#from an unfinished observation piece from the fall

[leothil]

so i kind of took a hiatus for the first month the season was airing from episode 1 all the way to episode 6, so any chance you can link me to some fic recs that i missed during that time span by any chance. i think that was march to late april?

Hi, thanks for asking and sorry for the wait, but I was busy all day yesterday. Here's some I found in my log:

the going water and the gone by @try-set-me-on-fire, where Eddie goes missing in the cruise disaster and is presumed dead. 31.5k words, rated T

illicit affairs by @burnthatbridge where Buck realizes he's bi and starts dating men, but isn't sure how well he'll do at sex with them, so Eddie offers to help him out. It's not cheating when he's just helping out his best friend, right? Note that as of now it's unfinished, but I'd argue it's still worth seeing their stupidity at work. 42.6k words, rated E

hearts will hold by farfromthstars (@doeeyeseddie) where Eddie keeps canceling plans with Marisol to hang out with Buck instead. 3.1k words, rated G

don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by fleetinghearts (@shitouttabuck) where Buck and Eddie pretend-date each other during Chimney's bachelor party to be able to give Christopher advice about dating. 14.7k words, rated T

put my heart inside your palms by @markofalover where Buck accidentally calls Eddie baby and Eddie is overcome with love. 3k words rated T

every evening, every time by hrudayam (@eddiegettingshot) where Marisol points out that Eddie doesn't really talk about Buck, and Eddie is baffled but then the puzzle pieces start moving in his head. 2.4k words, rated T

rebirth by @renecdote, a Buck introspection fic where he lies and ponders his bisexual realization. 752 words, rated G

lest i go unsheltered by iphigenias (@oatflatwhite) where Buck comes out to Maddie. 1.5k words, rated T

my heart is working overtime by lecornergirl (@clusterbuck) where Buck sits with his feelings after 7x04. 1.1k words, rated T

my heart aches with love for you by farfromthstars (@doeeyeseddie) where Marisol slightly chides Eddie for interrupting Buck and Tommy's date, and Eddie kinda bluescreens. 1.8k words, rated G

got that, oh, I mean by @bekkachaos where Hen comes over to talk to Buck after 7x04. 2.7k words, rated T

some things fall when they're meant to fall by @sibylsleaves where Eddie realizes he'll never prioritize Marisol the way he does Buck, but his realization comes just a bit too late. 25.7k words, rated T

as lucky as us by hammersmiths (@henswilsons) where Ravi overhears and observes Buck and Eddie interact, and Suffers. 3.6k words, rated G

every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it by wafflesofdoom (@capseycartwright) where Buck drives to Hen to talk to her about his new realization and Tommy. 1.7k words, unrated but like G/T

so much to say that's subject-sore by @hattalove where Buck thinks calling Tommy his boyfriend feels wrong, even though he wants to continue dating him. 3.1k words, rated T

the gift you gave him by @thatbuddie where Tommy asks Eddie for tips on what Buck likes, and Eddie wonders why he feels weird about it. 5.1k words, rated T

I won't tell no lie by @lamardeuse where Hen shows up at Tommy's place to ask him about his behaviour while they worked together at the 118. 1.3k words, rated T

Ah hell this is so long already so I'll stop here, but feel free to come back and ask again after you've gotten through these, because I have many more! Actually, one last one I have to recommend immediately too:

good luck, babe by @hattalove, a twitter fic where an outsider observes Buck, Eddie, Marisol, and Tommy during Buck and Tommy's first date and tweets about it all. I cackled the whole way through! 2.1k words, rated T

[aviiarie]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ GOOD LUCK BABE! — furina & fem!reader !

synopsis. it isn't love, furina tells herself. warnings. internalized homophobia, minor alcohol use. notes. based on 'good luck babe!' by chappell roan. fem!reader. furina is a closeted lesbian. angst, no comfort. 2k words of sapphic yearning. im reposting because it didn't post in the tags last time :/

‘Love’ is not the word Furina would use.

There was no doubt in her mind that there was something there—something delicate, precious as a shining pearl plucked from the ocean. She would hold it in her hands if she could; string it on a necklace and tuck it under her shirt so it pressed against the bare skin of her chest, close to her heart.

A spark, is how she would describe it if she was feeling cliché. It certainly shared the same fieriness, in the way her chest grew warm when she saw you, heart fluttering like a newly emerged butterfly. It was elation, pure ecstasy flowing through her gaze when she met your eye, setting her senses alight.

Being with you was just right, in every definition of the word. You fitted into her life perfectly, like a puzzle piece she never knew she was missing, the last brushstroke to finish a masterpiece. Without you, she would be an unfinished portrait painted in shades of blue and purple, with no warm hues to complete her.

She adored you, but it wasn’t love.

A thousand excuses for the blush on her cheeks and pounding of her hearts lingered on the edge of her tongue, ready to spill over. You were her closest friend, an innocent girl-crush at most. She didn’t have to love you to daydream about the feeling of your lips pressed in the crook of her neck, leaving a cherry-red imprint of your lipstick on her skin. It was admiration, adoration, never love.

And if some nights you ended up tangled together in her bed, sheets caught up around your legs as she pulled you against her chest, then she would simply have to ignore the way you idly kissed her shoulder before drifting off. If your lipstick stains on her cheeks were no longer restricted to her daydreams, but tangible and smudged across her skin, then she just have to wipe away the marks before anyone could glimpse them.

You both could feel there was something there, fragile and tethering you together. Still, she knew it wasn’t love.

Love was simple—a gentleman and a lady. It started with chance meeting, followed by several years of courting, and a shiny ring. She had watched people fall in and out of relationships more times than she could count, observing every shade of love there was. She’d seen people like you, and people like her, but they were never together. That kind of bond was the one hidden behind closed doors, never spoken about but in hushed, judgemental whispers.

If it was as simple as love, she wouldn’t be sitting at her balcony, swirling her wine glass without taking a single sip. The wine was a gift from Neuvillette, a crisp and rich flavour that he knew she had a liking for, but it tasted like ash in her mouth.

And you—you, in all your soft lips and glinting eyes—emerged through the door, calling out her name.

“Furina? What’s wrong?” You asked her. And a few hours later, she would blame the wine for what she said next, cursing her past self for letting the alcohol loosen her tongue. But in the moment, all she did was set her glass on the table and glance your way with a bittersweet smile.

“I wish you were a boy, sometimes…” Furina murmured lowly, voice cracking halfway through her words. “It would be so easy to fall for you if you weren’t a girl.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, hurt flickering across your expression. She shut her mouth with a click and looked away, already wishing she had swallowed the words down. “Furina—”

“Don’t talk.” Furina said, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t want to talk. I just—I want…”

“What do you want, Furina?” You asked gently, like you were coaxing a small animal to draw closer. Your voice was as soft as cotton, a soothing melody to her ears. If the wine hadn’t already made her tipsy, she might have gotten drunk on the sound of it.

“You.” She blurted out. The admission surprised her, but what was more of a shock was that the words were genuine. It was more than longing—she craved you, your touch, your eyes on her, your breath against her skin. You weren’t a want; you were a need.

“What does that mean, Furina?” The uncertainty in your voice pulled her sharply into the present. You were staring at her, doe eyes searching her expression for an answer.

“I—I mean… I mean—ha! I don’t know what I’m saying! You must excuse me, the—the wine is making me… irrational, and I—” Furina stuttered out, trying to form a coherent excuse for her words.

She didn’t get a chance.

You surged forward, capturing her lips in your own. Furina let out a squeak, gasping against your mouth before she melted into the kiss. Her head tilted so your faces were slotted neatly into each other—puzzle pieces, fitting perfectly together like you were meant to be one. One of her hands found their way into your hair, while both of your arms circled her waist, pulling her body flush against yours.

“I love you, baby.” You sighed against her lips. She hummed, kissing you again, and again. “You know that, right?”

Furina knew it wasn’t love, no matter what you said. Even so—

“Let’s go inside.” She said softly, in lieu of an answer.

—She could never seem to argue with you.

-----

Days pass, then weeks. If the whole affair is as innocent as she claims, there should be no reason her heart pounds when there is a knock at the door. She wouldn’t shy from your casual touches in public, she wouldn’t hesitate to mention your name. The thought of you wouldn’t be accompanied with a bittersweet sting, as if your affection was laced with poison.

There was a shift in your demeanour, as the lingering kisses grew few and far-between and your whispered ‘I love you’s grew more hesitant. Furina could feel the change in the air, but she ignored it, melting into your embrace and pretending it wasn’t stiffer than she remembered. She could play make-believe, for a little while longer, pretending that you still called her ‘baby’, and your eyes were still warm when they fell on her.

All until—

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” you said quietly, and her heart stopped beating. “I’m leaving Fontaine, for good this time.”

“W-What?” Furina’s eyes were wide, already shining over with tears. “You’re… leaving?”

“Yeah,” You grasped her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckle. “I’m sorry, baby. I have to. Every day I stay here… I’m suffocating. I don’t—I don’t want to end this, end us. But I can’t live like this anymore.”

Furina’s hands were shaking, only steadied by your grip. “Please don’t go. I need you.”

It was the wrong thing to say, she knew it as soon as you coughed out a bitter laugh.

“I can’t keep doing this, Furina.” You shook your head. “You can’t keep doing this to me. Telling me you want me, you need me, telling me I’m everything, and yet refusing to call us what we are.”

“We don’t need to,” Furina cried, gripping your hand. “We don’t need to say anything. I just need you.”

“You love me, don’t you?” Furina opened her mouth, but you cut her off. “No, no. Don’t tell me I’m special, don’t tell me you need me to say. You know what I want to hear.”

There was no sound that came out of her mouth. She swallowed dryly, reaching for the right words, the ones that would make you stay. You had murmured them against her lips more times than she could count, but even so… she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

“Tell me you love me.” You whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Tell me you love me, and I’ll stay.”

“I…” Furina’s breath stuttered. The words were right there, sticking to the back of her throat. But still, she couldn’t bring herself to voice them. “...Please don’t leave.”

Your face crumbled, and you stepped back, letting go of her. A cold breeze settled over her shoulders, sending a chill where your body had warmed her moments prior. She shivered, reaching out a hand. “Please, stay.”

“Goodbye, Furina.” You leaned forward and kissed her cheek softly, lingering there for a moment. “Good luck.”

Months passed, then years. The world kept spinning, even as Furina’s world was swept away. In time the pain dulls, fading to a distant ache in the back of her head; an injury that never quite healed, even after the skin mended itself back together.

It was years later that Furina found herself on the balcony again, with another gifted bottle of wine. There was no one left to slide open the door and join her, so she drank alone, staring across the sprawling city of Fontaine. Despite the bustling streets and swarms of people, your face was missing from the crowd. Her hand clenched around the bottle until her knuckles went white.

It was almost humorous, how she realized how much she loved you only the day after you left. Lying in bed alone, tracing the slight indent where your body had made its mark on her mattress from the number of nights spent sleeping side by side. All she could see was you, tears dripping across your cheeks as you turned away. She longed to reach out, grab your arm and pull you into her chest and kissing you until you were both breathless.

Why couldn’t she have called it love when she had the chance?

She took a sip of the wine, forgoing the glass and drinking straight from the bottle. The taste was rich, but it fell flat against the memory of your lips.

-----

Your hands brushed the back of her head, with impossibly soft caresses. Each touch sent a spark of electricity down her spine, making her head spin. She kissed with fervour, terrified for the moment she breaks away and you slip through her fingers again.

Your lips pressed harder against hers, melting together until she could taste her own strawberry-flavoured lip balm in her mouth. Eventually the two of you break away, gasping for air.

“I missed you,” You murmured against her skin, touching her cheek. “I love you, so much.”

When Furina woke, her lips were as cold as ever.

There was a ring glinting on her nightstand, a slumbering body resting beside her. The shape was indistinct, androgynous enough that for a moment she could pretend it was your figure buried under the blankets. Furina choked away a sob, turning her head so she didn’t have to face him.

He was a sweet man, but the sight of his smile didn’t warm her chest the way it should. She could throw back her head and laugh at his dry jokes, but there was no humour to be found in her voice. In the end, he was nothing more than her husband, and she was nothing more than his wife.

Fractured, pained breaths tore from her throat. Her head fell heavily into her hands, muffling the pitiful sounds of her cries. She had thrown it all away. The girl who loved her, the only one she’d ever loved. And what had she to show for the years of heartbreak? A loveless marriage, a husband in name only.

She thought about you, leaning against the railing of her balcony, glowing under the moonlight. In her memory you stared back at her, with a bittersweet smile tracing your lips. And when your mouth opened, it isn’t an “I love you” that came out, it’s—

“I told you so.”

Furina squeezed her eyes shut. She flopped down onto the mattress, burying her face in the pillow, and picturing you in her husband's place. All she could do was think about the sight of your face, your smile, everything she had let fall away.

And when she whispers, “I love you, baby.” there isn’t anyone to say it back to her.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

[cho-aaacho]

(Flufftober 2023) Learning a Craft

Main Masterlist I Archive of Our Own

Flufftober 2023 Masterlist I Prompts List

Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Learning a Craft, Dreamcatcher, Umbrella Luis, Flufftober 2023, Reader is genderless

(Flufftober Day 13)

Languishing in the doldrums of his creativity, Luis sank warily into his mind. With trembling hands, he snatched the paper from his desk. His eyes wandered into the luminous gleam of his computer screen, trying to find an exact reason for him to jolt his motivation.

Desperately, he's trying to observe other crafting bloggers, revisiting them to read their content. But he found nothing to match his desire to make a cute dreamcatcher.

An aura of defeat hung heavily on his mind. He sank into his chair, trying to hush the boredom. Lost in the reverie, his eyes grazed at you, and he cherished an endeared view where you, magically, were having a small chit-chat with a fellow researcher in the Umbrella Laboratory. The spectral glow from the laboratory lights cascaded upon your presence, weaving a tranquil evening.

You and Luis were a team in the upcoming project ordained by Dr. Wesker, and as the days progressed, fate threw you into Luis' life, and you two are getting closer to each other.

He found strong happiness whenever he shared his days with you. Some are just random stories, but sometimes he shares his private life, his favorite music, coffee, and more about Leon. From that day on, a connection between you and him was tied up strongly by red strings from his pinkie finger to yours.

However, for some reason, your happy life is starting to turn upside down, falling into a shadow of despair. An amalgamation of nightmares and pain is born in your life due to a deadline from Dr. Wesker.

A dreamcatcher. 

At first, Luis is making fun of this, saying that you would be fine by Dr. Wesker's deadline. But he was seized by pain after he recognized you getting unmotivated at work.

A silly idea slipped into his cubicle mind. Remembering that he had this item when he was a little innocent kid.

And he thinks of making one.

It was like a random idea that slipped his mind. Perhaps it would help you spark your spirit. After all, you were Luis' partner in this project. He couldn't bear to let you be sad about Dr. Wesker's exacting methods.

Luis once again found himself in a cubicle full of butterflies. His eyes are relentlessly between the computer screen and an unfinished dreamcatcher. A metal wooden hoop, a roll of ebony ribbon, dainty feathers, glue, and chestnut gemstones—all of this was based on Leon's recommendations.

Luis' desk is so messy and chaotic with this stuff; he's sure that Dr. Wesker's fury will lead Luis into trouble. Dr. Wesker might even unleash a torrent of sulfur dioxide on Luis' face.

In that suspended moment, your time stretches into infinity as you see Luis drowning in his very mind. You saw him snatching a piece of wood and getting angry all of a sudden.

With a graceful move, you come close to him and ask. "Dr. Serra?"

Your voice emanates from the room, creating an electrifying tension between you and Luis.

He widened his eyes after realizing that you were near him.

"Eh, Dr.—good evening." He jolted from the sensation. A panic filled him from head to toe. A cold sweat dripped down his nape.

"Are you okay, Dr. Serra?"

Panic. He nervously scratches his neck and has a weird eagerness to run from the scene.

"I'm trying to make a dreamcatcher." He mused, gazing at the table. "I think it would help you, Dr.—since you mentioned nightmares, I wanted to offer you a little help."

"Oh!" A lukewarm smile curls your lips. With a gentle sigh, you touch an unfinished dreamcatcher. From your perspective, the dreamcatcher wasn't as bad as it might have seemed; the form was still recognizable.

"Dr. Serra. Thank you for your concern. I think I made you feel bad about my recent condition. But don't worry about me; I'm okay for now."

"Um, Dr.—"

A joyous atmosphere surrounds you as you reach Luis' shoulder and whisper calmly.

"I purchased a new oven last week. So... maybe I could invite you to my apartment to eat cake with me? If you're free, I'd gladly take that dreamcatcher. And who knows, I might finally have a peaceful sleep, dreaming of you." 

[r0-boat]

Do you have any yandere Brassius? Just anything of him, I adore him

I think about yandere Brassius a lot

Yandere! Brassius headcanons

Cw: stalking, unhealthy obsession, yandere

Nsfw

Brassius is a delusional yandere, but he is not unaware. He knows what he is doing is wrong, but he thinks that he is the only one for you and he is the only one that can truly appreciate your beauty.

He watches from the top of buildings and mountains with a camera. He Rambles to himself about whatever you doing, taking a picture capturing that moment

Ready to worship everything you own? Anything you give him, he'll keep in good condition, having a shrine-no an entire art room dedicated to you. A desk with your " lost" things with pictures of you in frames. The walls decorated in unfinished sketches, drawings paintings of your face just for them to be scribbled out in what seems to be anger. With wooden statues carved to look like you in various poses, as different things, in different art styles covered with drapes.

He spends hours in the night studying the new photos he has taken of you, exploring every angle, every imperfect mark on your skin to recreate it in his new piece, only to take his anger out on it when he can't recreate your radiant Beauty. And when he does get some sleep, his dreams are plagued by your gentle hand touching his.

To you, however, Brassius doesn't seem any different. Just his usual, quarky, and eccentric Brassius self.

Maybe that's what makes him so much more dangerous. Because you could never see the red flags until it's too late, perhaps you should have noticed his eagerness to see and be around you all the time or his immediate cold shoulder when somebody would dare interrupt his time with you.

Brassius constantly internally fights on when he should make his home your permanent residence. He wants to take his relationship with you to the next level. He wants you to be utterly his. Show you his 'art' room and paint things with (and on)your body he has never done before. But observing you in the wild has been a fruitful experience, and he feels like he's not fully finished with capturing every last drop of your personality. His binder on you has not been fully completed yet.

Brassius is very patient, no matter how much he aches for you to be in his arms. He cannot risk his kidnapping plan failing, especially with his involvement in the Pokemon League and his reputation as an artist. He is careful and plans each thing meticulously. But once that iron threat of patience breaks, he quickly loses composure.

- Brass has a weird obsession with being your only artist. He wants to be the only one sculpting/drawing you or anything you tell him. He dreams about you being his nude model and brushing his hands to get a better feel of your body and, at the same time, taking short breaks by putting his lips on yours. His fingers caress each curve of your skin, dipping lower and lower.

- and I think someone else making artwork about you would be his breaking point. Desperate to gain back that control he once had, he would finally swiftly carry out his plan to kidnap you.

When he does finally have you, Brassius is bursting with excitement. He has prepared an entire room that you'll be living in. hopefully after you realize you love him he won't be needing the room. You slept so soundly on your bed. Brassius admits he has never seen you sleep before. he coos watching your chest rise and fall. he takes the opportunity to touch you. gently caress you touch you in ways he has never gone to, but not touch you enough to wake you up. he shall 'touch' you in that way at a later time. for right now there's too much work to be done. He must cover up any Footprints he has left when he took you from the outside world.

He has to say, Brassius, he's glad that he kidnapped you in the end; he cussed at himself for not doing this sooner. You are a feisty little muse and need to be punished often. Tying you down with his Bramble wrappings with a vibrator deep inside of you. Occasionally tightening those wrappings until the fake spikes dug into your skin. Maybe he could finally fulfill his dream and use you as his nude model.

He is excited to show you his art room dedicated to you. Show you finished paintings and sculptures he has created in your image.

He's even more excited to cover you in his marks. Blemish your skin with his teeth, only he could paint you in this way. Only he could paint your skin white with his cum. He'll treat your marks like a masterpiece.

He can't wait to tie you up and paint your beauty.

He showers you with affection every morning. As soon as you wake up, you're greeted with a home-cooked meal and a smiling Brassius at your bedside. Ready to cover you in this morning's kisses.

Now that he has you, he can't bare to part with you. he'll spend hours of his free time just worshiping your body, Whispering gentle praises, covering your arms or legs in kisses.

[salted-caramel-tea]

i have so much to say aboht the avavav runway

can we hear it? because from one side i get it, the whole thing is about the rush of the fashion world, the hidden part that people don’t get to see. but from another side… idk it looked kinda corny to me… there were some cool outfits but overall i found it underwhelming

I forgot about this ask so im gonna give a very brief rundown of what I think then maybe get into it once I get my fashion blog set up properly bc im too scared to write on it rn .

long and short of it is that these runways are less about the clothing itself and more about the impact and presentation of the collection. its more of a performance art piece than it is an opportunity to observe trends in high end fashion and this is something that avavav is popular for- their Milan fw23 show creating this narrative about fast fashion and the superficiality of the fashion industry with the clothes intentionally breaking and falling apart as the models walked down the runway. 2022 I think was her first show where all of the models intentionally tripped and fell and it sent the fashion realm into a tizzy bc ppl were so upset at the bad quality of the show which is exactly what she wanted to happen bc it was a commentary on the seriousness of the fashion industry and the desire to seem rich that causes this disconnect from our humanity because we want to be perfect we want everything to be perfect and I love her for that .

avavav runways are just so iconic to me I love the way she utilises clothing, the set, even the models to create this story and bring to light an understanding within the audience of the internal problems of the fashion industry like this one about how designers are expected to churn out designs keep on top of ever-changing trends and how designers struggle to meet these expectations because their creative freedom is limited by time constraints and pressure so its this display of unfinished garments it starts seemingly fine until the model turns round with and 'add back? note where the rest if the garment should be and that evolves to become these shapeless oddly structured garments like the styrofoam blocks the duct tape the post it note suit to close the collection that just visualises the designers desperation to finish the collection on time now just using anything around her to add to garments that she can fix later she can shape later she'll do it she's just under so much pressure right now hence the collection title no time to design .

I love beate karlsson I think its such and interesting display of activism and commentary through fashion snd I bet its fun for the models too .

[byebyassociation]

To Be Wanted

Art by @laugtherhyena

Behold! A fic (unfinished) about two women falling in love during the end of the world. It won’t end well but they spend time together while they still can.

Mid-canon crack pairing

No update schedule, this one I write when I feel like it. (Snippet and link below the cutoff)

“ The men were fighting outside. Training, they called it. But it looked like they were fighting the air. The boxer and the salaryman, throwing punches at nothing to strengthen their form.

As usual she’d tucked herself away in the train, the furthest back car was her safe haven. She could observe and read people if she felt like it, or she could just rest. Either way, this was for the best.

Marina didn’t stay long on the train anymore. Her thoughts weren’t happy either.

“Stupid. You idiot.” She curled up into a ball in her favorite dark corner.

It was a mistake. A big mistake. The kind of fuck up you can’t just blot out of your memory. The way he tensed, the way he screamed, and then— She just felt sick with herself.

She didn’t want to think about his face but it was burned into her memory. He was a shitty father, a real piece of work… but… was she right to do it? He said so many awful things and she just…

She crouched low, moving so that her eyes were barely peering over through the glass. She held her position and looked out the window, hands on the sill. She didn’t want to think anymore, she wanted to embrace the fog and just… watch life pass her by. She pried open the window and popped her head out. She listened to the silence. There was running water a little ways away… and people talking in the frontmost car. But mostly there was just the sounds of the wind. Blowing grass, a misty heavy fog cloaking over everything. Rher’s power was emanating from it all. She couldn’t say she wholly liked it. But it was better than just sitting in the dark. ”

[polarizefinn]

A GUIDE TO SERENDIPITYS FALL: a short story

a little bit'a angst :^) artist hyunjin x gn!reader notice: 0.7k words, wrote this in a span of like 15ish minutes, may be messy (are we surprised?)

warning: mentions of nudity, bitchesz broken hearts fr and scars.

deep breath. in, out.

as much as youd like to believe that time heals all wounds, youd like to believe that this one had completely disappeared by now.

the person who you were addicted to, who you couldnt insist on letting go from your life broke your heart, yet your feet guided you here. his first official exhibition, which you promised to him over a year ago that youd attend no matter what.

you stare at the art gallery in front of you, the glass doors seeming to expose the long hallway before it, at the end a big room extending to the sides.

the walls of the place seeming decorated with spectacular pieces, wallpapers glistening and making the place seem heavenly. you push the door open, taking it all in.

the air here feels heavier, richer - sort of.

you walk down the long hallway, with each step your shoulders loosening, your breath alligning and your ears starting to lose the overwhelming sense of hearing your heartbeat.

you reach the end, allowing yourself to take in the canvases, almost a lifelong worth of work all in one space. the amount of people here doesnt shock you, hes always been loved. still, he couldnt fit the part of being the lover.

you walk to the far left, starting from the beginning and working your way up to observe all the paintings, as if you havent seen most of them already.

you giggle at the first couple of unfinished pieces, admiring a bit how he had always left some unfinished on purpose,

"i have other things to focus on."

the ones after explore life, nature, the sky. things that are simply beautiful, things that build more imagination, things that are simple yet hard to understand.

"look, do you see it the way i see it?"

pain, humiliation, flowers. flowers had meanings, he taught you. the one time he got some for you, he apologised for it.

"i didnt envision that this would end up hurting you instead."

as you reach the last couple of paintings, you spot the artist.

the group around him listening intently to his words, his explanation for the newest painting.

as you look at it closer, your head starts spinning and you feel tears filling your eyes.

deep breath, in and out. you repeat over and over to yourself.

you look up again and confirm - the painting is of you.

your nude body, a photo you sent to him when he was still a somebody to your life, when you thought you meant so much more than a piece of artwork.

you put your hands in your pockets, looking from afar. you couldnt help but to overhear his explanation, the description of the inspiration earning a chant of "ooh"s.

"and who were they to you?"

you hear a man asking.

you turn to look at hyunjin, his head tilting slightly to look at the man, as a smile creeps up on his face. he looks at the painting again, that goddamn smile still stuck to his face.

"they were merely a muse, nothing more."

and there it was.

how could the same person have the guts, have the fucking guts to break your heart enough times that you can start counting them?

you tried to say something. you tried, but couldnt. your stomach filling up with anxiety and embarrassment instead of butterflies upon hearing his voice.

as much as you hated to admit it, he was something you considered otherworldly. but very slowly, and painfully you came to realise that his weakness was his art, his fondness to you seemed to be replaced.

until you merged as one, and you had to step away from that picture, promising yourself that you wont let yourself be someone elses second choice.

you promised him youd come here, no matter what. didnt he remember?

you became his object, his composition. this time you werent there to stop it, to tell him that youd rather be a distant memory, than now a new collectors item.

that, and he forgot to paint the scar on your wrist from the thorn of the rose. the unrequited love flower, remember?

[hauntsect]

The rain wouldn't stop. It seemed the storm's havoc was just beginning. Hyles had slept soundly through the night, much to his uncle's relief. He had asked for one of the nurses to watch over him, requiring that he was informed of when the boy woke up.

7:00 AM sharp, Hyles opened his eyes. Only a few minutes went by when his uncle approached the room with a tray of fruits.

"Good morning, Hyles."

"Good morning, doctor... Have you greeted your wife, yet?"

"Yes, of course I have greeted your aunt."

"My aunt is dead." Hadn't they discussed this, already? There's a pause from them both, the doctor wasn't up for doing this today... Nor up for mistreating his little nephew because of his foolish ways,... or so he says.

"How are you feeling?"

"Different..." Hyles paused, lifting his hands up, turning them around for a brief study. "Stronger, I think. My aches are still there, but they feel so far away, right now..."

"Well, aren't those good news?" The doctor surmises for Hyles, who stares at his hands for a while longer before shrugging.

"It could be. I'm not sure..." His eyes go to the tray of food and, though he appreciates fruits, he scowls lightly, tilting his head in thought. "Were there no ice rolls, today?"

"There were, but you suffered a breakdown yesterday, you need to recuperate first. Therefore, fruits! ...And pills." Oh, Hyles glances at the plate a bit further... Right, upon closer inspection, he could see the pills were sprinkled around the fruit cocktail... Silly. He sighs low before proceeding to eat part of the salad. After drinking some water, his uncle spoke yet again.

"But... We can arrange some ice rolls, if you do something for me."

The dim eyes of the boy don't light up, as usual, but they do react. He lifts his gaze towards the doctor, nodding.

"I'd do anything for you." Ice rolls or not, but that was great incentive. His uncle knew this, so he nodded to the boy's words, extending a hand over to him. It took no time for the cold, pale hand to grab onto the man, wrapped in bandages, for the most part. His breakfast would remain unfinished, the boy hopped out of the bed, following his uncle towards wherever he'd take him.

For a while, they walked in silence. Deep, deep down the corridor, towards the faraway corners of one of the laboratories of the ward. Much like the different locations spread around, there was a shift in atmosphere. It was as if the sanitarization was taken to the extreme over here. Even the noise, the air was different, like falling into another dimension. Hyles knew this place well, he felt comfort in it, reminded of the pain he had endured, all for the sake of the doctor holding his hand.

He is led to a seat, right in the middle of the room. He sits instinctively, lifting his head towards the man.

"What is it I must do, today?" Hyles asks, watching as the utensils were thoroughly prepared, extremely sanitized, much like the burning oxygen lurking about. Sample gathering, maybe pain threshold testing,... liquid extraction? Though he tries to surmise what his uncle is looking for, he is at a loss. Yesterday, he remembers succumbing to his embrace, to slumber, being cured. But he feels his sickness still lurking about, the pain is just dulled down. What was it, then?

"The same old tests, Hyles. Endure them for a bit, yeah? I will have to take your bandages off." There's no fighting, no rejection, he nods quietly to it, taking the liberty to start unwrapping the bandages over his face himself.

Flesh and blood exposed, the grotesque, young nephew stares back at his uncle, not a single reaction to the pain of the air coursing through. The doctor approaches, he crouches to observe, and gather samples of flesh and liquid, much like the boy had surmised.

As pieces of skin are extirpated and extracted carefully, something interesting starts coming to light. Out of the corner of his eye, the doctor notices something start to sprout. Almost like a flower, (or was it a bug?) skin starts to grow from the battlefield that was the boy's misshapen face. He is about to gather some samples of it when the door to the laboratory opens and heels tap the ground with a light noise, like crystals. The two individuals know who this is...

The doctor turns away and walks over to place his utensils and samples on the tray, hoping to, once more, greet his love.

"Ordell?"

"Rosángela..." He calls for her as he does, and she looks over to him, on the seat, staring right back at her. A small smile forms on his face, the one she knows well – she braces for it.

"Te amo." And a chill courses down both receiving spines. The female's eyes move to find her real husband right by the table, standing, eyes widened – identical in physicality to the one on the seat. If he hadn't been there, right by the imposter's side, could she have noticed? Hyles wonders this too, his smile unwavering. The tone of Ordell's voice, the intonation, and his actions, mimicked almost to perfection...

Ordell should've known; for just as much as he has studied Hyles, the boy has studied him.

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @greypetrel and @palipunk (on the other blog); thank you both!

*Gonna say in advance that I am still getting straight who all writes fic and/or does art, especially if I follow both of your personal and fan blogs, so if I sometimes tag you and sometimes don't just lmk if you do/don't want to be in on these things and I will do my best to oblige! I know people are busy/life is a pain in the ass lately and I don't want anyone to feel pressured or stressed or left out over it

I've been working on my Morrigan scarf, pictured below (hand for scale) and am getting close to finishing the main body of it. I'm really excited for some of the finishing touches, which will hopefully include fringe-like elements along the bottom edge. If they work out right, they'll look similar to feathers (fingers crossed), but if not they'll be irregularly-sized pieces that more closely resemble her skirt. We'll see c:

And here's a bit of writing from an unfinished chapter of Book of Memories; I've been fiddling with the beginning on and off for months, but I would really like to post it sometime in the next few weeks. (CW for fantasy racism and blood/injury):

He could have sworn he'd only taken his eyes off the children for a moment—hardly any time at all for them to get into any trouble—but just then, Leander ran up, his fine tunic torn at one shoulder, his cheek bloodied, and he was panting. 

“What’s happened?” Fenris asked, his body shifting slightly in a way that Cullen immediately recognized. 

Neither of them were sufficiently armed, but Cullen reached for the support of a sword hilt anyway, his hand falling to his belt knife instead. Fenris crouched, bringing his face level with the boy’s, and Leander pointed toward a crowd forming near the small side garden. 

“Adhlea,” he panted, and that was enough—Cullen was already running. He didn’t bother to make sure the Hawkes were following. His daughter needed him, was in danger perhaps—nothing could slow him now. 

Adhlea was, in fact, in the center of the crowd. He could hear her piping voice even before he managed to shove through the crowd of bodies. 

“You take it back, you—you Blight of a boy!” she was yelling, accompanied by a yelp that was not hers. “Or say that to my face, coward!” 

Cullen went on elbowing his way through the huddle of people, his mind racing: Why hadn’t someone pulled her away from whatever was happening? What could possibly have made her this angry? The undercurrent of this all, the fear that made the rest of it unbearable, was this: 

She is a new mage. If she hurts someone with magic in front of all these people, what can I do to keep her safe?

“Mongrel,” a garbled voice said. “You and that other—oomph!” 

There was a dull sound, flesh striking flesh, and Cullen made his way to the front at last. There was a reason nobody had interrupted her: somehow, Adhlea had called up a barrier, and the bubble of it stood between them and the observers. She seemed well enough—though blood was dripping from her chin—and the boy she was pummeling seemed to be in one piece, for all that she had him pinned. 

Maker preserve him. Maker preserve them all. 

“Adhlea Rose,” Cullen bellowed, and more than one of the surrounding observers took a step back. “You stop that this instant.” 

His daughter didn’t seem to hear him at all; she raised a bloody fist and aimed for the boy’s cheek. Fenris was faster; in a moment, he’d reached through the barrier with one hand, the tattoos that marked the backs of his hands and arms lighting up all at once. He pulled her, squirming, from the barrier by the back of her nice Chantry dress. 

Some other time, Cullen might have found this funny; she looked rather like a kitten picked up by a rather annoyed cat. In the moment, he only felt fear. 

“Adhlea,” he said sharply, and she stopped fighting. The barrier had popped soundlessly as soon as she’d left it. The boy was summarily scooped up by an older woman—presumably a caretaker—and tugged back from their little quartet. 

“What happened?” Cullen demanded, crouching to examine her carefully. 

One of her teeth had been knocked loose, leaving an empty space on the upper row of her mouth. Her hands were both bloody about the knuckles, and her lip was already swelling. The redness around her eye would almost certainly be a black eye soon enough, and if the laundress could get the blood out of the gown it would be a miracle. 

“He said I was trash,” Leander said unexpectedly, though his green eyes were fixed on Adhlea, “I thought it was stupid. I can’t be trash, because trash is a thing and I’m not a thing. But he said he could prove it and—”

“He was going to shove Leander into the trash can!” Adhlea said, shaking with indignation, tears spilling from her injured eye, “I couldn’t let him—it’s not fair! We didn’t do anything to him!”

Tagging: @ndostairlyrium @daggerbean @layalu (unless you prefer the other blog?) @idolsgf @brother-genitivi

[bednbunfast]

oh... oh dear! OH DEAR— chise.... chise no. do not make another wip... do not add to your to do list...

waaa,,, lewis and alice,, i have yet to polish their bond and ability ( or would it be abilities? ) ever since i made them...

all i have is this flimsy piece of unfinished draft as a reminder of what i originally intended them to be, too. It's... quite an embarrassing reminder.

i bet it's quite easy to deduce as to where this was written, yes? author notes of that particular variety... they used to be oh so abundant. This one in particular... I don't remember who the friend is anymore. I have an inkling but, ah... i don't have enough evidence to support that idea.

I refuse to read through this, the small blurbs i've accidentally seen has already made too much damage for my brain. I do hope you like the "cringe" though.

>X<>X<>X<>{-T H I R D  P O V-}<>X<>X<>X<

~<>+<>+<{ A L I C E }>+<>+<>~

The rhythmic sound of the falling droplets of water and the occasional soft breaths were the only thing to be heard inside the dimly lit room. If you ignore the chattering of lowly mafia gunmen that is. Their voices echoed inside Alice's cell, it's rusty bars the only thing stopping her from ripping their heads clean off. Nevertheless, she quietly observed the room she was in, ignoring the stupid bickering on which mafia executive was the coolest. The room she was in was rather small. A metal chair in the middle (where her hands and feet are tied up) and stone walls.

"I wonder..." Alice thought, looking straight towards her guards. "Do they really think I can't escape this place?"

At first it was a chuckle, a couple more, and at last she was full blown laughing at them, inside her head anyways. For now she had to remain calm, even a small laugh can trigger suspicion. But she would've still done it, fortunately her mouth was being gagged by a piece of cloth. 

There must be a reason as to why she was taken here. She knew their boss wouldn't just order someone to kidnap her, so there must be a important reason.

"Surely even Higuchi isn't stupid enough to kidnap someone witho- never mind..." Alice said to herself, smirking a bit.

Slowly, she glanced up the stone ceiling. Her eyes trailed to the single light source, a yellow tinted florescent lamp. Her thoughts wandering to her only companion, Lewis. Sighing, she looks towards the bars again to see that the gunmen had left. This intrigued Alice, knowing that they wouldn't just let someone like her alone. 

"I wonder why they decided to abduct someone like me," She wondered, "Do they want to replace me with Q?"

Light purple orbs widen with realization. Rage run through her veins as she struggled to get out of her restraints but it proved useless as it only bruised her wrists. Alice started to scream, only to be muffled by the piece of cloth. Her eyes darken, her body slouched forwards, as she glared at the bars holding her inside. Thoughts about them hurting Lewis entered her mind and it just angered her more. 

Yet all she could do was wait, until they had decided to release her. 

Or if a bloodied up Lewis frees her as he loses consciousness.

>X<>X<>X<>{-T H I R D  P O V-}<>X<>X<>X<

~<>+<>+<{ L E W I S }>+<>+<>~

His mind was in a mess. The persona of a calm and strict individual slowly fading, which was a rare occurrence. Clenching his fists, he glared to the ginormous building that currently hosts Alice. Lewis knew it was reckless for him to just go inside. Growling under his breath, he remembers what she had told him days prior her abduction. 

"Try to find a open meadow, for that is where the sheep like to graze," She instructed as she cups his face, her voice laced with pure seriousness. 

"The help of a cunning fox is nothing necessary, for he is nothing but trouble to the likes of me, us even."

Amidst his anger he wondered what Alice had meant. So he decided to return to their living quarters to see if she left behind anything. He went straight to her white room and to his luck, he found a note placed on a lonely white chair. Observing the room he was currently in, the white carpet was littered with glass shards with traces of blood on them. Alice's room brought unwanted peace to him, calming him down even without it's owner's presence. His thoughts wandered to her riddles, and importantly what they meant.

It was hard. Her riddles we're always quite challenging. To him at least, and there re always people smarter than him, the infamous Dazai Osamu is one of them.

>X<>X<>X<>{-Author's Memo-}<>X<>X<>X<

The story idea is given by one of my friends. I asked her what i should write about and she said to write Alice being kidnapped, while Lewis comes saves her. Its a simple concept really. I just hope she goes online by the time I finish this. 

Her idea was Alice being kidnapped by the Port Mafia, and Lewis had to save her, with the help of the Sheep. Which is kinda hard. The Sheep in my eyes were a mystery. They wasn't enough info about them in  my head. I can read about them in the wiki but  yeah. Ok i read about them a few minutes ago after writing this sentence and. Still an enigma it seems.

[ateliernayo]

I did it! I reworked this piece i made in 2021. Some little details were bothering me actually, so i tried to change some of them and i finally GOT the result i wanted!

Cropped a bit of the background so sheena and zelos are not Lost in the image and this light effect are adding depth to the pièce ✨ really happy with it.

Anyway, short story Time

--------------------------------------------

11 pm, Mizuho was calm and silent, there was some flower's leftovers spreaded on the dirt paths of the village. Each home had a little incese stick burning in their porch.

It would soon be a week since igaguri passed... In a day or two mizuhohans would stop all the ceremonial, his soul would be guided to the right place already.

People had to grieve their guide, their leader, their chief and soon sheena would be their New one. She already did everything to take over igaguri's responsabilities... But she was still grieving a lot... Too much, to be honest, so people were kinda worried about how the next operations and missions would go if she didn't recover.

For once, they were glad the former Chosen was here, at her side. Usually when Zelos came to visit Sheena, he was not really the most welcome, mizuhohans don't really appreciate outsiders in their precious village. But they were kinda used now to see him sometimes.

The village was silent, until a loud sound came from sheena's hut. As if a piece of heavy fourniture fell on the floor.

Paper flew to the ground while the little table she was using as her desk was flipped to a corner of the room.

She was panting, a pearl of tear in the corner of her eye.

Zelos was sitting behind her, not far away in the little room; waiting for her to calm down. He didn't interfere, nor said anything. He observed her figure from head to toes and her legs became a bit shaky. She Took her face in her hands and fell her knees to the ground, right next to a finished bottle of sake.

" how am i supposed to do all of this? why did he want ME to be their chief? I'll never be able to make it... " she said out of breath

" you know that you are able, hun." Zelos assured serving himself a last cup of sake, almost finishing the second bottle. "He knew you are brave enough, strong enough, wise enough to be their lead. Plus you are dead sexy too"

Sheena flipped to face him, her hair a bit messy, and her cheeks a strong Shade of red, she pouted semi angrily, and a bit drunk-like. She wanted to reply something but nothing went to her mouth, she watched him sip his cup and put it by his side on the floor as if he did not drank a drop of it before this last cup, then he began to take his gloves off.

" it's hot in there, this sake is kinda strong tho, i may have drank too much, and so do you" he said pointing his index to her.

She watched him silently, a strange feeling growing inside her. Why this stupid Chosen was this handome? But why was he so annoying? Why was he there at her house since igaguri passed ? Why did he not headed back to meltokio instead of annoying her everyday?

He stayed, for..her? Sure her grandpa was not his priority. But He Always wait silently by her side, rubbing her shoulder, her hand or her head when she cried. He had made breakfasts and dinners cheering her to eat at least a bit, because she wasn't hungry at all since then. He even called her by her name more than by those stupid nicknames... he respected her boundaries?? At least he tried and she noticed only now... It have been minutes she was watching him, saying nothing, her gaze sometimes directed at him, sometimes at the ground as if she was thinking about so many things at once.

Zelos tilted his head a little concerned

" do i have something on my face, hun? You may stop dri-"

Not even knowing why, she rushed to him, grabbed his pink coat and kissed him; throwing them a bit backward and shoving the unfinished sake bottle on the tatami. Zelos put his elbows to the ground to not totally fall on it. His eyes widened but he did not fight against this sudden kiss... he closed his eyes, His hands adventured on her head, keeping her close to him, lightly reaching her ribbon to losen her hair. All of his soul was boiling hot now, and so did hers.

- i'm too Dizzy - she thought to herself

His lips were soft and his breath so sexy and his touch so-

"wait, wait wait Sheena !" He cut the kiss suddenly pushing her a bit from him a hand on her shoulder

"what? " she said out of breath and a bit irritated from this sudden stop "isn't it what you wanted?"

"of course not! " she widened her eyes, a stabbing sensation went throught Her Heart and stomach.

"No it's not what -... i mean, yes but... " he continued embarassed by the way he said no, aware of the arsh way he spoke " i can't lie i really ... Want to, i - that was - wow, but... I can't with you in that state" he finished softly as she looked at him a Ray of sad in her eyes -why am i sad tho? She thought. WHAT DID SHE JUST DO THO???

He cupped her face in his hands and put his forehead to hers, closed his eyes and Took a deep breath.

"you are drunk, and i don't wanna abuse you like that..i ..... " Zelos marked a 10 seconds silence, Took a deep breath and whispered" i love you too much for this"

He said it, After all those years, he finally declared his love to her... He blushed a bit drunk too but not as much as her. His head still on hers

She blinked, her face still red, reddened even more. It Took her a hot second to print his words on her Brain. She backed up a bit and smiled softly (and drunkey)

"that's kind of you, i'll remember that -stupid Chosen" she said falling in his arms, asleep.

- . - . -

The next morning she woke UP on her futon, scraching her head, her hair messy, her head spinning from the last night. Her kimono still on her but opened and her long pink ribbon folded by the side of the bed.

"What the hell happened?"

----------------

[kykyonthemoon]

Don’t wake the Scribe!

This is an old piece that I wrote for Alhaitham’s birthday last year, but haven’t posted on Tumblr yet.

Summary: There’s a new unwritten rule at the Akademiya that both Lumine and Paimon have no idea of: Don’t wake the Scribe while he’s asleep.

1073w

Masterlist

——————————————————

Almost everyone at the Akademiya recently learned of a new unwritten rule: Don't wake the Scribes while he's asleep.

After taking on the position of Acting Grand Sage, the rush of work had given Alhaitham less time to sleep. He spent more time at the Akademiya than at home. During the rare time he was off, scholars often caught him falling asleep somewhere in the grounds of House of Daena, with one or several books by his side, of course.

Once, a scholar woke him just to warn him that it was going to rain. But the next day, no one saw the scholar at House of Daena anymore. It was rumored that because of his wrongdoing with the Scribe, who was aslo the Acting Grand Sage, so he was demoted and sent away. However, there was another theory that he failed Alhaitham's surprise test, then fled out of House of Daena weeping, vowing not to return until he could outwit the Acting Grand Sage.

As a consequence, after that incident, no one dared disturb Alhaitham's sleep anymore.

But the Traveler had no idea. Lumine and Paimon happened to learn from Kaveh that it was Alhaitham's birthday. It wasn't much of a coincidence, actually, as Kaveh blocked their way, pleading with them to pull Alhaitham home or his preparations for a surprise party would be ruined. Paimon, because of her desire for good food, decided to take a trip to the Akademiya.

"Look! Is Alhaitham taking a nap over there?"

Paimon's words echoed around the room. Lumine had to put her hand over her mouth to gesture to her friend.

"Shhh. Paimon, you're being so loud!"

"What? I'm not..." Paimon denied. "Obviously I speak very quietly!"

The scholars let Lumine and Paimon into Alhaitham's private study. He wasn't in the room but was sitting outside, one fist on his temple, the other holding a book, fingers clamped on the unfinished page. Paimon flew over to observe and said:

"Hey, Alhaitham is really sleeping! But I'm not going to wake him! What if he asks me tough questions or forces me to read..."

As soon as she said that, Alhaitham's arm reached out and grabbed the edge of Paimon's robe.

"Ouch!"

Paimon screamed, unable to fly away despite her wriggling. Alhaitham blinked to open his drowsy eyelids. He said:

"Too late, Paimon. I've heard you two since you first entered the room."

"Oh, Traveler! Come and save me!"

It was amusing to see Paimon furiously scream out for rescue, but also a touch heartbreaking. Lumine then went on to save the day:

"My apologies, Alhaitham! We happened to be passing by here, intending to say hello to you for a bit, then wish you a happy birthday."

Alhaitham abruptly let go. Paimon, so unprepared, lost speed and flew towards the Traveler. Fortunately, Lumine caught her before they both plummeted to the ground.

"Since you're both here," said Alhaitham, "How about a read with me?"

Paimon, still stunned, answered immediately:

"Nope! I won't read books! Lumine, you don't want to read either, do you?"

Paimon's eyes seemed to be begging Lumine to get her out of here. Lumine shook her head:

"No... Erm... I'm not feeling like reading today..."

"If that's the case, help me with organizing the documents then."

With that said, Alhaitham stood up and walked inside. Lumine and Paimon followed obediently. Organizing stuff should be less of a headache than reading a book, anyway.

But they were wrong. In Alhaitham's office, there are countless unclassified papers and books. He only gave vague instructions that they had helped him with this kind of work once before, they could easily do it again. After about five minutes, Paimon was already scratching her head.

"Paimon gives up! Why does he keep making us do these things! We're supposed to be eating well at the party— Oops!"

As fast as a lightning bolt, Lumine moved quickly over to quiet Paimon. That surprise party was a secret. But Alhaitham had heard it all.

"Is that housemate of mine making trouble again?" He inquired, with his gaze still not leaving the stack of papers on his desk.

"Well... Lumine! You tell him!"

Prodded by Paimon, Lumine spoke up:

"Kaveh is throwing a party... He requested us to accompany you back home."

"I'm not a party person myself."

Paimon was immediately irritated when she heard that:

"That party is for you! How many delicacies you are going to miss!"

In a bored tone, Alhaitham said:

"That Kaveh said it's a party. But it's really just an excuse to open my good bottles of wine."

"There's good wine too?"

Paimon's face was filled with hunger. Lumine sighed and shook her head. She stated:

"In any case, it is Kaveh's good intention. Other friends will come to congratulate you as well. You should also return home. I've heard that you've only been at the Akademiya lately."

Alhaitham pondered for a moment and then replied:

"Hmm. If you two help me sort through this mound of documents and books, maybe we'll be back in time for that party."

Paimon and Lumine exchanged nods. Although they did not want to do anything, just by thinking about the upcoming party, they became more enthusiastic than ever. Occasionally, Paimon was tapped on the head by Alhaitham for making his study more messy. Lumine then had to comfort her companion by naming the delicacies that they would enjoy later that day.

Eventually, when the sun fell behind the top of the mountain, their work was temporarily settled. Paimon feared she could not fly longer and complained about being hungry the whole way back home. But when they saw Kaveh, Cyno, Tighnari, and even Nilou with Dehya waiting for them outside, all their tiredness seemed to fade away. Even Alhaitham, who always said he disliked partying, smirked slightly as everyone around him shouted in unison:

"Happy Birthday to you, Alhaitham!"

The momentary smile on Alhaitham's lips vanished. He said:

"There’s no need to be so formal. If you are all gathered here, let's go inside for a meal."

Paimon was the first to shout for joy. The group then followed one another into the house. Lumine nudged Alhaitham's arm lightly, saying:

"Celebrating a birthday at home is still preferable to being alone at the Akademiya, isn't it?"

Alhaitham nodded slightly, this time, he gave a bigger smile.

"Thanks to all of you. Especially you, Traveler."

-The end-

[cheshire-shuntaro]

Alice in Wonderland AU based on these posts by @somatheking and @prosopagn0sis This piece has been written for @k-y-u-m-a-clubs since you were my partner for @all-mad-hare's event. Hope you like it darling!

Aeons ago, when Cheshire came into existence out of the sweet void into these lands there was nothing but sprawling jungles, endless crystal-blue oceans stretching far, far into horizon, scorching-hot deserts with blinding white sands that reflected sunlight, and a few other creatures who came with him, interested in their own schemes and machinations. Slowly but surely, the landscape began transforming into castles and cities, Cheshire observing every brick that was placed to form the Red Queen's castle but also every common man to fall into the grasp of her bidding.

Mira subordinated every last creature who dared to oppose her, her army soon becoming the most disciplined and vast amongst the land. It was natural for the course of events to take such turn - the Red Queen proudly announcing that she's mustering the best men amongst her army into elite forces she called The Scarlett Squadron. Cheshire could not believe his ears, but he was intrigued: Life-and-death tournament whose champion is going to become the head of the Squadron. The madness that has overtaken her mind was very much visible on her face when she uttered the words with indescribable excitement, hardly able to contain her giggles and attacks of uncontrolable laughter.

And so, Cheshire observed from the shadows as the whole castle prepared for the event over the next few weeks, building the arena that would test the best amongst Mira's men on their endurance, fighting spirit and mercilesness. Sometimes, Cheshire would simply stay away from the prying eyes, invisible, sitting astride on unfinished arena walls as the Queen's men built intricate contraptions and death machines more similar to torture devices than apparatuses that were supposed to, in theory, test someone's abilities. Other times though, he would change shape and trot amongst those ready for death, listening to gossip and getting to know the contestants. He noticed him right away, a man built as if he was a cliff chisled by the waves of the crystal-blue ocean waters, long, raven curls falling upon his shoulders, gentle eyes, treating his fellow contestants with utmost respect and friendliness worthy of a noble knight. Though, this whole image of gentleness and kindness was not why he got noticed by the kitty-cat, he stood out like a sore thumb because he wore nothing more but a little brown modesty garment upon his groin, proudly putting his sharp muscle lines on display. His name, Cheshire later learned, was Kyuma, he thought that it was absolutely ridiculous and that if anyone should be in charge of the murder squadron of the mad queen, it should and will be him and Cheshire will make sure of it.

The games began with a lavish last supper in the now extravagantly decorated courtyard of the Red Queen's castle, where the contestants drank and ate to their heart's content, having the time of their lives before most of them would perish under the queen's death machines and other tournament participant's swords. That night, during the time of the feast Cheshire took an image of the common man and mixed in with the drunk crowd, wanting to assure himself for the last time that he chose the head of the squadron well. Of course, as it was in his nature, he could not help but play a few tricks on the party-goers, a handful of people got their shoelaces tied together, others their beer swapped out with toilet water. As it tends to be, intoxicated creatures caused fights where many lives were lost prematurely, before they had the chance to prove themselves before the queen, and as Cheshire was trotting amongst the chaos of the party he observed a scene that only confirmed that the choice he had made was correct. The scene playing out before him was almost tear-inducing for Cheshire, but also strange, given the circumstances - the chiseld future champion Kyuma, bleeding and wounded, tending to another man's injuries with gentleness and kindness Cheshire felt beaming from him before. That evening the kitty-cat swore that he will do everything in his power to help that man win.

As he foretold, so it happened. The tournament had begun and over the next few days many men lost their lives to the whims of the Red Queen. Dying in complicated death contraptions and fellow participant's swords, falling to their death, losing their heads, breaking bones and backs until there were only two final contestants left to stand - Kyuma and a strange, older man of long beard and sun-kissed complexion, both beaten and exhausted. Throughout the games Cheshire helped the gentle champion in various ways, as much as she could, he would trip his opponents, throw sand in their eyes or gently tap Kyuma on the shoulder if he did not see a blow coming, it all payed out in the end. The last phase of the tournament - a classic, noble duel to life and death with bare hands. As the sands of the arena swiveled, mixed with scarlett blood and Mira gave the final speech in which she wished the contestants good luck, the two men faced each other, their eyes determined and their heads held high. With the roar of the spectators the final champions flung at each other with impressive speed, and soon their bodies were tangled, and their limbs twisted. Cheshire floating in his invisible form right above them, mixing in with the swivled sands of the arena. For a brief moment it seemed like the old man would come on top but Kyuma's body twisted and a final punch was delievered, leaving the older man knocked out on the floor of white sand. Kyuma stood up, as the crowd roared once more to greet the new head of the Scarlett Squadron. He sprawled his hands to his sides and begun roaring with the crowd, to celebrate his victory, not noticing the slight twitch in the older man's leg. The opponent was not done, luckily Cheshire caught it in time, he appeared next to a wall where the bearded man lay, with a slight push he knocked one of the loose, red bricks from the wall. It spun around in the air and fell upon the older man's head with a dull thud, caving his face in, scarlett blood pouring under him. Cheshire looked around, as usual he was unnoticed, this whole scene was drowned out by the victory celebration and spectator's shouts. Kitty-cat grinned to himself, successful in his scheme he floated away to rest on one of the nearby oak branch, to become unpartial one more.

Years later, when they all went mad here and the King of Heart's head rolled upon the castle's courtyard for the countless time, Cheshire remembered this story, how he made the right choice which turned out wrong in the end. Kyuma became the one to bring Soma back from his escapades with The White Queen, the head dog of Mira's guard. Still gentle and respectful but now, completely and utterly under the Queen's bidding.

[thelavenderelf]

WIP Whenever ✨

I know this is a few days late, but I've been tagged by @friend-of-giants and @miraakulous-cloud-district to share some WIPs! I normally don't like sharing snippets of my writing while I still work on it, but I'm in a "don't let your perfectionism get in the way and just share the thing" mood. So here is a raw, unedited snippet of the beginning of Unstable Chapter 3!

I tag anyone who reads this 😘

Images of marble hallways lit by a cold moon haunt Sylvana's mind. The hall stretches on forever, yet its walls webbed with golden filigree constrict her lungs. She needs to run. Needs to escape. But like the columns lining the walls, her legs are stiff and she falls. A sharp blade drips crimson onto ancient stone floors, making a pool that reflects a cruel, smiling maw lunging for her throat. 

She jerks awake and hits her forehead on the edge of a table. A string of curses leaves her as she falls back down. Sweat drips between her back and the shoddy bench she lays upon. She rubs her head, trying to soothe the annoying throbbing pain that won't go away. 

Another nightmare? Really? This better not become a habit but so far it's two for two. What makes it worse is that it played out like the one she had earlier. It must be the stress mixed with the aftereffects of whatever was in that poison. It still hasn’t worn off despite it being hours since she was stuck. 

Clumsy fingers reach for her unfinished bottle of mead but find a metal chain instead. She pulls it and the strange amulet from earlier dangles above her face. She studies it, taking a closer look now that she has the time. The amethyst embedded into serpentine ebony gleams in the firelight. She swears the amulet is an exact copy of Savos Aren's, a perfect match. Even the slight hum of magic triggers the sting of bittersweet familiarity.

Savos Aren was a man of many secrets yet forthcoming whenever she needed him. He always wore his amulet. At one point she inquired about it, mesmerized by its elegant design but he brushed her off. It was unusual for him to dodge a question like that but at the time it didn’t seem important so she let it go. Now she’ll have to feel guilty while going through his things to find answers.

Perhaps the amulets are family heirlooms and she stumbled across one that was lost. Or maybe it's a coincidence and whoever made the pendants just really like this particular design. She could also just be reading way too into things, but it's better than spiraling down the pit of grief that sits heavy on her chest from Kodlak’s death. 

If only Lucien were here, she could bounce her theories off of him and listen to his. He would be saying something off the wall yet incredibly profound right now. Like, "what if the Silverhand  looted it off of a werewolf who was Savos's secret lover?" 

Gods, she misses her friends. They temporarily split for a while after accidentally cracking open a hornet’s nest of Thalmor while trying to steal back a family heirloom for a client. She misses Lucien’s outlandish observations, Inigo’s crazy yet true stories, Auri’s cannibalism jokes, and Kaidan’s constant cussing. Everything would be so much better if they were here, and she could pull herself together with one big group hug. And better yet, she wouldn’t be here with Vilkas. 

Ugh, that scruffy asshole! Why in Oblivion would she open up about her mother to him, of all people? Even her close friends barely know anything about that, yet she served it to him on a silver platter. And the worst part is that he sat there, listened, and then had the audacity to show compassion. She’s never felt more embarrassed, and she hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. 

With a groan, she lifts herself to rest her head on the table. The bottle of unfinished mead reunites with her and they share a long kiss. Ah, Nordic Mead, the only lover she will ever need. 

The pieces of Wuuthrad are haphazardly spread out before her, a puzzle beckoning to be solved and she complies. She picks up each individual piece and arranges them to try and resemble the legendary battleaxe. One particular fragment makes her pause— a snow elf frozen in an eternal scream is carved into what she assumes is the head of the axe. It’s suiting for a weapon nicknamed “the elf-grinder.” She smooths her fingers over the dark metal and sighs. The horrors this poor elf must have seen. 

“Oh the stories you could tell,” she whispers to it like an old friend. 

“Read the Songs of the Return if you want your story.” A voice speaks up, making her jump and drop the piece. It clatters on the table as she turns to see Vilkas leaning on a pillar. He smooths his disheveled hair away from his tired eyes. 

"You– Don't startle me like that!" Rarely anyone is able to sneak up on her, she doesn't allow it. No one, except… No. It reminds her too much of skilled fingers, a sly smile, and a voice that always sent shivers down her spine with his honeyed words. She'd much rather forget him, for now. 

"Huh, maybe I am a good sneak." A shit-eating grin spreads across his face as he takes a seat next to her, leaning back on the table.

"Fuck you,” she grumbles. Now It’s her turn to be the grumpy asshole. 

“Does it really bother you that much?” He chuckles.

"Yes, and I would appreciate it if you didn't do it again.” She enunciates her words carefully, making sure he understands. 

"Alright, alright."  A lovely smile graces his face that, clears the storm clouds from her mind. She's so used to seeing him scowling that she's thrown off whenever he does it. It's rusty yet tender enough to light up the room. She wonders what a full-blown smile of his would look like and what it would take to get it.

Also, I was wondering if any of my beloved mutuals would be interested in being a beta reader for me? I can pay in doodles and beta read as well <3

[juleteon]

Terra Sonalis Draft - Rana meeting Selkouni for the first time

The woven fabric hanging around her chest was stained in oil smears, handcrafted tools and various intricate pieces were scattered under the shadow of the large craft. Any pause from the noise of metalworking was followed by a snark, a huff or a groan. The mechanic worked tediously. Rana knew what she was doing, she identified the problem right at first glance. This was a common Sonalis transport craft, a sophisticated design within a lightweight frame which was mostly used by food growers to bring their harvest down from the tops or up from the roots to the town-level. When the machine was brought to her earlier that evening, the sight of it knocked a tired  sigh out of her lips. “Did the stars curse me?! Another crashed one?” The tall, large-built reptile who brought the inanimate “patient” to the entrance of the cavern shrugged “Hey Ran, You know I bring those to you just the way I find them” the feline only flicked her tail and rolled her eyes in return. “Listen, you are doing a great job bringing those miserable-looking things back to life, and any means of transportation, conventional or not, would really help us out right now” The lizards voice was raspy and deep, there was an almost desperate tone to his words, he paused, then continued “There is tension in the city, I know you want to do as little as possible with what's going on but--” Rana interrupted him with a hiss “Spare me the details, Tyro. I'll take the job, but leave me out of that mess, as you can see I have quite enough of it on my own” she spread her arms, gesturing at the space around her - stacked and busy with equipment, materials, tools, dirty clothes and empty jugs. Tyro nodded. It was the peak of night when she had finished. In the past, she would've stepped back to take a better look at the final repaired craft, taking in the view of it looking sparkling to feed the little pride-hungry heart of hers with some joy, but not this time. She didn't even bother to rise from her kneel, instead, she allowed herself to stretch her body on the cold rocky floor and lay down. Fuchsia eyes staring at the ceiling. Where once used to hover stalactites, now hung dozens of structures suspended by ropes and threads - various unfinished models capturing long lost ideas, inspirations frozen in time. She did not want to fall to the temptation of morbid curiosity and even wonder about the state in which the city she left was currently leading itself into. How long has it been? She raised her prosthetic arm to count the years on her fingers. Four.

--

The sensation of being constantly watched over has probably been the part of the deal for a runaways' fate, but this time it was too powerful to snooze away. The decision behind choosing a cavern for a hiding was to take advantage to know that the observer's location will be at the opening - and being the only one familiar with the secret tunnels and escape routes within the rocky walls. The illusion of being trapped worked as distraction, a blinding cloud of confidence to whoever could plan to corner her. Rana glanced at the direction of the various exists, briefly noting the closest ones, then cautiously turned around. At the taller branch of the tree to her left sat a strange creature, their large brown eyes following the mechanic's steps. Wait - she stopped, and blinked - it was a felid, too. Indeed, the “creature's” posture was severely unusual and feral compared to the people of her kin, but, the features of their body seemed too similar to dismiss the most obvious of conclusions.

[flockrest]

nonverbal prompts / accepting / @gloryseized

aid help them with a task. from Link to Tulin

     A good warrior always pays attention, and always closely observes their surroundings for potential scrimmages. Not that he's being a warrior right now — or that he needs to be at a time like this — but he figures the ways of the effective warrior, as decreed by Dad would apply here, too.

     It's with wide eyes and a beak shoved in too-close that he watches Link go about his culinary doings, noting all the motions he makes with the cooking pot and the ingredients he throws into the cooking stew. A faithful student, 'cept maybe he's also being an annoying one; not for the first, second, or even sixth time, Tulin finds his feathers brushing up against Link's side again. Oops.

     "Sorry!" he strains to whisper, withdrawing. Just for a beat or two, though. He's back to pushing himself into the process in a way that is definitely not helpful before long.

     How else is he gonna learn how much rock salt he should be adding, or what colours the soup should be turning, or how many times he should be stirring, and so many other cooking things he'd totally mess up ( has totally messed up ) 'cause the most cooked thing he's ever made involved— like— four steps!

     This is an important dish, for an important person! Botching it once alone is fine, whatever, but botching it when he's got the amazing chef that is Link here to learn from? When he asked for Link's help in the first place? Embarrassing to the highest degree.

     He tries reviewing all the steps he's seen so far in his mind's eye, determined to commit them all to memory, only to hit a snag every time he tries going past the fifth one. Then it's past the fourth step, 'cause he's suddenly confused and doubtful. Then it's the third step.

     "Uhh, Link?" he cheeps, high and warbling. He can't help the wince that pinches his beak when the whole recipe, even unfinished as it is, falls to its last pieces in his head. Why is remembering archery rules and forms and tips and basically everything 'bout being the best archer ever easier than this? "I know I said I only needed help learning, but— d'you think we could just," he shakes his wings at what will no doubt be a real delicious stew, "use your food?"

     Mum would at least have a chance of recovering something from her sickness with Link's cooking. She's only lost stuff like her guts with Tulin's.