with some swatches. The eyeshadow names, as well as their palettes, will be listed below (written in order from top to bottom, left to right, in the palette).

Yellow franken-shadow Eden - Anastasia Beverly Hills Prism palette Crystal - Beauty Bay Book of Magic palette Good Gawd - J.D. Glow single Lucid - Chaos Makeup multichrome Button Bush - Ace Beaute Floral Vintage palette 365 - J.D. Glow single Enigma - Blend Bunny Blends palette Wild & Free - Dose of Colors single Stardust - Beauty Bay Book of Magic palette

#byop #byops #building my own palettes #build your own palette #pat mcgrath #pmg #mothership #sunlit seduction #eyeshadow #eyeshadows #singles

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ivegotforever · 1 year

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💕💕💕

Jack had been lounging on one of the settees in the library—a book held in one hand that he had read thousands of times. There was nothing on the agenda today besides the Doctor running some test on the TARDIS' navigation systems. As much as he loved the adventures the couple had it was nice to have a few quiet days to relax. So many things to do, so little time. He had the idea to finish this chapter then take a quick visit to his husband for a distraction. He was really good at that, giving the Doctor a cheeky little smile and they goofing off. Too distracted right now——he thought with a hint of irritation. With a small groan the book is placed on his chest while hands rub at his eyes. He's sluggish, or is it boredom that clouds his thoughts? Heaving himself from his seat Jack makes his way to the control room wondering what chaos he'll be walking into. "Hey Doc, just checking up on you." a small yawn escapes, arms stretching up while walking through the entryway. Brown eyes scan around the room with no husband in sight. Gears and other mechanical things were strewn across the floor haphazardly—had a tornado come through here to cause this chaotic mess. He slowly pads into the room, face quizzical as he takes in the control room. The hatch was open so it's possible he could be below there tinkering away without paying any mind to what is happening around him. "Honey? Are you ignoring me or———" The captain never got to finish the sentence. In a moment arms grasped his shoulders and turning him around. A gasp slipped out when he was face to face with his lover, bright blue eyes playful with black fluids brushed across his forehead and rosy cheeks. He would have gotten another word in edgewise if it weren't for lips crashing against his with near reckless abandonment. It was perfect, sweet, and everything that he wanted in the world. He didn't even care that his face would be smudged or his clothes dirtied—he only desired for this moment to last a million lifetimes.

nine grabs jack for a kiss → @mostincrediblechange

#🇾🇴🇺'🇻🇪 🇬🇴🇹 🇶🇺🇪🇸🇹🇮🇴🇳🇸? 🇼🇪🇱🇱 🇮'🇻🇪 🇬🇴🇹 🇸🇴 🇦🇳🇸🇼🇪🇷🇸. ( 🇦🇸🇰 🇷🇪🇵🇱🇮🇪🇸 )#mostincrediblechange #🇩🇴🇨🇹🇴🇷. 🇲🇾 🇩🇴🇨🇹🇴🇷 ( 🇲🇴🇸🇹🇮🇳🇨🇷🇪🇩🇮🇧🇱🇪🇨🇭🇦🇳🇬🇪 )#;i very much planned to write for all three doctors since you sent three hearts #;i still just might when the muse comes to me

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greysbuilder · 2 years

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Bath and body works kaleidoscope

BATH AND BODY WORKS KALEIDOSCOPE FULL

Rewire, replumb, build, lay floors, add walls and doors, work out exactly where we wanted all the light switches to go. We had to do everything and I mean everything. I say a house – it was actually more of a building site: walls stopped several feet short of the floor, the enormous hot water tank was temporarily plumbed into the middle of the kitchen and a perilous ladder took you up to the semi-completed top floor.īut it was in the right location we calculated that building into the side return and extending at the back meant we could make it big enough for our needs (we have three children) and, crucially, it was within budget, so we took the plunge, and embarked on a hefty renovation project. Powdery (probably the iris and white musk).Ĭheck out this fragrance unicorn for yourself!Īs an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.A couple of years ago, my husband and I bought a house. People, Kaleidoscope smells more fruity, sweet (probably the pink pepper) or

BATH AND BODY WORKS KALEIDOSCOPE FULL

For me, Kaleidoscope smells like aĬedarwood hope chest, full of clean linen and hints of floral perfume. I also sprayed some of the scent on my wrist so I could see The ribbon warms up with your body heat and gives a good idea of what Kaleidoscope will smell like with your body’s chemistry. She tied one around my wrist so I could walk around the store, getting a feel for the fragrance. Try for YourselfĪt the Woodfield store, the store associate had beautiful little blue and white BBW ribbons scented with Kaleidoscope. BBW’s packaging also hints at the chameleon way the fragrance changes with each person’s unique body chemistry. This has to do with the way an iris’ petals play with the light, revealing many different tones of color. The name iris comes from the Greek Rainbow goddess Irida. This is a wonderful choice because it hints at the origin of the iris flower’s name. The bright, metallic finish reflects the light into rainbows. Kaleidoscope beautiful iridescent packaging. The most notable, and arguably best, use of pink pepper is in Estee Lauder Pleasures. Pink pepper veers towards rosy, not spicy. The note has been in some of the best fruity and floral fragrances of the last two decades. Pink pepper is a very modern addition to a fragrance. It adds a sophistication to a blend while giving it depth and longevity. It is clean and airy like freshly laundered linen. BBW’s white musk is featured in other fragrances like their Fresh Gardenia. It is exciting to find it in a women’s fragrance. It adds a cozy backdrop to a fragrance that makes you want to get Usually,Ĭedarwood is featured only in men’s fragrances. CedarwoodĬedarwood is an intriguing addition to the fragrance. The changes depend on the source material and the wearer. She can be cold and metallic, powdery and soft, or earthy and rooty. Iris changes depending on the wearer’s chemistry and even the ambient temperature and humidity. I would also call iris high-end because it can be an acquired taste. One of the most notable iris scents is Iris Poudre by Frederic Malle. Kaleidoscope to develop differently on each wearer. They can do that at this price point!) The natural fragrances allow You should see the fragrance mist, perfume, body cream and lotion, and shower gel along with a rollerball fragrance all in stores now.Ī store associate told me a little about the Kaleidoscope. I spotted Kaleidoscope in stores for the first time this weekend. I knew Kaleidoscope featured iris and I wanted to smell this for myself. For unknown reasons, the only Kaleidoscope item available in my area was a dry shampoo and I just could not tell what the perfume was going to smell like it. I first received notice of the launch in Fall of 2018. Kaleidoscope has been a very elusive prey for me.

#Bath and body works kaleidoscope

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watermelonlovershigh · 2 years

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14 Little Things Harry Does During Sex (SMUT)

The 14 Little Things Harry Does During Sex ~Short Scenarios~ (SMUT) is a more in depth version to this that i recommend you read after this.

AN: some of these I came up with myself and the others were requested by this anon.

This contains: lots of smut with equal amounts of fluff, no dialogue

{ any!harry (boyfriend, husband, or dad) - soft!harry - 2018 Harry era }

word count: 1106

The little things Harry does during sex that you've picked up on through-out the many of times you have sex together.

1. Harry is definitely a toe curler. When he's in the midst of an orgasm, his long, bony toes curl into the sheets and you think its kind of cute. Especially when he has his toes nicely painted and groomed.

2. Whenever Harry gets carried away and starts thrusting too hard during sex, he'll focus on slowing down and as an apology he will bend down and peck a small kiss to your forehead. You think its the sweetest gesture.

3. When you're riding his cock and its more slow and intimate where you're laying down with your chest pressed to his chest, Harry will have his hands on your naked back and trace up and down your spine. His thick, soft fingers lightly glide up and down the middle of your back and it sends chills through-out your body.

4. Harry always does this straining face when he's trying his best to hold off on his orgasm. Because his number one rule is for the women to come first but sometimes its so damn hard when that women is you and you're his lover. Harry will subconsciously be holding his breath and when you look at his face, it will be all red and sweaty.

5. Sometimes Harry will place a hand on your lower tummy during sex and feel himself from within you. He makes sure not to press too hard because he doesn't want to give you an achy stomach but just enough pressure to feel his long, girthy cock as well as add to the pressure that helps enhance the feeling of your orgasm.

6. Harry does this little thing where if its dark in your bedroom and you're having sex, he'll tap his fingers three times on some part of your skin. Not repeatedly. Usually just once, three times. You've asked him why he does that and Harry explains its just an intimate gesture he enjoys doing to let you know he's there and you're safe. The first time he told you why he taps your skin three times, he felt like a complete idiot and got embarrassed. But you thought Harry couldn't get more sweet if he tried. Now whenever he's fucking you under the covers late at night and lightly taps your shoulder or thigh three times, you search for his lips in the dark to let him know you appreciate his doings.

7. Harry really loves finger sucking. It won't be a whole act in and of itself but more so sneakily done during the sex. If you're having sex in missionary, you'll raise one of your hands up and Harry will happily bob his head down onto your slender fingers, mocking a blowjob. Sometimes afterwards you bring those fingers down to toy with your clit. If you're riding Harry's dick, you'll reach your fingers down and he'll slowly open his mouth for you to place your fingers on his tongue. And when you're having sex in a cuddling position where Harry is behind you, with the arm he has tucked under your neck Harry will take that hand and run his fingers around your face until he finds your rosy lips. You'll get the hint and open your mouth to take his fingers in and suck on them while his hips continue to rock forward into yours.

8. Harry makes these cute little noises when he's experiencing pleasure. They're mixed with a whine and a moan. When you first got together, Harry was insecure about his pleasure sounds but over time has grown comfortable enough around you that he doesn't think twice when letting them escape his mouth. In missionary, he'll have his mouth up to your ear and when those moans mixed with a grunting cry enters your ears, it makes a rush of joy and pleasure course through your body as well. Because any noise Harry makes during sex is a huge turn on for you.

9. Besides his toes curling and little moans he does when experiencing great amounts of pleasure, Harry's mouth also falls open wide when his orgasm takes over. He truly has an 'O' face. And most of the time its combined with his eyes fluttering shut.

10. Speaking of fluttering, Harry's tummy flutters a lot during sex. When he's thrusting into your pussy, you'll look forward and see his ab muscles flexing. Or when he's completely on top of your body, you can even feel his tummy tightening and relaxing, tightening and relaxing. Then when you're riding Harry, sometimes you'll slide your hands down from their position on his chest and place them on his stomach. You can actually physically feel his stomach contracting under your palms as well as see his stomach divot in and out.

11. Harry mumbles curse words under his breath when you clench around his cock. Whether for teasing purposes or because you're actually coming. And this is also when his strained face comes into play. Because as Harry is cursing quietly along with a red and sweaty face, he's in the process of trying not to ejaculate inside of you quite yet.

12. When you and Harry are having some really loving and intimate sex, Harry will either sit up and place his hands over your pounding heart beat, or he'll lean down and press the side of his face over your heart beat. It's just something that comforts Harry if he's being honest. There's no deeper meaning behind the act.

13. Sometimes during sex, Harry will get a random itch and scratch it. It makes you melt from cuteness overload every time you see it happen. If you're riding Harry and he gets a little itch on his chest, he'll take one of his hands and scratch it without care. Or if you're on top and his thigh starts itching, he'll reach down and scratch it. He's even been on top and had to reach around to scratch his ass cheek that was in full sight behind him.

14. On the occasions when Harry's hair is a bit long and his bangs keep falling into his face, he'll stop mid fuck and take one of the elastics from around his wrist to tie his top curls into a little bun. You'll whine from the lack of moment of his hips but before you know it, Harry is back to thrusting into you in a set rhythm that works for both of you. He doesn't care he may look silly with his hair in a baby bun at the top of his head. Harry's just that comfortable with you. Plus you love the look.

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(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND ITS FREE SO JUST DO IT)

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @evanjh // @harryhoney-bee // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @elenagilbert01 // @bohogothic // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesthings // @peaceandloverry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @wherethehellhaveyoubeenharry // @stallrry // @skyangel57 // @harry-is-my-little-spoon // @the-gardener-31 // @harryspumkinloveslonghairstyles // @gublerscherry // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore1 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight

let me know if you'd like to be added on my tag list in my next post by telling me HERE (let me know if i forgot to add you)

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles lists #harry styles concepts #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles sex #harry styles cuteness #soft!harry #softrry #any!harry #boyfriend!harry #husband!harry #dad!harry #harry x reader

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

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Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader Fanfic

-Pairings: mob! Tom Holland x reader

-Warnings: Language

-Words: 3.9K

Background Info- Tom Holland is boss of his mafia and Y/N Holland, his wife, is former mafia boss turned stay at home mom but still joined Tom on his business trips and meetings. They started dating at 19 and were married at the young age of 21, realizing they only needed each other. They have two kids together, both ages 16, Parker and Rosie Holland.

*Realistically to have two teenagers, Tom and Y/N are both in their mid/late thirties but they look like they are in their mid twenties/late twenties alright. What can I say, they have really good genes. I can guarantee that Tom will still definitely look as gorgeous as he does know in his 30’s.

Author note: I enjoy writing drama, so it’s hard to have constant fluff, mostly angst (I hope, at least what I consider angst). The more times where a character almost dies but doesn’t the better to me. This is my first fanfic, I wrote this story based on being married with kids because that is the part of my life I’m most looking forward to. Heads up but there is tons of dialogue, I find that the most fun to write.

Also I enjoy PDA and a personal goal of mine is to be married for 20 years and still want to jump my husband’s bones so there are a bunch of little hints like that through the fanfic. Sorry if your name is any of the characters, feel free to change them in your mind. I know it’s stupid of me to say that but whatever.

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Words: 3.9K

You and Tom were a power couple. The Hollands, the ones with the most power and the most dangerous. A king and queen to their empire. Lately you had been tackling married life together and had been raising two kids. A boy named Parker and a girl named Rosie both the same age. But nothing could prepare you for what every parent dreads, their teenage years. All the hormones, mood swings and relationship drama that comes with it.

When both the twins turned 16 it was big turning point in your family. Rights of passage as Tom would say. You and Tom threw a massive gala to celebrate their 16 years of being alive. Tom as the leader of his own mob, money was no object and you coming from the family you did and being a former mafia boss, you both had truly opulent wealth. It was the night of their kids’ sixteenth birthday and everyone was invited from family, friends, business associates and even enemies. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer they would say. Tom and tried to keep as much as possible from your kids, trying to give them a normal childhood. Failing over and over again at that. Some nights Tom would come home bloody from beating up someone who crossed him. Or there would always been strange, bulky, built men surrounding your mansion for protection. It was hard to explain everything to the kids, but it was something they just had to do for family.

The party was about to begin, 7:00 on the dot, and the house was decorated to fit a very elegant yet youthful look. Caterers dressed in white carrying bountiful trays of appetizers. Tom and you adored the luxury of their life, even though they knew if they didn’t have all the materials they did they would be even happier. Their family is what mattered most to them. You were dressed to the nines, in a lace gold gown, with sparkly stilettos on. Her Y/H/C hair gracefully laying one her back, without a strand out of the place. And her Y/E/C eyes were beaming, if looks could kill they would. Tom couldn’t help but admire you.

“You know, it’s rude to gawk,” you said and Tom chuckled.

“I’m sorry but you’re just too beautiful not to,” he responded and placing his hands on your hips.

Rolling your eyes and smirking you said “tonight’s the night.”

“I know, should we do it now?” he questioned as his half smile turned into a frown.

“No, let him have this one more night. Without any obligation,” you had been dreading this night for years.

“Alright, darling,” he said as he kissed softly, he just couldn’t contain himself he

found his other half. The person that makes him want to be a better man. His soulmate.

Like any family there are skeletons in their closets but, the Hollands were a whole another story. Tonight was the night, one they had been dreading for 16 years, to be exact. You and Tom’s son, Parker would be tasked with the most difficult decision of his life. One that will rewrite his story. Tom wishes he would just turn it down and do what he didn’t have the balls to do when he was his age.

The day Tom’s dad brought him into the office, he knew his life would never be the same. Dom, his father and former boss of the Holland empire, made it very clear that if he turned him down, he could forget about being in this family. Tom just knows he won’t give the same ultimatum. Parker being the oldest and only son of Tom and Y/N Holland is the future of their family empire. Parker was quite popular, a playboy actually and very dashing. Wearing a black suit with a black tie and a white shirt he look just like his dad with his brown hair slicked back. Being one of the guests of honor tonight he had to look the part. Slowly made his way to the bar before his mother could find him. Desperately needing some liquid courage, he quickly poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it even faster. However nothing gets past, you, Y/N Holland.

“Parker Jackson Holland!” you fumed, catching her 16 year old son drinking.

“Hey, what’s with the middle naming me, it’s my birthday,” he responded a little startled.

“You should not be drinking, ever. You got two years, mister,” you explained.

“Alright, mum,” Parker sounded annoyed.

“Where’s your sister by the way, party is supposed to start in 10 mins,” you said as she noticed all the guest starting to arrive. A line of people already waiting at the door but everyone knew the Hollands preferred people to arrive fashionably late.

“I don’t know. Having a fit probably. Last I heard was screaming coming from her closet.”

“I’ll go check on her. Your father and I need you sober later. Understood?” You exclaimed.

“Yes, mum.” Parker was a good boy on paper but, enjoyed breaking the rules.

Right as you turned away, Parker then started to pour another shot.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said still walking forward. Parker chuckled and set the shot down.

You went to go check on her daughter. You knocked on the door when she heard something shatter. Rosie may seem timid but she definitely inherited Tom’s anger issues.

“Honey? Is everything alright?” You questioned, startled by the outburst.

“Yeah, mum. I’m sorry,” Rosie muttered seeming frustrated.

“It’s ok, oh honey!” You exclaimed, noticing the tears on her daughter face

“I know, this is stupid,” Rosie whispered trying to hide her tear stained face.

“No, no it isn’t. What’s wrong?” you said, genuinely concerned for her daughter’s well-being.

“I don’t know everything, this dress, my hair, my makeup,” she exclaimed frantically.

“Baby, you look beautiful.”

“Pretty enough that someone would want to dance with me?” Rosie whispered. You were caught off guard that your daughter could ever have thoughts like that.

“Yes of course, you are always gorgeous.” You hated seeing your baby girl beat herself up based on her looks.

“Thanks mom, I have a question?” You just nodded in response.

How did you get dad to fall in love with you?” Rosie asked inquisitively.

“Um, I guess was just myself. I didn’t put on a facade and I was very honest and transparent with him,” you answered a little taken back from the question.

“You were yourself? I find that hard to believe. From stories I’ve heard you seemed to be bold, brave and beguiling” said Rosie with a hint of sarcasm.

“Am I not those things now?” You asked, cheekily.

“No you are, just in a different way.”

“Honey, whoever you are trying impress, will love for who you are, ok?” You couldn’t stand seeing her daughter like this.

“Alright. Can you help me with my makeup?” Rosie asked because her previous makeup had been ruined by her miniature breakdown

“Yes, of course.”

Back at the party Tom was making his way around saying hello to almost everyone. He desperately needed to find his son. Tom’s and Parker’s relationship was interesting to say the least. As babies and toddlers Tom was there. He loved his kids so much but as they grew older they only noticed the times he wasn’t there. Only the missed recitals and football games, never all times that had dinner as a family and he tucked them in to bed at night. Parker is closer to his mother and his twin sister. Never really having that man to man talk with his dad yet. The time when fathers stop seeing their sons as boys and look at them as men. Tom approached Parker sitting there with his a drink in his hand, he hoped was a watered down Pepsi.

“Hey Parker, did your mom talk to you already?” Tom asked, not trying to raise too many questions.

“No, she might have mentioned something,” Parker responded.

“Ok, well after cake meet me in my office.” Parker nodded in response and noticed how he tensed a little at the conversation.

Their chat quickly ended when Harrison and his 16 year old son Henry came to wish happy birthday. Harrison is Tom’s right hand man, his consigliere and his best friend. He was more than that, Harrison was family. Harrison’s son, Henry was best friends with Parker and Rosie, ever since birth.

“Hey mate,” Tom said to his best friend Harrison.

“Hey, just came to wish this guy “happy birthday”” he said patting Parker’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday, dude” Henry said to Parker and he returned with subtle “thank you’s.” Parker slightly nodded to his dad to see if he could leave the conversation and Tom let him know it was ok.

“Come on, let’s go,” Parker exclaimed making his way to den where his other friends were.

Harrison was the first to speak up, “Have you told him yet?”

“No, Y/N and I are going to do it tonight” Tom uttered with a low toned voice.

“Geez, do you need me there?” Harrison asked, afraid Tom might say yes. Harrison was there when Tom went through the same process with his dad. Tom’s anger issues didn’t help the outcome.

“I think I’m alright, just family. Not that I don’t consider you family but I don’t even know if Rosie should be there.” Tom justified.

“It’s alright mate, I get it.”

They were both enjoying their night, making their rounds, Tom and Harrison went to get drinks, not beer this time but a scotch on the rocks as this was a classy night. Everything was dandy up until one of Tom’s men, William, came up to him informing Tom of a problem.

“Sir we have a problem,” William whispered to Tom, Tom nodded for them to follow them to his office.

“William, what now? Can’t you see I’m enjoying the party?” Tom exclaimed, closing the doors to his office.

“Sir, Daniel, was found dead at his post outside, shot by a tranquilizer gun, with a note taped to his chest, it’s for you.” William announced and handed the paper to the most important and dangerous man of the mob, his boss.

“What the fuck?” A long silence stayed in the air while Tom processed the news. Awkwardness had filled the entire room as they all awaited Tom’s response.

“For fucks sake, you need at least 3 guards posted outside. NOW!” He screamed as his anger continued to rise as read the note.

“Yes, Sir.” William said promptly.

“God forbid anything else happen tonight, but my wife and kids are the first ones to be escorted to safe house. Understood?” Tom explained as he only was only thinking about his family in that moment.

“Yes, Sir.” William said and quickly ran out before he could get the brunt of Tom’s upcoming outburst. Right on cue, Tom threw a glass ashtray at the wall, it shattering into shards.

“Calm down mate, what did the note even say.” Harrison asked with a worrisome look on his face. Tom showed Harrison the joy and his smile faded immediately. Tom for the first time, in a while, felt fear because he knew he had everything to lose.

Not wanting to deal with the life long headache that is his life. He looked for solace in, you, his wife as he spotted her over by the fireplace and made his way over to you.

“Have told you look stunning tonight?” He said instantly falling in love with you over again.

“Several times actually,” you said.

“Well I can’t help what you do to me, gorgeous.” He said placing a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, have you had the talk with him yet?” You said pointing a finger at your son getting very intimate with some girl.

The girl was Charlotte Owens. Parker and her had been together for almost a year, but you and Tom hadn’t met her formally yet. Your son was very tight-lipped the it came to his private life. She was tall, fair and had platinum blonde hair along with piercing blue eyes. Rosie didn’t seem to like her very much, constantly annoyed by her popularity status and reputation, used to be known for being with a new guy every couple weeks and don’t put it past Rosie to not give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No, remember we’re going to do it tonight. Is something wrong?” He said with concern, worried why you would forget something so important.

“No, not that talk, silly, “The talk”,” you responded. His lips formed an “o” shaped as he realized he would have to teach his son about how to be safe during sex.

“Oh, no. I’ve been avoiding it for as long as possible.”

“Why baby, you’re so good at it. You could give him a few a pointers.” You said, winking at him.

“Wow, love, you surprise me everyday. Speaking of beautiful girls, where’s Rosie. I’ve haven’t seen her all night,” Tom quickly trying to change the subject as they were at a party.

“I saw her a few minutes ago,” you said as a puzzled look grew on her face.

“Come on, let’s go find her and maybe you and I can sneak off for awhile.” He said cheekily.

“Tommy,” you whispered but eventually agreed. Slowly making your way out of the main ballroom to the secret garden next to his office.

Walking very slyly, you both made your way to secret spot near Tom’s office. Where ivy had grown throughout the brick and purple and yellow tulips lined the fence along with giant trees. There was a little wishing fountain that Tom had installed when you moved in, this was their secret spot. One where they could forget about all the violence and responsibility that tainted their lives.

Their intimate moment was ruined when Rosie walked by with some random guy named Connor, not the person she’d hope to bring there. All throughout the night Rosie seemed to be jealous of the attention her crush was getting at the party as he didn’t pay attention to her. Thus, she went find a distraction of her own.

“Oh hey, shh, look two people getting it on over there,” he whispered to her as she dragged him outside.

“Please don’t be my brother.” She murmured but felt like she wanted to throw up when she saw who it was.

“Mom, dad?” Rosie screamed.

“Oh shit, we’ve been busted,” Tom muttered against your neck.

“Hey honey,” You said while Rosie was completely mortified. Rosie’s potential hookup stood there mouth wide open.

“That’s your mum, god, she’s a babe.” Connor said.

“Connor, not helping.” Rosie exclaimed sternly as she pinched his side.

Tom spoke up, “Why don’t you guys go back and enjoy the rest of the party.”

Rosie just nodded and left as fast as humanly possible. She never wants to be that embarrassed again.

“Oh my god, we were gonna get it later.” You said.

“I know, we really screwed up this time. But have you had “the talk” with her yet,” Tom asked.

“Nope, we should both really get on that. What would I’ve happened if they hadn’t caught us?” You asked jokingly.

“I don’t want to think about that Y/N! She’s our daughter.” Tom exclaimed.

“Neither do I.”

“Enough of this, where were we?” Tom interjected immediately changing the subject.

“Well you lips were on my neck and you hand was on my waist, but I think the moment has passed and we should get back to the party,” you said rather seductively.

“Fine, I know you’re right. But fuck, I just want to make out with my wife,” Tom muttered frustratingly.

“Well you can later... in bed.” Winking as you chuckled.

“Man, that kid was right, you are a babe.”he said as he slapped your ass as you walked in front of him chuckling.

“Is it time for cake?” Harrison asks as he came up to Tom and you.

“I think it is.” Tom said and you nodded. Walking towards Rosie, who was desperately trying to erase her self from existence because of the embarrassment she’d experienced a minute ago.

“Hi, honey. Can you please go find your brother? We are going to cut the cake.” You said trying not to accidentally bring up the elephant in the room.

“Alright, fine,” Rosie muttered still a little peeved finding you and Tom like that. Rosie searched high and low for Parker.

Needing some assistance she asked Henry. “Hey, have you seen my brother?”

“Last I saw he was taking Charlotte to the green house” Henry responded.

“Alright, come on, let’s go find them” Rosie said rolling her eyes. Her hand slipped into Henry’s as she led the way. Making their way through the vast yet gorgeous yard. Rosie and Henry found Parker and Charlottes lips entangled together and bodies in a compromising position in the green house

“For fucks sake, how many people am I going to find sucking face at this party.” Rosie yelled, startling Charlotte and Parker.

“What the fuck do you want, Rosie? Can’t you see I’m busy.” Parker quipped annoyingly.

“Mom and dad want to cut the cake” Rosie responded.

“Ugh fine. Give us 10 mins” knowing he will be finished in that time.

“No, you can fuck your bimbo of a girlfriend later.” Rosie said, receiving a grimace from Charlotte.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that! Fuck off!” Parker yelled as Henry and Rosie left. Both of the kids had inherited Tom’s angry side.

“Well, you can explain to mom and dad you were late because you were balls deep in in your whore,” Rosie said walking away.

The moments leading up to the end of Parker’s innocence were fleeting. In more ways than one. He wasn’t a virgin even before that evening but, Parker could imagine the task he was supposed to accomplish. The 3 tier chocolate raspberry ganache cake had been cut and distributed to the guests. Happy birthday had been sung to Rosie and Parker. Parker tried to go off with Charlotte again, but Harrison stopped him and brought him to the Tom’s office.

“They’re in there,” Harrison whispered.

“Who?” Parker asked Harrison who was like his uncle.

“Just go,” Parker opened the door to see his mother and his dad sat behind the desk. The door shut behind him.

“Mom? Dad? What’s going on here?” Parker hesitated.

“Son, sit down,” Tom said, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

“We have to talk to you.” You interjected.

“Parker, as part of this family, there are certain responsibilities you have to take. It is a tradition in our family that at the age of 16, the sons are brought to light about the dealings of our family and what is expected of you,” Tom said as Parker grew wary. Not really understanding what his parents were trying to convey.

Throughout his entire life, he had his suspicions about his family. Wondering why men followed them everywhere, even on trips to the store for eggs. Why his parents went to work but have never seen their office, only heard it referred to as “the warehouse.” Why everything was always so damm secretive. Scared if he accidentally let some enormous family secret slip with his big mouth there would be repercussions. Never not scared of the harm that could come to his family.

“Your father, is the leader of a very powerful mob. I am part of it too, not just as wife but as his partner. There will be day when he will longer be in position of boss and you will take over,” you asserted playing off of Tom’s words.

“Our family is not only the owners of one of the world’s richest exporting company, we also do business with casinos and own multiple hotel chains. Sometimes our work brings us above the law, but the connections we have are what keep us alive.” Tom explained trying to preserve his son’s innocence.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Parker stuttered.

“Because it is time. Time for you to step up and take your place in this family. You’ve had 16 years of juvenile fun and now this is what has to be done.” Tom concluded.

“What if I don’t want this life. You don’t think I don’t know what happens behind closed doors here. All the times dad has come home with a black eye or blood on his knuckles. Why fuck isn’t Rosie here? She is the same age as me, WE ARE TWINS! Why am I the only one who has to do this. I don’t want to kill for sport like you and mom!” Parker screamed. He couldn’t handle this anymore. There was too much information he had to process.

“Do not raise your voice at your mother! Tom screamed.

“Dad, I had dreams and hopes. I wanted to go to college and travel. Find a nice girl and marry her. Experience the kind of love you and mom have. What you are asking me to do, flushes all that away. You are asking me to give up on my life.

So that’s it, I don’t have a choice,” Parker begged.

“Baby, you have a choice. Nothing is set in stone,” you said rubbing his arm.

“Y/N, you damm well know what will happen if he turns this down,” Tom yelled.

“Maybe this life works for you two, but I don’t want this kind of life. My answer is no. Find someone else.”

“Parker, you know I can’t do that. Take a couple days and think about it” Tom answered trying to stay calm.

“NO DAD! My answer is final, I’m not going to be your apprentice to carry on this heinous family legacy!” Parker exploded. It was too much.

“If you aren’t willing to do what is asked of you, then you can forget about being in this family!” Tom screamed. He did exactly what he said he wouldn’t, he gave his son an ultimatum. Parker couldn’t handle it anymore and left. Needing to forget about the fact he no longer had a say. He was stuck.

It was just Tom and you sitting in the study. They couldn’t understand where the conversation had gone. All their hopes for tonight went out the window along with potted plant Tom threw when Parker stormed out.

“Tom, you can’t force him. You can’t do what your father did to you to him.” You tried to say in a loving tone but it came out as stern.

“IM NOT, Y/N!!!” Tom screamed. He had fucked up. The words spoken tonight have rewritten his relationship with his son.

“Alright.” You whispered trying to calm your fuming husband down.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice, baby.” Tom’s tone immediately changed once he heard the softness of your voice. You just nodded in response

“Tommy?” You asked hoping Tom was now ok.

“Yes, love” Tom said.

“He’ll come around. I can promise you that.”

“I know, darling. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” a look of confusion grew on your face.

He handed you a paper, the same one that was found on Daniel’s body, saying “Eclipsing of the Hollands. Let the show begin. Better watch your back.”

It was threat. A play to eventually be made on his life or the life of his family and you all had no idea who was behind it.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Dad!Mob!Tom Holland #Mob!Tom #mobster #Mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x reader

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

Text

Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Chapter 15: A Vision, Fleeting is up! A collection of moments in time during the weeks that Achilles and Patroclus spent in Skyros after Patroclus arrived on the island. Patroclus POV :)

Read here or on AO3! Or read from the beginning

“Wake up, Patroclus.”

The day was still young; the nightlarks were still twittering into the approaching dawn, hidden in the thin branches of the cypress trees in the palace yard. Achilles was watching me with keen eyes, waiting for me to stir fully from my slumber.

“What happened?”

“Come, Patroclus. Let’s go.”

I slithered from the bed, curious, still rubbing sleep from my eyes. Achilles was holding my hand, urging me. He was already dressed in his womanly guise, his hair bound with a piece of lush green cloth. I slipped my tunic over my head hastily and followed him through the palace’s still dark, still silent corridors.

The horses were nickering softly in their booths when we reached the stables. The stableboys were up already, shovelling hay. They squinted at us when we walked through the door, Achilles ahead and me following a little way behind.

“Ready two horses for us,” he told the boys, in his thin and fluty voice, his girl's voice. They blinked at him, then at me. They were evidently taken aback that a woman was giving them orders when her husband was right there, beside her.

I nodded guardedly, and reluctantly they abandoned their tasks to obey the order. The steeds were prepared for us, a dusty grey one and a dun. They were smaller than the horses in Peleus’ stables, nimble and faster, more graceful. Achilles’ mare danced a little on her hooves as he pulled himself on her back. The fabric of his long skirt fluttered in the wind, caught around his ankles.

My foot was barely in the stirrup when Achilles urged his horse forward, riding past the gates. His was a spirited little horse, tossing her head back and swishing her tail, impatient to run wild, like its rider.

Achilles liked her, I could tell; he pulled gently on her reins and laughed, the bright sound of it ringing clearly through the empty yard, catching the stableboys and servants by surprise.

“Feisty, your woman,” one of them remarked, holding the reins of my horse while I mounted. He smiled at me, a touch too knowing, secretive; man to man.

I smiled awkwardly back at him, and rode past the gates, where Achilles was waiting for me.

We rode past the pine forest and cypress grove that lay beyond the palace. It seemed to go on for miles, shielding us in thick and shifting shadows. The sun rose higher and higher in the sky as we followed the narrow and serpentine tracks. The rosy fingers of dawn had just given way to the light blue sky of early morning when we reached the sea.

The beach stretched endlessly before us, golden sand rising and falling in small dunes. Crystal blue waters shimmered in the bright light, and the waves lapped gently at the shore, beckoning us closer.

Achilles hopped off his horse, tossing the reins at me. I caught them in the air, speechless as Achilles ripped off his dress and the cloth that bound his hair, letting the aureate locks cascade down his back and ripple with every movement.

“Keep count,” he told me, and took off almost as soon as his feet touched the ground.

“Achilles, wait—” I laughed, but I knew it was hopeless. He was already halfway across the long stretch of land, the pink undersides of his feet flickering as he sprinted. He had been pent up for too long to be held back now. So I tapped my finger on my knee, counting down the seconds.

He was flushed and grinning when he ran back to me, his eyes shining. “How many?”

“Thirteen.”

“I was just warming up. Keep count.”

He took off again, swift like the wind, while I tied the horses’ reins around a nearby tree branch. He ran up, and he ran down, gaining speed every time. When he finally returned there was the slightest hint of perspiration glinting on his brow, his chest was rising and falling swiftly with his breaths. I smiled at how alive, how vibrant he looked; I could not remember the last time I had seen him so jovial and carefree. Our days on Mount Pelion seemed so far away.

Achilles took my hand, pulling me towards the sea’s shimmering waters. “Let’s go for a swim.”

“A swim?” I huffed, shaking my head. Autumn was long gone and winter was slowly approaching, and the breeze that blew was brisk, making my skin prickle. “It’s too cold.”

“I do not think so,” he teased, drawing me near. I resisted playfully and pushed him away, but he was stronger. His features grew theatrically serious, just a little. “Be good or I’ll toss you over my shoulder.”

I laughed, “You would not.”

“I would not?” He grinned, wicked and mischievous. He loved the thrill of a challenge; I knew that well. “Watch me.”

When we were little, we would often play rough, like lion cubs; racing each other and wrestling in the sand, pretending to fight. Achilles would never use his full strength, only teasing and taunting me, but every now and then he liked to flaunt his power and agility, which seemed to grow by the day. On those days, he would grab and pull me close, pin my ankles or my wrists down when we wrestled, or toss me over his shoulder and carry me around like lamb. It was fun, and it made us both laugh. There were days that it did more than that.

I looked at him, at the definition in his arms and his shapely legs and the strength I knew lay there, and something stirred within me at the sight. It was different, gazing at him under the bright sunlight. Achilles always looked different in the light of the day, coming into his fullness like a waxing moon. The curves of his shoulders were soft and smooth like peeled almonds, as I remembered, but his arms were softer and more delicate now, cyclamen stems ending in graceful wrists, not having practiced his spears for two months. I let my eyes hungrily map their form, noticing the changes, and the quiet power that still seemed to radiate from him.

Achilles caught the look in my eyes, and his grin sharpened into his cat’s smile. “If it’s cold,” he said, more softly now, as he drew me closer, “I’ll keep you warm.”

When he pulled me towards the waves, I brought no resistance. The water licked at our ankles, rose to our knees, embraced us both, its chillness making every hair on my body stand on end.

I pressed myself closer against him as the sea spray brushed my skin, covered me in small droplets. Achilles’ arms came around me, and when his lips touched mine, they were hot like a fiery blaze, softer than silk, sweeter than honey.

“See?” he whispered with a knowing smile. “It isn’t so bad after all.”

I took a deep breath from his breath, and let him draw me into the cold, shimmering depths.

II.

The chrysanthemum bushes in the palace’s inner yard bloomed with pops of bright colour amidst the green of their leaves. Underneath the leafy awning in the center of the yard, in a square of gossamer sunlight, Achilles sat beside Deidameia. The other girls sat around them, small looms and embroidery hoops with many different balls of colourful thread resting in their laps.

I watched from afar, not daring to come too close. The gatherings of Deidameia’s women were sacred, and no man was meant to be amongst them. It was unusual for them to have come out of their secluded rooms, but this day was the first sunny one after five days of rain. The sky was still somewhat grey and overcast, but pockets of sunshine often escaped the dense clouds.

Achilles hadn’t noticed me. His fingers were pushing his embroidery needle deftly through the taut fabric, the thin piece of metal flickering before it disappeared. From my spot in the shade under a tall walnut tree near the palace’s entrance, I could catch only a glimpse of what he was making: an assortment of flowers and herbs, the white blossoms of a yarrow plant, the crimson petals of a rose, the violet tears of a purple iris. I was not surprised to find out that he was remarkably good at it; I struggled to find something which his innate focus and determination could not conquer.

His brows were drawn slightly in a concentrated frown when Deidameia leaned closer to speak to him. Her long dark hair, bound in a circlet of delicately carved bronze, brushed her slender shoulder with the motion. There was expectation in her smile, a hint of a blush colouring her cheeks.

Achilles’ eyes flickered to hers momentarily. His lips moved, but I could not hear what he said, then his attention was entirely absorbed by his task once more. It was as if Deidameia was no longer there.

With a sharp word and a flick of her wrist, the other girls gathered their hoops and their needles, their balls of thread and their looms, and departed in a flurry of quiet footsteps and whispers of fabric, leaving the two alone.

I pressed myself deeper into the shade, hoping to go unnoticed. I watched, concealed as Deidameia spoke, the line of her shoulders tensing. It was a brief discussion, whatever it was about, and before long she was standing up too, her lips pursed in injured pride. She stomped off, and her eyes, when they caught me watching under the tree, were so filled with hatred that I shivered.

I rose, bowing respectfully. “Princess.”

Deidameia said nothing. She only tilted her chin up, half in defiance, half in a child’s effort to bite back tears, and hurried along the path.

Achilles’ gaze caught mine across the yard. Despite the frost that still lingered in the air after Deidameia’s departure, his eyes were smiling when they met mine.

“Did you quarrel?” I asked him, when I came to sit next to him.

“I did not,” he replied simply, setting his work to the side. “Deidameia wished to speak with me. Privately.”

“What did she wish to tell you?” I did not hesitate to ask him the question. There had never been any secrets between us.

Achilles leaned back on the stone-worked bench, and the dappled light danced along the slope of his nose, the bow of his upper lip. “She believes,” he said, “that I do not care for her anymore.”

“Is she right to think that?”

“No.”

“So you do care for her?”

“No. I never cared for her the way she wants me to.” He met my eyes levelly. “She wants me to love her as a husband. I told her, I cannot.”

My stomach dropped. Achilles was never once to mince words; everything he said was honest and direct, and it struck true, like an arrow. It was one of the things I always admired him for, but the pity that rose within me for Deidameia’s sake was a sharp, cold thing.

I knew Achilles had only told her the truth. He had done so without malice, and I was sure he did not wish her ill, yet I felt for the young princess all the same.

“You should try to be kinder to her,” I said quietly. The northern wind blew over the vine leaves that twisted between the awning’s planks, making them rustle and whisper above us. “You do not have to humiliate her so thoroughly.”

My words shocked him. He sat up straight, and blinked at me with wide, startled eyes. “I did not.” When I only continued to gaze silently at him, his cheeks flushed a little in embarrassment. He was a prince, and for his conduct to be seen as anything less than princely was unthinkable. Phoenix, his childhood tutor, had taught him to be considerate and well-behaved, like his father, even if Peleus’ effortless friendly affection with strangers had always eluded him somewhat.

Achilles let out a soft sigh and bowed his head slightly in acquiescence. “You are right. I will speak to her, when I see her again.” He reached for my hand, bringing it up to his lips.

“My sweet Patroclus,” he said with a smile, and a shiver ran up my arm when his lips touched my skin. In the eyes of the court we were a young married couple, but displays of affection such as these were still considered improper. The garden was empty, though, so I let him. “I missed you.”

I could not help but smile back. I caressed his cheek with my fingertip, revelling in this quiet, stolen moment between us, yet in my heart a dull ache still throbbed.

Achilles thought me kind and gentle, but it was not kindness that urged me to sympathise with Deidameia’s plight. I knew only too well what it was like to have the one thing one wanted the most taken away from them. Her pain was too familiar for me to disregard it.

I could not bring myself to tell him.

“I missed you too, Achilles,” I said instead. I held his hand, and watched the shadows around us grow long.

III.

“I slept with Deidameia.”

Achilles had just walked through my bedroom door, his hair still windswept from his ride, his cheeks flushed. He always left early in the morning, before the sun was up, to run and swim and practice his spears while the world was still asleep, and often I joined him. This time I had not.

He stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes. “You did what?”

I clenched my jaw and returned his stare, reluctant to repeat the words. Achilles stood in the middle of the room, his brows gathering in that frown I knew so well, the one that meant that his mind was working at a feverish pace behind his smooth forehead. He was not angry, simply befuddled.

“Did she summon you?”

“Yes,” I answered. My throat felt thick, but I pushed the words past the knot that had lodged itself there. “Her guards came here after you left. I went to her room, and...” I paused at this.

“So… how was it?”

I shrugged and gestured vaguely. I did not quite know how to explain to him what had transpired between the princess and myself. Achilles caught my meaning, without me having to say anything more. I was sure my face told him more than I could have explained with words: that I had not gone to her willingly, not at first. He knew me well enough to know that I would not have initiated it. Perhaps he understood from my expression that the princess had tried to find comfort in me, comfort that I had been unable to give her. That she had attempted to come closer to him through me, that I had served as a conduit, of sorts. That I had probably failed in that, too.

“She is leaving tomorrow,” I said, when the silence between us grew uncomfortable. “She will be staying in a house at the far end of the island. She will hide there, and have the child there, and perhaps, one day, when all is done, she might come back. She did not know when that might be.”

Achilles said nothing. He walked up to me and gently pressed his fingers under my chin, tilting my gaze up to his. I met his gaze directly, searching for any sign of judgement or displeasure. I found none. I latched onto its warmth, its unreserved understanding, the kindness that grew there in abundance. But only for me.

“She will be fine,” he said, and I knew he said it simply to comfort me. Whatever meagre interest he had in the princess was long gone the moment I arrived in the palace; I had never heard him address her in anything but forced, ceremonious politeness, and even when he looked at her, it was as if she were not there at all. “She has people to look after her; she will have a good life.”

I smiled bitterly, if only at his attempt to ease my mind. Achilles meant well, of course he did, but all of that was easy for him to say. He had not seen the sadness that lingered in Deidameia’s eyes like heavy winter clouds, her hurt, her anger at her loss, at the life that she would be now forced to live. She did not know it, but her grief had neatly mirrored mine; I, too, had almost lost him not too long before, and that fear still weighed heavily on me. Those dark mornings where the memory of his mouth and of the sound of his voice would wake me up with an ache were fresh in my mind. I had not told Achilles, but there were times when I could feel the echoes of those mornings ringing still.

Achilles drew me in his arms and held me close. I pressed myself to him, drinking in the warmth of his body against mine, the safety of his presence, the strength of our bond. He leaned down and kissed me, and his lips were cool and salty from his swim, his skin smelt of sand and seaweeds, of the sweet musk of his sweat. I threaded my fingers through his hair and deepened our kiss, letting it chase away every dark memory, every shadow.

It was selfish of me then —I am well aware— yet I sighed in relief at the joy between us, at being released from Deidameia’s hopelessness, her endless sorrow. Achilles had never been hers to begin with, and though I pitied her for it, I would never wish to change it.

The world we lived in was a harsh, unforgiving place. The gods never gave anything freely, yet in that moment, when his arms closed around me and his heartbeat matched my own, I knew I had been given everything I could ever ask for. I could close my eyes and lose myself in that moment, let myself crumble and dissolve, pool out in all directions, and I wouldn’t care.

I had him. I had him. I had him.

IV.

“What is this?”

Achilles eyed the strange contraption amidst the dull edged training swords and spears.

“A shepherd’s sling,” I replied. I picked it up and held it in my palm, the leather cords dangling between my fingers. “Everyone has one in Opus. There are kingdoms whose armies still use slings instead of bows and arrows. The Acarnanians and the Nemeans are said to be the best at it. Have you never seen one before?”

Achilles tilted his head to the side, studying the sling in my hand. “I’ve heard of it. But I’ve never seen one up close.” The sea breeze blew strong, bringing a lock of still curled hair before his eyes; he pushed it back absently, squinting against the sun. We had risen early and ridden our horses to the farthest beach we could reach, carrying a bundle of training weapons with us. “How does it work?”

“Here, I’ll show you.” I glanced down at the ground, looking for a pebble small and round enough to fit in the sling’s narrow leather pouch. When I found one of the right size, I grasped the cords firmly. I hadn’t used a sling in years, ever since I had left Opus, but the practiced movement was still fresh in my memory. Or so I hoped.

The sling whooshed softly as it cut through the air, as I swung it. Once, twice, three times— then, I released one of the leather cords while still holding the other and the stone flew, mapping a small arc in the air before it fell at the gnarled roots of an olive tree.

“Well,” I said with a small laugh, rubbing the back of my neck, “I haven’t tried in years. I need to practice, I suppose.”

Achilles was intrigued by the new weapon. He peered at me carefully, giving me his undivided attention, never missing a single one of my movements. “Do it again.”

The next stone I flung flew straight ahead with much more force, grazing the tree trunk.

“Better this time, I suppose," I said. "Perhaps the third time’s the charm.”

“Let me try.”

I gave him the sling without hesitation. I could already see his brow furrowing in concentration. It was not his mind that worked then, but his instinct. It was something he was born with, the ability to uncover the deadliest secrets of every object in his hold. He took the sling from me, his fingers brushing my own in passing. His body melted instantly into position, effortlessly, as if every muscle had awaited to be used for that sole purpose. His features were smooth and tensionless when he carefully placed another stone in the leather pouch. The muscles of his arms tightened under his golden skin as he swung the sling in an arc around him, then released at just the right moment.

The stone hit the trunk squarely, right where he had intended it to land, with a soft, satisfying thud.

Achilles turned to me, his lips curling in a satisfied smile. “That was easy.”

“For you,” I laughed. “I’ve used it before, many times, and I still can’t always hit the mark.” I pretended to be chuffed, but I relished the satisfaction in his gaze, the brightness of his smile.

Achilles walked away, looking for more pebbles. He always loved it when he used a new weapon, when he got to show his skill, his aptitude. There was no weapon he could not master, no fight he could not win. He was a blade that had come into the world naked and whetted, its edges already sharp. This was what he was meant for: he was born for war.

I knew that. Of course I did. This knowledge had accompanied me ever since I’d met him, it always lurked in the recesses of my mind, even when I pretended it did not. Eventually, the time would come when he would fulfil the prophecy, when battlefields would be left crimson in his wake, when he would be feared, and revered, as the greatest warrior the world had seen.

The greatest killer the world had seen.

The passing thought gripped me. I had tried many times in the past to wrap my head around it, yet I could not imagine him so. I could not picture the moment when his long, delicate, lyrist’s fingers could take the life of another. I knew the price that death brought. I knew it well, therefore I wondered: How would it affect him? Would it scar him in ways neither of us could predict; would it change him?

Would it give him nightmares like the ones I had had for years, of skulls cracking, of blood flowing, bright like poppy petals, of dead eyes watching him while he slept?

Would the taking of someone else’s life take something from him as well, something irreplaceable, something… essential?

My heart sank; I could not bear it. I could not bear to think of him lost and hurt as I had been, of battling dreams that were as deep and dark as a yawning abyss. The weight of taking a life was impossible to carry; I did not want him to know.

The soft thump of the stone knocking against the center of the tree trunk brought a smile to Achilles’ lips. He turned to look at me, the golden flecks in his eyes flashing, his cheeks rosy and flushed with satisfaction, and in that moment I prayed: do not let him change. Let him stay like this, always, as bright and pure as he is now; let him have this. Just this.

Achilles must have noticed my expression, and his smile faded. He walked up to me, reaching for my hand. “Are you alright, Patroclus?” he asked, searching my face. “Did something happen?”

I drew him close and hid my face in the hollow of his throat, taking a deep breath of his scent, revelling in the feel of his skin against mine. His arms wrapped around me, as if by rote, without question, and I swore that I would never let his light dull and weaken, not as long as I lived. I would keep that flame safe, pure, untarnished by the world and the cruelty of men. He would be like this, always, as long as I lived.

“Nothing happened,” I whispered, holding him tightly. “Nothing at all.”

Achilles’ lips pressed against the side of my head, and he breathed softly in my arms. The sling and the spears lay forgotten on the sand, and I closed my eyes, blocking them from my vision. The war and its many worries were still a faraway concern; there was time yet.

There was time for us both.

A few days later, a ship with sails of black and yellow cloth skirted the narrow mouth of Skyros’ bay.

It was an unusual sight, but Skyros wasn’t as remote an island as to never receive visitors. Achilles and I watched it curiously from the beach, then returned to the palace soon after; though there seemed to be no real cause for concern, it was best if we both went unseen.

We parted in the darkness of the corridor before the women’s quarters with a light and hasty kiss. Achilles would wait there, while I would remain in my room until the ship was gone. I drew down the blinds and lay on the bed in the half dark, willing the beginnings of a headache away.

I did not expect the knock on my door, nor the stranger that walked in. He had a dark beard with the faintest tinge of red, an easy, practiced smile, and the scar that graced his calf was pink, its edges fading into silver.

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. If you’ve enjoyed this story, I’d love to hear your thoughts! :)

#the song of achilles #tsoa #patroclus #achilles #patrochilles #tsoa fanfic #high-flying birds #johaerys writes #achilles/patroclus #patroclus/achilles #achilles x patroclus #patroclus x achilles

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