#Royal Shopper | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paperrretro · 6 months

Text

LIGHTSTRUCK | pt. 12

Pairing: Merlin x Reader

Word Count: 2,619 words

Warnings: None

Summary: Your father accepts a position as Prince Merlin’s magic tutor, and you are unceremoniously dragged along.

(Or, pieces of your unspectacular life in and out of the royal palace, and how a certain idiotic prince somehow gets wrapped up in it either way.)

read on quotev | read on ao3

In the corner of a restaurant, huddled at a table meant for two, you slurp up the last of the noodles and lick the grease off your lips with a satisfied sigh.

Good, authentic Carmarthenian food is hard to come by on Golden Goose Avenue, but this one – this one is promising. A rich broth, fresh vegetables sliced paper-thin, spices that warm your throat like gentle coals in a fireplace. You long to be able to cook this well, but the culinary arts are more different from elixirism than one would think. (For one, the quality of food is measured by how good it tastes.)

“More?” asks the owner, an older lady who reminds you of Fay. (She owns the restaurant with her son. He’s your age, she’d told you when she brought your food. Single. Graduated top of his class at culinary school and takes very good care of her.)

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m so full.” You feel guilty for saying no, even though you’d given in the previous two times. You eye the table next to yours. “But could I have some tteokbokki to go?”

“Of course.”

After paying your bill and sitting for a bit longer to digest, you heft yourself up and grab your takeout, waving goodbye to the owner and her son before finally exiting the restaurant.

The bright sunlight scalds your eyes. Squinting against it, you look around for some signs or a directory. You’re already done with your work-shopping for the day. Maybe you could go browse for some new books.

Just as you reorient yourself and start heading towards Beauty and the Books, you hear two familiar voices coming from somewhere nearby.

“Red Shoes!”

You perk up, curious. Turning around, you catch sight of Arthur and Merlin rounding a corner, hands cupped around their mouths. Behind them lumbers a giant wooden bunny.

“Red Sh – oh,” Arthur cuts himself off once he spots you, blinking in surprise. “Hello. Fancy running into you here. Have you seen Red Shoes, by any chance?”

You eye Merlin, who only meets your gaze for a second before finding a sudden interest in the nearby lamppost. Fine. He can act how he likes, and you’ll pretend he doesn’t exist. “No.”

“Great.” Arthur sighs and slumps forward. “I take my eyes off her for just a few seconds and she up and disappears on me.”

Your brow wrinkles, and you glance around. You certainly haven’t seen Red Shoes since you got here, but Golden Goose Avenue is a big place, and you haven’t exactly been paying attention to the other shoppers. “Maybe she went into one of the stores to shop by herself. Is it really that big of a deal?”

“Well, no, but you never know what could happen,” Arthur persists. “Looks like hers bring all sorts of creeps out of the woodworks.” He shudders. “Speaking from experience.”

Now, that is something you can imagine. Maybe it’s not so great to be so beautiful, you think, if all you get in return are expectations.

“I’ll help you find her,” you offer.

“Would you? Fantastic!”

Walking alongside Arthur as he retraces his steps, you keep an eye out for silky brown hair, a red satin skirt – lovestruck gazes. You hope she’s outside so you can avoid the hassle of looking in each individual shop. Some of them are charmed to keep you inside for hours.

In all honesty, it’s more likely that Red Shoes will find the three of you instead of the other way around, given the heavy thump, thump, thumps that rumble behind the two of you down the street.

You clear your throat during a lull between calling her name.

“So, what’s with the giant wooden bunny?”

Arthur looks up at you and then back at the silent creature. He reaches up to scratch the back of his head before stopping midway and posturing instead. “Just a vicious beast that I rescued Red Shoes from last night. Pretty impressive, right?”

“Ha!” Merlin says, and Arthur whips around.

“Got something to say, magic boy?!”

As the two begin to bicker, you drop back to examine the bunny again. It stares back at you, eyes half-lidded as if utterly unimpressed with the company it has found itself in. ‘Vicious’ is the last thing you’d use to describe it. If anything, it’s calmer than any of you.

You’ve never heard of giant wooden animals living near Risky Rock before. Maybe the increase in monster activity is affecting the wildlife …

“—so I’m not even gonna bother explaining women to you anymore.” A loud scoff from Arthur distracts you from your staring contest with the bunny, and you furrow your brow as he breaks away from Merlin to resume walking. You jog slightly to catch up. “C’mon, [Y/n]. Red Shoes! Red Shoes?”

From the alleyway to your right, you hear someone call out.

“Guys! Guys, I’m here.”

When you turn to look into the shadows of the alley, you can just make out the figure of a young woman in the middle of a group of knights. She waves at you.

You don’t recognize her. Judging by the looks on Arthur and Merlin’s faces, they don’t know her either, so the three of you awkwardly look away and continue on.

“That was weird,” Merlin mutters once you’re out of earshot.

“She probably thought we were someone else,” Arthur brushes it off. “Let’s go, we need to find Red Shoes.”

Merlin nods, but when you look at him, his expression is troubled. He glances over his shoulder and stops walking.

“No, the way those knights were standing around her …” he starts. “Something didn’t seem right.”

You frown. You’d be the first to list Merlin’s many faults, but poor instincts is not one of them; you’ve been on the wrong end of them too many times to count. You think back to the alleyway and wonder what he had noticed that you didn’t. Was the woman secretly asking for help? Were the knights not as relaxed as you thought they were?

Arthur groans impatiently, throwing his arms out. “They’re probably helping her find whoever she thought we were,” he responds. “It’s fine. Now, are you going to help me find our princess or not?”

Your gaze flits from one prince to the other, stopping on Merlin as he continues to look over his shoulder. His fingers twitch, antsy, and his mouth presses into a thin line before he opens it.

“Keep looking for her,” he finally says, turning around and running back to the alley. “I’ll be right back!”

Curiosity eclipsing your pride, you run after him.

“Are you ser – guys!” Arthur yells after the two of you, his voice fading with the distance. “Merlin, stop trying so hard to play hero!”

With Merlin’s stature, it’s easy to catch up to him. “Hey,” you ask once you do, clutching your bags to your chest to keep their contents from clattering around, “what did you –”

“Shh.” He halts abruptly just before the entrance to the alleyway, throwing an arm out to stop you.

You hold your tongue and swallow the impulse to push him right back. Wordlessly, he and you peek around the corner and squint through the darkness.

Oh.

The knights, who had seemed so casual before, now cluster in the back of the alleyway, their weapons raised. And though you can’t see her, you can hear the voice of the young woman from before.

(You hate it when he’s right.)

The soft crinkle of paper by your leg catches your ear, and you glance down to see Merlin holding one of his talismans. Your eyes widen.

“Uh, Merlin –”

“Come on,” he mutters, and the next thing you know, he’s striding towards the knights and flicking his fingers with quiet confidence.

The knights rattle and drop like flies, revealing the cowering figure of the poor woman you’d all ignored earlier. She’s pressed herself against the back wall. As she lowers her arms, eyes round with shock and fear, shame swirls in the pit of your stomach.

You trail after Merlin as he picks a red shoe off the ground and dusts it off. He approaches the woman and offers it to her.

“Your red shoe, milady,” Merlin says.

His voice is gentle, assuring, and soft, and it renders you speechless.

Merlin isn’t gentle. He’s arrogant, and flashy, and tries too hard to be suave. He’s a prince. He’s not a gentleman. But the way he had gone back, and the way he had stayed to speak with the woman afterwards …

Something moves inside your chest. It warms behind your ribcage, and you are startled by the strangeness of it, and strangely frightened.

“… Excuse me, miss, have we met?”

“Um”—the woman tenses, meeting your eyes before quickly looking away, and you are hit with a odd, vague sense of familiarity—“well, that’s kind of a complicated question.”

You open your mouth, only to be interrupted by the sound of Arthur yelling out for Red Shoes outside the alley.

You had almost forgotten.

“Will you be okay?” You break your silence upon your second attempt, lowering the bags from your arms.

This time, the woman holds your gaze, and she smiles a bit bigger, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay … er.” There are now two pairs of eyes on you as you free one hand to dig around in your satchel and pull out a small bottle. It’s partly to assuage your guilt, which makes you feel guiltier somehow, but, “Here, have this. It’s a deterrent. You spray it.” When she takes it hesitantly, you hastily tack on, “It’s free.”

(Oh, gods, you think. Why would you even say that?)

Merlin tugs at your sleeve, gesturing at the street with his head. “We gotta go,” he tells the woman. “Stay safe.”

You mumble out some semblance of a similar sentiment, and as you leave her, hurrying out of the darkness into the bright light, you bite your bottom lip in embarrassment and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Wow.” Merlin releases you once you’ve both turned the corner, letting out a snort that brings blood rushing to your ears. “I bet princesses would be scrambling in line for your post-rescue care.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, desperately wishing for him to just drop it, drop it. (You know he won’t.) “What – what about that weird act you had going back there? ‘Your red shoes, milady’ – I almost died of cringe!”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t acting,” Merlin replies indignantly. “And it wasn’t cringey.”

“I’ve never seen you be that nice without a motive.”

He huffs up at you. “I’m actually genuinely nice, thank you! You’d know that if you didn’t antagonize me all the time.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around,” you retort.

“Oh, please.” The two of you begin to walk towards Arthur and the Wood-Rabbit, and Merlin’s voice takes on a smugger tone, needling at the part of you that remains young and oversensitive. “You know what I think?” he says. “I think you’re jealous that I was being nice to her.”

“… What?”

“It’s perfectly fine, [Y/n].” He casts a glance at you, a smirk stretching across his cheeks. “If you ever get attacked by a dragon or something, I’ll sweep you off your feet too.”

You balk. Heat spreads from your ears to the entirety of your face.

That little –

“Took you guys long enough!” Arthur scolds right as you’ve decided to encase Merlin’s head in an ice cube and then yours. “So, Merlin, was I right or was I right?”

“You were wrong, actually,” Merlin snarks. “There was a problem, and I took care of it. [Y/n] can vouch for that.”

“Yeah, right, you really think I’m gonna believe”—Arthur looks to you for backup, only for his face to drop when you glare at the ground and cross your arms—“believe … w-well, that’s …! Fine! Anyways, more importantly, I just saw Red Shoes on a wanted poster, and I have a lot of questions about that, so we need to find her ASAP.”

“Wanted poster?” you ask.

“You didn’t see them? The knights have been passing them out,” Merlin says. “The ones that weren’t busy harassing citizens, at least.”

He pulls out a piece of paper and unfolds it, offering it to you. With distaste curling your lips, refusing to meet his eyes, you snatch it up and read the header and footer.

WANTED, it says. BIG REWARD.

Drawn in the middle of the page is, without question, Red Shoes.

“What did she do?”

“It doesn’t say.”

“I know it doesn’t say; I can read. What did the knights say?”

“Go and ask them yourself.”

“Oh, for the Lady’s sake,” bemoans Arthur, throwing his head back and turning around, “I liked it better when you two were moping. Can you just –” He looks past you and suddenly, his eyes brighten. “Red Shoes!”

He waves his arm. You turn on your heel, catching sight of who you’re certain is Red Shoes dashing towards the entrance of the Avenue. She doesn’t so much as slow down or look over her shoulder.

“Stop!”

You blink, and a gust of wind blows by as two giant men barrel past you. It doesn’t take much to figure out who they’re chasing after.

Merlin yanks your arm a split second later.

“Get on!”

“Get on what –” Realizing his plan, you scramble after him onto the Wood-Rabbit’s back. “What about Arthur?”

Merlin clutches onto the greenery sprouting from the back of the rabbit’s head. “He’ll catch up!”

You yelp as the Wood-Rabbit stands up, grabbing a fistful of moss with your right hand. Your left hand isn’t so lucky.

The creature bounds forward, and you fly several inches up into the air. With a panicked gasp, you wrap your loose arm around the next sturdiest thing and squeeze tight.

Merlin lets out a mix between a wheeze and a cough as you all but crush his lungs. “What are you doing?” he yells, trying to pry your hand from his coat. “Grab Red Shoes!”

The rabbit jumps again, bringing your heart to your throat, and you tighten your grip. “You’re the rescuer, aren’t you?!”

“How can you expect me to – just do it!”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can!”

“I can’t!” you shriek just as you catch up to Red Shoes, throwing your arm out. She grabs it, and when the rabbit jumps, she soars upward and lands right behind you.

“I’m okay!” she yells, grabbing the moss on the Wood-Rabbit’s back with far better luck than you.

Merlin looks back, exhaling with relief when he sees Red Shoes. “Thank Morgaina,” he exclaims. The four of you sail past the Avenue’s entrance, and his attention then turns to you, his eyebrows raising as you dig your fingers into his coat again. “See, was that so hard, you big baby?”

“You’re a jerk,” you shout. But your nerves are alight, and your blood is rushing, and a sharp, wild laugh bubbles from your throat for the very first time. “If we die, I’ll kill you myself!”

“Like you could!” he says. You feel laughter rumbling through his chest, fresh and real and alive.

(Your heart jumps into your throat again.)

Behind you, Red Shoes dissolves into giggles. The adrenaline pounding in your head brings with it the hysterical relief that only comes from a terrifying experience, and your laughter joins hers and Merlin’s, cracking the air and leaving your pursuers in its wake.

This curse is going to take years off your life, you think. You find yourself not caring nearly as much as you should.

—

#prince merlin #merlin x reader #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #rsat7d #rsatsd #fanfic #reader insert #yes this fic is NOT dead #i've resuscitated it and it is groaning and limping along like an offbrand frankenstein :')

36 notes · View notes

legendsgalore · 2 months

Text

Research Mission

Nine ways in which you work yourself too much, one for each member of the chain

Inspired by how my brain feels like it’s melting out of my ears, but I don’t feel like I have stopped doing *enough*

Time

The first time someone was clued into your overworking tendencies, it was in a situation where everyone felt your frustration. Typically when arriving at any Hyrule’s given “Castle Town,” if no one recognized it the heroes would all split up to do information gathering. Being a group of ten, it made splitting up fairly simple.

Two would hit the bars to hear from the loosened lips of the drunkards and soldiers there, two would head to the market center to hear from the gossiping shoppers, two would wander to the gates to talk to the guards to see what they have seen, two more would try to see if the royal family was open to talk to, and the last two would go to the library to search.

This time around, you and Time had ended up with library duty, and you were determined to do your part and find something. Generally, you were all looking for information such as whether or not a hero was part of recent history, any large wars/calamities within the last few centuries, and of course, any signs of suspiciously strong monsters.

Luckily the library was open to the public, and was even located not too far from the town square, which is not something you could say for every era of Hyrule. Way too often the information was locked in the castle, away from the public. Those eras were quite depressing, the general aura of them being downtrodden.

Back to the present, you are bouncing on your feet as Time pauses before the door to the library, a large, one-story building fashioned out of stone and trimmed with an appealing maple wood.

The older hero looks at you, raising his eyebrow in amusement and comments, “You’re eager.”

Smiling, you tell your thoughts to the hero, “I’m just happy the library isn’t locked behind the castle gates this time!”

Nodding, Time agrees, saying, “This is certainly fortunate. Still, “ He grins at you teasingly here, “You are exceptionally excited to search books for hours.”

“Ahh I have a good feeling about this! I think we’ll be the ones to figure out where we are this time!”

You don’t tell Time that your real thought is that you will finally be the one to figure it out and contribute to the Chain.

None-the-wiser to your secret hope, Time chuckles, and pushes open the door to the library and the two of you head to bust out some books.

____________________________________________________________________________

You are actively resisting the urge to groan and slam your head on the table. Why is it so hard to find information on history and legends?

You could swear that scholars find it more important to pad their books with extravagant and grandiose words rather than fill it with useful information organized in a concise way for people to understand.

Like yes, use higher-level language, it can help capture the meaning of your words, and provide quicker ways to say things. But don’t use it to the extent that the reader is unable to follow along without immense focus or a dictionary by their side!

Time of course does not look like he shares your thoughts, sat in the chair next to you at one of the maple wood tables. He has leaned back in his chair, book in one hand and chin in his other, looking to be deep in thought over the contents of the book. Though certainly in a manner not like your frustration.

You don’t understand how he isn’t tearing his hair out in frustration. Definitely, after not eating lunch (library doesn’t allow food in), you felt more irritated than you should.

You want to find something so badly, to show up to the others, look them in the eyes and say “I know what is going on.”

To have Warriors clap a hand on your shoulder and say his thanks, to have one of the others tease you for enjoying a day surrounded by musty books. To contribute something here.

Gritting your teeth, you focus your eyes back to your page, and try to comprehend the sentence again.

“...though debatably those who postulate these circumstances over ambivalent second hand retellings over the theoretical existence of legends involving Heroes speculated to be garbed in viridian wear are unconvincing in their corroborations, the royal family claims that…”

You’re wrenched from your tremulous focus by Time clapping his book shut, the sound sharp against the dusty silence of the building. The librarian at the front counter narrows her eyes, but the two of you are the only ones in the building at the moment so she says nothing.

Blinking owlishly at your companion, you watch as Time stands and stretches languidly, his armor having been set aside around hour two in his bottomless bag.

The elder hero looks at you, and smiles sheepishly.

“Ah, I have hit my limit, care to join me to meet up with the others?”

You shake your head, “No, I want to keep looking. I think this book has something, but this guy takes a paragraph to get to the point of a single sentence, so it may be a while.”

Time frowns, “You shouldn’t spend too much longer here, we have been here for quite some time already.”

You stretch yourself, feeling the truth of his words in your lower back.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel quite up to admitting defeat just yet!”

Looking at the old man, you reassure him, “I’ll catch up with you later, just this chapter left, alright?”

Time meets your gaze, and you have to hold yourself back from swallowing. His one eye stares at you, and you almost feel like he can see your real thoughts, which is ridiculous, but still.

Eventually, he nods and looks away, and you almost wipe your forehead free of hypothetical sweat.

Time gathers his books, and turns to head to put them away. He casts one last glance over his shoulder and you wave and smile with as much energy as you can muster. He huffs in amusement and heads off.

Your smile falls and you turn back to your book.

____________________________________________________________________________

When you and Time had entered the library, it was mid-morning. He had left just as the sun was starting to set. It was dark out now, and the librarian had brought you a candle before she changed shifts with the night time one.

You’re really grateful the library is even open this late, who the heck would be here this late really?

You, that’s who.

Your upper back aches with how long you have been hunched over the book, head barely propped up in your hand, and face bent so low your nose almost scratches the page.

That first book you were on had led you to opening another, and here you were.

Your stomach growls, audibly, and you would feel embarrassed if you had the energy to do so.

You….probably missed dinner, huh.

____________________________________________________________________________

The candle you had been given was half burnt, and you were on your, fourth book, was it?

The second book led you to another, and that one seemed worthless, but then it mentioned that there was a compiled collection of abridged fairy tales the royal family told, though each one was heavily annotated, and you were now reading that one.

Or one could claim you were reading. If they were generous.

Your arms were folded and your head was using them as a pillow, the scent of dusty book filling your nose. It was so much effort to lift your head and turn the page.

But you didn’t want to give up. This was it, this was the book full of the information that was going to be useful, you were sure.

You were sure, you were suree……that your eyes were closing shut, and you could tell but also, you were so cozy…………

A voice is low, next to your ear, and it calls your name.

“Hey.”

Your eyes flutter open, heavy with the effort. You grumble, struggling to lift the massive weight that was your cotton-filled head.

“It’s time to head out.”

“H-huh?” You manage to eloquently stutter out.

A hand is on your back, steadying you.

“You missed dinner, didn’t you?”

The empty pit that was your stomach seems to sharpen at those words, bringing your brain to awareness.

“Ah, yeah I guess..”

You trail off as you look up and see that Time was standing above you. His expression was clearly a mixture of disappointment and worry, and you felt your heart sink.

“Ah Time, I-” You’re about to say some excuse when you realize, you had actually found something from staying so late!

You pick up your book and whip it around to show the blond haired man, beaming.

“Look! I found that there is a collection of old legends donated by the royal family! And it does have the information we are looking for, I think, I may have stopped paying attention a chapter ago..”

If only you could see what Time was seeing right then. You were curled up in the chair, shoulders heavy with exhaustion, shadows blatant under your eyes, which were red with the strain of reading for so long.

Recalling the excited girl this morning, Time felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion. What drove you to this? To push yourself so hard? There was nothing dire about finding the information right this instance, why did you read until you fell unconscious? Was it because he quit too early?

Not that you could read his mind, but you watched as Time’s calm concern deepened into visible worry and frustration.

“Uh, Time? You okay?” You hazard.

“Why did you try so hard?”

Blinking, you go, “Huh?”

The old man looks at you, “This is important, sure, but not to this extent. And you know this. You have been in here for over twelve hours.”

Looking down, you mutter, “I wanted to help.”

“You did by searching with me earlier. But the others were helping too. Sky and Wild were able to secure us a meeting with the princess of this time in two days.”

An ugly feeling curls around your heart. So not only was your search not that helpful, but it only served to upset Time, and likely the others too.

“Sorry.” You say, your voice sounding blatantly flat, and you wince at that.

Time sighs, and puts a hand to his forehead. “Not that I don’t wish for you to see the mistake here, but I would like to feel confident you won’t do this again.”

If you were less exhausted, you would have been able to look the Hero of Time in the eye and lie and say you understood your error and wouldn’t do it again.

But as it was, all you could think about was how you couldn’t do anything, anything right, anything to help, and the least you could do was to just try harder.

So you just purse your lips and avoid eye contact with the hero standing before you.

Another sigh sounds, and Time crouches so that he is in your line of sight.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, and asks, “Can you tell me your thoughts here?”

You brace yourself for the inevitable anger and turn to look at the Chain’s unofficial leader. Searching Time’s unwavering gaze, you expect to see disappointment, anger, frustration, and instead just see…tired concern. His expression is not unkind, and he holds your gaze, patient as ever.

Seeing that, you steel yourself and admit to Time, “I just wanted to be the one to help today.”

He continues holding your gaze, his eye oh so sharp, and you purse your lips and continue.

“I, I can’t contribute anything to you guys, and I thought that maybe, if I just kept looking, I could do at least this. And that I would be of some value to you all.”

Time’s expression changes minisculely at this, and he says, “But we do value you.”

Frustration rushes inside of you, and you have to keep your volume down as you rebuke, “Yes but I can’t do anything for you! I can’t cook, I obviously can’t fight, I don’t know first aid or healing, in fact, I was just saddled on you all by your enemy and it’s just because you all feel guilty for my displacement in time that you don’t just drop me off in a friendly village and call it a day!”

Time stares at you, and you feel your cheeks flush as your words catch up to you.

You look away, feeling the weight of Time’s gloved hand burn your shoulder.

“Really, the least I could do is help you figure out what time you are in, and if I can’t do anything well, I will just try harder to make up for it.”

Time is silent for a moment, and you almost feel at peace, sitting there under his scrutiny, slightly swaying with exhaustion.

“That’s not true.”

You’re really doing this a lot tonight, but you just go, “Huh?”

The hand grasping your shoulder grips tighter, and Time brings up his other hand to your other shoulder so he can bring your gaze to meet his.

“Your value isn’t what you can give us, you know.”

You evidently make a face at that, as Time shakes you lightly and continues.

“We value your presence, not despite those things you mentioned, but simply because you are you. In fact, it’s almost refreshing that you are not another fighter like us.”

Tilting your head, you ask “What do you mean?”

Time’s expression lightens, and he explains, “Each one of us is an accomplished fighter and traveler. We are all used to fighting, and wounds, and the scenes you see on an adventure. But you are not.”

“So?” Those words hurt, being told directly that you were less capable.

“If you must have something tangible to see your value, that is one of them. You see the beauty in the scenery we have grown used to, still are unhardened to the casualties and upset of battle, and are fascinated by each of our respective skillsets, in the way that it is refreshing. Refreshing to be reminded of why we fight, to protect people like you.”

You gape at Time, and he gives you a soft smile in return.

“It’s a lovely thing that you didn’t experience the same tragedies that we did, to shape us into hardened warriors.”

You blush, and try to look to the side, but Time’s hand is too close to your neck and you just end up resting your head on his hand, still making eye contact with him.

Really, this is embarrassing, and you are tired, and Time seems to know this, as he huffs in amusement and stands up.

He looks at the book you were reading, and notes, “Parables witnessed by the Light?”

You stand and nod, eager to drop the previous subject, “Yeah, no wonder this one didn’t jump out at us, with a title like that. It really should have been named ‘Tales of the Royal Family’. “

Nodding, Time tucks the book under his arm, and picking up the candle, heads to the front counter, where the librarian is giving the two of you a bemused glance.

Once you two get there, Time asks her, “May we leave this with you? We want to come look at it again tomorrow?” She agrees, tucking it out of sight, and the two of you leave the library.

The cold night air hits you, and with it the realization of just how long you spent in that building. Your legs seem to fail you then, and you stumble, Time having to catch you.

He chuckles, and really could your pride fall any further tonight? Apparently it can, because instead of steadying you, Time just picks your form up, carrying you like a child in his arms, bridal style.

“Uh Time?!” You gasp out, twisting to stare at the hero.

He looks down at you, with an expression that says he is not to be fought with on this. “Really, this is easier than you stumbling every few feet.”

You blush again, unable to deny that, and just bury your face in Time’s shoulder, glad he was not wearing his armor for once.

Chuckling, Time heads to your inn without another word, and if you have fallen asleep in his arms before he even arrives, who is anyone to judge you?

#linked universe #time linked universe #comfort #reader insert #female reader #not explicitly romance #he has a wife #see it if you want to tho

10 notes · View notes

skippyv20 · 6 months

Text

"Just the facts ma' am."

Hi Skippy & Friends-Pilgrim remembering the famous line from an early TV show called Dragnet when Joe Friday said this on each episode. I think the Royal Family and Firm are doing the same thing…which seems to be using only absolutely, 100% accurate facts, while they were working for them. That is all any employer can comment about really. The ILBW was an actress and did the Tig. Whatever else was claimed by the Sussex duo cannot be trusted or verified. The royal site referred to her best work on Suits, not mentioning the lessor jobs she did along the way-some of which were very tawdry. As for H, they did the same-just the dignified things he did for his family when employed by them.

As for the invisible children still listed in the line of succession that seems to be a very big gift to the con artist grifters. This is like having two baby elephants running around the room which in the end will make a huge mess. It seems the in-laws don’t feel like it is their right to become involved with that clean up job either. Opps-the word is out now so take them off the website and out of the royal clan. Check!

Sending readers to their website should come with a warning about data mining and identity theft. By the way, on her new site where she plans on selling items, can you imagine buying something and giving her your credit card number and your shipping address? Holy cow…that is stuff for nightmares! I think this whole announcement will be tossed on her compost pile of ideas. There is no way she can handle actual fulfillment.

Finally, my heart goes out to the lone male, Prince William, keeping his chin up this whole time while having to deflect such ugliness for his wife and family. We are all human and the stress since he knew what his lovely wife was facing (possibly changing both their lives forever) has been enormous as he also puts up with his abusive brother…geez. The constant barrage of negativity and exhaustion is showing even on his handsome face. I am sure the Princess of Wales is trying very hard to not burden him as much as she can while recuperating.

As for the slimy Andy Cohen opening his big mouth about the royal shoppers…who should believe one word he says! He is the person creating shows that make women look like drunken, stupid, wasteful, spiteful, sneaky, backstabbing, status clawing frauds. For more than a decade he has demeaned women on his shows to the point some have been seriously compromised. Stay in your own lane Mr. Housewife. Over and out for now from a sunny Cape.

Thank you Pilgrim ….I love this…great points!!!!❤️

18 notes · View notes

tiyoin · 6 days

Note

Sun anon here what does the necklace we have on look like gotta see so i can the fanart

SUNNNNNNNNNNNNY :)

now ive been debating if it should be something chunky or something more... refined, as in tiny.

(found these on Pinterest) but because mc is a princess ive been leaning more towards chunky jewelry just because she's so darn rich and royals LOVED to flaunt their wealth

either or, a simple pendant with her mother on it that's held up by black ribbons:

but I myself have a pendant that looks like a giant moonstone that's more of a 'choker; with gems around the oval stone. its held by black ribbons and the whole thing is black expect the stones and mentally ive been basing it off of that.

but I might leave it to a vote!

but its also up to you since im so indecisive!

#twst pirate au 🌊#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #tiyoin 🔎

7 notes · View notes

bitter69uk · 6 months

Text

A bewigged and chiffon caftan-clad Beryl Reid conducting a séance and speaking in the voice of a child … suave Hollywood bad guy George Sanders (in his final film role) as her sinister butler Shadwell … a surly antisocial biker gang called The Living Dead, whose hellraising members are named things like Hatchet, Gash and Chopped Meat but whose tough skull-and-crossbones image is belied by the fact the actors all speak in upper-crust posh tones like they’ve received elocution lessons from The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art … Robert Hardy from All Creatures Great and Small as the chief of police on their case … grocery shoppers at the Hepworth Way shopping centre in Walton-on-Thames being terrorized by The Living Dead (the camera really ogles the pram-pushing young “dollybird” mums wearing miniskirts and hotpants) … occultism centred around the worship of “The Frog God” (prepare for a lot of close-ups of a frog under a bell jar ribbiting) … and a fleeting appearance from June Brown long before she played Dot Cotton in Eastenders … YES! I can only be talking about Psychomania (1973) (aka The Death Wheelers). Tagline: “The Dead Still Ride...the living howl in TERROR!” I revisited this endearingly terrible British exploitation horror oddity last weekend. For anyone squeamish: there’s a high body count, but absolutely zero blood or gore. And Psychomania is brimming with kitschy early seventies charm (and every outdoor scene features typically drab overcast British weather).

#psychomania #the death wheelers #lobotomy room #exploitation film #exploitation cinema #biker movies #horror movies #bad movies we love #bad movies for bad people #bad movies rule #kitsch #b-movie #beryl reid #george sanders #dot cotton

13 notes · View notes

fictionadventurer · 1 year

Text

I am once again begging Hallmark to provide some of the alternate-history worldbuilding behind the fake nations in their royalty romances.

I caught a piece of one last week where the guy tells the main girl, "I'm a prince from St. Ives. It's a tiny monarchy just off the coast of the UK."

On the one hand, kudos for actually explaining why their royals are extremely British. On the other hand, how on Earth did they manage that? You're telling me you've managed to maintain an independent monarchy just off the coast of one of the great European naval powers? That somehow, across centuries, the nation that subdued every other competing nation on their island couldn't spare an afternoon to come conquer you? St. Ives is ruled by a king, not a duke or a prince, so it's not like they're a vassal micronation. One of the great global-spanning empires was somehow okay with letting an entirely different monarchy rule a teeny-tiny island that was sitting right on their doorstep. How did that happen??

It gets even more complicated when the girl goes to the royal palace in St. Ives. Her boyfriend tells her she's being put into "the Wellington Suite." Are you implying that Duke of Wellington is a St. Ives title? Is the entire history of the Napoleonic Wars different in this world? Stop telling me about the girl's personal shopper and start telling me about how this nation has altered European history! Explain, Hallmark!!

#random thought of the day #hallmark #ruritanian romance

72 notes · View notes

paintwhenever · 1 year

Text

Storm Giant Lord/Quintessent I painted for my D&D party to fight. They made quick work of him, but I think they had fun at least, lol.

The skin and muscles were really fun and easy to paint, I just put a zenithal prime on them and airbrushed Army Painter Speedpaint over that very lightly ('royal robes' is the color). That did a nice job with the bright parts of the model, but left the shadows still pitch black, which was a little too extreme. I brought the shadows up a little with a dry brush of Citadel Caledor sky, thinned with medium to sort of tint the black parts blue, and I think that came out pretty well.

Model is 'Storm Giant' by Lord of the Print, I got this one from ImpPrintsDesign on etsy.

#miniature #miniature painting #dnd #dungeons and dragons #storm giant #giant #mini #3d printing #d&d 5e #d&d #d&d character #ttrpg #ttrpg art

18 notes · View notes

unpredictable-probabilities · 1 year

Text

Azul Ashengrotto of Royal Sword Academy || Chapter 5: Gifts, Dances, and Sparks

Summary:

It's the eve of the Autumn Dance and Jamil is nervous, both about Azul's Blot levels and being Azul's date.

He's not sure how the night is going to go with rival schools under the same roof, but there's only one way to find out...

Word Count: 9,262

Saturday rolls around, and Jamil finds himself in the school bus with his fellow NRC students on the way to RSA for the Autumn Dance.

The town passes by outside the window, and Jamil can see the streetlamps slowly coming to life as the sun begins to set. Shopkeepers and restaurants turn on their porch lights for evening shoppers and customers heading to dinner.

“Can’t believe ‘m gonna finally see RSA!” Floyd says, sitting beside him. His formal coat is only halfway buttoned, and the hem of his shirt hangs loose from being untucked. “Ya ever been there before, Sea Snake?”

Jamil glances up from where he had been absent-mindedly fixing his own outfit, a little self-conscious. "Hm? RSA? No…I've never been. Wouldn't be surprised if it's anything like its students–fancy and sparkly."

Through the days leading up to the dance, Azul hasn't done much to contact him. For a while, he figured it was probably because he should initiate first, but even when he tries (using a small "hey"), there's been little to no conversation and…

Well... Suffice to say that he's feeling restless, like there's something he's forgotten or overlooked.

Trying to text and ask Kalim how he's been doing hasn't produced much results either, and he's beginning to think that somebody's sabotaging his mobile messages.

Calm down, Jamil, he chides himself. They're probably busy with schoolwork and preparations for the dance. Azul told him as much. He gets busy at NRC, too.

Still, worries about Blot and Azul have been piling up in the back of his mind.

"I hope you're not planning on setting anything on fire while we're there," he mutters.

Floyd just laughs, which isn’t exactly reassuring.

“Oh hey,” Floyd says as if he just remembered something. “We ain’t supposed to bring a gift or anything to our dates, right? I dunno how these things work, and I didn’t bring any for Flame Tetra.” He pats his pockets as if looking for a last-minute gift.

"... Umm…"

Jamil subtly pushes his small parcel further inside his jacket pocket.

"I don't… believe so. Besides, I'm sure Rielle wouldn't—Wait, Rielle!?"

He whirls around to face the merman, bewildered. "You asked HIM out as your date? Wh—How did that happen?"

Floyd shrugs. “I texted him the other day to ask if he wanted to hang out. He said he’s too busy with the preparations and had to get some glass swans decorations or somethin’ from some shop. So I went to the shop and brought him some fries. We hung out while walking to the bus stop, then we reached it and he had to go back to RSA. But before he left I asked him to be my date.”

He pulls out something from his pocket and squints at it. “How about this spare button as a gift? Do ya think his suit would have buttons that need replacing?”

Jamil gawks at Floyd, speechless.

Great Seven, this man is the option Rielle's left with now that Azul's unavailable?

Jamil feels that he can't apologize to the sea prince enough as the silhouette of RSA's school rises from the distance.

"Er... maybe gauge your standing with him first before you present him with the… button. How's that?"

“Whuzzat mean?” Floyd wrinkles his nose in confusion. “Why, what’s yer standing with Octy?”

Jamil purses his lips, deciding to ignore the second question. "I mean... it's just a button. Rielle's prolly too nice to reject it, but I think even he’s got some standards."

Floyd sticks his tongue out. “Yer too picky. Glad yer not my date,” he grumbles before settling into his seat and pointedly ignoring Jamil.

They reach the RSA grounds, and after a short briefing from Professor Trein about maintaining good behavior throughout the night, they’re let out of the bus.

As they approach the main building, the tall gleaming gates open on their own, and Headmage Ambrose walks out with a welcoming smile, flanked by two RSA students in formal wear.

“Welcome to Royal Sword Academy,” Ambrose smiles warmly at them, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I must say that it brings me great joy to see Night Raven College students on our doorstep. A unified celebration between our schools has been long overdue, if I do say so myself.”

"I couldn't agree more, Ambrose!" Crowley's voice announces from behind the crowd, and the crow-masked fellow promptly sidles himself up to stand before his students, wearing a pleasant grin. Somehow, despite the NRC Headmage's cheer, there's an evident lack of warmth to his demeanor in contrast (though that simply could be because of his dark midnight colors compared to Ambrose's friendly blues).

"It's a great pleasure to grace these halls after so long. My!" Crowley softly gasps. "Aren't those your usual robes? Are you not dressing up for your own school event?"

"Crowley," Ambrose says, in a voice that seems less warm. "I could tell you the same thing. Isn't that the ensemble you wear every day on campus? I mean, presuming you do stay on campus every day." His smile remains, but it's subtly different now than the one he wore when he first greeted them.

Students from both sides eye each other in quiet confusion as they watch this strange display.

"Why change what's already perfect?" Crowley beams, looking unperturbed as he ignored the other's jabs. "Meanwhile, your periwinkle blue ensemble makes you haphazardly stand out! A shame... I just thought you would treat yourself to a nicer outfit on such a special occasion, though I suppose it's always about looking 'simple and humble' with you."

"Oh, I am sure you don't see standing out as a bad thing, given that you insist on wearing those feathers everywhere," Ambrose's eyes narrow as he chuckles. He turns to the students and his features become warm again. "Regardless, please come in! These gentlemen will lead you to the ballroom," he steps aside and gestures to the students behind him.

"This way, please," says a tall brunette with a friendly smile.

Gleaming corridors and tall arched windows welcome them as their footsteps echo along the marble floor. Everything is so sparkly clean that if Jamil knew nothing about this place, he’d think it’s a new building.

NRC is by no means a pigsty, and the staff always keep everything clean and orderly, but walking through RSA’s halls had Jamil wondering how it’s possible for hundreds of students to live there and keep the place looking like it does now. The word “Royal” is in their name, so Jamil supposes that it’s only natural for the building to look like a palace wherever they look.

“Those are some fancy tapestries,” Ruggie whistles as he walks beside him. “Each of them is big enough to cover my entire living room floor back at home. Bet they’re expensive, too.” He squints closer at the threads.

Jamil pauses in his stride and stays at Ruggie's side, raising an eyebrow. "Already forgetting the briefing that we're supposed to be on our best behavior tonight?"

“Aww, I’m just looking, man,” Ruggie claps Jamil on the arm, pulling him along with the crowd and they start walking again.

They reach the ballroom, an enormous space with a ceiling high enough to fit large chandeliers with long crystal lights, sparkling in the softly-lit room.

Round tables draped in white cloth were set in intervals on one side, high-backed chairs surrounding each one. In a different part of the room, taller but smaller tables stood, no chairs. Jamil had been to enough fancy parties by the Asims to know that those tables are for people who prefer to be mobile during an event. Those sociable people don’t need chairs at a party. They pass by one of those tall tables, and Jamil sees two glass swans sitting pristinely as the centerpiece.

Along one wall, a long buffet table is laden with various dishes of meat and vegetables and fruits. At the end, some catering crew are swiftly setting up the desserts.

Calming classical music is playing from somewhere, and Jamil realizes that it’s the same song that Azul had been playing in the department store, but in a slightly different arrangement to make room for the violin accompanying it.

Jamil looks around, beginning to wonder if Azul was the one playing the music. Idly, he searches for the source of the sound, pausing alongside the other NRC students as they awkwardly crowd around the entrance, wary about fully entering into the den.

His gaze falls onto the piano at an elevated dais on one side of the room. Azul has an air of relaxation about him as he plays the song along with another RSA student at the violin in front of him. He’s wearing the outfit he had bought at the department store, the purple coat draped around his shoulders.

Jamil stares and watches Azul, entranced as a small smile creeps upon his features.

Well, he's glad Azul seems to be doing well.

"What'chu staring at?" Ruggie asks, following Jamil's gaze. "Ohhhhhh. Geez, man, you're not even being subtle about it anymore."

"Hm? What?" Jamil blinked, having failed to catch what Ruggie said.

"I said the entrees look delicious, don't they?"

"Ah. Oh… Yeah. I suppose they do."

Ruggie squints at him, grinning. “I’m gonna head to the appetizers before Floyd gets to them," he deftly makes his way to the buffet table, cheerfully greeting the catering staff and waving at them.

The other NRC students see Ruggie confidently moving about the room, and they begin to relax and file in, looking around.

Not wanting to look like a fool standing in the middle of the entranceway staring at seemingly nothing, Jamil moves along, too.

However, since he doesn't wish to disturb Azul just yet while he's still in the middle of his performance, he starts to follow Ruggie, attempting to occupy his mind with something else for now.

He looks around, wondering how many of the Savanaclaws showed up in the end. He's surprised to see that most, if not all, of them are present. The usually rugged-looking Savanaclaws are wearing formal clothing, some of them are even dressed more neatly than Floyd. He sees Leona in the corner, a small frown on his face as he adjusts the tie on his princely outfit of bronze and dark brown.

Jamil was too busy taking in the sight of the Savanaclaws and their normally unsociable Prefect that he didn’t notice the RSA student in front of him until the other’s hand steadies him on the shoulder, preventing them from colliding into each other.

“Jamil,” Rielle greets him in surprise, a fancy drinking glass in hand. “Welcome to Royal Sword Academy. How do you find the place so far?”

Jamil looks at the prince. "Ah. Hello, Rielle. It looks…" He gazes around. "Enchanting. You all did a good job with the place. How have things been for you guys?"

“Thank you,” Rielle tips his head politely. “Things have been… busy,” he chuckles, a nervous and relieved sound. “I now have the utmost respect for party planners. Honestly, what I’m most looking forward to about tonight is the good long sleep that I’ll be having.”

His expression turns a bit more serious. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about Azul. Do you have a minute?”

Jamil tenses up. Does Rielle know about what's been happening between them? Jamil's feelings? The gift he's hiding in his jacket right now?

"... All right," he stiffly nods. "I'm pretty free at the moment."

Rielle visibly relaxes, and he turns to one of the tall standing tables beside them, placing his drink on it. He looks down at the cuff of his coat and fidgets with it for a second before speaking.

“Azul and I spoke the other day. With our busy schedules, he really made time for us to be able to speak privately, so I gathered that it was important. Jamil, I do apologize for ruining the mood of what is supposedly a fun party, but…” his composed expression makes way to that of worry, and he speaks more quietly. “Do you really think that Azul is at risk of Overblotting?”

Jamil blinks in surprise before he nods, acknowledging Rielle's sincere worry. If he already feels this concerned about Azul, he can only imagine how bad it is for a close childhood friend. "That's what I've been led to believe by... trustworthy sources. Why? What has he told you about it?"

“He told me what happened at your Equestrian Club’s obstacle course. How he felt a particular anger after… talking about Knight Class. He said he lost consciousness.”

Rielle’s forehead creases with worry, and his jaw clenches. Jamil realizes that there’s guilt in the prince’s expression.

“I never realized how hard it has been for him, being associated with me,” he says quietly. “I should have checked in with him more frequently, but I focused so much on my duties that I had ended up taking his presence for granted,” he shakes his head.

"... If anything, your presence in his life has gotten him this far," Jamil reasons. "You're both having a hard time with the way things are, but you've managed to get through them before, haven't you? What's changed?"

“That’s kind of you to say,” Prince Rielle gives a small smile, then he sighs. “And to be perfectly honest… I think Azul and I have simply gotten weary. Our freshman year had already been difficult, especially with our adjustment to land. Now that we are in our Second Year, the expectations have only gotten higher. I cannot even be a few minutes late to class without getting a lecture about how as a royal, I should always be a role model for excellence, and tardiness is unacceptable.”

He meets Jamil’s eyes. “That is why I am grateful that Azul found some breathing room in your presence, I of all people know how much he deserves it,” he says sincerely.

Jamil pauses, his mind beginning to race as he prods at the implications of this revelation.

What's changed, he had asked.

Could one of the changes have been Jamil himself?

It's almost ironic, really, how the indentured servant got some breathing room in his life for once, spurred on by Azul's reassurances. Only to find the possibility that Azul, having seen said servant begin to fly, is starting to look at his own life in comparison along with the chains that bind him down.

"... But then... what about you?" Jamil asks. "If this is a burden on Azul, I can only imagine how much heavier it is on your shoulders. How have you been coping with all of it?"

Rielle looks down for a moment, a sad smile on his face. “I do not entirely mind the duties I have to do, helping others makes me happy, and I do aim to make things better for the people in my kingdom after graduation, as well as other merfolk who wish to visit the surface. I just kept telling myself that it would all be worth it in the end, and distracted myself in my work. That spontaneous hang out that Floyd had dragged me into on the day that he burned my school uniform while attempting to cook a pretzel, it was the first trip I had gone to in a very long time that did not involve me being a prince. I enjoyed myself immensely,” he smiles sheepishly, as if embarrassed.

Jamil tries to rein back the weird look he was about to give him. "Oh, I hadn't expected that you'd… enjoy Floyd's brand of fun."

In fact, he had been certain Floyd was going to add to Rielle's stresses. If Riddle was here, he'd certainly attest to that.

Which reminds him...

"...Are you saying you somehow enjoyed it so much that you said yes when he asked you to be his date?" Jamil asks. "I heard that you're attending the dance together, and to be honest, I'm still having a hard time believing it."

“Oh, Floyd mentioned that?” Rielle blushes and laughs. He clears his throat. “Are you going to suggest that he and I do a… what was it, DTR?” he says playfully.

"Ah," Jamil quirks a shy grin. "You heard all that? Or… did Azul tell you about it?"

“Azul told me, in that same conversation after he told me about his visit to NRC,” Rielle says. “And I brought it up because… I wanted to thank you. Azul and I had been dancing around such serious conversations, and without your intervention, I don’t know how long it would have taken us before we actually addressed our… dynamic.” He smiles at Jamil, then his expression turns a little somber. “Azul had been worried that him being your date was hurting me. And, it was. But not in the way that Azul or even I first thought.”

He pauses for a moment before continuing. “Azul and I had been with each other for so long, and we had both thought that that is how it would always be, and we had no problems with it. My father had implied a betrothal between us a handful of times, and neither of us opposed nor acknowledged it, not even to each other.

When we talked the other day, we admitted that the arrangement was quite convenient for the both of us. I didn’t have to worry about my father marrying me off to some stranger, and Azul said he felt a sense of security for him and his mother with the prospect of our marriage in the future. We’re close friends, and for a long time we genuinely didn’t mind the thought of being married. In our world where duty awaits us at every turn, it was a nice thought that at least our future spouse would be someone with whom we could be completely honest and wouldn’t have to keep up appearances.

But we realized… that was it. We don’t want to marry each other, it was just convenient. And our recent reunion with Jade and Floyd–our first meeting with you–reminded us that we had a life before all of this,” he gestures around them. “Before titles were slapped on us and everyone expected us to act a certain way. We realized that we had the choice to make decisions that do not conform to the expectations set down before us, that we didn’t have to settle for what is merely convenient.

I told Azul that Floyd had asked me to be his date to this dance,” Rielle smiles, a bit of cheerfulness returning to his expression. “It wasn’t convenient at all for Floyd to travel all the way to the store where I was picking up the decorative glass swans, but he didn’t care. He still showed up with a bucket of fries because I mentioned that I hadn’t eaten lunch yet.

I wanted Azul to be my date to this dance because he’s the one with whom I’m the most comfortable being around. But I realized that I’m really comfortable with Floyd, too. He has known me since middle school, and never once did he expect me to act like a prince or be a role model of any sort. I can be myself when I’m around him, and he doesn’t mind if I spill food on my shirt because he’s most likely already done it himself,” Rielle chuckles. “And Azul… well, Azul told me that he has had his own realizations, too,” he says vaguely.

“Anyway,” Rielle continues. “Another reason I’m telling you all this is, I wanted to let you know that whatever… dynamic you want to pursue with Azul, I won’t be getting in the way. Neither of you have to worry about me, because I’m happy for you both,” he smiles genuinely at Jamil.

Jamil listens to Rielle's tale with wide-eyed speechlessness. Azul actually talked it out with him…

... And they've both decided that they don't want to be together in that way?

… Rielle actually finds Floyd comforting? Perhaps he's been a tad too harsh on the fellow; it's true that his methods, though unorthodox and carefree, may just be the extreme sort of balance Rielle needs.

He can only hope that this is one of the few things Floyd doesn't change his mind about.

But more importantly, it was the words that came afterward that left him reeling.

Rielle was happy for them both? Almost as if they're…

Was Rielle… giving him his blessing to court Azul?

"... Um…" He utters out, going red in the face and falling into a small stumble backwards. "I... Wh… Huh? Wait, I'm… You're… he…"

"Whazz goin' on?" Floyd asks, slinking up to drape himself over Rielle. "What'd ya do? You broke Sea Snake?"

“Floyd,” Rielle brightens up. Then chuckles at Jamil’s reaction. “We were just talking about Azul.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Floyd says, his arm over Rielle’s shoulders. “No wonder he’s all a-flustered, then.” His gaze falls on the table. “Ooh! Is that the fizzy fruit punch?” he reaches over and picks it up—

Then sets it back down.

“Uh, can I?” he asks Rielle, pointing at the glass.

Rielle chuckles. “Go ahead. And yes, it is indeed the fizzy fruit punch.”

Jamil finds the scenario before him so jarring he snaps out of his bewilderment to be even more bewildered. "Floyd?" he asks. "Did you ask for permission just now? Over a fruit punch?"

“Yeah, so?” Floyd shrugs and picks up the glass, then takes a sip. “Mm! I like it! I should tell Jade about this, I think he’s plannin’ to open a café at our dorm. If he makes a drink like this, I’d totally be there.”

“A café?” Rielle asks with interest. “That sounds nice, I can see Jade being quite the capable businessman. How did he get the idea?”

“Huh? Oh I wasn’t paying attention when he told me,” Floyd says. “Ooh! But we can ask him! Look, he’s there over by the appetizers with lil’ Remora.” He grabs Rielle’s hand and begins to pull him.

Rielle just manages to look at Jamil and say, “Thank you for having that conversation with me, Jamil, it means a lot,” before getting completely pulled along by Floyd.

Jamil stares and watches them leave, trying to blink his way back to a calmer composure. He could barely even register the café part. Who was establishing it? Where did Floyd and Rielle go?

He shakes his head. Get it together.

After calming down from all of that, Jamil realizes that the music has changed. It’s a different song now, and played on a harp by some RSA student that he didn’t know. The piano is vacant, and Azul isn’t on the dais anymore. Looking at his immeidate vicinity, he realizes with a start that he doesn’t see him at all.

Jamil begins to glance around the entire hall, walking to see if he can find a good vantage point.

He spots the familiar pattern on the back of Azul’s coat, partially hidden by the small fountain emitting sparkling water. The golden embroidery on purple catches the light from the chandeliers.

Azul is in a conversation with someone who is probably an RSA professor, based on how he seems to be scolding Azul. The man has thin round spectacles, a round face, white thinning hair, and a white mustache that’s thicker than his white eyebrows.

Even from this distance, Jamil can see Azul’s tense posture, standing straight and proper behind the fountain.

Jamil ducks to hide behind a nearby column, trying to get as close as possible to listen to their conversation without being seen. He normally would've left it alone, but something about the scene before him twists his gut unpleasantly.

“The catering was almost a half-hour late, and the area for the meet-and-greet with the Moirai doesn’t even have couches yet!” The man seems so enraged with the absence of those couches that his mustache fluffs with his every syllable.

“The restaurant informed me that there had been a problem with their refrigerated van which took longer to fix than they expected, Professor,” Azul replies calmly. “They offered their sincere apologies and would be giving us the desserts for free as compensation. As for the VIP area with the Moirai, the others are bringing the couches and tables there now as we speak. There is quite the large number of students who have signed up for the meet and greet, and the printing of their ID passes had only been completed this afternoon. Hence the preparation of the VIP area had been pushed back by an hour.”

“That is because you had little forethought for these things,” the professor says sternly. “I checked the logs, and it’s you who decided to add the meet-and-greet with the Moirai and modify the menu for the catering so close to the dance.”

“The committee had ample time for those changes, Professor,” Azul says evenly. “The delays that occurred will not affect the program at all—”

“There is no use for excuses, Ashengrotto,” the professor cuts him off. “As a member of the committee, you are well aware that final decisions should be made two weeks before the event, and yet you still made modifications after that deadline.”

At this point Azul is looking more tense. “I was only aiming to make the program as enjoyable as it can be for the guests, sir.”

“By bending the rules?” the professor huffs. “You better hope that there aren’t any more mistakes during this event. I expected better from the Coral Sea’s future royal advisor.” He gives one last scowl before turning on his heel and walking away.

Azul remains standing there. He takes a deep breath and releases it, but it doesn’t alleviate the tension in his shoulders. His right hand is clenched into a fist at his side. The light is too dim here for Jamil to make it out properly, but it looks like Azul is clutching a small object in his hand.

Jamil glares at the professor as he walks away and out of view. Then he goes to Azul, taking in a deep breath before pushing himself off of the column to meet with him.

"Azul…?" he tentatively asks, looking at the item in the boy's hand.

Azul startles and turns to him, then his face relaxes into a smile. “Jamil.”

He follows Jamil’s gaze and looks down at his hand.

“Ah,” he lifts his hand and opens his palm, revealing a tuning fork bent into an almost U shape.“I had been double-checking the instruments when Professor Weselton called my attention.”

He pulls out his Magic Pen and casts a spell on the tuning fork, straightening it out.

“There, good as new,” he gives a small smile and tucks it away in his pants pocket. “How have you been? Have you eaten anything?”

Jamil takes a moment to process that before giving him a shake of the head. "Hadn't eaten yet. I was busy enjoying your performance. Other than that, I've been doing well... I would've approached you earlier, but you seemed… occupied in conversation there. How are you doing tonight so far?"

Azul’s smile becomes more genuine. “I’m happy you liked my performance. I always enjoy playing the piano, so I've been having a pleasant time. Though admittedly Professor Weselton’s scolding had put a bit of a damper on things.”

He steps closer to Jamil and turns serious. “Jamil, I’d like to apologize that I hadn’t been messaging you much the past few days. I had to do some extra work because of the modifications I had added to the party plans, and some of the professors weren’t happy with how much I had been going out lately, so I had to pay closer attention to things so they wouldn’t outright be against me going outside campus and staying out for long. Then Rielle and I had some serious conversations and I needed some time to think and…” he shakes his head lightly.

“Regardless, I had planned to explain it to you tonight, and I do plan to make it up to you,” he reaches out as if wanting to touch Jamil’s hand, but hesitates. Instead he just smiles at Jamil. “I promise.”

Jamil watches Azul's hand fall back to his side then clears his throat.

"You don't need to. The fact that you guys went through the trouble to set this up to begin with is compensation enough. And um… "

He takes out the small pouch from his pocket, hesitantly handing it over.

"I… thought to give you something. I had some time to myself in the kitchen and figured I might as well... They aren't much, but I hope they're to your liking."

Azul looks surprised, then he takes the pouch and gently takes out the paper packaging. “Jamil, you didn’t have to,” he says as he unwraps it.

"I know." Jamil mutters.

Within the packaging is a batch of cookies, each one intricately decorated to look like pretty seashells that washed up along a sandy beach. A few of those shells are clam-looking confectionaries, designed to hinge open and close to reveal cream filling and a chocolate ball resembling a pearl.

"I er… wanted to, though." Jamil was actively looking anywhere but Azul, both eager and mortified as he anticipates his reaction. "Besides, I figured that you deserve some sort of reward for all your hard work."

Azul picks up one of the cookies, opening it to see the chocolate made to look like a pearl. He gasps softly, "Oh my. These are beautiful, Jamil, I’d never seen anything like it. Thank you.”

He closes it and puts it back in the wrapper and pouch. Then he clears his throat.

“I was planning to give this to you after the dance, but since we’re here…” he gets a small box from his pocket and hands it to Jamil. It’s about the size of his palm and is midnight black with sparkling white dots, resembling a starry night sky.

Jamil eyes the item, caught off-guard. "Huh? Wait, what's this?" He carefully takes the box and opens it up.

Inside is a small case for wireless earphones, a square with rounded corners, painted to look like the top of a tall tower, the lid that opens being the roof. When opened, the earphones float out of the case to hover gently above it, a small pair of wings unfolding from each, flapping like hummingbirds. The wings fold in and blend into the earphones when picked up, and the earphones just look like normal ones with a painted design of birds.

“I thought you might like music since you like dancing,” Azul says, shrugging shyly. “And you seemed to like the piano music back at the department store…’

Jamil ogles the device a little more, not quite believing his eyes.

An embarrassed grin forms along his jaw and he gently packs the item away as he mumbles, "Wow... A Muses Olympos brand. I've never had such a fancy piece of tech before. Thank you. I'll take good care of it. It… really means a lot."

Azul's shoulders relax. “I’m happy you like it. Shall we find a table and share these?” he holds up the pouch of cookies.

"Let's," Jamil nods, walking by Azul's side as the rest of the party goes underway. "... By the way, I managed to catch some bits and pieces of your conversation with your professor back there and... is he the only one or do most of them treat you that way?"

Azul falls silent for a moment before he answers. “Most of my professors are much... kinder when they express their expectations about me, and no one else had anything negative to say about tonight’s program so far. Professor Weselton has just always been more uptight than the rest of them, we’re all used to it.

"Well, I hope you don't listen to him because I for one think you did a great job." Jamil states.

"Thank you, Jamil,” Azul smiles at him. "Would you prefer to sit at the bigger tables or just stand at the taller ones?” he asks.

"I'm fine with sticking to those for now," Jamil nods at the standing tables.

They go over to a table, and Azul places the pouch on it. “So, what gave you the idea to bake such unique confections?”

"Well, I wasn't sure if you'd be into the sea motif, but it was the best idea I got. I hope you don't mind sweets."

“I do like the sea motif," Azul says sincerely. "It reminds me of the beach where I often see shells washed up along the shore. Admittedly, I tend to avoid anything that has too many calories, including sweets, but you’re right, tonight I deserve a reward.” He takes a bite out of a cookie that’s shaped like a scallop shell. “You are quite the talented baker, Jamil Viper. I don’t suppose you can teach me how to make these?”

"It wasn't all me. I had a bit of help with it, but... now that I've learned the recipe, I wouldn't mind teaching you." Jamil remarked, enjoying the sight of Azul indulging in his creations. "Speaking of gifts, the one you got for me… You didn't have to get something that pricey. A pair of regular pods would've been fine."

“I wanted it to be customized, and I didn’t have a lot of time to look for any other store that does that. Muses Olympos was the most accessible,” Azul explains. “Besides, you put a lot of time and effort into these cookies, all I did was buy those earphones.” He gives Jamil one of them. “Try one, the baker is really good," he smiles.

"Accessible?" Jamil asks, picking up a cookie. "Last I've seen, they're found in high-end luxury department stores. Is RSA specially sponsored by the Muses or something? Or..." He glances around the room. "You got a classmate with connections to them?"

“Rielle and I had visited their branch in town two weeks ago, inquiring about their sound system for this party. When I called them several days ago, they remembered my name. I may not have denied their implications that the earphones are for a noble and therefore have to be made posthaste,” Azul says with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “And don’t worry, I told Rielle about it. He merely found it amusing and was happy that I found a store that would do what I wanted.”

"Huh..." Jamil smiles. "Well-played, Azul. I'll do my best to act the part of a noble if I ever have to bump into any of the people working there."

"You already look rather noble to me," Azul says with a smile. "Your suit looks even better now than it did in the store, you carry it well."

"You too. That's new, though," he gestures at the coat draped around the other's shoulders.

"Ah, yes," Azul glances at his coat. "I found that it's more comfortable to play the piano when I wear it like this. It's less restricting, and I've decided to just keep it like so. Does it look odd?"

Jamil shakes his head. "It doesn't. It suits you well."

You look cute in it.

"How do you find the cookies?"

"I really like them," Azul says. "And I'm not just saying that so you'll teach me how to make them," he says playfully. "You should have more, I can't possibly finish all of these," he nudges the cookies to Jamil.

Azul bit down on the clamshell cookie, and some chocolate was left on his bottom lip. He doesn't seem to notice.

Jamil, as he takes a cookie, notices and attempts to point it out. "Ah, there's a bit of chocolate over…"

He gestures to Azul's lip.

"Oh," Azul's eyebrows raise in surprise.

He uses his thumb to wipe his lip, but it's on the wrong side and he doesn't get the chocolate out.

Azul absently flicks his tongue across his bottom lip. "Is it gone?"

"Ah, no. Here, lemme..." Jamil mumbles, absentmindedly leaning forward to wipe it off.

As he touches Azul's lip, he suddenly realizes what he's doing.

He's so used to doing this for Kalim that he acted without thinking.

He quickly leans back and withdraws his hand. "Th-There. It's… It's gone now."

Azul is frozen for a moment, then he clears his throat. "Th-Thank you. Do you often bake?"

"Um..." Jamil lets his mind catch up for a moment before replying, "N-No, but… I figured there was no harm in giving it a shot."

"No harm indeed," Azul smiles. "You do cook at home, right? I seem to remember Najma saying that your dishes are, in her words, boring-looking?" he says in amusement.

Jamil's eyebrow twitches at the remark. He turns his gaze to Azul again, confidence regained. "While I will admit that my cooking's appearances leave something to be desired, the food I make easily rivals that of a professional's."

Azul beams at his confidence. "Is that so? You know, I have heard the same remarks about my cooking. And not just because they want brownie points from Rielle," he says pointedly in a humorous tone.

Jamil playfully squints at him. "What're you suggesting here? A cooking competition between the both of us?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'm not suggesting anything. But if you insist," Azul says in feigned innocence. "Do we know anyone who might be capable of judging?"

Jamil looks over to the other students present. Someone who wouldn't be biased nor easy to please would be ideal…

"I nominate Vil," he gestures to the practically-glowing blonde across the hall, even though he's not sure if he'd have the time to indulge in such silly competitions. "Then another guy named Trey. Any potential judges on your end?"

"Vil Schoenheit?" Azul says in surprise. "I wouldn't wanna add to his certainly busy schedule. Though of course I wouldn't mind it if he does have the time. As for here… " he furrows his eyebrows in thought. "My classmate Theo's family owns a restaurant, so he's quite knowledgeable when it comes to cuisine. And Cindo from Knight Class would be a viable judge as well. Where would we hold such a competition?"

"Hmm... That's a good question--" Jamil pauses before he turns to the other. "You know, I heard that Jade's planning on opening up a café soon. Maybe once it gets all properly set up, we can hold it there."

"Sounds good," Azul says. "Perhaps you'd even want to cook there regularly when it turns out to be to your liking. If your claims are true, then Jade's café would be booming in no time."

Jamil shrugs. "I guess that's something to consider, though I'm not sure how to feel about having someone like Jade Leech as my boss... Did you have something to do with it, by the way? The café?"

"It's part of what we discussed when I visited NRC," Azul says. "I suggested that he could open a café to help promote his club. He invited me to help him come up with some recipes, and hopefully after this dance I would have more time."

"Sounds good. Perhaps you'd even want to come over regularly when the planning and managing turns out to be to your liking," Jamil mimicks Azul's tone, smiling.

Azul chuckles, then smiles back playfully. "Will I be seeing you if I do come over regularly?"

"Maybe," Jamil teases, though he's already mentally planning to ask Jade about the details later.

"I'm sure Jade would be happy to have you cooking for his café," Azul says, then he glances at the buffet table. "Would you like to eat already? Oh, or are you waiting until after your dance-off with Floyd before you eat?"

"Yeah, it's never a good idea to dance with a full stomach." Jamil looks at the hall, where some of the boys are already filing in to sway along to the new music at play. "What about you, though? How are you feeling about going out there on the dance floor with me? Getting any cold feet?"

Azul raises an eyebrow. “Is that always how you ask someone to dance with you?"

"Never asked someone to dance before so you'll have to forgive my inexperience." Jamil chuckles. "I was being serious, though. Do you want to do this? If you don't want to dance, we don't have to."

Azul smiles. “I want to. My mind hasn’t changed about that.” He slips his coat off his shoulders and wears it, smoothing it out and pulling it to make sure it looks proper.

He steps to the side and holds out a hand to Jamil, looking like a proper gentleman.

Jamil had been thinking he'd be the one doing that, but he's gotta say that he doesn't dislike being at the receiving end of attention like this.

He looks fondly into Azul's gaze before accepting his hand and walking out with him to the dance floor, letting his cares melt into the back of his head even when his schoolmates notice and begin to stare.

“You’ve really never asked anyone to dance before?” Azul asks as they walk to the dance floor, his hand holding Jamil’s. “What makes little old me so special?” he says playfully.

"... I think..." Jamil stops at some point along the hall and promptly positions himself before the other. "You've become someone I want to see happy. You seem to view yourself incompetent when dancing was first brought up, and yet you still wished to come out here with me. So, even with something as hard for you as dancing, I want to help you enjoy yourself, no matter what anyone watching says."

Azul seems surprised for a moment, his face reddening in the dim light. “Well, if you asked me to dance with you because you thought it would make me happy,” he says quietly as he places his other hand gently on Jamil’s waist, “you’re right.” he smiles. “You’ve become someone who makes me happy, and I’m hoping I can be the same for you,” he says softly.

"...You don't have to hope," he mumbles, placing a hand on Azul's shoulder, taking the first step. "You already do."

Azul steps into rhythm with him, gazing fondly into his eyes.

Jamil absently realizes that the music is a pop song that he’s familiar with, but the arrangement is slower to make it more fitting for a slow dance, the drumbeats and electro-pop sounds replaced with violins and a piano. A couple of RSA students are singing.

We were strangers Starting out on a journey Never dreaming what we'd have to go through Now here we are And I'm suddenly standing At the beginning with you

“I took dancing lessons,” Azul softly says, smiling shyly. “We have regular dance classes, but I took extra dance lessons with my schoolmates that will be performing later.”

No one told me, that I was going to find you Unexpected, what you did to my heart When I lost hope You were there to remind me This is the start

"You took to those lessons well," Jamil grins, letting Azul take the lead. "You went through all that trouble for me? Even after the other party preparations you had to do?"

“It was part of the party preparations,” Azul says with feigned innocence. “I planned to dance with you at this party, and I prepared for it,” his eyes turn playful.

I'll be there when the world stops turning I'll be there when the storm is through In the end I wanna be standing At the beginning with you

“Your schoolmates are staring at us,” Azul whispers with a small smile. “Are you sure you’re alright with this?”

"If you're alright with dancing, then I'm alright with being the center of attention like this. We shall both suffer together," Jamil quietly jokes.

"Whoo!" Floyd's voice cheers from the din of the crowd. "I wanna dance, too! C'mon, Flame Tetra, get on the floor with me!"

And with Rielle's laughter bubbling up to the surface as he gets jovially yanked onto the fray, the fragile tension breaks. Groups of friends, individuals who just wish to sway along to the music, and couples–RSAs, NRCs, with even a handful of them boldly asking and challenging each other to a dance respectively–spread out to the dance floor, joining them both in a lively celebration.

Azul laughs good-naturedly at the sight. “Look at that, it seems like everyone else is enjoying dancing as well.”

The space is big enough that even with the large number of people, there’s still plenty of room to move. In the crowd of well-dressed students, Jamil sees Ruggie and Leona dancing together with grins on their faces, their gazes only focused on each other.

“Is that Ruggie with Leona Kingscholar?” Azul says in surprise.

Jamil makes a low whistle. "Would ya look at that? Looks like the proud lion's finally let his walls down. It's about time." He glances back at Azul. "You know Leona?"

“Not personally,” Azul says. “Rielle is required to know the names of the royal families, and by extension I became familiar with them as well. I only saw Leona once at a diplomatic royal event last year, but I didn’t get a chance to speak to him. What’s he like?” Azul asks curiously.

"Oh-hoh?" Jamil quirks an eyebrow in amusement. "Well, can you tell me what he's like in those diplomatic royal events first?"

This should be good.

Azul thinks about it. “He did not look happy to be there, that was my impression. He never spoke unless absolutely necessary, and he only ever looked stoic or bored. However, he’s evidently intelligent based on the few conversations I’ve heard him join. At some point, some nobles were at a corner mocking King Falena’s rule. Before their snickers had even died down, Leona was already there.

For a moment I was afraid that he would get violent, but he addressed all three of the nobles with their titles, and clearly and concisely listed down their shortcomings as leaders of their cities. I didn’t know most of the things he was talking about, but from the aghast and embarrassed reactions of the nobles, it looked like he hit the mark. He called them an embarrassment to the kingdom, bared his teeth, then walked away.

I don’t know if King Falena ever knew of what he did, but Leona Kingscholar gained my respect that day.”

"Huh." Jamil glanced back at Leona once more. "You're not too far off, then, though I suppose I can argue that he seems to enjoy his time as the leader of the Savanaclaws more. However, he's just as largely disinterested with anything in general, like classes and meetings. It's hard to tell what gets the guy going other than the fact that he seems peeved about everything all the time, but..." He glances at Ruggie laughing at something Leona said. "It's good to see he's not always so dour."

“Indeed,” Azul smiles, looking at Leona. “He’s much happier here than he was at that entire meeting.”

A different song had been playing for a while now, which Jamil recognized as a ballad from the Sunset Savannah, and it’s reaching the end.

And can you feel the love tonight? How it's laid to rest It's enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best It's enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best

Ruggie says something, Leona smiles, then he leans forward and kisses Ruggie, wrapping his arms around the hyena beastman’s waist.

Ruggie leans into the kiss, embracing Leona around the neck.

Some of the Savanaclaw students begin to whistle and holler as Jamil instinctively looks away from what seems to be a private and intimate moment.

"Aw, shut yer yaps, guys!" Ruggie complains. "You're ruining the moment!"

Despite his griping, all it takes is one inaudible comment from Leona and Ruggie proceeds to ignore the masses and launches himself at the guy.

"Awww, that's so sweet!" one of the RSA students coos.

Azul turns to Jamil in surprise. “Were they together this entire time?”

Jamil gives an honest shrug. "I'm not sure. I suppose they seemed close, though I didn't know it had gone to this extent. But I guess it explains a few things here and there…"

An announcement comes over the speakers that the Moirai would be performing next; applause and cheering burst from the audience.

The band comes up on stage and greets everyone a good evening, earning another round of applause.

One of the members, a woman with pink hair with blue highlights, says that they'll first be performing one of their most popular songs, and everyone is free to continue dancing.

The crowd settles, a few people clapping and cheering their favorite band member's names.

The song begins…

If there's a prize for rotten judgment…

Floyd appears, pulling Rielle along with him. "Heya, Sea Snake! Lil' Remora had the guts. When're ya gonna make yer move?" he nods to Azul.

Jamil tenses up from Azul's close proximity and Floyd's blatant call-out. He hesitates, looking at his dance partner to see if he has any clue what the eel's talking about.

Azul seems to tense up as well, but he smiles at Floyd. "Hello, Floyd. How are you—"

"Shush shush, Octy, I'm talkin' to Sea Snake," Floyd cuts him off then turns back to Jamil. "How's it goin'?"

"Huh? What do you mean 'how's it goin''? What's supposed to be 'goin''?" Jamil asks, glaring at Floyd.

Who'dya think you're kidding? He's the earth and heaven to ya Try to keep it hidden Honey, we can see right through ya You can't conceal it We know how you're feeling Who you're thinking of

"Oh lookie, the song's for you," Floyd jerks his thumb towards the Moirai. "Why'dya keep hidin' it, Sea Snake?" he smirks.

Rielle speaks up. "Floyd, do you wanna go get dessert? I saw some beautiful cupcakes over there, come on," he begins to tug on Floyd's hand.

"Hmmmm fine, but this ain't over Sea Snake!" Floyd says as he allows himself to be pulled along by Rielle. "Listen to the song, Octy!" he gives a final yell before Rielle takes him away.

Give up, give in Check the grin You're in love This scene won't play I won't say I'm in love!

Jamil watches Floyd get tugged away before worriedly smiling at Azul. "Hah-hah, that was um… weird. What's the song even about, I don't think I've ever heard of it before…"

Azul chuckles nervously, still holding Jamil by the hand and waist.

"Ah, it's one of the most popular songs of the band," Azul says. "The um, lyrics are quite interesting."

You keep on denying Who you are and how you're feeling Baby, we're not buying Hon, we saw ya hit the ceiling Face it like a grown up When ya gonna own up That ya got got got it bad

"It feels like it's certainly communicating something," Jamil mutters. "... It's about someone who's in denial about falling in love with somebody, right?"

"It… seems so, yes," Azul glances at the Moirai, not looking at Jamil. "Though I do wonder why people go through the trouble of denying such a thing. It sounds terribly stressful," he chuckles.

"Well..." Jamil mumbles, eyes drifting to the floor. "Maybe they're afraid that the other might not feel the same way… Or they're afraid of everything that could come after. Or that they might not know what it means to love."

He suddenly glances up at Azul. "Have you . . . ever liked someone that way?"

Azul takes a moment to answer. "For the longest time, I thought I felt that way about Rielle. But I had some time to think about it, and getting together with him just felt too logical, like the answer to a homework, or something to tick off a to-do list. I didn't really want to be together with him. Fortunately, when we talked about it, it turns out he didn't like me that way either. And we were both relieved that we didn't have to hurt each other."

He meets Jamil's eyes. "How about you, though? Why did Floyd say that the song is for you?" he asks jokingly, but there's genuine curiosity in his eyes.

Jamil's grip on Azul's hand tightens a bit, tense.

"Perhaps someone is in denial about how they feel with me," he jokes, though his heart was not in the quip. In fact, it was racing, and he feels like he's going to vomit.

Is this the right time to say it? He asks himself.

"... Or maybe Floyd knows me more than I'd like to admit."

Azul's gaze flickers around the ballroom a few times before settling on Jamil.

"How would you feel, if that were true?" Azul asks him. "If someone is indeed in denial about how they feel with you?"

"I... I wouldn't know. That's sort of a weird scenario to find yourself in, isn't it? Knowing for sure that someone likes you but they themselves won't admit it? What do you even tell them? 'Hey, I know you're into me so why don't you just go ahead and say it?'" He shakes his head. "Sorry, I'm making this awkward, aren't I?"

Azul chuckles kindly. "No, don't worry. And I suppose it was an odd question on my part, anyway." He falls silent for a few seconds. "Have… you ever liked someone that way?"

"... I don't know," Jamil whispers. "I grew up never really figuring out how I feel about anybody. I can't tell what's hate or love or like or dislike… I go through life only knowing what I need and what I want, and um… right now, it's hard to tell what I want."

Azul just looks at him for a few moments, his expression unreadable. "What do you need?" he asks quietly.

The intelligence to figure out what I want this instant and the strength to act upon it.

Jamil sighs. "Just to have a quiet moment with you, where no one else is around to tell us what to do or tease us or mess with our heads."

Azul looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting that answer at all.

Then he glances around before meeting Jamil's eyes.

Azul says quietly, "There's a tower nearby with a balcony overlooking the gardens. Sometimes that's where we hold Astronomy classes, though now the telescope isn't there so there's quite a lot of space. It's not a rooftop, but no one would bother us there." He stares at Jamil, gauging his reaction.

Jamil takes a second to pause just to hear how fast his heartbeat quickened.

Then he stops midway through the dance step and squeezes Azul's hand, almost like a plea, as his eyes furrow in determination.

"Then let's go."

A relieved smile appears on Azul's face. Then he wordlessly pulls Jamil along through the crowd. A few people throw curious glances their way, but most of the attendees are absorbed in their own dances, conversations, and dinners.

Jamil's gaze falls on their linked hands as they walk, and he hears the Moirai conclude their song.

At least out loud I won't say I'm in Love…

Author's Note:

The songs used in this chapter are:

"At the Beginning" (Anastasia, 1997)

"Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" (The Lion King, 1994)

"I Won't Say I'm In Love" (Hercules, 1997)

Thank you for reading! ^_^

<- Chapter 4

Chapter 6 ->

(Masterlist)

18 notes · View notes