#even just the small connections have so much meaning

[fraugwinska]

Minors DNI - 18+ - Explicit Sexual Content - 4,6k words Attention: Mentions of fictional Witchcraft and Voodoo (I know this is a very sensitive topic, which is why I threaded very vaguely and lightly. I mean absolutely NO disrespect to either of those spiritualities)

Master of Puppets

You paced nervously through your room. The clock ticked the safe seconds away, the seconds Alastor where wasn't here. The seconds where Alastor didn't know.

He liked you, of course. At least enough to experiment with you, that much you could say with confidence. He had shown interest in the little witch inventor that joined the hotel, sharing the same proficiency in magic as himself. Although, unlike him, you had been an eclectic witch in your lifetime, and used more traditional western magic, whereas Alastor wasn't familiar with that, relying fully on voodoo practices he learned from the women of his family. So, you taught him and he taught you, and over the shared hours of lessons, discussions and practices, things got more and more... handsy. Until one day even the last gap between you was closed, and before both of you knew it you were sharing a bed more often than a book on sigils or rituals.

It was a mutual thing. You were insanely attracted to him, and he liked you well enough to indulge in activities he'd normally frown upon. Which made you feel special - It didn't soothe the nerves though, as you fumbled around with the little objects in the black carved box, making sure everything was perfect, before hastily slamming it shut when you heard knocks on the door.

"Yes?" you said, as if you hadn't been expecting him, as if your heart wasn't trying to leap out of your chest.

"Darling, it's me! May I come in?" you heard him say, and the door opening before you could answer. "I hope I'm not too early."

You turned around, giving him a shy smile after glancing at the clock on the wall. "You're right on time, as always."

"Punctuality is one of the only virtues I try uphold." He took a few steps towards you. "Is everything alright? You look nervous."

"Do I? It's... Nothing. I just have... I'm excited for something to show to you."

"Really?" He was intrigued, leaning in a little. "Well, now I'm curious. Is it the skinning spell you've been working on? I might have some test subjects in mind, if you are already finished."

You cleared your throat, feeling your heart beating painfully in your chest. "Not quite. I made something new, though."

"Oh?" he said, tilting his head to the side. "What is it?"

You fidgeted, not knowing how to start, how to ease him into it. He was a man that didn't appreciate if one beat around the bush, so better to rip the band-aid off in one violent, leap-of-faith-kind of way. You went to the black box, fingers trembling as you lifted the golden hatch, and before you could change your mind and call the whole thing off you scooped the small voodoo dolls out and held them out to him.

"I made these. For you... Us."

He was taken aback for a moment, not saying anything as he stared at the two little cloth figures, then down at you. They were intricately made replicas of you both, you had spent hours and hours sewing them, even going so far as to design and make identical outfits for them. He took both of them out of your hands, turning them slowly in his own, examining them with a frighteningly unreadable look.

"So you solely tried your hands on my profession I see. Why?" his eyes were boring into you, the smile on his face tight and tense, and you had to fight yourself not to stutter.

"I-I figured..." You swallowed hard. "I thought it could help us to... to be closer. More connected, in a way. And I thought you would like to... try this."

He blinked slowly, and the grin he wore stretched a bit further, the static getting louder in your ears. You were starting to think he didn't like it. You were starting to regret this.

"It is an unusual gift." His voice was calm, laced with a hint of curiosity, but you still couldn't relax. "Quite a surprise, too."

"Is that good or bad?" you asked, and he chuckled softly.

"I don't know, darling. That depends on how it will be used." He holds up your miniature, his brows raised expectantly. "Tell me how it works."

"Uh... Well, it's more of a mix between your and my magic. T-they have some of my spells sewn into them, and then I enchanted them on your altar. All that's left to do is to tie a hair around the neck of it and offer a drop of blood, and... we will be able to feel anything that's done to the doll."

"Feel?" He cocked his head to the side, eyes gleaming with dark excitement.

"Anything." Your throat was dry, the words almost catching there.

"That sounds positively delightful."

Your heart did a flip in your chest as his voice lowered into a purr, his eyes fixed on the tiny you, the static rising around him. He was captivated, but also suspicious, and that didn't make your anxiety lessen one bit. More so as he found the red stain on your dolls chest and the shimmer of a hair around its neck. Your version of a peace offering.

"It seems this little thing is already prepared and ready to use, isn't it, dearest?" he hummed, looking at you, the smile stretching wide and showing his sharp teeth.

"Yes... if you wanted to... see how it worked first. To decide whether you want to give it a try."

He laughed, and the sound made you shiver. There was no humor in it, but sheer anticipation. Hunger. "Well then. Better not waste such a generous opportunity."

He sat his own replica down on the nightstand next to your bed, and settled down on the mattress, patting the spot next to him for you to join. You did, sitting as stiff as a board, your eyes trained on him as he looked down at your little doll. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before running his fingers across the doll's body, and you gasped.

All your hard work evidently payed off - The touch felt eerily real. Warm, like the heat of his hands was spreading all over you, a soft caress up the middle of your stomach, a tickle around your waist. His fingertips traveled upward, pressing softly against your chest, and your breath stocked in your lungs.

"You've really outdone yourself with this one darling. So receptive..." Alastor's smile widened into a full grin, and the fact that he didn't need to touch your skin to see the blush creeping across your cheeks was one detail he seemed to particularly enjoy. The rough feeling of his claws grating against you was replaced with the hot touch of phantom lips, pressing gently against your neck as he pulled the small shirt collar aside, his tongue licking across the doll's shoulder.

The sensation almost felt out of place in comparison, making you fall onto your back with a gasp, into the soft covers of your bed, unable to maintain any sort of composure. Instead of feather light touches, his mouth felt way heavier on your skin than it should. Warm, wet... As he scraped his teeth along the little doll's neck, a low moan slipped between your lips.

"And what attention to details. It's almost a shame to ruin your hard work, but oh well."

His eyes stayed on you as he hooked a fingertip under the dolls garments, cutting it clean off of it, and even though yours stayed fully intact - what you were feeling was a whole different story. Your eyes betrayed you: Even fully clothed you felt the cool air of your room on your skin, you felt exposed, bare and utterly vulnerable. It made your skin break out in goosebumps and your lips part in an unstifled sound of arousal.

"Gorgeous, darling... Absolutely wonderful. A truly masterful piece of magic." The tone of his voice was tingling all over you, a mixture of warm affection and dark cravings. You had never been one to enjoy being praised by a man, but it made you close your eyes and squirm with absolute and desperate need when it came from Alastor. Mouth already open to say something, the words died in your throat, replaced by a high whine when you felt a wet sensation traveling over your stomach down to the inside of your thighs. Your eyes snapped open, finding Alastor's again, his irises practically glowing and locked on you as he ran his tongue all the way across the small body. Teasing. Playing. He narrowed his eyes and traced every curve with the same meticulous patience you knew him for, the sensation sending shocks of excitement and adrenaline through you as it circled the dolls skin, drawing closer and closer to the most intimate parts, until there was nowhere else to trail, nowhere else for it to run to. He stopped, leaving you flushed and panting and shattered next to him on the bed.

"My, my, sweetheart..." he cooed, poking the little doll in his hands into it's side with the softest touch, making you jerk into his side. "At this rate, this seems more like a gift for you than for me."

The blush on your face deepened and you averted your eyes. "...You're probably not wrong."

"No, I'd say I am absolutely right," he chuckled, shifting closer and tracing a hand up your body and to your throat in a smooth motion, and your body arched into the touch with the ease of a moth to flame. For a moment, he didn't move, resting his claws wrapped around your neck, his fingertips heavy on your skin. He seemed to weight his options, deciding on how to proceed. Finally, he leaned into you, bringing his lips closer to yours and when he spoke it was barely a whisper.

"I'll trust you to rectify this circumstance then."

Your eyes widened when he stood up, gently placing your doll down and switching its place with his own. You sat up, watching how he carefully plucked a hair from his head, wrapping it tightly around the neck of his miniature alter ego. It looked almost sinfully elegant and downright seductive, how his long fingers tied it tightly, before he turned back to you, his grin splitting his face in half. There was something in his expression you haven't seen before - hesitancy. It was only a second, but you still held your breath as it passed, and he chuckled as he bit his lip, dark, almost black blood dripping onto the chest of the doll in his hands.

"A rare occasion for me to spill blood. I hope you'll make it worth it."

You swallowed heavily and he grinned, reaching for your hand and gently putting the doll on your palm, giving you a stern, commanding look. "My turn."

You nodded as he settled himself on your bed, now stretching himself fully on the mattress. Lifting your other hand you carefully laid one finger on top of his dolls' throat, before drawing your fingers across and down, over its chest and its sides, making his form shiver and his ears twitch. As you undid the small coat and shirt, dragging your nail gently over the dolls abdomen, Alastor gave a resounding, pleased sigh. You stared at him in wonder of your own work, silently asking yourself if your touches on the fabric in your hands felt as intensified as his did on yours before.

With a spark of nervous excitement you followed a whim of insanity, a quick glance confirming Alastor had his eyes closed. He had never before allowed you to touch his ears - now, their artificial counterparts were at your fingertips, and with a racing heart, you drew a stroke from the base of his ear right across its entire length, all the way until the fine point. A loud, drawn-out groan filled the room and your cheeks burnt crimson when his back arched and his hands twitched towards you, the knuckles white as he clenched them into fists, a tremor going through his shoulders. The groan ended in a long whine, the eyes snapping open and locking right into yours, and your breath hitched as you saw the smoldering embers. His grin grew tighter, strained, and he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and the intensity of his gaze made your stomach drop, your whole body feeling exposed and naked despite still being fully dressed.

"Testy little thing. Always going for most dangerous experiments..." He shook his head as he exhaled slowly, his breath ragged and labored and in the soft illumination of your bedside lamp his neck was dusted a light pink. You marveled for a second, mesmerized. That was, until his tone dropped an octave, making your body snap back to attention, your nipples hardening painfully beneath your clothes. "How about another then, darling. You do that again..." His shadow tendrils shot out from nowhere, wrapping around your waist and thighs and lifting you over his face as you yelped and almost let the doll slip from your hands, the hem of your skirt pushed aside and heated core right above his watering mouth. "...while I do this."

With no time left for a reply, you felt your flimsy panties flicked aside and your body lowered onto his waiting tongue, all thought replaced by a sudden wave of blinding ecstasy. There was something truly addicting about the heat and hunger of his lips, the way they locked around your clit and sucked you down in the best form of torturous pain like life depended on it, his nails digging into your hips with force, while your brain was practically erasing every input but the burning sensation below. The doll in your hands, pressed to your heaving chest, was long forgotten as your head fell back and each swipe of his cursed appendix sent a shockwave through your spine. You groaned, you whimpered, and Alastor could taste the waves of delicious agony on his tongue. When he withdrew, the loss of his wet heat and the chill of the cool air against your slick folds made you almost break out in tears.

"Focus, dearest, on the task I gave you. Or do I have to repeat myself?"

The growl in his voice snapped you out of it and made you take a shaky breath before you finally composed yourself. Your fingers trembled as they grazed the tips of the dolls ears again, your movements almost trance like as your whole body yearned for it to return onto his lips. Alastor's brows furrowed, lips pursed for a second as you drew a slow, sensual line up the miniatures length, stopping and softly kneading at the pointed tip.

"Good girl." he murmured, voice breathy, and for a second you could have sworn you saw his eye twitch, though his grin stayed firmly plastered onto his face. His words sent an instantaneous warmth pooling in your lower stomach, and your chest fluttered as you tried to swallow down the intense elation that shot through your veins at those words - the same words Alastor used when you mastered one of his magical exercises, and although the praise was always flattering, in this context it felt downright lewd and utterly divine to be called that. When your hand lowered a bit, massaging the base of the dolls ears, Alastor's noises became low growls and deep purrs around the wet skin his lips devoured. The black vines on your waist and legs tightened their grip as well, pushing you deeper down onto his mouth.

You hadn't even registered what happened, but with a snap your top was ripped in the front, the clasp of your bra followed, and the familiar humming sound of his static made you squeal in surprise when his voice was suddenly much louder, his tongue shoved into you as far as he could go and his shadows ripping your clothes off at lightning speed. With both hands stroking, massaging and pulling the dolls ears now, the pure pleasure hitting you was almost too much, but as much as your hands ached for the real thing, to run your nails over the red fluff and trace the soft curves and edges of the dark antlers growing on the sides of his head, all you could do was imagine, with all your fingers on the dolls soft material instead and moving furiously up and down its head, to do exactly the same thing.

Alastor growled underneath you, the sound deep and rumbling, sending vibrations through your trembling thighs and against your sensitive skin, and it sounded so much more desperate and disoriented than you had ever heard from him before. Had you been looking down, had you been able to see anything beyond the mind-shattering pleasure, the wide blown pupils and the unfocused gaze in the glowing red irises, you might have wondered why that was - Alastor's control was slipping, and his smile finally was showing that.

In an instant your body was turned and placed on your back, your limbs shaking in the grip of his shadows and body utterly at the mercy of the tall red man leaning over you and undoing his bow tie with the rapidity and precision of a professional magician. His hair had gotten a little ruffled in the process, and his red shirt hung open and wrinkled against his skin.

"A compelling exercise indeed, my dear." he spoke, the rasp in his tone and the ragged breath accentuating his words. With a swift movement his jacket joined the shirt and harness that already had been thrown onto the floor somewhere, and then the shadows were back and prodding against the soaked cloth, the only thing left around your hips. They snuck into every slit they could find, exposing more and more of you, while their owner's gaze hungrily devoured every bit of exposed skin. The stretchable fabric made for easy work, but you had the distinct feeling they wouldn't have needed it at all as the shadows literally dissolved every thread they encountered. Alastor reached for your replica again, seemingly collecting himself and catching his breath.

"You are quite talented, and it'll be a joy to discover what other marvels your mind can come up with." His claw dragged down over the dolls' hips, one set of real, the other set of simulated hands following it a millisecond after, right along your bare and barer sides, sending waves of anticipation down the inside of your thighs. In an instant, two very corporeal, long fingers were back between your folds, knuckle deep into your seeping core, and Alastor chuckled lowly at your surprised whine, the smug and devious purr rumbling in his chest as he took note of every twitch your body made to the tune of his strokes. "But I think it's about time to return the favor though, don't you agree?"

Still stroking that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers, the hand that held your puppet glowed in bright green, and in between your moans and pants your wide eyes can't tear themselves from the strange symbols that appear around it, swirling and sparkling. You've seen Alastor perform magic countless of times, have watched and marveled at every spell he cast and his flair for the dramatic was only matched by the elegance of his every motion. But this? This was something else. The nonchalance with which his fingers pumped in and out of you, working meticulously, tactically, teasing you and working you into a mess with such a proficiency while he traced symbols with his free hand and the script, the raw power of it, the surge you could feel radiating from him, all that and his unflinching composure drove you mad with both desire and fascination.

The light and the symbols faded, and in his hands - the puppet, similar yet not quite. It felt off, almost lifelike, the fabric more skin-like, and with a gasp, you saw..

"Let me now see, if my own little contribution can be counted as an improvement, my little witch."

If someone asked you later on what had actually happened, you couldn't have said a single word - it was too salacious, too outrageous, too much outside of what you had ever expected from Alastor. How could you ever recount the way he pulled his throbbing cock out with his free hand - thick, dripping with precum and inhumanly beautiful. How his fingers were guiding your tiny copy to align with its tip, while he never left your eyes, smile almost manic.

He made holes. And seconds later, when he slowly pushed the doll onto his length, with his fingers still buried deep inside you, you knew that they worked. Oh, and how they worked.

"Oh m-my... god..."

It was heaven and hell. Bliss and torture, the feeling abhorrently delicious. The magical connection allowed every ridge, vein and vibration of his cock to transfer perfectly through the dolls body to you, making you shudder and keen at the intensity, the sheer tightness, and simultaneously Alastor groaned - a broken, rugged sound, loud enough to make you glance up with misty eyes from your debauched position. Your insides clenched hard around his fingers and the ghost of his cock, your toes curling as you whimpered, a picture perfect representation of how utterly sinful he looked with his dark lashes resting on his red cheeks, eyes shut and the mouth agape as his chest was rising and falling, breaths coming hard and labored.

He noticed your raptured gaze, looking down at you through hooded eyes, his smile positively obscene.

"Mh, I like the way you pray on me instead of one of your silly deities, darling. But you can call me Alastor."

And oh, how it felt, when his hand closed tightly around the little voodoo doll that was stuffed so full of him. You arched your back and writhed against the firm hold the tentacles had on you, pressing your knees against the pillows as he pulled his drenched fingers out of you, bringing them up to his face to lick them clean. He groaned at the taste, closing his eyes and making an effort to concentrate, his control crumbling in tiny pebbles around you, and his hips started to snap, sheathing the miniature you further on his cock, thrusting in increasingly fast paced movements. A string of whimpers escaped you, his name spilling throughout them like a mantra, as you were unable to do much more but twitch, shake and tremble as his ministrations came faster, harder, and Alastor let his head fall back, baring his neck and swallowing.

"You're so-" He groaned, squeezing your dolls body, forcing it closer against him and sliding it off and back on at an excruciatingly slow pace, your moans climbing and escalating with every inch that moved through the magic veil and in and around your sopping center. "-goddamn perfect, perfectly made for me." Your body didn't know how to react anymore, you stuttered incoherently, everything full with his praise, with this cock that wasn't there but was, the heat that shouldn't have been possible to fill you but did. You felt every bit of skin and fur and sweat and the realization only dawned on you when it was already too late: That you were about to come harder than you ever did, and that Alastor was losing his mind just from watching your reactions to his assault on your doll.

"S-So tight and needy. What a perfect... little... toy you are." If they were meant for you below him or the doll in his hands - you didn't know. But the panted words and almost dirty, explicit praise spilled from his lips in a flurry, every syllable seemed strangely calculated, aimed like a dart straight into you and tearing down all defenses as your pussy twitched helplessly around the sensation of being stretched and fucked open on the image of his cock. When he chuckled and sank your doll to the base, grinding your little figure against him so the head of his cock poked and prodded you where it had never reached before, you all but screamed his name as you came, and your pathetic cries pulled a harsh string of groans and grunts out of the demon towering over you, his breathless cursing and rambled obscenities underlined by the vicious snaps of his hips as he used your simulacrum like a glorified sex toy. His nails pierced the outer layer of the doll as your walls constricted and contracted around the thick nothing as he finished you and himself off into the realm of oblivion.

Everything went white for a moment and when your senses returned, Alastor was carefully cradling you into his arms, the little replica sitting next to his own on your bedside table, their heads almost tenderly leaning on each other. He was gently raking his claws through your damp, disheveled hair, placing little kisses down the back of your neck and on the thin skin behind your ears as he mumbled silent praises against your skin. He kissed along your jaw, gentle as anything, a soft thumb grazing along your lips, cheeks and your temple as he traced the lines of your features until he found the pulse on your neck. The cold touch of his lips was a nice contrast to the hot breath, and you moaned softly at his affectionate gesture.

"It's never a disappointment with you, love, quite the contrary." He hummed, scraping his sharp teeth almost teasingly along the crook of your neck before kissing it, covering your skin with static electricity. "What a marvelous surprise you prepared for me, my dear, truly magical." His lips pressed into yours in a rare kiss, and you leaned back into his naked embrace and smiled, the giddy feeling of accomplishment spreading in your belly and mixing in beautifully with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"I'm glad... you liked it."

"Oh, that is hardly the phrase I would use," Alastor chuckled as he pulled back, making you blush as his red iris glowed dangerously. "But you, my dear, will have a little work to do, seeing as I'm positively spoiled after this gift. You have no idea of the things I'm thinking about, all the possibilities of what we can accomplish if we put both our minds – and magic - to it."

Alastor pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing his chin and cheeks across your scalp and shoulders, coating you with a generous amount of his scent as if to mark you before pulling the blankets up and covering the two of you as his arms locked around you possessively, letting you settle against his chest as he hummed a melody you didn't know. But you knew him well enough to know that it was a clear sign of him being absolutely pleased and content.

You smiled, his good mood infectious, and as you glanced to the two dolls that sat together like a matching pair, stripped of their clothes and as close together as you and the real demon were now under the sheets, it made you feel like the cat that ate the canary. The cat had been fed by Alastor, sure. But he had also had his fill and then some, and really... that was all that mattered to you.

[sefinaa]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦. 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.❞

A love letter from your future spouse

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Pac Summary!

♡ A fs love letter.

♡ One angel number with an intuitive message/meaning of the number.

♡ Resonated channeled song and its lyrics with intuitive messages added to it.

Moodboard | Divider

Pile I

Hi love, hi sunshine.

What's up? How are you doing, my pretty flower? Well, in all honesty, I am awful with words, and a love letter is hard, but I will suck it up just to show my love for you.

Sometimes. When I look at the stars, I will think about you. Sometimes, when I glance at lily ponds, I will daydream about you. And sometimes when I call you, I fawn over the little things you do, because every little thing you do is incredibly beautiful and deserves to be fawn over.

Sometimes, when I struggle and miss your presence, I remember that I can always call you and ramble about the small things during my days. I can find that solace even if we are far apart... And sometimes that scares me because what if we lost touch with one another—that I would never get to see you? All of these doubts eat me alive, but then I hear your small laughs about my days, and all of them disappear.

Do you think one day we could start a family? Maybe I believe anything is possible—after all, I landed someone as perfect as you (psst, I manifested you). So the fact that I have you as my lover makes me wonder if I can ever have kids with you. We can adopt too; I don't care, but having biological kids with you would also be so lovely.. After all, everything about you is lovely. I am someone who always gives too much love to others, so if it's too much, let me know, but loving you is so easy. How can one stop that? That scares me.. If you ever told me to stop loving you so much, it would make me feel like I was losing a small part of myself. Quite frankly, I don't think I could ever deal with that—I just, I just couldn't.

When I looked at the sky the other day, I kept thinking about our connection. I know we don't know each other. Hell, I'm fucking daydreaming about you right now, but I really want to see you. Maybe one day we will meet each other, and when we do, I will become the happiest person alive. Because the idea of loving someone I am manifesting is something.. It's.. it's just. I can't express it with words, but it's definitely something so magical. Everything in my heart is fluttering with happiness because I get to see you smile in my presence. I always thought I wasn't worthy of love. Look at us. Fuck. Thank you for loving me.

Thank you (x5) for loving me.

Fs. 

I was listening to Terrified by Katharine McPhee, and as I was editing your reading at "when I look at stars'' the song said, ''every word feels like a shooting star.'' So for those who have doubts about this relationship, do understand that this is really your confirmation.

Angel numbers: 1222

Meaning of 1222 through an intuitive message. 1 is usually associated with goals and what you're looking for. 2 is usually associated with reminding you that everything is going to be okay and that you are in the right place. Combining both of them, intuition says, ‘’you are in the right place. All the hard work you have been doing for yourself—all the shadow work that you have been journaling, all the beautiful messages you have been giving to yourself—is what will help you find your goals. Your ideas which you keep postponing are something that needs to be done. Stop procrastinating and do it right now. You will never know when the right time comes since it doesn't exist. Make it your right time.’’ Basically, intuition says there is no such thing as diving timing. Divine timing doesn't actually exist since it's all about healing and treating ourselves with kindness. It's all about what we do during those times we have during our isolation, or, in a positive sense, our resting period. Truthfully, since you are working on yourself and removing your inner demons for yourself and not for others (since I heard that a lot of people think you are doing it for a boy when you aren't), you can attract your future spouse with the speed of light and grab the fruits. The fruits are your manifestations or your wishes in life. 

Channeled song: 

Invisible - Hunter Hayes

‘’And you've been trying for so long / To find out where your place is.’’ This is about you trying to figure out where you belong. Intuition says people in your life believe all the hard work you are doing is for this man, your ex, or someone you used to have feelings for. The people in your circle are very close-minded, but deep down inside, the fear of letting go of these connections scares you, so you let them stay. If I were in your place, I would let them go since people like that don't deserve to be in my world. And I feel like some of you will say, ‘’yeah because you aren't dealing with it’’ and for those who have said that, lol, I just let go of a friend group like that 2-3 weeks ago. So let them go and realize all the beauty that will come out of it.

‘’And you're not invisible / Hear me out / There's so much more to life than what you're feeling now / Someday you'll look back on all these days / And all this pain is gonna be invisible.’’ This is your future spouse calling out to you and yearning for your love. They are letting you know that when you look back on your life, you are not only going to feel blessed with how your life went but also come to the realization that there is more to life than the negativity you are feeling and associating yourself with. This person is going to make you feel like magic, (which is something you deserve, and you cannot tell me otherwise).

‘’So your confidence is quiet / To them, quiet looks like weakness / But you don't have to fight it / 'Cause you're strong enough to win without a war.’’ Basically, intuition says your intuition and higher self are telling you, ‘’even though you are a quiet person. Despite you being timid, none of these are bad qualities; it makes you stronger because you are observing everything and you know others' deepest, darkest secrets through their behaviors. So don't let your skills go in vain.’’ To sum it up, if there is any confusion, people perceive quiet and shy people as fragile and needing help, but in reality, it could be that or they have no desire to speak to people that do not intrigue them or aren't worth their time. People don't see that because they are lost in fitting in with the crowd. Your higher self and my intuition are saying, don't fit in the crowd and do your own thing. Not only will that attract your fs but also heal your heart that you have been blocking with bricks to protect yourself from the pain your inner circle is causing and your deadbeat parent (I hear father, but I also believe it could be the mother for some).

‘’These labels that they give you is just 'cause they don't understand / If you look past this moment / You'll see you've got a friend / Waving a flag for who you are.’’ And lastly :), this is your fs telling you that they will always have your back no matter what. And they love you so fucking badly. Emphasis on so fucking badly, I could hear your fs tell me to add that in. 

Masterlist ♡

Pile II

Hi, my love. 

As your future spouse, it’s my duty to defend and honor our promises, but sometimes I mess up because I'm shy. I'm sorry in advance, but I try very hard, but I mess things up. Sometimes I feel like a child when you scold me.. I know sometimes you feel disappointed with the things I do, but I ask you.. As of now, please treat me with more dignity and respect. I'm human, just like you. Do you think a child deserves this treatment? No. 

Okay, before I fully channel everything, this pile has toxic energy. You have caused your fs an insane amount of anxiety and trauma, so now that you are aware of this. Why don't you improve as a person? This person is absolutely soft and adorable, and they do not deserve that type of energy).

Sometimes, at night, I like to walk along the streams or near our pond area in our backyard and feel the coolness around my feet. The water tickles my feet gently, and the water droplet splashes around the soles of my feet. The feeling is so warm and relaxing, just like you once were. What happened to that? Why did you let them take away (your name's)  golden heart? Why do I deserve the same treatment when I was by your side this whole time? I was never and will never be your enemy, so please change for the better. I want (your name) back; (your gender) was deserving of the greatest, and so am I. Please go back to them and let me honor my promise again. I wanted to protect you, but now it’s too hard. I cannot do it anymore. I am writing this love letter to you in the hopes that you change for the better. In hopes my words and my love being poured onto this can shift you and make you realize that you are now the reason I despise myself, the reason why I struggle to love myself. I don't want to stay in this stale situation; I want to move on, and I want you to move on and treat me better. So maybe.. I will now try to show you the love we felt when we met instead of now. Since you feel like poison.

When we danced in the park that one night, the moonlight shone on top of us. Like we were the main characters of a romantic movie. Do you remember that feeling when we were laughing together and I finally saw you smile? That happiness shattering your stoic face—it was incredible. I realized that that was the moment I fell in love with you. My heart jumped out of my chest that day. Do you remember when we had small dates with each other and you bought me something small? You thought I wouldn't wear it because of your ex(es), but I did, and your eyes widen. Do you remember that softness appearing on your face that day? I remember it vividly. I blushed that day and hid it with a cough. Do you remember me constantly coughing that day, and you wondered why this was happening? Do you remember how I kicked your shoes and said it was an accident so you could look under the table and not notice me covering my flushed face because of that facial expression you had? The realization that someone did, in fact, love you. God, I remember that feeling so well. It made me so happy. I remember all of these small moments with you, and I know that you will. One day, it will happen just as it should.. But then something happened: you shut everyone away, especially me, and sabotage everything at the end because it was better to be a cold-hearted bitch than stay and let me protect you. Please, (your name), realize that I love you despite what you have done to me. I can forgive you; I really can, but I want your real self back. Let me love them, let me shower them with compliments; just let me back in. 

I forgive you,

Fs. 

So this is written in past and future tense. Of course, these dates haven’t happened for you, however, I wasn’t able to channel them from a present perspective for the majority of the letter. They were focused on pouring their love on you without thinking. It was a desperate call for you to change and not become cold. And for many of you, not for you to become the one thing you hated. So instead, learn to heal your open wounds and better yourself instead of being an ass in the future. 

Angel number: 777.

Usually, 777 is associated with good luck, or good luck and prosperity are heading your way. However, intuition says, ‘’despite good luck (your fs) coming your way, allowing those icky thoughts to reappear constantly in your head is what will mess things up in the future with your fs. In order to remove these thoughts, work on your inner feelings and improve yourself. Do not allow evil to invade who you are as a person, and instead, allow the kindness that you still have to shine upon you and shield you from the dangers of others. Become the person you desire and still love. Do not become them, you will be miserable.’’ So, basically, working on your inner feelings is healing your inner demons. Everyone deals with them, but it’s our responsibility to actually take care of them and make them angels, or, in this case, remove them from your system. Taking care of them or removing them, however you see fit, is all about being kind to yourself and removing the high standards you have for yourself. And in order to be kind to yourself, think of your favorite person, object, whatever, and think, ‘’would I be a jackass to them/it?’’ No, you would treat it or them with respect and love because it’s your favorite thing. Think of it like that with yourself. You can use your kindness to protect yourself. Usually, kindness has a bad reputation because people who are kind either become people pleasers, get taken advantage of, etc., but you could always balance your kindness and rational thoughts so you don’t get hurt like your future self did. Because this situation has not occurred yet, as of now, try to balance those two out. Also, imagine that (your favorite color) aura or bubble is surrounding you and protecting you from evil. 

Channeled anime: 

Death Note 

I am aware this is completely different, and you were promised a song, but I wasn’t able to do that as Light from death note kept appearing in my mind. For those who are watching this, ignore this since there are spoilers, and if you are still curious, I’ll keep it as vague as I can. 

(Please, remember, this is about your future self. Not your present self). 

The reason my intuition mentioned an anime instead of a song is how Light, the main character, became the person he hated. This is what you have become. His desires were to protect the innocent, but ultimately he did the opposite. As time goes on throughout the show, he starts to become power-hungry, but in your case, it’s a lust for isolation. He saw everything as a game, and with you, you used your kindness as an advantage to abuse your spouse (I know you are saying you would never, but you did in the future). And also, hurt your friends to gain advantages or small tokens of something to get ahead of life and get whatever you want. Not only, in the future, do you break your morals, lose your respect from others and your inner child, but fuck things up all for power. Power, isolation, and hatred for what others did to you. Do you believe this is worth it just because you were hurt? Why do you want to hurt people who didn't do anything? You got hurt, sought revenge on those who didn't hurt you, and became like your abusers. Your future self keeps mentioning, ‘’karma’s a bitch.’’ And yet, how can it be if it’s aimed at those who cannot do much? I know you want to be protected and understood, but how can you if you allowed this to occur and pushed those away who were, in fact, protecting you but in the shadows? Use this as your guide and change for the better since fate doesn’t exist, not really. And if you believe in it, then change your fate. Become your own guide and improve. Because your energy will be awful, the way you have treated others in the future will be awful, and I feel the anxiety radiating off of you—you don't like who you have become in the future. So, don't change, protect yourself instead.

Masterlist ♡

Pile III

Hi sun, hellooo to my sun. Hi, hi, hiiii, hi. 

I’m saying a lot of hi to you because I'm ecstatic to be around you. Your personality makes me very happy, yay. You're reading this right now, so lucky me. I just have to say this: I wish right now you were with me so I could run to you, jump into your arms, and peck you like a goose, and if you ever become sick with me, well, you can't! I won't allow it, so that means you can’t pick someone else; only me, me and drum roll, please! Me!

I really love talking to you–OH wait, well, we haven't met yet, but I do! We will stay up all night talking to each other, and the thought makes me giggle~ You are my favorite sun person… Well, I know you are going to call me the sun, but nope! I am the star around the moon waiting for you, so when you go up and chase your ambitious goals, I am at home rooting for you. Sorry, I'm a homebody, so I don't like going out so much, but I'll go out just for you! That is how special you are; of course, I can't really explain it through this letter, so we have to meet first! With that being said, you are the sun because you brighten up my world and everyone around you. I know right now you are feeling depressed, but fear not! I am coming; actually, psttt, I am dashing towards you like Sonic, and if Mario had a baby, wait. NO WAIT, I MEANT IF SONIC AND THE FLASH HAD A BABY OMG NOOO IM SORRY. As I was saying, coughs if Sonic and the flash had a baby together—that’s how fast I am coming to–ru–RUNNING TO YOU, FUCK IM SORRY. I'M SO EXCITED, I KNOW I DON'T HAVE TO APOLOGIZE BUT I AM EXCITED. Anyway, as I am saying, I am running to you if the flash and Sonic had a baby together, because that’s how fast I am, and in other places, if you know what I mean, raising my eyebrows in a funny but sexy way. 

Oh, that reminds me, btw: don't eat green apples when we meet because you're going to choke on them and die! No, I am joking about the die part, but you do choke a lot, and I become very scared because we are friends at that time, and well, I think youre going to die, but I know that you aren't, but I think you might, so it scares me and I can't handle it, and now I am rambling, but you get the point, so no apples for a week, so that means you are kind of like a horse on a diet... Even though they eat apples, imagine that you are a horse who can't eat apples! Yes!!! Oh, wait, why would you be a horse? Okay, wait, it doesn't matter because you are my horse, so that makes me a princess/prince and therefore you gotta protect me. Wait.

This is a love letter, NOOOOOOO, wait. Lets start! I love you so much. You make me so happy that I can ramble on for no reason, and you are enjoying every part of it. Thats why I like things about you because you listen to me and hear me out, and you make me happy. I am rambling again, but this time it doesn't matter because it's all abouttttt yooooouuuuu. Yeah so i love you A LOT and YOU mean the WOOOORRRRLLLLDDDD to me and thank you for being–THANK YOU FOR–WAIT. I AM GLAD THAT I WILL MEET YOU, SO THEN THANK YOU FOR BEING IN MY WORLD. All this present and future stuff is making my head spin, like those anime drawings of the characters or the other animations or drawing pieces you see on websites or drawing platforms. Oh yeah, did you know that I am an artist? Yeah, me neither, thats because you taught me how to draw gremlin laugh, but yeah, cya later!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The bestestttt (not a word i know that shut up, grumpy face) perrrrrrssssssoooooooonnnnn evvvvveeeeeerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!! Ya gal/lad is outie five thousand!

I kept feeling rambling and childlike wonder with your future spouse. You make them very comfortable with who they are as a person, and with this, they can channel their inner child with you. You will show them new hobbies, and because of this, in the future, it will become their career. So despite this, if some of you are not artists, you will be opening a new world for them in the art field because art isn’t only drawing, animation, etc.; it does have music or poetry involved. 

Angel number: 1313.

On an energy level, the number symbolizes a goal you had in mind shifting and transforming into your reality because you were able to trust your gut feelings and allow things to come into your nature. You used to be afraid of change or those who gave you things; asking for help scared you. Now you are healing toward that goal and learning to let go when people help. You are able to prioritize things that make you happy, even if it’s a one-time thing, because chasing things does become hard, but knowing now that you are able to get the things you want makes you blessed. You embody the attitude of gratitude, and from now on until the end of August, things will come in abundance. Keep embodying this attitude to further it until the end of the year. When the end of the year comes, make more goals for yourself, but find goals that are worth what you are looking for. Understand who your higher self is, and ask them what goals helped them become who they are now. Your higher self isn’t necessarily your future self; you worked hard to become your desired self. So make sure you learn what is actually important for you while also listening to the same gut feeling that you have. People say 13 in general is an unlucky number. Still, some people ditch their ideas on the number and make it their favorite number. Intuition says not to follow people’s guidance when it comes to things that don't make sense; don’t follow the crowd if it’s not something you are actually agreeing on or intrigued with. Make sure to follow what you believe in, and if people find that to be stubborn, then who cares? Make sure you do things that make you happier in the long term before you meet this ray of sunshine. 

Channeled Song: 

Sunsetz - Cigarettes after sex

‘’Strangely, there's nobody else around / So you open your dress and show me your t*ts / On the swing set at the old playground / And when you go away I still see you / The sunlight on your face in my rearview.’’ Aside from the 18+ nature of the song, the minute I heard it play, I knew it was from your future spouse. As we are aware, they are full of light and embody a star nature; this song beat felt the same way. When the song said, ‘’Strangely, there's nobody else around / So you open your dress and show me your t*ts’’ I heard your future spouse laugh at this because, despite their gender, they are prone to being open about the sexual world. And the idea of showing their chest to you makes them excited. Of course, this isn’t an 18+ reading, so I cannot add more. ‘’On the swing set at the old playground / And when you go away I still see you’’  is about them showing you all of their childish nature and you accepting them. Because I hear your future spouse mention, ‘’thank you very much for accepting me for who I am. I had many people ignore me or disrespect me constantly because I had to act my age. But you were the only one in the entire worrrrrldddd to accept and love me without expecting anything.’’ Also, intuitively, they are always going to daydream cute scenarios with you and see you as a cutie despite your rough nature. Because everywhere they go and explore the depths of the world, you will have to accompany them. In the flesh or not. They will daydream you near them if you cannot make it or if it's a long-distance relationship (for some). 

‘’A love that nobody could destroy / Took photographs like Brautigan's book covers / That we both adored.’’ So, I feel a lot of third parties coming into this relationship on their side. A lot of people are jealous of them and cannot handle the fact that they finally found someone who appreciates their true qualities. So a lot of toxic people will try to sabotage the friendship at first and then eventually the relationship, and they are naive, so they might believe it, so be careful with that. Eventually, though, I do see them realizing it, and the fact that you stayed makes them love you harder, hence all the ramblings (you making them comfortable to do so). Both of you are going to take a lot of pictures together and post them on social media, whereas those who don’t use social media often will make collages out of them and decorate them around their room or apartment. Some will hide it from their parents, and others will boast about it positively. Just stay careful, because you never know other people’s intentions with it. ‘’That we both adored.’’ This just shows how healthy and beautiful the relationship will become for you when they ask you out. I feel a lot of you always ask other people out, and you have mentioned it to them once, so the idea of asking you out makes them happy because it’s removing a boulder off your shoulder. All I will say is that they will be the reason why you find true happiness since a majority of you are chasing the idea of happiness. With them, you can feel it and keep it; it’s not a one time thing; this leads to a beautiful thing. I’ll stop here since I don't want to give you any spoilers about it. 

Masterlist ♡

Pile IV

Tw: Abuse

Hi, my dear,

Right now, I have been feeling down in the dumps. Things have been tough, very tough. Lately, I have been struggling to find happiness in my life. And I was praying for something, anything to feel something. But nothing came through, this broke me further. Then I started to realize something.. Why should I ask someone for help when I can do it myself?

So that is what I have been doing. I'm working on myself, so when we meet, you have someone you can be devoted to. I know it sounds like I'm not actually taking care of myself, but I am. And it sounds like I am only working on myself for you, as if all of this is for you and not me; some of it is partially true, but at the same time, I am thinking of myself. It’s important that you do the same thing, because I know you like to do things for other people but don't.

You know, I see you struggling to get your job or homework done. I am in the same boat. We are the same after all. I think it’s special that we are on the same path, the same journey, and most of all, the same love level. We both had it rough with a lover, but you know what? We can make that our special bond; I'm not saying that is what our relationship is about—I'm saying it could connect us further and see where everything takes us. You know how people bond over something negative, and that makes them fall for one another? I don't want that. (I hear them laughing and then smiling). All I am saying with my gibberish words is that sometimes people use their trauma to bond with each other, but they can like other things. Does that make sense? Sorry, love, I'm absolute garbage with words. Everything is a mess, isn't it? Again, sorry. Now, I want to start with the actual love letter.

Dear (your name),

Our future is bright. It’s beautiful. I will be the one to shower you with all the riches and luxuries in the world, and all I ask for is your beautiful heart. The heart that you have hidden from the world from all the negativities you were given isn't you anymore. We are connected like one. This is your reward for still staying sane. I know everything as of now is complicated, but do know I will find you one day, have a rose in my hand, and ask you to be mine. I know that sometimes you doubt if I will ever come, but remember that those who wait have the best rewards. Sure, I sound arrogant, but no, I know my worth in the future, and I know you will too. It’s okay to appear arrogant; what matters is on the inside. People's judgment is useless, just like their opinions of us. So don't focus on their chaotic and negative words; focus on what I tell you. I want to guide you and make you love yourself so much. Even when you know your worth, let me show you all that you can know. I want to marry you one day. I want to bathe you with all of my love. I want everything from you, and I will give you everything. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. I know that we haven't met, but I will say the same thing because it’s the truth. This is why I love you, (your full name). Thank you for being my blessing and for being my princess (regardless of your gender). 

Take care with lots of love,

fs.

Angel number: 2266 

2 is about being in the right place, and whoever you believe in is telling you that you shouldn’t worry. 6 is about mental diet, focusing on the positive to align you with your higher self. Whenever negative thoughts appear, remind yourself that this isn’t good for you. Negativity isn't good for anyone. Remind yourself that you are deserving of love. Learn to heal with patience and care. If you force yourself to heal, you never will. Forcing ourselves isn’t consistency; it’s abuse. Sure, sometimes it looks like it helps us, but then we stop doing it and relapse into the same loop. Do you like to be controlled and forced by others? I doubt it. Don't do the same thing; you are not deserving of it. What you are deserving of is love. Give yourself the love you deserve and need. It's important that you prioritize yourself instead of others' needs since people come and go, and don't be the one to let yourself go for someone else. It's not worth it, and your love and presence aren't determined by whether someone appreciates the good deeds you do for others. Your worth is dependent on what you do for yourself, so if you believe taking time for yourself and doing something for yourself is selfish, then it's selfish. But would you say the same thing to the people you work your ass off for? No, don't be a hypocrite to yourself. 

 Channeled song:

Therapy Session - NF

‘’My music is violent, you gotta be kidding me. I guess that your definition of violence and mine is something that we look at differently.’’ This is your fs telling you to start looking at things differently. You always see the good in people, even when they make a mistake. Even when they piss you off, even when they hurt you (not by accident), you always forgive them without a second thought. Don't do that, it’s hurting you just like it’s hurting them. ‘’Do you honestly want to be stuck in quicksand all the time? Don't do that, princess. I cannot handle it.’’ 

‘’How do you picture me, huh? Want me to smile? You want me to laugh? You want me to walk on the stage with a smile on my face. When I'm mad and put on a mask? For real though!’’ This is how both of you feel. Always wearing a mask and acting around for other people’s entertainment. It’s not worth it to put on a mask unless you have to protect yourself. Intuition says that you do, but remember to be careful. Do not do things that you cannot control, so if someone says otherwise and then threatens you because you didn’t. Then try to not allow them to step on you and subtly mention something to get their insults away from you. For example, intuition says, ‘’when you see them talking crap about you, don’t allow it. Stand up for yourself with something small. If they say how disgusting or how ugly you looked today, tell them that you disagree, and that’s it. Keep in mind that protecting yourself isn’t always causing war with one another, but saying something like this can stop a lot of issues and keep it as if you are having a normal conversation.’’ 

 ‘’I am aware it's aggressive. I am not here for acceptance.’’ Your future spouse is telling you to stop seeking acceptance from the people you help. Learn to seek acceptance from yourself. That is the person you have at the end of the day. Intuition is telling me some of you are a system (DID). So intuitively speaking, rely on your protectors. Ask them to take care of you and help guide you when people are rude to you. I know controlling and altering isn’t like control, but intuition says, ‘’ask them. Let them know how you are feeling, and ask them like a friend. It’s okay to vent to them; they want to help you after all. Those who do not accept you because of what you went through are not worth your time or the value you place on them. You are deserving of more, but you must allow it to come through.’’ 

‘’Apparently he likes to beat on her mama. I got so angry inside. I wanted to tell her to give me his number. But what you gon' do with it right? You gon' hit him up then he'll start hitting her harder.’’ This is your life. Your energy. It can be switched where your mom beats your dad, stepdad. Your grandparents, etc. Your future spouse will be protecting you from them, (and yes, they will love you despite having DID, loves. Don’t worry). Except instead of the abuser hitting your guardian more or you, they won’t allow it. I am hearing a cop signal sound, so it’s possible that they will beat your abuser endlessly and get your abuser to jail (this is for some), and on the other hand, expect someone who is going to love you dearly and protect you from the “wicked witch of the west. I’ll protect you with all of my heart, and my soul is yours as your soul is mine.’’ 

Masterlist ♡

[arminreindl]

Caipirasuchus catanduvensis: A vocal sphagesaurid?

A new "crocodile" was just published and one with some fascinating implications.

The new taxon is Caipirasuchus catanduvensis, the sixth species of Caipirasuchus described so far. As a sort of broad overview, Caipirasuchus is a genus of small-bodied sphagesaurid notosuchian, reaching about 1 meter in length. As sphagesaurids, the genus is most closely related to the likes of Yacarerani, Adamantinasuchus as well as the robust Armadillosuchus.

Another interesting thing about Caipirasuchus, and one that's gonna come back later, is how close they are in terms of geography. Of the six species, all are from Brazil's Bauru Group. 5/6 are from the Adamantina Formation and 5/6 are Sao Paulo State. So unlike the also specious Araripesuchus, these are all comparably limited in their distribution.

left: Caipirasuchus escaping baurusuchids by Deverson da Silva right: Generalized Caipirasuchus distribution adapted from Iori et al. 2024

Now what is interesting about this new species is a certain feature referred to as the pterygoid chamber, a hollow pocket in the pterygoid bone, that is notably more complex and pronounced than in other Caipirasuchus species (thus also why it was given its own name). Now an older study using CT scans already showed that this chamber connects to the choanal septum, which functions as a sort of air duct that connects the pterygoid chamber with the airways of the animal. There is also a secondary chamber and evidence that suggest that these structures grew more complex as the animal aged.

Now, the interesting part is that this combination of large hollow bone pockets with the airways is seen in some other animals as well, notably the wildebeest Rusingoryx and hadrosaurs, in which the pockets serve as a resonating chamber. As was already suggested in 2020, this might mean that Caipirasuchus catanduvensis had a much more complex range of vocalisations, which in turn would have a large influence on social behavior.

Now remember how I brought up how all the species of Caipirasuchus lived in a fairly enclosed area relative to Araripesuchus, the other specious notosuchian? Well one hypothesis proposes that this rapid speciation was driven not by dietary preferences, but by them refining their vocalisation and social structure. This in turn might be tied to environmental factors (like needing to be louder in more crowded, forested environments).

One pointer to this being the case is how species of Caipirasuchus differ from each other. Rather than skull shape or even the teeth, the main differences seem to be found in the palate, i.e. a region of the skull that would be tied to vocalisation. Another, albeit more tenuous, piece of evidence stems from the senses of what was likely a major predator of Caipirasuchus. Baurusuchids, larger predator notosuchians growing up to 3 meters in length, appear to have a complex outer ear (meatal chamber specifically), which indicates that they had good hearing. We also know that they did feed on sphagesaurids, as evidenced by a specimen of Aplestosuchus being preserved with one (possibly Caipirasuchus) found in its stomach contents. So by extension, it would not be unreasonable to assume that baurusuchids used their good hearing to track down noisy Caipirasuchus. Though more research is required of course.

left: Aplestosuchus and its prey by Rodolfo Nogueira right: various images from Godoy et al. 2014 featuring the fossil material of Aplestosuchus

All of this is of course fascinating. Crocodiles and their extinct kin are rarely viewed as very vocal, despite the fact that modern crocodilians have a great range of sounds at their disposal. Of course we're all familiar with the sounds hatchlings make (often likened to video game ray gun sounds), but crocodiles are also able to reproduce a wide range of grows, bellows and other sounds one might even compare to roars as adults. Just these past two years we have found evidence of dwarf crocodiles in the Congo making "mooing" sounds while the extinct Hanyusuchus, a gharial that died out during China's bronze age, has both historical and anatomical evidence for producing loud sounds.

Examples of vocalisations in African Dwarf Crocodiles and a male Indian Gharial

And finally, to cap this off, I want to leave you with the paper's artwork of the new species, illustrated by Guilherme Gehr. An interesting thing I noticed, but can only speculate on, is the fact that the two individuals have different colours, which might be a cheeky reference to the alternate hypothesis that the resonance chamber is sexually dimorphic (although this theory is largely dismissed on account of C. catanduvensis having other distinguishing features beyond just the pterygoid chamber.

[s3crificialbrides]

SAKAMAKI HOUSEHOLD HC’S

A/N: I’m so happy everyone seems to be enjoying this au so far! I’m so excited to keep sharing it with you guys! I’m willing to answer any questions you may have :3 and I’d love to keep sharing

Tw: mentions of SA, implied abuse

- Most dysfunctional household. With six vampires it’s bad enough as is but six male vampires? Horrid 100%

- The most unsafe household for Yui, all of the brothers pretty much take great pride in bothering/attacking her whether that be mentally, emotionally or physically.

- Always a fight between one of them I mean it, usually it’s Ayato with another one of his brothers but sometimes it’s Kanato.

- Ayato hates water, hates swimming and sometimes even struggles to bathe himself due to almost drowning so many times as a child.

- Laito is 100% hyper sexual due to trauma but we’ve known this but I feel like it’s a lot worse then we’re shown. Can’t stand girls with green eyes, doesn’t like girls who have a not so natural hair color, and really doesn’t feel comfortable with most women at all.

- All of them fall into the BPD spectrum somewhere argue with a wall.

- Reiji is technically religious not in the way Yui is. He enjoys the stories and tales that circulate through religious groups and texts and has done handfuls of research and time looking into how they (esp Catholicism) work, similar to my Azusa head-canon but, Reiji has prayed. It’s been small amounts, times where he’s felt helpless but it’s happened

- Kanato has a weird fascination with ferrets.

- Shuu and Laito originally played each other’s instruments but both decided they liked the others better

- They all pick on Kanato for his height and then Kanato picks on Yui for hers.

- Yui’s connection to Cordelia is the strongest here. Her and Yui interchangeably controlling Yui’s body is a common occurrence as Cordelia tends to get Yui in danger so she’d have to drag her own self out. Cordelia tends to do this because she “misses” her sons and wants to cause issues.

- Reiji is the worst when it comes to hurting Yui. In this au I tweaked his personality to be more brat like rather than just stuck up snob. His core personality is blank wall but his inner is child like, almost like Kanato.

- Yui and Ayato study together often, and by study I mean Yui studies and Ayato bothers her until he sucks her blood. But this has been an ongoing thing for atleast a few months in my canon.

- Yui literally isn’t allowed to have friends outside of the manor. The brothers have and will always cut them off for her. Too big of a risk.

- Ayato and Laito often team up to prank Kanato.

- Shuu actually likes Subaru, it’s cause they don’t really bump heads often due to them liking solitude

- Subaru and Yui get along pretty well.

- Reiji’s natural hair color is also blond but he dyed it cause he didn’t wanna look like Shuu

- Kanato also naturally had red hair like his brothers and dyed it, he also has green eyes in this design.

- each brother has moments with Yui where they kinda have a human esc response. They have their moments but they’re rare.

[definitely-nota-fangirl]

A Picture of You

Pairing: Vernon Chwe x fem!Reader

Genres: fluff, angst, smut, Regency au

Warnings: Profanities, mutual pining, hurt, sexual content, unprotected sex, penetration, hand stuff (m. and f. receiving), virginity, mentions of death, Shakespeare

Word Count: 22.2k

Summary: Three years away was meant to quell a decade of unrequited love, but your family home appears not to be the only thing you are returning to.

The pictures on the walls of Sandfort Manor have changed since you'd last been here. Of course, you haven't had a chance to look further than the first few corridors yet, but it is three for three on renovated collections so far. The hedonistic luxury of the rococo-era paintings has completely disappeared, and even the more subdued classic portraitures have been replaced by sprawling landscapes of a distinctly more sombre colour palette. 

Moving into the drawing room that your cousins have excused themselves to whilst you settled back into your room, you are filled with a confusing mix of disbelief and relief as you come face-to-face with the gaudy, oversized portraits of your grandfather that had somehow escaped the culling. At least there are a few things which have survived since your departure.

"Ah, cousin! Have you finished unpacking?" Rosa's voice floats across the room, and you turn your attention towards the sofas set in the middle of the room.

"Not nearly, but there is enough time to finish that later! I wanted to give you all something from Edinburgh, as a token of my gratitude for letting me stay with you."

Swinging your arms from behind your back, you reveal three small parcels, neatly wrapped with paper and ribbon. Hushed gasps of delight leave Rosa and Harriet's mouths, and Joshua gives you a devilish grin that makes him look twelve again. You'd spent hours painstakingly picking out the gifts in the market the week before you left, agonising about whether your cousins would have the same tastes you remembered and scrambling to find any further clues in your correspondences.

Harriet had been the easiest to buy for - her taste for opulence has been set in stone since she'd first gazed at the emerald necklace your aunt bought when Harriet was but three years old. Whilst you could not afford anything close to what she would buy for herself, you were able to commission a fellow student of yours to design her an ornate, painted trinket box to hold her most valuable possessions. The loud exclamation of excitement and look of awe on her face tells you that you'd pitched it just right. 

Josh's gift had taken a bit of time to hunt down, but you'd had a solid idea from the start. The pair of you had always been close due to your shared love of the arts, and even if he rarely had time for them now, you still wanted to get him something to remind him of that connection. The set of traditional bamboo calligraphy tools you'd found would at least look good in a display if he never decided to use them, but the quick ramble of gratitude and the detailed inspection he was giving the brushes suggested otherwise.

Rosa has always been the hardest cousin to buy for. Her naturally private disposition means she rarely talks about herself at all, and you'd only had what you remembered from your shared childhood to go off of. She'd mastered the pianoforte and the art of small talk at the same age that you'd figured out how to sneak into the kitchens for snacks, but you never got the impression that any of it genuinely excited her. After much thinking, you decided to go the more sentimental route and pick up a small, pearl hair clip that resembled one your grandmother had lost when you were children. Her expression has always been hard to read, but the small smile that peaks out as she opens the package is enough to satisfy you.

"... perfect size for my new rings I just acquired from the merchant in James Street! Or, I could use it as a little bag and show it off to all the ladies at the ball at Mounthaven Estate..." Harriet's excited chatter fills the room in a way that makes your heart happy to be back. The paintings on the walls may have changed, but the shadows of your childhood remain, and you are happy to be back with your family again after your years away.

A new voice enters the room, shocking the cousins out of their nostalgic wonderland.

"Mr Chwe, for Mr Hong," The footman declares. 

A pang of panic rises through your chest as the pace of your heartbeat skyrockets. Turning slowly to face the doorway, you are struck with the sight of the man you'd loved since childhood, staring with shocked delight back at you.

Hansol's day had taken a turn for the worse. A dreadful night's sleep, interrupted constantly by a particularly loud warbling bird that arose much earlier than the sun did, was only made worse by the painful boink to the head he'd received when misstepping out of his bed. Despite the dreary start, he'd managed to lighten his mood with a delicious plate of eggs for breakfast, and happy conversation with his sister and mother. 

This had given him false hope. A series of unfortunate events, including breaking one of his guitar strings, the wheel of the carriage coming loose, and, worst of all, the rip he'd found in his last pair of satin evening shoes had him marching over to his neighbour's house like a maid looking for a cup of sugar.  Thankfully, he and Joshua wore similar-sized shoes, and an emergency loan was a far better alternative to buying a new set of shoes.

Stepping into the familiar entranceway, Hansol greets the footman on the door, waiting to be let into the house. The process of formality is still amusing to him. Having to wait to be formally admitted to a place he'd rampaged as a child, and continued to lounge around weekly, is paradoxical, but it doesn't bother him too much. The polite small talk with the footmen had quickly morphed into a rundown on the latest changes about the house, and he revels in being able to tease his friend about things Josh hasn't even disclosed to him yet. This morning, however, a different footman has taken the position of manor bouncer, and the loss of the daily update is yet one more sour addition to his day.

Walking into the drawing room, it takes him a moment to recognise the new figure in the room as you. At first, your simple muslin gown, which had been hitched up into your petticoat, makes him mistake you for a lady's maid or kitchen staff. As you turn around to face him, Hansol feels a wash of warmth fill up his body, and he realises his mistake. You are older, your hair tied back in a way he's never seen you wear it before, and you stand a few inches taller than he remembers - but it is unmistakably you. 

"Miss Y/l/n! I wasn't aware that you'd returned to Sandfort!" He exclaims, unable to say anything more as the words falter in his mouth. You are looking at him with a polite smile and shining eyes and he swears that he's never seen anything like it. You look down, shuffling your feet and fixing your dress before looking back up at him.

"I just returned today, my Lord."

- My Lord? Hansol tries to keep the perturbed look off of his face at the formality of your speech. At the realisation that you hadn't simply been looking down but that you were actually bowing at him, he fails at this goal.

Any thought of correcting your address is quickly swept up as Joshua gleefully approaches him, extending a neat box in hand towards him.

"Hansol, look at this! Y/n brought us all gifts back from Edinburgh! I suppose you must be awfully jealous that you did not receive anything, but I'll let you borrow them if you want."

Hansol looks back towards you, noting the shy smile on your face and the lack of eye contact that you are offering, and turns back towards Joshua, giving him an impressed nod. 

"They're great quality. I didn't know that Edinburgh had a market for such things."

"I got a trinket box, and Rosa got a hairpin! Rosa, turn around so he can see..." Harriet surges forward, offering him a wide smile. As instructed, Rosa turns to the side to show him the hairpin already attached to her head after bowing her head in greeting. 

The jovial countenance of your cousins is a confusing juxtaposition to the formality wavering off of you. Hansol wonders if time in Edinburgh has changed you so much that you've become unrecognisable to him, or if he's done something to offend you. The stormy thoughts plague his mind as Joshua and Harriet prattle on about their plans for the day, which he hardly catches on to. All the while, you remain stoically silent and comparatively expressionless except for a few small, polite smiles. 

"... Why are you here, by the way?" Hansol catches the quizzical look Joshua is giving him, and realises he's been asked a question.

"Oh, um, I ripped my last pair of satin shoes and was wondering if I could borrow a pair for the ball tonight?" He replies, forcing his mind back to the conversation at hand. 

"Ah! Of course, let me go grab a pair. I know exactly which ones you should have!" Joshua smiles in a discomforting way, and Hansol wonders if he has a spare pair of jester's garb waiting for this exact moment. 

You're stuck in the same position to the side of the settee. 

Rosa and Harriet return to their seats quickly after Josh hurries out of the room, and you and Hansol are left standing together. You'd hoped that he'd go and sit with your cousins so that you could excuse yourself, but his unmoving stance tells you otherwise.

Your heartbeat jumps once again as he addresses you. 

"Miss Y/l/n, how was your time in Edinburgh?" His words are polite, and his gaze inquisitive, but it makes you shift uncomfortably nonetheless.

"Oh, it was very fulfilling, my Lord! My mentor, Mr Edgeworth, believes that I have honed my craft enough that I will be able to find sculpting work soon, and having such a good connection to the Ton is a great advantage for me. There were a great many different types of artists in Mr Edgeworth's school so I really got to learn and meet a lot of different people, and - well, I'm very grateful for my cousin's sponsorship."

Hansol's eyes are asking you to continue talking, but you are overwhelmed with the attention and your tendency to ramble on about art, not to mention the way he's looking at you, and you cut yourself short. A sheepish blush trickles up your neck, hiding the heat in your cheeks under his gaze.

"And you, how are you and your family, my Lord?" 

"They are well, as am I. My father is away attending to business in London at the moment, and Sofia is clamouring to join him, so I suspect that she and perhaps mother as well will soon travel to the city soon."

"You as well? Or are you intending to stay in the country, my Lord?" 

"I shall stay here for a while, at least until I am obliged to return to London. I much prefer the estate in the summer, and there is much to do still."

Hansol's hands run over the sides of his chest as if wiping off imaginary dirt, and you cannot help but follow them with your eyes. He is very much the same boy you knew, just in a man's body. The larger build and more defined bone structure are the only clues that he has aged, and you wonder if he thinks the same thing about you, or if you are unrecognisable to him. You'd developed a lot across the five years away, leaving behind the bony, formless teenager and growing into your body. An image of your mother, your father had told you in his last visit a year ago. The bittersweet knowledge that he'd been able to see you grow up before passing was more than what your mother was granted, and you wonder if being back at Sandfort has left you defenceless to the floods of memory.

You must have been staring into space for a long while, as Joshua returns to the drawing room and you are met with a concerned glance from Hansol.

"Ah, of course! The air is much nicer in the country..." You feel yourself cringing at your clumsy conversation skills, hoping he doesn't take your lack of speech as a lack of interest. "And, I suppose you must be preparing for your next role at the Solaris? If you are still participating in the summer show?"

Hansol has been acting in the Solaris theatre summer show as long as you've known him. You remember watching him as a child fill up the stage with an unexplainable aura, and you were sure the whole theatre couldn't take their eyes off of him. Every year he'd gotten the best role for your age group and he'd downplayed the achievement, saying that it was just because of his family name, but you knew that no one else could have outshone him once he got on to that stage. It was an unorthodox hobby for a member of the Ton, and you'd heard a few people bad-mouthing it when you were a teenager, but that never seemed to bother Hansol. In another life, perhaps if he'd been born to the same station you had, you think he would have done it professionally. Last you'd heard, he was still joining in on the plays each summer, but it had been a while since you'd last corresponded. 

The concern has completely melted off of Hansol's face and been replaced with the tooth-bearing grin you know so well.

"Yes! The rehearsals are underway now, and Mr Downey sent out fliers to all of the neighbouring towns so they're hoping for the biggest crowd yet!"

It warms your heart to hear him so passionate about the play, and your mind races thinking about watching him on stage again.

"They're doing A Midsummer Night's Dream - I thought Hansol suited Nicholas Bottom, but they let him be Demetrius," Josh rolls his eyes playfully, setting off Hansol's laughter. The sound of his laugh is so endearing to you, and you find yourself spiralling into your many memories of the two of you, heads back in laughter at something you'd end up getting told off for later that night.

"You can't reach! Just admit it!" A thirteen-year-old Hansol is stretching his hand out to a lily floating out on the lake, cheeks puffed in concentration and stomach hovering ever so delicately over the rippling water. You let out an exaggerated gasp as his fingers graze the tips of the flower's leaves, and that is when he makes a crucial mistake. Too confident in his abilities, he looks back around at you to taunt you for not believing in him, and the last thing you see is his toothy-smiled mouth turning into a gaping fish as he plunges into the shallow, mossy water. The shrieks that leave you are closer to your water-born companions than to any human sound, and, as soon as he's finished spluttering all of the water that had filled his open mouth out, Hansol is quick to join you in your squawking. You hear his mother screech at him as he drips his way back into his house from your room, and smile to yourself, cheeks aflush as you place your new lily on the small planter on your windowsill.

The memory has you stuck, and once again you fill with the same anxiety that you'd felt the moment Hansol had walked through the drawing room door. 

You bow your head once more and excuse yourself from the room with the excuse of your unpacked suitcases. As you get into the safety of your room, you realise your cheeks are flushed, and your palms are indented with shallow nail marks. Huffing at yourself in disbelief, you wonder why such a simple, normal conversation had gotten you so worked up. 

It's not that you have any issue with Hansol, you just weren't expecting to see him so soon. He'd entered your thoughts once on your journey back, and any questions about whether or not you still had feelings for him were immediately answered as you caught sight of him leaning in the doorframe. It pains you how, even after three years, you feel yourself revert into a blushing schoolgirl; left floundering from the moment you see him, whilst he managed to speak to you as if you'd never left.

Except, and perhaps it hadn't dawned on him yet, it was not the same as when you were children. The relaxed attitudes of his parents and your family had allowed you to join your cousins as a child undeserving of exclusion. But, you weren't the same as your cousins, or Hansol and his sister. The illegitimacy of your birth, an unintended consequence of a passionate, yet illicit affair between your noble mother and a common school teacher, removed you from any real standing in society. You could pretend that this wasn't the case as children, but now, grown, it could no longer be ignored.

Your hands comb out the knots in your hair as a loud sigh exits your mouth, your body slumped on the seat next to your window. The wedge between you and Hansol was predestined, and it is essential that you understand the limitations of your position. The thought of bringing shame and scandal to him is far scarier to you than a few hurt feelings you've already been nursing for over a decade.

The sun gleams through the windows of Joshua's study as you excitedly recount the events of your interview with him.

"... I'm convinced that they offered the job to me because there are no other sculptors living close enough to take on the project, but I will hardly complain about that! Oh, Josh ... thank you so much. I doubt they would have looked twice at me if you hadn't mentioned it; I'm truly indebted to you."

You laud your praises onto your cousin with elation soaring in your chest, as Joshua proudly smiles back at you.

"Nonsense, cousin. You got the job because you are a talented sculptor. Or, sculptress? ... Either way," He shakes his head, "you deserve this opportunity."

Joshua had mentioned that the church in the middle of town had plans to renovate in his last letter to you, but you hadn't realised how fortuitous your timing had been. Looking for a sculptor to craft the statues and decorations for the new building, the Reverend had put out a call for interested craftsmen. To your luck, Josh had overheard the Reverend talking about it and had submitted your name for consideration.

"Oh, by the way, Hansol was asking after your health. He wondered if you were not feeling well the day you came back, and I told him you were fine, but probably weary from travel," Joshua gives you a pointed look, "but, I had also noticed your strange behaviour after his arrival. I thought you two were close?"

You knew that your behaviour had been unusual compared to how you'd previously been with Hansol, but you hadn't realised it was so glaringly obvious.

"Cousin, you understand my position right? I am the daughter of a teacher, not a member of society, and Lord Granby is the heir to the Duchy of Rutland. As much as I feel a part of this family, the reality is that I am not your, or his, equal. I can waver the formalities for you and the girls because we are blood, but any extension on that would be highly inappropriate."

Your arms are crossed, and you disgruntledly wonder if Josh, or your other cousins, had taken any time to consider this. The realisation shining in his eyes verifies your assessment, and you release a long sigh. 

"I'm sorry, cousin. I do not like it any more than you do, but it's just the way society works and my family has felt the scorn of the Ton too much already for me to risk flaunting about in a manner untoward of my station."

Josh nods, smiling sadly at you.

"I understand. I'm sorry I pressed you on it. I was simply surprised because of how close you two used to be, but I hadn't considered how unusual our arrangement as children was. I wouldn't want you to do anything that compromises your position, cousin."

Your irritation at his lack of forethought is flushed out by the kindness in his words and voice. 

"Don't be feeling too much pity for me, cousin," a grin dawns across your face, "I get to spend my time sculpting angels, demons and saints for a wage, whilst Rosa and Harriet are contained to the refineries of society life. I, at least, have much more freedom to choose how my life goes than they do!"

"Thanks to our generosity, mind you," Josh lets out a hearty laugh, grasping your hand comfortingly. You nod your head with a large smile, very much aware of the privilege of your position. 

"Should I start cooking your breakfast as thanks, my Lord?" You utter with a mocking bow, and Josh pulls you back up with an exacerbated laugh. 

"I wouldn't chance eating your food, personally. But thank you for the offer." He replies, and the two of you are left with a familiar feeling of companionship. After a moment's rest, he sharply jumps out of his chair, pulling you towards the door of the office.

"Come, cousin! I've been meaning to show you the new inhabitants of the lake, and we must go now before I forget again!" 

Laughing merrily out of the room, you let yourself be pulled by your cousin into the shining welcome of the sunny gardens.

Hansol has visited the manor twice already this week, and he hasn't seen you once.

Admittedly, he is a common frequenter of Sandfort on any given week, but he feels himself yearning to visit more than usual.

On his first visit this week, Joshua had told him about your job in the church, and that you'd likely be confined to your workroom for the upcoming weeks, if not months. Even with your absence explained, Hansol cannot help but want to know why you were acting so strangely towards him.

One day of chatting and playing parlour games with Joshua, Harriet and Rosa had turned into a second day of riding around the estate. Coming a third day this week, he was running out of activities to excuse his long stays at the manor. 

Borrowing a book and staying to read it ended up being the excuse of choice. Immediately after seeing Rosa perching up on the sofa, book in hand, Hansol exclaims his need for new literature. He didn't miss the perplexed look given between Joshua and Harriet. Yet, after a whole day of reading and discussion, you still have not appeared.

Just as he thinks he might have to endure the embarrassment of a fourth visit, Hansol gets his opportunity. Rosa, who had left a few hours earlier to meet a friend in town, returns to the drawing room bags in hand.

"What did you get, sister?" Harriet asks, nosily poking her head into the bags. The implicit question of whether or not Rosa had bought anything for her did not need to be said.

"Just a few pieces for the summer faire. Laura mentioned that all of the girls are going to be wearing bows this year, and so I thought I ought to get us some in case she was right."

Rosa hands a pink bow over the Harriet, who looks very satisfied at the prospect of being in fashion. 

"Oh, and I got the wire brush Y/n asked for. Mr Shaw, could you please deliver this brush to -"

"I can do it!" Hansol cuts her off, too excited to see the looks that the Hong family gives him. He clears his throat, recomposing his words and hoping his mind will join soon after.

"I mean- I was about to head off, anyways. I'm happy to drop the tool off with Miss Y/l/n on my way?"

Rosa gives him a sceptical look, and it's clear to Hansol that they are both aware that your studio is not on the way out of the house, but she chooses to say nothing, and he is very grateful. He has to stop himself from walking too quickly as she hands the brush box over to him with a small nod.

Your studio is, actually, far from the exit, and not a room Hansol has visited before. Descending to a level he has never needed to visit other than to access the kitchens, Hansol soon puzzles his way to a large set of wooden doors with clay stains on the handle, and congratulates himself for finding the right room.

He hesitates outside the door for a few moments, slightly apprehensive about bothering you whilst you are working, but the brush in hand gives him the confidence to rap his knuckles against the door. From the outside, he hears scuffled movement and a rustling of fabrics, before a voice calls out to welcome him into the room.

Walking into your studio is like walking into a museum. Walls with rows of statues made out of a variety of different materials but all stunningly impressive stare back at him, as his mouth gapes into an unspoken wow. He wonders how many of them are for your project at the church, and how many are just practice versions that will never be seen in public. He's always been impressed by your art since you were children together, but he hadn't expected the treasury of masterful sculptures that you have created for yourself.

"Ah, do you have -" You look up, and your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline in shock, ""My Lord! I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you were visiting; I thought you were Rosa!"

Hansol realises that in his awe he's just stood at the entrance and has yet to speak to you.

"They're incredible ... I knew you were always good at art, but I didn't realise how good you've become," He marvels, and if he's struggling to word his astonishment, he's glad that he can at least sing your praises. A slight blush bruises your cheeks at the compliment, and he cannot comprehend that you haven't been extolled enough to have gotten used to it yet.

"Ah, thank you. They're not finished yet, but this one is the closest yet to the vision in my head."

"How come you've used all these different materials?" He asks, pointing back at the wall.

"The church statues are going to be in marble, but I am most familiar with clay. So, I've been making prototypes in clay and trying to translate them into different materials before wasting any of the marble," You explain softly, spinning the clay head in your hands, "My lord."

His heart feels heavy once again at the use of the formality, and he feels you building up the same barrier as you did in the drawing room. Lifting his eyes to meet yours, he gives you an injured expression.

"Please, we have known each other for so long, Miss Y/l/n. The formal titles really aren't necessary."

Hansol watches your expression shift in a way he can't decipher, as you work out how you wish to reply.

"Okay, Mr Chwe, if you are sure?" You hesitate, looking uncertainly at him. The satisfaction of the moment is slightly hindered by the knowledge that you are only doing it at his request, but he still considers this a crack in the barrier.

"I am certain. Surely you were not gone away so long as to forget me altogether?" He asks, hoping his attempt to lighten to mood will make you feel more comfortable.

"The men in Edinburgh were certainly a lot more punctual," You crack a sly smile as you tease him, and he feels his whole mood lighten as the glimmers of your old relationship flick on, "but I suppose I did miss having someone to count constellations with."

Hansol hadn't expected you to bring up stargazing, but the fondness in your voice sends him straight back to the nights you'd spent staring up at the darkened sky pointing out different formations together. It is one of his favourite activities you used to do together too, and he is surprised it has come to your mind over the kitchen raids and horse races that you always seemed to enjoy the most. He feels an unwitting smile stretch across his mouth at the memory.

"We might have to go out again soon, I'm not sure that I can remember them all still."

"I'll be happy as long as we can see -"

"Cygnus, the winged rescuer." Hansol finishes. Cygnus had always been your favourite constellation to spot. He remembers when you'd first learnt the story, and you'd recounted it to him that night, passionately acting out the beautiful tragedy of the two friends. You'd been so impassioned about it, and when he'd asked why you liked it so much you'd said that the pinnacle of love was knowing you'd dive to the bottom of the ocean just to give your loved one the gift of peace. It was a raw insight into your brain that he'd see again and again as you spent your young summers together, but he will always remember that first revelation.

You are looking at him in a way that suggests that you didn't think he'd remember that, and he feels wounded that you could ever think that.

"Yes, although with the stormy nights we've had this week, I'd be grateful to see any stars at all," You say, looking back down at the half-formed head and shielding your expression from his view.

Hansol feels the air in the room shift, and realises that he shouldn't overstay his welcome too long when you have work to get on with.

"I'm glad you're well, Miss Y/l/n. I'm looking forward to when the clouds decide to clear away," He nods his head at you in farewell, spinning on his heel to leave the room.

"Mr Chwe!" You call you, and he's spinning back around even quicker, his heart peaking in anticipation of what you felt you needed to tell him.

"My brushes, you're still holding them," You're smiling at him, but he doesn't see it as his eyes go straight towards his hands in which, as you point out, he is still holding the package he's completely forgotten to give you. Embarrassment flushes his face and he mentally curses his foolish memory for abandoning him once again. All he can offer you is another nod, a sheepish grin, the package which he places gently on the table closest to him, and a swift exit.

White spots blur your vision as you step out onto the warm stone patio, and you swear the sun has moved closer to Earth in the time you've been working in your studio.

You realised that you had to leave that room when you woke up at 3am last night with your drool still stuck to your workshop desk and three empty bowls of previous meals tauntingly toppled on top of the now-stained sketchwork you'd started the morning before. Moving into your bedroom and giving yourself the luxury of one lie-in has rejuvenated you enough to pass as a human again. Now, stepping into the beaming heat, you promise yourself that you will go outside at least once a day from now onwards.

Tiptoeing into the extensive lawns behind the pretty hedged garden, you spot Harriet and Rosa embroidering and reading on some chairs under a shaded tree, and Josh and Hansol curling stones into the expanses of the great lake. Even from your distance, you could hear Josh gleefully shouting out the current score tally, and the look on Hansol's face makes you wonder if he'd even known it was a competition when he joined the activity.

"Oh, she's alive!" Harriet cries, turning around to energetically wave you over to their covering. "What is it they say? 'the dull, yellow eye of the creature opens, and breathless horror fills my heart'?"

"Are you trying to quote Frankenstein?" Rosa's eyebrows furrow in unimpressed scorn. "I wasn't aware that you'd had any time to read lately, sister."

Harriet scoffs, irate that her attempts to tease you had turned back on her.

"I read, thank you! It's important to stay up-to-date with the newest literature so that you are well prepared for any conversation." She sticks her nose up, letting out an over-emphasised huff in Rosa's direction.

"Well, I for one commend you, cousin. I wasn't aware that you'd graduated to books with words." You sit down on one of the empty lawn chairs, a grin cracking across your face as Harriet's face falls from elated to stormy at your jab. You almost want to run back and grab a canvas to capture the expression forever, but before you can think to move she's wiped her face clear and distracted herself with her embroidery again.

"We're going to the faire this afternoon, cousin. Do you want to come?" Rosa turns and looks at you pensively.

The faire had been a staple of town life as long as you'd stayed at the manor, and used to be one of your favourite activities as a child. Brass bands and colourful hobby horses were only beaten by the extravagant arrays of market stalls selling everything from breads and toys to cattle and hand-crafted furniture. You loved searching through the vast arrays of homemade goods, in awe of everything that the human body could create. Yet, you falter when you realise what going to the faire would mean now. The ignorant bliss of childhood had washed away the disapproving stares and catty whispers that darken your memory. People already thought that you were scrounging off of your cousins, and your ambition to disprove their judgements sours any thought of flaunting your borrowed wealth in front of the people you hope could respect you.

"No, thank you though," You look down, guiltily fiddling with your hands, "I have a lot to do today, but you must bring me back a treat from the market."

Rosa nods with a content smile, before looking back at her book. You feel a pang of uncertainty about your decision, but you think it's ultimately for the best.

It's not long before the quartet head off to the faire, promising to bring you back a gift. Your eyes linger on Hansol's retreating figure as you have the chance to fully take in how much he's grown since you've been away. If you could go back and tell your younger self that he's found a hairstyle that suits him even more than the cute ringlets that curled around his ears you think she'd laugh in your face. And yet, you're struggling to deal with the swell in your heart when you look at him just as much as she had all those years ago.

You aren't able to motivate yourself to go back inside and work that afternoon, instead justifying your procrastination by taking a small drawing pad outside and practising your colour theory with portraits of the rippling lake water first in the beaming white-yellow light of midday, then the gorgeous glow of sunset, and finally the mysterious purple and navy starscape as the sun dips behind the horizon. You'd tucked yourself away from prying eyes under a large willow at the east side of the lake, feeling a burst of freedom within the natural world you rarely get to encounter recently. Your cousins returned a little while ago, and you could see the candlelight of the drawing room illuminating the shadows of the setees through the closed curtains.

You almost jump out of your skin as the bush to the side of the willow rustles in time as the pliant branches of the tree are pushed to one side.

"Oh, sorry! It's me!" Hansol jumps back, matching your reaction as if he is shocked to see you too.

"Sorry to interrupt, and to scare you. I just wanted to bring you this," He apologises, moving forward arm outstretched. It's hard to see in the dark shadows of the willow, but you soon realise that he is holding a deliciously oozing cream eclair in his hand. Your rumbling stomach overtakes any sense of decorum at this moment, and you lash out to grab the baked good, sighing in eclair delight as the pastry hits your tongue.

Hansol lets out a chortled laugh at your actions, but doesn't say anything, instead perching next to your chair to look at your array of drawings strewn across the grassy surface.

"Was the faire fun?" You ask between bites, your words slightly slurred by the sheer amount of pastry filling your mouth.

"Yes!" He nods, looking back up at you with wide eyes. "I don't think anything could ever beat the year they had the hot air balloon, but this year there were these steam wagons which were rather cool - not as pretty to look at though."

You hum impressed, finishing off the eclair.

"It was a shame you couldn't come. You would have liked a lot of the stalls - there was a gentleman selling small stained glass pieces, and another woman who made these crazy detailed woven rugs." He adds, eyes sparkling as he recollects all of the wares you'd missed out on.

"Ah, next time, maybe." You sigh, trying to offer him a small smile of gratitude.

"By the way, did you know that Lord Bolton will be coming to visit soon?" Hansol asks, and you don't remember being told this information.

"No, I didn't. Lord Bolton was the man who was courting Harriet last season, right?"

"Yeah, Harriet mentioned he was on his way down at the faire today. The way she mentioned it, I figured she'd forgotten to tell you, but I thought you should know before you get a shock tomorrow morning." He laughs, settling more comfortably onto the lawn, so that his body is propped up by his elbows and his legs rest out into the grass. You have to force yourself to avert your gaze as he looks up at you from his position with a cheesy grin that shows off his teeth and shreds your heart to pieces.

"Didn't the connection fall through? Why is he still coming to visit her?" You ask, frowning as you try to remember the barrage of letters Harriet had written you during your time away. She'd shared with you that a potential match she'd be excited about in a previous letter hadn't worked out, and you'd thought that was the end of it.

"I'm not sure, she didn't seem unhappy about it though. Perhaps they're rekindling?" Hansol replies thoughtfully.

The two of you continue to talk until the purples and blues are replaced by pitch black sky, covered in a cloudy ambience. Hansol tells you about the latest project his sister is working on and offers comfort when you mention your father for the first time since returning to Sandfort. For a short moment, you feel like you never left, and wonder how you managed to pull yourself away from it all the first time. The dull background light coming from the house does nothing but backlight Hansol in a beautiful warm glow, and it makes him look angelic as he basks in the evening darkness.

At least he can't see the blush on your face as he reaches out to wipe a remnant of cream off of the corner of your mouth.

"Oh, you've got some - here, I got it," He says, his hand moving far too quickly towards your face for your liking. Dumbstruck, you feel your heart wither in your chest as his finger makes contact with the crease of your lips and cannot look anywhere other than straight at him in shock. As he wipes away the cream with careful precision, your faces are left meters away from each other, and you see an unreadable expression dawn across his, before he backs up, awkwardly stumbling further than he'd been before.

"Uh, sorry, I think it's all gone now-"

"No, thank you! I-"

"It's getting dark now, I should -"

"You should be getting back."

You both manage to land on the same thought and as Hansol offers you a quick nod and a farewell, you are left alone once again in your willowy hiding spot.

Lord Bolton was not an enjoyable guest.

You appreciate what you realise was Hansol's warning more than he could ever know, as you excuse yourself from the party mere minutes after arriving.

Within the five minutes you've known Lord Bolton, he's already given you his hat as if you are his maid, made an obnoxious joke about Harriet's dress, and used the word 'bemused' wrong twice. The last one is uttered just as you leave the room, and you almost want to stay just to watch the way Rosa's eye twitches at the error.

Finding Joshua in his study on your prolonged rendezvous around the manor, you realise you are not the only one who's escaped that conversation.

"Are you busy?" You ask, leaning into the room with a soft knock against the wooden door.

Josh shakes his head, beaconing you to come in.

"No, just looking through some of the household finances for the last season," He replies, eyes weary at the thought of paperwork.

"Gosh, he's bad enough that you're up here doing taxes?" You laugh, and he joins you, releasing the built-up tension from his frame.

"You didn't have to spend the last year with him and you're already hiding, what can you expect me to do?" He says exacerbated by the memories of his forced proximity to Lord Bolton.

A thought dawns on your mind, one that you'd been too afraid to talk to anyone about so far.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Your fingers twitch in anticipation, and you're struggling to make yourself say the words.

"Of course, anything," Josh replies, a confused look taking over his features. You let out a deep sigh before rehashing the thought that had been plaguing you since your arrival.

"Where's Elizabeth?"

Lady Elizabeth Moteley, daughter of the Marquess of Bath, is the one staple of your childhood who no longer seemed to be here, and not one person has mentioned her since you've gotten home.

You remember the first time you met Elizabeth and her family. You'd walked down the stairs of the Manor to find your aunt and uncle hosting another family you'd never seen before.

"Ah, Lord and Lady Moteley, this is my niece, Y/n." Your uncle introduced you, holding out a guiding arm for you to join the family.

You'd never forgotten the sneering looks on their faces when they'd realised who you were.

"Georgia's daughter?" They'd asked, refusing to even look at you. Your uncle had given them a sharp nod of confirmation, and placed a well-needed steadying hand on your shoulder.

"Y/n's staying with us over the summer."

"How ... generous of you."

"She's growing to be a very adept painter, a real talent in the arts!" Your aunt interjected and you knew the purpose of talking you up was to take the attention away from the fact that everyone there knew about you.

"Ah, perhaps she can draw a portrait of Elizabeth!" Lady Moteley suggested with a straight-lipped smile.

That was when you'd first seen Elizabeth, pushed forward from behind her mother's dress. She was around the same age as you, with long tresses of dark hair, porcelain skin, and pretty eyes. Her dress was pristine pink, with fashionable bows laced at the back peaking through from the sides, and a sapphire necklace sat upon her neck. There was a shyness to her eyes as she looked at you and, for the first time in your life, you felt inferior in every way to the girl who stood before you.

"Elizabeth is staying with the Chwe family over the summer," Your aunt explained to you. At the time, you didn't know why Elizabeth was there, but as the years passed into teenhood and Elizabeth continued to visit Hansol's family in the summer, you soon realised the true intent of her long stays at the Chwe estates.

Elizabeth's friendship with Harriet was cemented from the moment they met. Their similar interests in fashion and London gossip had the two girls hooked at the arms from the start of summer as if they'd been predestined to be together. Your friendship with Elizabeth had not been predictable. The prejudicial way her parents had talked about you the day you'd met had reflected badly on Elizabeth, and you'd spent the first part of the summer trying to avoid her until you'd realised that you were missing out on time with your friends too and begrudgingly rejoined the group.

The turning point came in the middle of the summer when Elizabeth had found you sniffling on the steps to the lake, eyes and nose leaking into the one handkerchief you owned. That morning you'd attempted to style your hair into the braids that the girls so often sported, but your lack of motherly wisdom or helpful maid left the task rather difficult for you. After spending almost an hour crafting something you were happy with, you'd walked down the stairs to join your party only to be met with Harriet's snickering and questioning whether you'd fallen into a bush on your way to the playroom. The embarrassment of the moment after you'd spent so much time on your hair was a startling reminder that you could never truly fit in with the rest of your friends, and your overwhelmed eleven-year-old body had sprinted out of the room just as the tears had started. Elizabeth had found you not too long afterwards and redid your braids with the adornments of some of the small flowers by the side of the lake and the promise to teach you how to do it yourself the next morning.

By the end of that summer, you'd confined in Elizabeth every detail about your life, from the details you knew about your mother, and your annoyances about your cousins, to the small crush you'd begun harbouring on the boy she'd been living with.

When she returned the next year, one year older and a few inches taller than you, hand in hand with her future husband, you felt a level of despair and betrayal unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You spent the summer watching Hansol kiss her hand and carry her over the puddles of mud that the two of you had played in the day before, and you realised that you could never have what she had. A match made between a Marquess's daughter and the future Duke made perfect sense, and you felt like a fool for not realising it earlier. What hurt the most was that it was a side to Hansol that you'd never seen before, and you thought you knew him to the core, as he did you.

At the time, the childish jealousy that ruined your whole summer had you convinced that Elizabeth had done it on purpose - befriended you so that you would tell her your secret and she could crush your heart. With some perspective, you soon realised the petty motivations of your slanderous thoughts, and had to admit to yourself that her refrainment from telling you about the engagement was more likely meant to spare your feelings than any great ploy to hurt you further. Elizabeth continued to be nothing but kind to you, even writing to you in your first year away, and you still feel bad for the barrage of curses your twelve-year-old self had wished upon her that summer.

You'd decided you had to leave Sandfort the year that the pair of them got formally engaged. It is embarrassing to admit that the push you needed to follow your passions was the trivial heartache of a crush long past its expiration date, but you are glad that you finally cut yourself free and gave yourself the space to find new meaning in your life. You expected to get news of their wedding every year you were been away, but although Hansol was mentioned in Elizabeth's letter to you, there was no suggestion of the actual event occurring.

When you realised you wanted to return, you half expected to come back to Hansol and Elizabeth already married, and that no one had remembered to tell you. Yet, Elizabeth wasn't here, and Hansol had yet to mention her name.

Josh is staring at you with a troubled look, seemingly struggling to word his thoughts to you.

"Elizabeth's still in London at the moment. Her grandmother passed away at the start of the year, and she wanted to stay with her family after the season ended to help sort out the estates."

His mouth closes and you realise this is all the information he's going to give you. Irritation flares in your chest and apparently it is as clear to Josh as it is to you, as he gives you a small shrug in response.

"Still in London ... okay. And is she going to come visit at all this summer?" You prod, hoping to glean some of the knowledge he's clearly hiding from you.

"Um, I guess so? I'm not too sure, you'd have to ask Hansol." Josh replies, and you're stumped at his nonchalant demeanour.

"Right, ask Hansol. You're so helpful." You grumble, giving him a withering look before turning back out of the study. You hear him sigh from behind you, but don't give him the satisfaction of looking back to check as you storm away from him and Lord Bolton's incessant chatter downstairs.

Hansol's back in your studio, and updating you on a message given to him by the priest that morning.

Unlike last time, you are completely dressed for comfort and ease of movement, not expecting to see anyone other than the cook the whole day. Donning a pair of thin, brown trousers, a loose white shirt, and a short apron that tied at the waist and did little to stop the clay from getting on your other clothes, you are an unorthodox, but comfy, picture.

Hansol is looking straight up at the sculptures on the wall as you begin chatting about the latest update to the project, and you think he must have found something particularly intriguing to look at with the intensity with which he's staring at the art.

Your rambles fall off as he has still not said more than a few-word answers, and the room is filled with a stale silence you don't understand.

"Have you sculpted before?" You ask, wondering if the art he was focusing on was inspiring his creativity, and he finally snaps his head around to look at you.

"I'm not sure I'd be much good at it."

"I'm sure that's not true! How can you know if you have never tried?"

His face scrunches up as he thinks about your response, before letting an agreeing nod loose.

It dawns on you that you have a lot of spare clay left over from your work today, and before you realise you quickly find yourself asking if he wants to try it out. You feel your hammering heart calm slightly as he agrees but you are filled with excitement that you get to share your passion with him.

You reach down to pick up the resting clay from your tray on the floor, and looking back up you feel like someone's stabbed you in the chest. Your eyes go cartoonishly wide and you almost choke on your breath as you watch Hansol strip his jacket and waistcoat from his torso and loosen the linen shift from his trousers as to turn it into a makeshift smock.

He looks back at you with a sheepish smile, and you hope to God that your face has returned to a normal expression.

"Don't want Mr Jones's wrath if I get clay stuck into the fibres of the jacket," He explains. The reason makes total logical sense, and yet your head is dizzy with the mental gymnastics your brain is engaging in. Realising that the only cure was to stop looking at him, you turn your attention back to the pottery wheel, trying to set the clay upright without your hands shaking too much.

It's clear Hansol does not know what he's doing, and you don't think your absentminded coaching is helping much. After a few more minutes of gentle guidance and no progress, he drops his dirtied hands from the clay, and scoffs at the misshapen lump sat before him. You're telling him that he's getting the hang of it, but it's not true, and you're struggling to keep the endeared laughter out of your voice as you look at his creation.

But, looking at the clay, you can see the starts of a pot forming, and you think that if he just keeps going he'll be able to create something he's satisfied with.

"Here, let me help you," You say, entranced by the clay. Before he can say anything more, his hands are back on the clay, and yours are covering them, your fingers guiding his in a mesmerising pattern. His hands are softer than you expect, and you imagine that yours are rather rough from the weeks of labour you've put into your work.

You haven't fully realised the proximity you've just created, your mind solely trained on the beautiful vision in your head. You haven't noticed the way your body is pressed against his chair, just far enough that you're not touching his back, or the way your forearms graze against his and you both move in a steady rhythm. 

You don't realise what you've done until you realise that Hansol is no longer moving at all. 

Frozen for a moment, your instinct battles your desire to stay close. You'd broken all boundaries of propriety in the pursuit of art and hadn't thought twice about it.

You leap backwards, fear and panic bulging in your stomach and threatening to make its way into your throat. He's not saying anything and you feel like you're going to vomit if you don't right your wrongdoing.

"I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to get that close -" The words are tumbling out of your mouth faster than you can keep up.

"It's okay. Hey, really, it's okay." He's comforting you, his hands on your forearms to steady you and it's just making you feel worse. You wonder if you're about to flee from your own studio, but the shame of doing so is weighing up slightly higher than your current predicament.

"- why's Elizabeth not staying for the summer?" Your unasked question has slipped from your lips in your frenzied panic, and you feel your heart drop like a stone into your stomach at the realisation of what you've asked and the look that has now dawned on Hansol's face. Your lack of self-control is truly astonishing, and you feel like melting into a puddle to join the clay on your floor.

He doesn't know how to answer you, and you can tell instantly. His eyes are shifting uncomfortably and he keeps opening his mouth slightly and then shutting it again, and you're such an idiot for bringing this up now. Just as you are about to tell him to forget it, that he doesn't have to answer you, he finally starts speaking again.

"Well, she's got some family business to take care of ... so she's stayed in London for a bit longer to do that. Why are you asking?"

You can feel the word vomit start again, and your shame knows no bounds.

"Oh, I was just surprised she wasn't here. I hadn't heard anything about you two whilst I was away and I assumed you'd ... finished your engagement?" You cringe at your inability to talk about marriage in a way that didn't make you sound like a child.

A flash of anger and hurt crosses Hansol's face as he jolts up out of his seat and you know you've pushed too far. 

"You shouldn't speak about things you don't know about."

You are promptly left alone with his words and the sinking pit in your stomach dragging you into spiralling darkness.

You realise that the first dinner party you'd ever attended was a poor imitation of the real thing.

Harriet has spent the last week planning it, and, based on your limited experience, you initially wondered why it was taking so much time, but as you stare at the vast platter of food and drink, the ornate decorations purposely draped around the room, and the string quartet setting up in the corner you finally understand her stress. 

Guests are about to start pouring through the doors, and you're filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. On one hand, you know that the priest, Reverend Lee, would be in attendance today and you couldn't wait to fill him in on all your plans for the church renovations. It's been almost a month since you started working on the project now, and you moved onto marbles last week after finally plucking up the courage. You think it's been going well, but you'd love to show the Reverend your progress tonight if you get the chance to hear his opinion. His jovial attitude means that you aren't scared of his reaction, but a few nerves still flutter in your stomach at the thought of having your work judged.

On the other hand, you know that Hansol will be coming. You haven't seen him since the pottery incident, and whether it has been you or him avoiding the other is hard to tell. You want to apologise, tell him to ignore your ignorant questioning, but you are scared that bringing it back up will just agitate him more. You haven't plucked up the courage to ask anyone else about it, deciding that it is clearly a personal matter to Hansol and that he should be the one to talk about it when he wants to. But, deep down, you still want to know what is happening with Elizabeth.

The first guests to walk in, escorted by a three-glasses-deep Harriet, are Mr and Mrs Heath, the couple that owns the popular town inn on Cannon Lane, and your nerves are quelled by the sight of other people not in the nobility. Mrs Heath is quick to embrace you, asking about your time away and telling you how much you've grown since she last saw you, as Mr Heath smiles along, nodding but hardly saying a word.

As the other guests arrive, you feel at home chatting with people you've known your whole life and catching up on all that you've missed. Mr and Mrs Heath's daughter went to London for the first time last season and is supposed to be bringing home a mysterious but handsome baker she's met. Lord Tully, an old friend of your grandfather, went abroad to the continent for the first time, and he regales you with stories of high-stakes gambling dens in Paris and the beautiful landscapes of the north. You manage to get an audience with Reverend Lee, who tells you about his son who's set to return to the country soon and agrees to go down to see your work after dinner ends.

Dinner is about to start when Hansol arrives, slightly soggy from the evening shower and carrying an already-opened bottle of champagne. He apologises to Harriet for his tardiness and explains that he got stuck at rehearsal, but had managed to swipe the last bottle, and hopes that the high-quality vintage makes up for it. Even in his damp form, his hair sticking to his forehead, he looks striking and you can hear the Reverend's youngest daughter giggling in delight as he takes a seat next to her at the table. You mentally sigh, realising that you and her are much more alike than she knows.

To your delight, and Harriet's relief, the dinner is spectacular. In all your days at Sandfort, you've eaten many, many delicious meals, but the cooks seem to have gone all out for this one. It reminds you of Christmas time - close friends and family huddled around the table enjoying roasted meats and sauteed vegetables, and it's an atmosphere you wish would never end. By dessert, the topic of conversation has managed to turn to Mr and Mrs Heath's daughter's upcoming nuptials, and you dotingly listen to Mrs Heath retell the story she'd told you at the start of the evening.

"-and his family is from Swansea, if you'll believe it? We've never been but I've heard the beaches are quick joyous. Your Lord Bolton is from Welsh stock, right Miss Harriet?"

Harriet coughs loudly to cover up the fact that she's just choked on a potato.

"Uh, yes! Lord Bolton's family hails from Cardiff, but they've owned an estate in London for a long while now." She answers cordially, flashing a smile at Mrs Heath who seems satisfied at the answer.

"How come Lord Bolton is not joining us tonight? I thought he was up visiting from the city?" Reverend Lee joins, and you can see Harriet's face turning a slightly deeper shade of red as the attention of the table fully turns to her and her prospects.

"He had to return to London for some family business, I'm sure he'll be back to visit Harriet soon," Joshua opts in, rubbing his sister's arm comfortingly and trying to turn the attention away from her.

"Speaking of, will your family be back soon, my Lord?" Mrs Heath is looking at Hansol who hasn't yet noticed that he is being addressed. A moment of silence fills the air before the Reverend's daughter cautiously taps his hand, and his head snaps up to attention to see everyone looking at him. The shocked expression on his face that he struggles to hide is so cute you find a gentle smile has already blossomed on your face.

"Oh, sorry, yes, I think they should be coming back in the next few weeks. My father's just finishing off some business in the city but I think my sister might be a bit bored of all the ribbon shops and florists she's been dragged to by the ladies of society. I'm sure she's looking forward to being back in the country." He hums, taking a large gulp from his cup of water.

"And you, Mr Chwe, we haven't heard of your future plans yet?" Lord Tully asks and Hansol must be expecting the question because his eyes light up as he starts reeling off the details of the play.

"-we've just found someone who's happy to restitch some of the old costumes that are falling apart, and Mr Downey is hoping to get one of those new kaleidoscopes to use in the more mystical scenes! I think it's going to be really great this year." He looks over to the Reverend's daughter, smiling. "You should come, all the young ladies in London know Shakespeare so you ought to start learning soon."

You watch a young girl just about to swoon and pass from excitement at the prospect of Hansol talking to her, and cannot help but see your twelve-year-old self.

"This acting business, are you feeling serious about it? Is it not a bit ....I don't know, beneath you?"

The air in the room stales, and you feel a burst of rage at the words of a Lord you hadn't met, and now hope you never will again. You're eyes are trained on Hansol, who is flicking his spoon around with an emotionless expression on his face, and it hurts even more to see that happiness taken from him.

"Well, I think that giving back to the community can never be a bad thing, can it?" He answers cordially, and you're beyond impressed at his ability to stay pleasant with this Lord.

"Of course, I just think that it strange for a man of your age and station to still be playing pretend when you really ought to be thinking about your family and future."

Hansol is stung by this, and it's slapped across his face.

"Is the pursuit of pleasure and duty not the purpose of modern society, my Lord?" You feel yourself starting to speak, unable to sit and listen to the Lord's drivel any longer. "I rather think that a man able to bring joy to his community is far greater than a man who complains about the choices of others. Perhaps you ought to give it a try, my Lord - I can certainly think of a few roles you may suit."

The silence crawls in again, and you feel your throat close up with every moment that passes, the visceral fear that you've gone far beyond your station seizing you as your heart hammers so loudly that you can hear blood gushing in your ears. 

But then Joshua lets out a barking laugh, muttering something about giving and taking, and the rest of the table is close to follow in an attempt to diffuse the tension in the air. You cannot look back at the Lord, who is surely cursing you out in his head, and the moment you make eye contact with Hansol you wish you hadn't looked at him either. He's staring at you with an expression you wish he'd stop immediately or never stop again. You force yourself to look away, turning to find that, thankfully, the Reverend is telling his own story of being cast as the fool in King Lear as a youth. Relief flushes your body that the Reverend has not taken offence at your outburst as you recognise that your actions could have just lost you your job and any other prospects of working in this town.

The rest of the dinner is fairly uneventful, save for Joshua's attempt to woo the crowd with a well-balanced handstand walk. Hoping to get to the Reverend before he leaves, you slip out into the hallway from which the guests are leaving and almost walk right into Hansol.

"Woah there! You could cause an accident moving at speeds like that!" He teases, nudging you with his elbow.

"I'm so sorry. I really wasn't expecting someone to be standing stationary behind a closed door." You smile innocently, but despite your jesting you find solace in the fact that he's talking to you like normal again.

"I wanted to say -"

"I'm really sorry-"

You both start talking at the same time, and Hansol gestures for you to continue.

"I just wanted to apologise for the other night. It was wrong of me to pry into your business and make you uncomfortable." You apologise, trying to carefully bring too much attention to the topics of either Elizabeth or the pottery as to not make him feel worse about the situation. Although, you have to admit that avoiding talking about the pottery is more for your sake than for his.

"There's no need to apologise. I also wanted to say sorry for getting so riled up. I think I was taken by surprise when you asked the question and I got defensive and took it out on you. It wasn't a fair reaction at all. Can we move on from it?"

You stick out your hand, mimicking the way that you used to end arguments when you were younger, and Hansol lets out a gorgeous laugh, grabbing your hand and shaking it in turn. You ignore the way your fingers itch to interlock with his again as he lets your hand go.

"I also wanted to say thank you for tonight," He smiles softly, checking that the Lord was not in earshot. "I've had people say stuff about the acting before, but never quite so brazenly."

You want to tell him that he's the best actor you've ever seen, and that he shouldn't let the words of one wrong man stop him from following his passions, but you see the Reverend gesturing you to join him from over Hansol's shoulder and realise you can't miss your opportunity to show him your sculptures.

"Well, I have to have the leading man at the top of his game for my first play in half a decade," You settle with, "I have to get going, but I'm really glad you came tonight."

You skip over the Reverend Lee, a hint of a 'you too' shadowing you as you flex your fingers, trying to dissipate the tingling feeling doing wonders on your palms.

Hansol has had lots of time to think about what you said and what Lord Dudley said. He's sat out by the side of the lake, a stormy frown taking over his brow as he tries to organise his thoughts.

Despite your reassurances, he is still left wondering if there is any truth to the Lord's words. Has he really abandoned his duty to his family in order to rejoin the play? He hadn't participated in it for the last two years, busy with business and family, and he wonders if his choice to start up acting again was actually just an excuse not to return to London.

He is at least glad that doing the play has let him see you more. For you to return to town after such a long time and be disappointed when you don't see him on stage is enough motivation to get him reading lines again.

Yet, the fear remains in the back of his mind. He is a proficient musician and an avid reader, but he does not enjoy sports or cards or any of the other hobbies befitting of a gentleman of society, and he wonders if acting is really so far beneath him that it should cause this much scandal. He watched you go off in pursuit of your passions, and he sometimes wishes he could too. It's silly really, for him to sit here and complain about not being able to do what he wants when he, of all people, has had the world given to him on a silver platter, yet his desires to cut loose and follow his dreams are tethered by his duties to his family, his title, and, even if he did not wish to think about it, to Elizabeth.

He must be a brooding mess to anyone looking, Hansol realises as he flicks away the crunched-up grass that is stuck to his palms. The sun is low in the sky now, and the growl of his stomach is clueing him that it's probably almost dinner time. Wiping his hands clean on his trousers, he gets up, ready to head inside.

He is stopped in his tracks by the sight of something bobbing in the lake. On closer inspection, Hansol realises that a small, stone structure is floating closer to him. Sheer delight fills his body as he sees that the structure is, in fact, a small marble lilypad, and he cannot believe that you also remember his quick trip to the bottom of the lake. This time his arms are long enough to reach out and grab the lily, pulling it delicately into his hands. Marvelling at the beauty of the sculpture, Hansol feels the worries of the day washed from his body at the visual reminder of your care.

Hands gently clasping the lilypad, he searches around the edges of the lake for you. Just as he predicts, you are walking towards him from the part of the lake that sits in your family's garden with a huge grin that is making his heart melt. You are wearing a simple dress, yet you look so beautifully at home in nature. As he thinks about your clothing, the memory of you in those trousers enters his mind, and he has to shove the thought away before the blush becomes visible on his face.

"You reached it!" You say, smiling proudly at him. He nods happily, stretching out the lilypad to show you even though he knows that you're the one who'd made it. "I must admit, though, I was rather hoping you might fall in again."

"What an awful thing to say! What if I had fallen in, gotten a chill, and died? Would you still be laughing?" Hansol feigns offence, and you laugh a sound so wonderful that he thinks that he should have fallen in on purpose just to hear it some more.

"You're right, I'm sorry!" You're still laughing, clearly picturing the image of him headfirst in the water. "No, really! I would never wish harm upon you."

"So convincing." He huffs, puffing out his lip and crossing his arms in mock anger. A beat of silence passes, but this time Hansol feels totally at ease. Something about your presence had him feel calm no matter what.

"By the way, it's amazing." He says, taking in all the delicate details of the ornate flower. "I can't believe you've made it look so real."

"Thank you! I thought about painting it to make it even more realistic, but I realised that the paint would just wash off in the lake. But I could paint it properly if you want to keep it?"

"What? Of course I want to keep it! It's by consolation prize!"

Hansol watches your expression drop, and he realises that he's just accidently let on about his sombre afternoon ponderings.

"Are you feeling okay? You looked a little bit down sitting over here, and I thought that maybe this could cheer you up?" Hansol's moved by your care, and he takes a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain his feelings to you.

"It definitely did cheer me up, I feel much better now. I guess I was just deep in my own head." He starts, struggling to let the details free.

"About what that Lord said?" You ask, and he chuckles at the fact that you still don't know Lord Dudley's name.

"Partially, yeah. And also about Elizabeth." He looks up at you, and your brow is crinkled with concern.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"I want to ... the reason why Elizabeth is still in London is because she had an affair."

You let out a small gasp, a pained expression covering your face and Hansol knows that you are hurt for him. 

"Hansol, I'm so sorry. That must have been awful to find out."

Hansol's heart stops as he hears you say his name. You don't seem to have noticed it, and he prays that you never do notice and revert back to the previous formality.

"I'm okay, really. It was a few years ago, with a married man. I didn't want to break my promise to her so we remained engaged, but her parents found out this season which is why she has stayed in London. I wasn't hurt by it, I mean we both knew that it wasn't a marriage borne from love. I guess it's just hard to see the point now when neither of our hearts are in it."

He's watching your face as he releases the information, hoping that you aren't too overwhelmed. Two years' worth of updates that he never told you, not wanting to ruin the fun you seemed to be having in Edinburgh, squished into a few words. He watches your expression turn from sympathy to shock, and then to confusion. 

"What ... what do you mean neither of your hearts are in it?" You ask slowly, and Hansol blinks, trying to work out how to finally tell you everything he's wanted to tell you for years.

Hansol goes back to the day he realised that he was in love with you.

It is the first summer after you're departure, and Hansol is bored out of his mind. He didn't realise just how dull the summer is without you here, and nothing is cheering him up in the way it used to.

That morning he goes out to the lake to catch frogs, but he soon realises that not even that is any fun without you. Giving up on his frog-catching plans, he grumbles back over to the lawn chairs behind the back of the house, pulling out the book that you'd recommended to him. Caught up in the torrid affairs and melodramatic scenes of the book, he doesn't realise the time passing until he hears loud voices move into the dining room situated next to his hiding spot.

"-glad the girl is gone." Listening in, he recognises the voices of Elizabeth and her mother, who'd come to stay for the first part of the summer. Lady Moteley not liking someone? How novel.

"They weren't together, mama - I'm sure of it!" Elizabeth responds, and Hansol's interest is a little piqued at the direction of the conversation.

"Please, Elizabeth. Trust me," Lady Moteley sighs, "The way that he was looking at her last summer - I've seen it a million times in the eyes of men gazing at their mistresses on stage at the opera. It's very normal for a young man to want to explore his physicality before marriage, especially with a lower-class woman; it's just a shame that she lived right next door."

Were they talking about you and him!? Hansol's back jumps rigidly in his chair, shocked at the revelation. He knows that you and he have never been together, but the confidence with which Lady Moteley is speaking is making him question his own memory.

"I really don't think they've been together in that way, mama." Finally some truth from Elizabeth. "But I do know that there was ... love? When we were younger?"

Hansol completely blanks out the rest of the conversation as his mind zeros in on that word. Did Elizabeth think that he was in love with you? No, you were his best friend. Of course he liked spending time with you and wanted to know everything about you - that's just what best friends did!

Hansol's head is spinning and his thoughts are racing too fast for him to comprehend. Soon, he's running into the house on a mission to get answers. Arriving at his parent's bedroom, he taps on the door and hears his mother beckoning him inside.

"Hansol, honey! Are you alright?" She's talking to him and he can hardly think straight at all.

"Yes, I'm fine! Can I ask you a question?" He asks hurriedly and she gives him the go-ahead. "What is love?"

His mother lets out a little laugh at the question, and he can't help but feel a little silly standing here asking his mother what love is at the ripe age of 18.

"Well, honey, I think lots of people experience love differently," His mother notes the dissatisfied look slapped onto his face. "But, if I were to answer for myself, I would say that love is waking up feeling happy that your person is waiting right next to you, and mourning their loss when they go away. It's feeling like you can tell them everything and wanting to, and in return wanting to know every little thing about them, good or bad. It's feeling safest in their presence beyond all other measure. And, I suppose, there are a few other considerations for most people - usually you might get a certain feeling when you look at that person, or perhaps you might feel a bit nervous around them?"

Hansol is creating a checklist in his mind, and the answers are not looking in his favour.

"Honey, is this about Elizabeth? I know you might be a bit anxious that you're not feeling anything yet, but there's still lots of time for love to blossom. And, many successful, fulfilling partnerships are built on different foundations than love."

Hansol is nodding along, but his mind is squarely set on one thing. Thanking his mother, he bursts out of the room trying to find a quiet space to organise his thoughts.

If he did love you, he could not pinpoint when that love could have started. He'd always enjoyed hanging out with you the most, always wanted to look after you and of course he missed you deeply now that you were one. And, sure, if you'd asked him as a child who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he'd have said you - oh god, he is in love with you.

He's in love with you, and he may have always been.

You're looking up at him, face scrunched up in confusion and apprehension, when Hansol realises that he still has not replied to your question.

"I - you don't know?" The sentence comes out as a question even though he already knows the answer. But you're still shaking your head and he's still trying to work out how he's going to tell you this.

"Well, I suppose, like Elizabeth, my heart is ... already spoken for." He breathes, his voice as quiet as he can manage as to not spook you away. He's struggling to meet your eyes, but he's hoping the unspoken implications are enough to clue you into what he's thinking.

You take a step closer, and he feels light-headed.

"You're in love with someone else?" You whisper, trying desperately to understand his meaning. Your eyes are shining brightly, and your lips are slightly parted in confusion, and his gaze keeps moving between the two of them. The tension in the air is so thick he thinks he's going to be sick.

"Y/n..." Hansol murmers, unable to say anything more. You're clearly taken aback by the use of your name, but this is quickly overtaken by the dawning realisation of its implication. He's trying to desperately restrain himself from moving towards you, but all he wants is to touch you, hold you, and draw you closer to him.

He follows your eyes move from his eyes to his lips and then back up again. As you step closer once again, the tether holding back his unravelling mind is snapped and he moves forward, grabbing your arm gently and pulling you close, the other arm travelling around you to the small of your back. Your faces are so close to each other now, and he can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips and it is intoxicating.

He's looking for any sign to keep going or to stop, but you are frozen still and the seconds pass by like hours, until you give him a small nod and his lips are pressed against yours with no hesitation. Your lips are softer than he's expecting, and he hopes that his inexperience isn't ruining it for you, but then you sigh and melt into his arms, and all other considerations fly out of the window. You're kissing him back, and he could never have imagined how good it would feel as you run your hands through his hair.

A few moments pass and he's forced to break away from you, gasping for breath and cursing his inexperience. You are looking at him with impossibly round eyes and swollen lips, and he's quite sure it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Then, he's reaching back out to you and -

"Hansol!" A loud yell tears through the backyard, and you both jump back in shock. His eyes shoot wide open as you step back, clearly taken aback by the interruption.

"Hansol, I know you can hear me!" His brain is playing catch up when he recognises that the voice is his mother's, meaning that his family has just returned from London. "You'll never guess who's here to see you!"

Elizabeth is here and so too, unfortunately, are her parents.

Hansol feels bad that he's being so miserable, but Elizabeth's matching scowl suggests that she has a lot more to worry about than his brooding.

For the last two days, he has been forced to give the Moteley's a tour of the town they'd known for over a decade, entertain them at breakfast, lunch and dinner, and not once has he had the chance to find you and explain what is happening. Ditching you after confessing his love and kissing you was not at all a part of his plan, and he hasn't even been able to hear you talk about your own feelings. He can't even imagine how you are feeling right now.

Hansol and Elizabeth are walking along an uneven path in the woods on the outskirts of town, able to have their first conversation alone since Elizabeth's arrival at the house. She's clearly just as miserable as he is, and Hansol feels bad that he hasn't checked in with her yet.

"How are you doing? I hope your parents aren't giving you too much trouble..." He trails off at the pointed look Elizabeth gives him.

"I wish. I really thought that it was worse to have the constant questioning of why we aren't married, but I was so wrong. It's so much worse now." She sighs, and Hansol feels his heart drop for her.

It wasn't Elizabeth's fault for falling in love with someone else, and he knows that he is actually just her parent's punishment of choice.

"My parents have been asking about it too. Apparently, the Ton is all in a tizzy about a three-year engagement period." He adds, rolling his eyes. He's not sure that this is comforting but, at least, he hopes that Elizabeth knows that he understands how she feels.

"It would have been so much easier if we'd just gotten married when we were engaged, then none of this would have happened!" She huffs, and Hansol gloomily wonders if he'd have ever worked out his feelings for you if they hadn't waited to get married.

"I'm sure there's a solution..." He tries to reassure her, but even he is struggling to see a way out of this one that ends up with everyone happy.

"Hansol," Elizabeth has stopped walking and is now holding onto his hands, a desperate look on her face. "My parents are not happy about the affair, at all. They've threatened to kick me out if I'm not married by next summer. Please," Oh, shit. "You once told me that it didn't matter to you, please tell me that you meant it."

Hansol feels his whole world melting away. He's finally managed to confess his feelings to you, but how could he break his promise and condemn someone to destitution just for his own selfish desires? There is truly no right choice in this situation.

"I did mean it," He sighs deeply, wondering if he's about to make the biggest mistake of his life. "I won't let them do that to you."

You feel like you're twelve again, watching Elizabeth get everything you've ever dreamed of.

The emotions of your kiss with Hansol have yet to wear off, but now they are tangled with despair, anger and heartbreak as you watch from the sidelines as they stand there, hand-in-hand, happily announcing the date of their wedding. For two people with no heart in it, they are holding each other painfully close.

How could you ever believe that you could compete with Elizabeth? Perhaps she'd been moved to the back of Hansol's mind whilst she was away, but now she's back and Hansol's priorities are crystal clear to you.

No one is looking at you, least of all Hansol, and you're glad. No matter how hard you try, you know all of your emotions are splattered across your face - your brow in a permanent scowl, lips pinched together, and a dangerous level of pain in your eyes. You are surrounded by people cheering and smiling, and every time you hear the clap of hands together, you feel it like a bullet through your chest.

The announcement is ending, and you are the first to leave, practically sprinting to get away from this place. You don't know where you're going, but you do know that you cannot be around anyone right now. Streaking away from your neighbourhood and towards the grassy outskirts on the edge of town, you hear your name being called behind you and you ignore it.

"Y/n!" The familiar voice calls. "Y/n, please, wait!" It's getting closer and you curse your flimsy shoes and long skirts for stopping you from running. You feel fury blazing across your body, and you cannot believe that he feels entitled to say your name right now.

"What?!" You spit, spinning on the spot to see Hansol chasing after you, a few feet behind. His face is pale and he is breathing heavily from running after you.

"Please, can we talk about this? I'm so sorry-"

"You want to talk about this? I hate to break it to you but you're about 72 hours too late for that." The scorn is dripping in your voice as you cannot contain your hurt anymore, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Are you going to tell me that you made a mistake? You've loved Elizabeth this whole time? Or do you want me to be your commoner mistress to ease the pain of your loveless marriage? Because I don't want to hear it!"

Hansol's mouth is opening to try and explain, but he closes it again as he seems paralyzed by your words.

"I sincerely hope that you are happy together, my Lord." He does not get the chance to speak as you're already gone, racing into the vast fields ahead of you. You feel like your breath has been captured and taken away from you as you wheeze for air, tears flurrying down your face. You wish he would just leave you alone, go off and be happy with Elizabeth and never look back to you. It would hurt less than him trying to have both.

You barricade yourself into your studio for the next two weeks.

You know your cousins know something's wrong now - Rosa keeps looking at you pitifully, Josh won't stop visiting you as you work, and Harriet straight up asks you what is going on. You can't bring yourself to explain the situation to them, not wanting to rehash the memory and, despite everything, not wanting to bring shame to Hansol.

At the very least, you think that your art is the best it's ever been - hours and hours of dedication poured into the marble sculptures that take a form you could previously have only dreamed of. The deadline is creeping up on you, but thanks to your recent hiatus on normal life, you think you'll actually be able to finish everything in time.

You don't know if Hansol has tried to see you again - as far as you are aware he hasn't, and none of your cousins have suggested anything otherwise. Half of you is filled with relief that you don't have to see him and that he actually listened to you, but the other half cannot help but miss him desperately. You curse your rotten mind for being so fickle after what he's done to you, and it is almost amusing how much more you miss him now than you did for the three years you were away.

You've spent more than a few nights up throughout the slumbering hours, finding more solace in your work than you can in your sleep. Every time your head is forced to hit the pillow, your dreams are filled with him, that night by the lake, and what your future could have been like if Elizabeth never came to visit all those years ago.

With a deep sigh, you attempt to clear your head. The Reverend is coming later in the day to check on your progress and start moving statues over to the church if all is deemed successful. You need to focus.

You manage to whittle away the next few hours making minor adjustments to your already completed statues. Looking them over once more, you can't help but feel a proud sting in your chest. Despite your life seemingly falling apart before your eyes, you truly have done something you weren't sure you were capable of. Your studio is so full that you've had to start moving some of the small items into your personal room, and it truly did look like a museum. The only thing left for you to do now is to work on the marble that had already been attached to the church, and you feel sorrowful knowing your project is nearly over.

Soon, the Reverend and a few of the townsfolk are at your door, happily signing off on the statues and beginning the preparations to have them moved. Knowing you wouldn't see the statues again only the unveiling of the church at the end of the month, you are finding it surprisingly difficult to part with them. The elegant faces have been your sole companions in your misery and losing them feels like losing a friend.

"Wow, I can't believe you're almost finished ... the room feels so empty now." You startle at Josh's voice behind you. Somehow he's sneaked into your studio without you noticing, and is cradling one of the small proto-type models that you get to keep.

"I know," You smile softly. "Cousin, I - I need to tell you something."

Josh's eyes flash in confusion before a look of understanding dawns on his face.

"Ah. I think I might know -"

"I'm leaving."

Josh jumps, eyebrows raising in surprise. You've caught him off guard and it isn't nice to see his usually so confident demeanour turn downcast.

"Oh! That wasn't what I was expecting..." He starts, giving you a pouty look. "You're totally convinced?"

You nod, sighing gently as you pour over your decision in your head.

"I think it's the right thing for me right now. Once I've finished the project, I have nothing tying me here, and I'll have enough saved up to get my own place, so I won't be scrimping off of you anymore." You try to smile reassuringly, but it falters quickly at the sorrowful expression on your cousin's face.

"This is your home too, you know that right?" He refutes, and you can't help but be moved by his attempts to dissuade you.

"I know, I do. I just think it's time for something new." 

"Is this about Han-"

"I can't talk about that, Josh." You interject, your heart aching in your chest. You feel your breathing getting more laboured as you are confronted with the truth that your cousin knows. You must admit that it would have been strange for them not to notice your languishing at all, but you didn't realise just how obvious your feelings must have been.

Josh moves forward, grasping your hands.

"I don't know what happened between you two, or what is happening now with Elizabeth, but I do know that you have been miserable since the wedding announcement. All I want is to see my cousin happy, and if that means leaving all of this behind, I understand. I just wish I could do more to help you."

You feel tears prodding the corners of your eyes at Josh's sincerity. You know you cannot tell him any more details, afraid of ruining his relationship with Hansol and causing more issues, but you're beyond grateful for his support.

"Josh, I -" You're taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself before you let the emotions of the entire situation get a hold of you. "I don't know if I can be happy here."

He nods, reaching forward with a handkerchief to wipe the tears away from your cheek.

"Okay, you have to promise to keep in touch though. And visit regularly?"

"I will, I promise."

Hansol hasn't slept for two weeks.

Nights tossing and turning turn into at most a few hours of slumber, but he is constantly plagued by his own decision and the burned-in memory of the tears falling down your face.

Elizabeth seems happier now - she's smiling more and engaging in family activities, but Hansol can tell that something is still troubling her as well. He still hasn't told her about what happened with you, not wanting to add any more stress to the situation. But, without the ability to tell her, or his closest friend, Hansol feels like he's drowning in the thoughts all by himself.

Everything feels like a puzzle he is not smart enough to solve, taunting him as jagged sides refuse to fit together and allow him the clarity to sort through his feelings.

His acting has completely fallen apart. With his heart not in it his lines feel flat and his movements stale, and he can see the concern in Mr Downey's eyes getting larger with each failed rehearsal.

Hoping that another walk will this time give him some coherence of thought, he sets off into town. His mother asked him to grab a few suppliers for her this morning, and its a good excuse to get out of that house and away from Elizabeth's parents. They've been nothing but overbearing since the announcement, constantly asking for more updates, pushing for a quicker wedding, and Lady Moteley had even asked a painful question about whether or not you would be making the guest list. Hansol knows her implication was for you to not be included, and was grateful that Elizabeth quickly shut that down. Not that he thinks you'll come, or knows what he'll do if you do.

A hand appears in front of his chest, forcing him to screech to a halt in the middle of West Avenue.

"Hey, are you alright?" It's Josh, and he's giving Hansol a confused look. Hansol realises that he's been walking completely consumed by his own thoughts, and hadn't noticed his friend walking up to him at all.

"Um, yeah, sorry! I didn't see you there."

"Right, are you heading to the shops?"

"Yeah, are you going that way too?" Hansol asks, not opposed to some company to keep him out of his own head.

"Kind of, I'll accompany you if that's suitable?" Josh smiles, but Hansol sees something spark across his expression that he doesn't recognise.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Hansol says as the pair start to walk towards the town centre. Josh hums in agreement, nodding his head with a rueful laugh.

"I suppose you must have been busy with wedding preparations?" Josh says with a teasing smile, poking his side.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose so." Hansol responds, feeling his mood shift and wincing at his inability to cover it. Josh is looking over at him, and with a long sigh pats Hansol's shoulder comfortingly.

"There's something I think you should know."

Hansol stills at the seriousness of Josh's tone.

"I feel like you're about to tell me you've only got three days left to live." He jokes, trying to lighten the mood and feeling instantly worse when Josh doesn't respond in turn.

"Hansol..." Josh exhales, and for a moment Hansol wonders if he'd accidentally stumbled onto a horrifying truth. "(Y/n)'s leaving again."

Hansol feels his entire body stop, unable to function in response to the new information. His brain has positively short-circuited and he can't form a coherent thought, let alone sentence, to respond to his friend. But Josh is staring at him with a cautious yet sorrowful look, and all he wants to do is understand.

"What do you mean leaving? Like, on holiday? For a year? Forever?!" He splutters, his brain switching into hyperspeed as he tries to make sense of the situation. "Leaving where? Back to Edinburgh? -"

"Hey, calm down." Josh is holding his shoulders still and Hansol doesn't realise he'd been bobbing about with distress, and he's thankful for Josh's intervention because he doesn't think he would have stopped talking otherwise.

"I don't know all the details, but I think she wants to leave for at least a little while. She's going to wait until the end of summer whilst she's finding a place to live, but then she'll be gone." Josh explains and none of it is making Hansol feel better.

"Oh god, this is my fault." He laments. "I pushed her away and I'll never see her again."

As Josh comforts him, Hansol only feels worse for making his friend console him for driving his own cousin away. Josh has every right to be mad with him right now, and Hansol supposes the only explanation is that you must not have fully explained the situation to him.

Eyes wide and stammering, he backs up, feeling even more sick than before.

"I - I have to go. Thank you for telling me. I just - I" Hansol isn't able to finish his thought before he is running back to his home, leaving a baffled Joshua behind him.

"Woah! What is going on with you?"

Elizabeth has found him crashed on the sofa in the seldom-used study in the left wing of the house. Letting out a long groan, Hansol cannot even begin to explain himself.

"Seriously, this is worrying." She stands up to close the door before returning to his side, a gentle hand placed on his arm. "You can tell me."

Sitting up, Hansol looks at Elizabeth's concerned face and supposes that she couldn't really be mad about this.

"I - I've messed it all up." He starts, his voice shaky. Elizabeth frowns, leaning forward to prompt him to keep talking.

"I didn't know that you'd be coming back and (Y/n) came back at the start of the summer and I just completely wiped the engagement from my mind. I thought that it would all work out and you could find someone else, but I made a promise that I have to stick through. But, instead of hiding my feelings like I should have done, I got caught up in the moment and confessed my love and now I've ended up hurting the woman I love and making myself an entirely unpleasant husband to you."

Hansol is blurting it all out, the relief of finally unloading his feelings washing over him.

Elizabeth looks shocked, and Hansol feels bad that he didn't keep her updated about any of this until now.

"You love (Y/n)?"

It's Hansol's turn to be shocked. 

"What do you mean? You know I love her. I overheard you and your mother talking a few years ago and you said that there was love between us?"

"What? No, I knew that she loved you, not that you loved her! Hansol, she told me when we were children, you have never breathed a word of any feelings to me before?" Elizabeth exclaims, backing away from him in confusion.

All this time Hansol thought she knew, thought that was the reason she felt she could tell him about her affair. The reason he realised he loved you - he'd completely misread the situation.

He's expecting her to lash out, even if it would be unfair. He's made a promise to her and now brought his own feelings into the picture, and it's complicating the situation even more so she would have a right to be mad at him. The pained expression on her face suggests that she is feeling the same too.

"Hansol, does she love you too?" She breaths.

"I - I don't know for sure. But there was a kiss..." He feels guilty saying it, and cannot bear to see Elizabeth's expression.

"Oh god," Elizabeth whispers, and he's certain that he's managed to mess things up even more. "Hansol, you cannot marry me."

Huh. 

What?

Hansol blinks in confusion; this is not what he was expecting Elizabeth to say.

"If I'd have known that you love her I would never have asked you to marry me! I thought it was an unrequited crush on her part, but now that I know that you love her too, I cannot stand between you!" She exclaims.

"But, what will you do? How could I condemn you to destitution?"

"Hansol, two years ago you promised me that you would marry me anyways after I admitted that I had an affair. You gave me the chance to experience my happiness and come back to you afterwards. You have to let me do the same. My love was doomed from the start, but yours isn't, and I refuse to be the person to standing in the way." Elizabeth grasps his hand. "I'll be okay, I promise. Let me repay you for the kindness you showed me."

Hansol's head is a spinning mess, but he knows the one thing he needs to do now.

You are unconvinced that you should be attending the summer show at the Solaris, but your cousins seem resolute in dragging you there against your will.

The outside of the grand theatre has been covered with whimsical ivy branches, colourful flowers, and mystical cut-out sprites. As you enter through billowing chiffon curtains, you feel like you are entering into the fairy world. The theatre is lit by candles, and the warm light is bouncing off of the maze of mirrors which are tied to the side walls. The stage is already set with a full forest scene, log stumps brought in to represent trees and a beautifully painted backdrop picturing the magical landscape. Crafted toadstools and grass little the floor, and to the righthand side you see a second panel with the drawings of a castle courtyard ready to be wheeled in for the correct scenes.

Taking your seat, you cannot help but wonder if you still have time to make an escape. Looking to the exit, you see Rosa giving you an unimpressed glance and quickly put to rest those ideas. You're emotions are already flaring at the thought of seeing Hansol again, but you hope that in the dim light of the audience he won't be able to find you. You are at least grateful that you're cousins aren't able to get front row seats.

All too quickly, the narrator is on the stage and the chattering is hushed as the play begins.

You see Hansol seconds before he gets onto stage, his nervous shaking quickly morphing into a confident strut as he bursts to life. He's even better than you remember, hitting the emotional and comedic beats perfectly as the audience melts into his palms. You are slightly in awe watching, and you can't believe that he ever had thoughts about quitting.

As the play continues, you find yourself slowly being transported away from your own thoughts and into the fantasy world in front of you. Mr Downey has done an excellent job, you have to admit, and the actors are giving their all to their roles.

The play is drawing into the fourth act as you feel Hansol's eyes find you.

        "My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,         Of this their purpose hither to this wood;         And I in fury hither follow'd them,         Fair Helena in fancy following me."

His monologue begins, and you are bewitched, trapped under his intense gaze. He is clutching a string clasped around his neck tightly, his other arm reaching into the audience. 

        "But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,—         But by some power it is,—my love to Hermia,         Melted as the snow, seems to me now         As the remembrance of an idle gaud         Which in my childhood I did dote upon;         And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,         The object and the pleasure of mine eye,         Is only Helena."

Your heart is racing and you feel as if Hansol is speaking to you directly. The life drains from your face as he releases the necklace, revealing the marble lily you made him attached to the end of it.

        "To her, my lord,         Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia:         But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food;         But, as in health, come to my natural taste,"

Hansol's brow is drawn together, his eyes full of emotion as he speaks. You feel as if he is pleading the words to the audience, to you.

        "Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,         And will for evermore be true to it."

Hansol's eyes have not left yours as he speaks his monologue, begging you to understand his meaning. He knows a great declaration won't make up for the hurt he's caused, but he hopes, at the least, that you know how much he loves you. 

Tears are blurring his vision, but he's almost certain you are crying too, a soft, emotional look capturing your features.

He's moving off of the stage, finished with the scene, but still trying to maintain eye contact with you. Your warm gaze follows him off of the stage until you are physically blocked from view, and he releases his breath, not realising that he'd been holding it since he'd finished his lines.

Hansol struggles to remember the rest of his lines as the show draws to a close. His mind is solely transfixed on you, and he half expects you to walk out, but you stay, you laugh, and you cheer as they bow to the audience.

The applause goes on for much longer than Hansol wants, and even as it subsides, he's being dragged away from the one place he wants to be.

"-thank everyone tonight, you really gave it everything! I've got a few special bottles-" "-staying a enjoy, celebrate together-"

He's tuning in and out of the conversation, trying to think of a way out before deciding he can worry about explanations later. Sprinting out of the backstage area, and leaving a fair few puzzled faces behind him, Hansol prays that you haven't left with your cousins yet.

He thanks the heavens above as he spots you waiting alone at the side theatre door, swaying nervously and fighting with your dress. After two weeks of not seeing you, he's taken aback by how beautiful you look all dressed up for the performance. This is the first social event he's seen you at this summer, and he promises to himself that he must bring you to as many as he can if you give him the chance.

Rushing over to you, he signals for the two of you to slip into the alleyway next to the theatre.

"That was really -"

"Did you enjoy-"

You both start at the same time, and Hansol wants nothing more than to hear your voice as he signals for you to continue.

"The performance was really amazing," You start softly, gazing at him in a way that has his stomach in shambles. "You were really amazing."

"I'm glad you thought so." He says, forcing himself not to just break down immediately.

"That speech -"

"I meant every word of it." Hansol states firmly, resolute to make you understand. Your eyebrows furrow into a sincere expression.

"But ... Elizabeth?" You ask, pained at the mention of his former fiancee.

"We broke off the engagement. Or, well, she broke off the engagement when I told her that I am in love with you."

You breathe in sharply, taken aback by his words. You are struggling to believe what you are hearing, crushed by the overwhelming weight of the confusion, surprise, and yearning that has overtaken your body.

"-I was so caught up in keeping promises and doing my duty, I did the last thing I'd ever wanted to do - I hurt you, I pushed you away and I made you feel like you weren't deserving of my love when, really, I'm the one who needs to prove myself to you.-" 

Hansol is looking at you with so much sincerity and love you wonder how you ever missed the emotion in his eyes.

"-But I need you to know," He steps forward, clasping your hands in his, "that I have loved you for as long as I have known you. And if you'll have me, I'd like to love you for the rest of my life."

You move your hand up to his face, feeling his breath hitch as you run your fingers along his cheek. Your already tear-stained cheeks are wetted again at his words and the hauntingly lovestruck look he's giving you.

"I love you," You breathe, unable to speak louder than a whisper. "I've always loved you. I think everyone knew it, and I could never understand how you didn't know it too."

The air lightens as you both let out a small laugh, your mutual blindness to each other's feelings becoming amusingly clear.

"But," The atmosphere darkens as your thoughts turn stormy. "Hansol, you can't be with me. I am a commoner, a result of scandal at that, and you are to be Duke. It would never be accepted-"

"I don't care." Hansol's fingers are wiping the tears from your cheeks. "I couldn't care less about that people might think. We'll run away, go to Edinburgh or explore the world. Time will tide society's ire, but I'm not willing to waste another second without you."

You let out a choked sob-laugh, completely overwhelmed.

"You're right," You manage to mumble, a smile blossoming on your face. "I'm tired of living for other people."

He nods encouragingly and it takes everything not to pull his face into yours.

"I just want you." You breathe, and Hansol's lips are on yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you feel like the heavens themselves have blessed you. All of your built-up feelings, a decade's worth of love, you pour into his lips. In turn, Hansol is pulling you into him, hands framing your jaw as he tries to get even closer to you.

You pull away, gasping for breath and looking up into Hansol's eyes. He rests his forehead against your and takes his hands away from your face to grab your hands again. 

"I'm going to marry you," He pants, and the statement causes your heart to completely wither away in happiness.

You angle his chin so that he meets your gaze as you beam up at him.

"Just don't take three years to do it."

The ceremony was simple and intimate.

Of course, you didn't want to attract too much of society's attention, but, more than that, neither of you cared to have anyone other than your closest friends and family with you on your happy occasion.

You'd cried the moment you stepped into the church you'd helped create, and you were sure that you heard Hansol weeping alongside you.

Surrounded by your cousins, Hansol's family, Elizabeth, and your closest friends from the town, the two of you promised your hearts to one another in a promise you knew you wouldn't break.

"Come on! Just quickly-" You're dragging Hansol away from the party into the ground floor of the manor. Your friends and family are sure to notice your absence immediately, but you hope that they give you the grace you leave the party this once.

"We're meant to be leaving soon! They're going to start the Honeymoon without us!"

You giggle at Hansol's ludicrous suggestion and the sincere expression on his face.

"I promise it'll be quick! I just want to show you something!"

Running into your almost empty studio, you push Hansol to turn on the corner lamp as you swing the door shut behind you.

"Okay, show me."

Grabbing his arm, you lead your husband over to your easel, one of the only pieces of furniture left in the room and cover his eyes with your hands.

"Close your eyes," You say, releasing one of your hands to swivel the canvas around so that it is facing the pair of you. "Okay, now you can look!"

You hear Hansol's breath hitch as he takes in the painting in front of him. Studying his face for all emotion, you feel a rush of pride for your work as a joyful laugh breaks across his features. Looking around at you, then back at the painting, and then back around again, Hansol's hands find your face in gleeful amazement.

"When did you do this?" 

You look back over at your painting. It was incomplete, but a clear depiction of Hansol, dressed in white bell-sleeved shirt and dark trousers as he captured the stage completely. The image of him, completely overtaken in the role, had never left your mind and you wanted to create something that captured that aura. A painting that would show him what you see when he's on stage, and why he should continue to follow his passions.

"This week, I wanted to give it to you as a wedding present." You smile up at him, stroking his hair back from his face.

"Wow, this is unbelievable. I thought you were a sculptor?!"

"I am," You giggle, "But I didn't forget how to paint when I specialised my craft."

Hansol lets out a disbelieving sigh, shaking his head in awe.

"What about this bit? Are you going to take it with us and finish it on the Honeymoon?"

"Well, I was actually hoping that I could finish it now?" You ask, batting your eyelashes in mock pleading. 

"What? Now?" His mouth drops open in shock, and you think it might be the cutest thing you've ever seen.

"It won't take long! I just need to see your face properly to finish all the details."

Before he can even agree, you are dragging him over to the chair in front of the easel. 

"Wait! Wait!" He interjects, and for a moment you think he's going to tell you that you won't have time. But then, he's removing his jacket and waistcoat. "If we're doing this I should at least match the clothing."

You are filled with glee as you move back around to your canvas, peering your head to the side to watch your husband pose his head and torso just as you had painted it.

Picking up your brush, you go to start painting until you notice his collar is tucked the wrong way. Moving back over to him as he gives you a confused look, you playfully brush the hair from his face and slip your hand into his shirt, moving the collar back out.

You forget to breathe completely as his hands come straight up to your waist, holding you in position above him. Unable to break your eyes away from his, you begin to slip your hand further into his shirt. You can feel his heartbeat pick up speed as your hand rests over his chest. 

A beat passes where neither of you move, and then Hansol is pulling you down onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist for dear life as your lips crash together. This kiss is rougher than the other ones, your mouths moving against one another as if it's the last thing you'll ever do. Your hands curl into his hair, and he groans a deep sigh that sets off a deep ache in your body.

"I can't believe you're mine..." He breaks away, looking deeply into your eyes with a sense of urgency you can only match.

"And you're mine." You grin, pressing a quick peck against his forehead.

Hansol is looking at you in a way that's making you blush, and you feel completely naked under his gaze. He knows you to your core, and that deep vulnerability is making you flustered.

Moving your hands back to his shirt, your fingers hover over the buttons, looking at him for confirmation.

"Here?" He pants, a quizzical brow raised.

"Why not?" You shrug, and you guess it's enough for him as he chuckles, nodding and pulling your hands onto the buttons. 

Slowly, you undo them one by one, taking care not to go too quickly. His breathing is getting progressively more laboured as you making your way further down his torso, revealing more and more of his skin. As you push the shift from his shoulders, you can't help but take a moment to take in the sight before you. 

It's your turn to squirm as Hansol reaches forward, slowly pushing the shoulders of your wedding gown off as he maintains eye contact with you. You shudder under the intensity of his gaze and the cold air nipping against your skin, and can't help but feel grateful when his eyes dart away to look at your exposed skin. He's looking back at you for confirmation, and as you nod, he pushes the dress further down, exposing your chest completely to him. 

A content sigh leaves his mouth as he comes face to face with your chest, a look of pure heaven on his face.

"God, you're so beautiful." He breathes and your face is flushed in embarrassment at the attention. Reaching forward, his hand ghosts over your breast as he presses small kisses against your neck. Arching your body into his gives him the courage to touch you fully, cupping your breast in his hand and testing his grip on the soft flesh. You let out a happy hum as he rolls his fingers over your nipple and you swear you hear him curse to himself.

Moving your hands to his chest, you allow yourself to sink fully into the feeling. His hands on you and yours on him, mutually exploring each other's bodies for the first time. Wet, hot kisses have you both gasping for air. Experimentally, you roll your hips down into his and his head snaps up to look at you, mouth hanging open in surprise.

"Wait, just so you know - I haven't done this before." He's blushing, and you're surprised at the information. It is fairly standard for men of the nobility to have experience before marriage, and Hansol's choice not to is rather unorthodox.

"That's okay!" Your head hangs as you look away from him, fear spiking at what you're about to tell him. "I have - once. I know I should have told you sooner, and I completely understand if you want to stop now but-"

Hansol's hands are on your face, pushing your chin up so that you're forced to look at him.

"Hey, it's okay." He reassures, rubbing small circles into your jaw. "I'm not judging you. Honestly, I'm a little jealous but also a little glad that one of us knows how this works?"

You release a relieved laugh and wonder if you could possibly love this man any more.

"Let me show you?" You ask, and you see him swallow a lump in his throat as he nods.

Gently placing his hands back onto your waist, you capture Hansol's lips back into a sweet kiss. You gently begin rolling your hips into his, taken over by a wash of pleasure that he is clearly also feeling. His hands grasp onto you, pushing your hips down into a steady rhythm.

Soon, you're grabbing his hand, and slowly leading into under the skirts of your dress. He grasps onto your thigh and you sigh happily at the contact. His roams begin to roam down and then back up your leg, traversing the new territory.

"Wait, I - I want to see you." He stops moving his hand and you can do nothing but oblige. A small whine leaves his throat as you push yourself off of his lap, but then you're pushing the rest of your dress down past your hips until you're completely exposed to him, and you're not sure if Hansol is breathing at all anymore. 

"Is that - I mean, am I-" You're interrupted as Hansol stands up, pulling you back into him. 

"Don't you dare even ask." He scolds, pushing the hair out of your face. "You're exquisite, I genuinely can't believe I'm allowed to see you like this."

Feeling your whole body warm up with the praise, you nod hoping your speechlessness is not preventing him from knowing that you feel the same.

"May I?" You ask, looking down at the rest of his clothes.

"Please," He breathes. Your lips attach to his neck and he's gasping breathily. Your hands travel down his torso, taking your time to feel as much of the smooth skin as you can. Reaching for the buttons of his trousers, you gently undo the garment, pushing them from his hips and to the floor. His drawers are next to go, and you feel yourself clenching your legs as you take him all in for the first time.

Not wanting to prolong any embarrassment the two of you may be feeling at the new indecent exposure, you push him back down onto the chair, straddling his waist. Your lips meet again as your hand works its way down to his cock. Tracing your hand along its length, you can feel Hansol shuddering beneath you. You slowly begin pumping him, ears filled with the musical sound of his moans. With your other hand, you lead his hand between your legs. Guiding his fingers to circle your clit, you moan at the feeling of his hand working against you.

His fingers slip backwards, finding their way towards your core, and Hansol slowly slips one finger inside you. Arching into him, you feel overcome by the feeling. Slowly pumping into you, you feel his eyes watching your every moment, intent on learning by trying and responding more to every moan and gasp.

Feeling yourself getting higher into the clouds, you still his hand. 

"Sorry, did I do something wrong?" He asks, confused. 

"No, not at all! I just - I want you inside me, fully." You shake your head, blushing at the vulgarity of your words.

"Oh, okay," He breathes, nodding with wide eyes.

Positioning your core over him, you gently position his cock so that it's poking at your entrance. Sinking down onto him every so slightly, loud moans from both of you fill your studio. As you get used to the feeling of him inside you, you let yourself sink further and further down, slowly taking all of him inside you. Hansol's eyes are completely screwed shut by the time you sit down onto him, and it's a sight you take time to commit to memory. You let out a shuddered breath as you pull yourself back up, and Hansol's hands clasp onto your waist, helping to keep you upright.

Your head starts spinning as you start rolling your hips against his, pushing yourself on and off of him in a way that makes you see stars. His hands are guiding your movements, pushing and pulling as you grind down onto him. A sense of urgency appears in his pitchy moans as his hands usher you to move quicker. You're mewling by the time he starts bucking his hips up into you.

"Oh shit, you feel so good" He's whispering into your ear and it's sending you into a frenzy. All you can do is moan in response, pushing yourself back against him. Your mouth is back on his to stop the obscene noises you are making, and you feel your vision blinding as he thrusts into you.

"Hansol, please-" You whimper. Your body is folding into his, only able to stay upright because of the iron grip he has on your hips. It's almost too much, but the sounds that he's groaning have you determined to keep moving, not daring to punish yourself with their loss.

You dig your nails into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as you feel your release building up. His cock twitches inside you and you clench at the feeling, leaving you both crying out in pleasure.

"I love you" His words are almost sobbed, gasped out between whining moans.

"I love you" You whisper back, jaw falling slack as your orgasm overtakes your body. Falling slump against him, jolts of pleasure leave your body twitching as you leave the world momentarily. Underneath you, you just about register his last groans as his hips halt their movements, pushed in as close to you as he can get.

Breathing heavily, you look deeply into your husband's eyes. Fond smiles break across your faces as you come down from your highs. Hands caressing your jaw, he pulls you close for a chaste kiss, before his head rolls back onto the chair in satisfied exhaustion. You giggle, resting your head against his shoulder.

"I think the driver might have left already."

[olivepicks]

Hi! I was wondering if you can do a platonic Curtis gang randomly getting cuteness aggression for the younger Curtis sister!reader (like 12 years old)? Also can it please be hc’s? 😚🫶

‘ CUTENESS AGGRESSION. ’

— CURTIS GANG W/ KID SISTER! READER HCS

note. thanks for the cute request! i hope these are everything that you hoped they would be - i wasn’t exactly sure what i was doing, so i hope these came out right! <3

warnings. kid sister! reader, fem reader, foul language, mobile formatting

characters. ( all together ) darry curtis, sodapop curtis, ponyboy curtis, johnny cade, dallas winston, steve randle, two-bit matthews

oh, they all loved you from the very beginning, and even if they didn’t, no one dared to utter a single peep about not liking you - lest someone get overly defensive (darry).

it took no time for each member to feel some sort of brotherly connection to the youngest curtis sibling - even ol’ Dally was somewhat fond of your presence.

“you’re so fuckin’… this kid,” Dallas gritted out, and some would assume by that tone that he was irritated. and he was. he didn’t mean to forget his favorite brown bomber jacket at the curtis residence, but now, he feared he could never take it back.

it simply looked too cute on you. Dallas roughly rubbed the top of your head, easily tangling and messing up your hair before he could even stop himself. “keep the fuckin’ jacket, whaddo i care.”

his cuteness aggression comes in the form of over exaggerated cussing, and a lot of pacing and clenching his fists - because he just doesn’t know what the hell to do with the feeling.

Steve had a bad habit of unironically pinching your cheeks, or yanking at a small lock of your hair - not roughly, and not meant to be mean. he just.. does it?

if you pick up on any of his habits, hell you could just be mocking the way he laughs, Steve goes nuts. he can’t control how giddy he feels - you’re probably his favorite Curtis, next to Sodapop.

Steve actually likes to include you in things, unlike with Ponyboy. and you have him wrapped around your little finger - if you call him ‘Uncle Steve’, he’ll do anything for you.

“look man, she said Uncle Steve! what’s a guy gonna do? not get her the candy?” Steve huffed, emptying his pockets of your favorite candy into your younger hands.

yes. they will steal things for you if prompted - or hell, if they even just feel like it. Two-bit is the worst when it comes to this, being a veteran shoplift.

Two-bit is known for stealing anything that isn’t nailed to the shelf, so it’s no surprise that he just up and starts.. politely taking things. yeah, that’s how he phrases it.

and your reaction each time is what spurs him to steal again. “what? she’s too cute, ya can’t expect me ta not get her the stupid knife.”

(yes, he shoplifts a pocket knife for you. yes, Darry smacks him over the head and confiscates it from him before he can give it to you, much to Two-bit’s disappointment.)

“took me three hours to steal the damn thing for her, and now it’s in Superman’s pocket, man!”

Johnny’s cuteness aggression is very hard to notice, because he keeps it so well. he’s not one to be loud or lash out like the others in their obvious ways.

sometimes, whenever you grin that toothy grin of yours or say ‘thank you johnny!’ in that goofy kid tone of yours, he just stands there in silence, processing it — hands clenched.

“…no problem, kid.” that’s what he often calls you, kid. sure, they all refer to you as such, but he explicitly only ever refers to you as such. he really doesn’t feel cuteness aggression often, but he does love you like family - hell, he’d consider you more of his family than his own ma and pa.

opposite of that, Sodapop is a known hugger - the guy truly gets high off of plain old living. so, his little sister doin’ some cute shit? ohhhh, you bet he’s scooping you up into a tight hug.

“ohhh you, so damn - i, darn, cute! stop that!” Sodapop quickly corrected his foul language at the look Darry gave him, squeezing you into his arms.

this may be more of a Curtis Sibling! Reader headcanon than cuteness aggression, but Sodapop will often just walk around with you whilst hanging off of you. He just likes being close with his little sister.

“shuddup, i am not clingy!” Sodapop huffed, not even bothering to sit up from where he flopped over your legs.

with Ponyboy, it’s not so much as cuteness aggression as it is pride?? you two aren’t that far apart in age, and being fourteen, he just doesn’t view it as cute as the others do.

he often gets mad because some, like Two-bit, tease and say that he’s jealous of the attention.

the most he’ll get is what he calls a sense of pride, like when you pass a test he helped you study for. he’ll take you out to a movie with him, or just plain celebrate by giving you the last slice of chocolate cake!

“now don’t go tellin’ Sodapop i gave you his last slice, ya hear?”

last but certainly not least, Darry, your eldest brother. he likes to swear that he doesn’t get cuteness aggression, but it’s a bold faced lie.

sometimes he gets so excited or proud of just plain ol’ happy over how cute you are that he’ll scoop you up and give you piggy back rides! it’s horrible for his already aching back, but he can’t help it in the moment - he’s all smiles!

he doesn’t get like this too often anymore, especially once he became in charge of his siblings. the stress and worry often bogged him down - but there is the rare moment now and then where he gives ya an ol jump and piggy back ride. (when it happens, he realizes how much he misses being just your big brother..)

they all have their own ways of expressing it, some more than others, or not at all (Ponyboy). either way, they’re all more than happy to have you be an honorary member of their makeshift gang (even if some won’t admit it, coughcoughdallycough).

written by olivepicks.

[nen-shin-impact]

oh tumblr you’re in for a honkai star rail autism ramble

i’m writing a fic (bc ofc i am) and “imbibitor” was obviously underlined as wrong. i hovered over it and it wants to correct to the word “imbibition.” i’ve never heard the word before so as all writers do i looked up the definition.

according to google:

“[imbibition is] the absorption of one substance by another, in particular the uptake of water by a plant or seed.”

the absorption of one substance by another

in the way dan feng and yingxing fucked with the ambrosial arbor and how they both absorbed its power?

the way dan feng accidentally split his power between two beings (dan heng and bailu), leaving them to absorb his destructive capabilities or cloudhymn magic respectively?

dan heng re-absorbing said residual power, the power of the high elder that should not even be his, to help save the luofu?

the fact that imbibitor’s lunae’s basic attack is a lotus, a plant in which the flower petals cannot absorb water????

and the fact that the -or in imbibitor means he is the one doing the absorbing instead of being absorbed, breaking the chains of what nature dictates (in terms of lotuses and water) to save the home that cast his previous incarnation out, unknowing if he would be welcome or even killed on sight—

i’m. i’m actually going fucking insane this is so fucking cool this is SO COOL i cannot express how feral i am being

[shortnotsweet]

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

[fatehbaz]

.

[licorishh]

Replayed Modern Warfare 3 2011 on Veteran tonight and goooooooood night. Blood Brothers never gets any easier to watch no matter how many times you've done it and the ending really never misses huh

I apologize for the amount of yapping in the tags I reread it all on mobile and started giggling because it went on for so long but eh. Blessed are those who won't shut the freak up and all that

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

why is it so much worse knowing how many people out there want me (& everyone in this body) dead cause we don't feel empathy than knowing about the ones who want the same cause we're trans

[godgavemenoname]

lies face down on my bed and develops mental illness^2

[gemharvest]

Haiiii all my sonas refs are done!!!! Woohoo!!!!

[lady-grace-pens]

You guys have no idea how hard I’m debating with myself about making the main character of my next story be in a poly relationship with his two best friends (one guy one girl). I’m also very aware how I haven’t introduced anything about this story or it’s characters yet so they’re total strangers to y’all, but trust me. I haven’t even started writing this babe yet and their chemistry is already leaping off the pages. The only thing stopping me is how I want to emphasize found family instead of romance. But they can still be found family if they’re all poly together… The basis of every solid romance is a solid friendship and whatnot… It could totally be fine… Honestly what if I just do it lmao

[caruliaa]

i think if my father was a good man hed be a fan of brennan lee mulligan . but well i dont really know if he is a good man or not so whether he would be a fan right now is up for debate

[cherrysnax]

i want to see my little freaks interact and save their city and grow into teachers and engineers and Pulitzer Prize winners and actual doctors and real superheroes and beat up middle aged petty Italian niggas but I need to put a pen to fucking paper (metaphorically) and draw. But I can’t. how can I make something about coming out of horrible circumstances a better, stronger person if my body is shutting down on me?

how can i draw people beating the odds if I can barely brush my teeth or shower or lay down without immense pain?