#i've been here a few (several?) times + this was BY FAR the most beautiful + magical day

[foxsoulcourt]

drinking up the majesty of these colours + shapes

grateful to share the magic of this place w/2 DeLigHtFuL companions that day : @fuzzballsheltiepants + @justadreamfox (who did the heroic job of driving the whole dang day-into-night)

[monocaelia]

fragile.

' you have broken down my defenses, and i don’t really resent it. ' - vita sackville west

in which you really don't want to care about him and his careless attitude, but you always find yourself coming back to him. always. feat. diluc ragnvindr & gn!reader w.c : 5k warnings : childhood friends to lovers, diluc lore spoilers, minor angst but ends w fluff, diluc ragnvindr. note : happy new year! sorry for the delay hehe, but this is for @seraphiism's 2023 collab event !! please support the other authors and enjoy the fic ^^

your mother had always instructed you to stay close to her side, to never stray far away from her lest you find yourself in trouble with the master of the winery or the other servants working the orchards and tending to the land of the estate.

but with a beautiful land of ripe grapes and friendly staff greeting you as you rush past them, how could you ever just sit still beside your mother as she did her job around the winery?

the late summer breeze rushes past your face as you weave through the wooden stakes holding the wiry vines of grapes above you. the warm sun rays heat your skin as you leap over the small rocks that litter the passage leading into the main area of the ragnvindr estate. the wind whispers in your ear, making you grin as your little legs take you wherever it guides you.

you feel free, the wind pushing past your wings to lead you to your newest adventure around the manor.

your feet land firmly on the grounds behind the manor when you hear the gentle sniffles coming from behind a couple of barrels. despite your mother's warnings echoing in your head, you take gentle steps towards the sound as curiosity takes over.

you're not expecting to see a young boy with fiery red hair and matching eyes that hold the warmest, flickering fire glaring up at you with tears at the corner of his eyes and holding a bleeding knee.

"...are you okay?" you ask, kneeling down beside him. you begin to frown when he pulls his knee away from you and his glare deepens.

"i don't need your help," the young boy hisses at you and you roll your eyes.

"really? you don't need my help even though you're crying in a corner all by yourself?" you scoff at him. he doesn't say anything in retaliation and you take it as an okay for you to help him.

you pull a handkerchief from your pocket; nothing too fancy as your family couldn't afford the finest silks like the nobles could. it's cotton, white, and had a simple design of a little sparrow emroidered in the corner.

"i don't have any bandages on me," you mumble softly. your little fingers gently wrap the handkerchief around the young boy's knee several times before tying a small knot on it. without even blinking, you lean down to kiss the wounded knee.

"what are you doing?!" the young boy exclaims, yanking his knee away.

"kissing it better," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "my mother always does that when i get hurt. she says it takes the pain away and makes it heal faster."

"that's stupid," the boy mumbles with a glare.

"says the one who tripped and fell and hurt himself," you argue back. you stick your tongue out when the boy shouts out a 'hey!' and roll your eyes.

"who are you and what are you doing here anyways?" you ask the young boy, kneeling beside him once more. he's still glaring at you, but it's less hostile than it was a few moments ago. "my mom said strangers aren't allowed to be here."

the young boys eyes are red, vibrantly so. the life in them burn brightly, reminding you of a fire as it flickers with warmth and a promise of a brighter tomorrow. like the hearth of a fireplace, the young boy seems to be the incarnate of warmth itself with the way he's filled with the flame of life.

"i live here, dummy," he quips back at you with a frown and your eyes widen.

"really? i've never seen you around, and i've been everywhere on this estate," you reply, bringing your thumb and forefinger to your chin as you remain deep in thought. truly, the only people you've managed to catch were all adults working for the master of this winery. never once have you seen a kid running along.

with a bright smile of your own, you lean towards the young boy. "we should be friends! since i don't know anyone else to play with here, we can play!"

the boy looks you up and down with furrowed brows, but he slowly nods. "...okay," he mumbles and you grin brighter.

"great! what's your name then? i'm-"

your name is shouted as hurried footsteps rush towards you. your mother pulls you aside as she looks at the young boy in front of you with panicked eyes.

"young master, i'm so sorry if my child said or did anything to hurt you," your mother says in a rush. she pushes your head down to bow in front of the young boy. she hisses something into your ear and you stutter out your own apology too, even if you did nothing wrong.

you find out the young boy you helped earlier that day was the son of the nobleman your mother works for, diluc ragnvindr. apparently, he's some big deal because he's the young master, but what kind of big deal hurts himself and hides between the barrels instead of asking for help?

you huff as you kick your feet sitting down by your bedside. because of the whole debacle, your mother had ordered you to stay inside to prevent even more debacles from happening even if you explained that the young master getting injured was not your fault. the sun shining from your windowsill feels so far away as you stare outside and ponder what to do.

until you hear a light pattering sound come from your window.

your curiosity is piqued as your small frame approaches the glass panes, wide eyes peeking over the wooden frame as your eyes scan the scenery.

the foliage of the trees surrounding your home cast shadows over your house with small animals running back and forth from the greenery above, causing the rustling of the leaves. the sun trickles in through the gaps of the leaves and your eyes settle on the boy with red hair standing outside your window, a small rock in his hand.

there's a proper bandage on his knee now as it was properly dressed, and his fiery eyes meet yours. he looks hesitant at first, but his brows furrow and his lips open to prepare to speak.

"...come outside and play with me," he tells you when you push open the window in your bedroom, a slight pout in his voice.

"you got me in trouble," you reply shortly, "and now i'm stuck inside because of you."

the young boy bites his lip, pondering what he could do or say to make things better. from the way he's thinking hard enough for you to see steam coming out of his ears, you could tell that he was trying really hard to think of anything to say.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles, kicking the dirt with his shoe.

"sorry, what was that?" you ask, holding your ear out.

the young master huffs, his cheeks puffed out in annoyance. he stomps his foot before-

"i said 'i'm sorry'!"

you smile at him smugly before crossing your arms on the windowsill. it was amusing to see the supposed young master like this; for such a renowned young boy, he was such a cry baby.

"okay, i can't go outside, but we can still play inside if that's okay," you tell him with a bright smile. "i'll let you in!"

"diluc..." he says, red eyes meeting yours. he reminds you of a fire with the way he's looking at you; so full of life but almost burning you if you get him too riled up. but the flames are tame now compared to the anxious flickers you saw earlier before he apologized.

"okay; i'll let you in then, diluc!"

ever since that warm summer, you and diluc have been inseparable; every afternoon is spent exploring the land of the winery but never straying far enough to get lost or end up on the other side of the lake where monsters lurk.

you were there the evening master crepus brought home another young boy around your age home; his blue hair reminding you of the blueberries your mother bought from mondstadt for you to eat. it was a bit of an adjustment with another young boy to play with, but soon you got along well with him as well.

his bright blue eyes always sparkling as you invite him to play alongside diluc and his little hand held in yours. he reminded you of the stars above with the way his eyes twinkle with youth and reflect the night sky above you when the three of you snuck out of your homes to stargaze with your hands holding onto each other until the morning sun began to rise over the horizon.

with your hands held tightly with diluc's and kaeya's, your youth together was only just beginning.

it's a cool morning where the early frost is beginning to melt as the sun continues to rise over the horizon, spreading her warmth and love across the fields of dawn winery. the young master has been gone for a couple days now; something about some sort of knight exam or whatever happening in the city of mondstadt. you would have gone with him, but your duties lie in caring for the winery whilst your friends head off to the heart of mondstadt to finish their training and hopefully become part of the knights of favonius that crepus ragnvindr had always encouraged them to be a part of.

you know having their father's praise meant a lot to your dear friends and you could only hope for the best for both diluc and kaeya as they were off doing their duties.

your ears perk as your name is shouted through the winery along with the sound of hooves rapidly against the dirt road. over in the distance, you can make out a red haired young man galloping over on his steed at near full speed. with wide eyes, you try to tell him to slow down before you get trampled and-

"oof!" you groan as a heavy body slams into you, both his weight and warmth tackling you to the ground. you're thankful that his arms cradled your head as you both go tumbling into the dirt road underneath you and the only pain was that of your body against the floor.

you don't even get to question why diluc had tackled you to the floor when he pulls his face away from you, giving you a clear view of his expression. he's smiling brightly, a wide grin on his face and his eyes of rubies twinkling brighter than any flame you've ever seen. the flames of his soul flicker brilliantly in his excitement and you can't help your own match his energy.

"i got in!" diluc says, his boyish smile growing wider. the small divots in his cheeks are cute and evidence of how hard he was grinning at the news. "i passed the trials got to do the oath swear and- oh, i wish you could've been there!"

despite growing up into a more mature-ish teen, it is moments like these where you're reminded that even as time passes and he grows taller than you, diluc is still the bright eyed boy that you've known since you were young. he looks so cute, in an endearing way, when he eagerly tells you all about his trials and how tough they were.

you really hope that the young master stays the same as he is now.

with a gentle hand, you reach up to ruffle his hair; it's soft to the touch and your eyes don't miss the way diluc pauses in his excitement as your fingers weave into his hair. you assume it's because he's not used to your praise and brush it off, even as he leans into your touch and waits for your words.

"why don't we head inside first? i want to hear everything that happened, but inside where it's warm and comfortable rather than on the dirt floor, diluc," you say to him, a slight lilt in your voice. you laugh softly when you see his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment before he gets off of you.

"i apologize, i was just so eager to tell you," diluc says softly, reaching down to offer a hand to you. you take his hand; you can feel the natural warmth emanating from his body through his gloves and, before you know it, you've been pulled up from the ground. his arm wraps around your waist to assure that you're balanced as you stand up.

"i just," diluc begins. you watch him as the young master of the winery averts his gaze briefly before he meets yours, warm rubies enveloping you with nothing but the comfort he holds for you ever since you were both younger.

"i wanted you to be the first person i told and to tell you."

a wave of something pleasant washes over you knowing that diluc, the heir of dawn winery and one of the most hardworking and talented man in all of mondstadt, rushed back home on horseback in the early hours of this chilly morning just to announce the news to you in person.

just so he could be your first in regards to his good news.

you laugh softly as something warm settles into the pit of your heart, squeezing his hand in yours as you tug him towards the main mansion of the winery estate with no intentions of letting his go for the time being.

even with the budding flowers of youth begin to bloom and the happiness that was promised to you has yet to come, you would have never expected for the spring of your youth to end so abruptly.

it happened all so quickly; crepus ragnvindr wielding a delusion, his death and the anger of diluc exploding, and the fall of your friendship with kaeya and diluc.

you weren't given the details of either one's situation, just a witness of a near death experience and the unforgiven apologies spewing from kaeya's lips as he held his injured eye in the midst of the rain washing down on them as if mourning both the loss of crepus ragnvindr and the wound wedged deep between the relationship of the ragnvindr brothers.

it was like in a mere second, the once warm diluc that would blush and hold your hand so delicately had been wiped away and replaced by a diluc grieving the loss of his father as the flames of his anger and betrayal of both his own brother and the knights of favonius for trying to brush the murder of his father under the rug explode and engulf his entire being.

he doesn't even give you a proper goodbye, leaving only a letter dedicated to you and his vision dimly glowing on his nightstand behind.

it feels like a fever dream when you hear the news of diluc finally returning after all of these years. you don't even hear it from the man himself; rather, from the whispers and excited chatter that the master of dawn winery had returned home.

part of you is excited at the news that he's alive; with no news of his existence after he ran from home in search of the truth behind his father's death other than the faint glow and warmth radiating from his vision clutched in your hands when you missed and worried for him, you were ecstatic knowing that he truly was home now.

that he's alive and breathing and still with you.

and yet, another part of you twinges in pain that he didn't come to you and announce that he was home. he had left you without even a single goodbye, not even bothering to visit you and explain his situation before leaving you questioning whether or not he even cared about how you felt about him.

of course, you aren't entitled to being the first to know, but after growing up together and usually being the first to know of everything in your youth, your heart aches knowing you were one of the last to hear of this at the winery.

it doesn't help knowing that you have not even caught a glimpse of diluc after his supposed return.

so imagine your surprise coming home one evening, the cool night air biting against your skin as you return home after a long day's work, seeing a figure leaning against your home.

at first, your blood turns cold as your heart races in your ears; it couldn't be anyone bad... the winery is a safe place and any suspicious figures are dealt with accordingly before they even step close to the winery grounds. you don't even have anything to defend yourself against if they did happen to be someone with malicious intent.

you take a step back to turn tail back to the estate but freeze when you begin to recognize the figure outside your door; red curls resembling that of flames flickering in the air and warm ruby eyes that you could recognize anywhere. despite standing in the dim evening light and having only the glow of the lantern outside of your home, you could make out the injuries through his dark clothing.

just what did he get himself into?

you hesitate at first, but eventually let your instincts take control as you begin to walk over to your home. it's as if you were both in the blooming stages of your youth again, bringing diluc home to mend his wounds after training for the knight exams.

caring for him was like muscle memory to you, even after all of the events leading to him leaving you in the dust.

you don't say a word as you open the wooden door and guide diluc in, pulling out a chair by the fireplace. wordlessly, he sits in it as you leave to prepare to clean his wounds.

your fingers shake ever so slightly as you remove diluc's coat from his shoulders, the heavy fabric falling to the floor with a thud. you apologize softly as you begin to unbutton his shirt and, as each button is undone and reveals more of his skin, your fingers begin to flinch every time your skin brushes against the skin of his chest.

his breath is warm, you can feel it against your skin as you slide off the remaining clothes on his torso. his chest is bare to you, and normally you would be gawking at how much he has physically changed since you were younger. but you cannot help but stare at how much he had been injured in the last few years you have seen him.

aside from the scratches from the most recent scuffle which led him to your quaint home beside his manor, scars litter his chest and arms. although most of them are healed, the damage that he had experienced was still evident on his skin and you hold back a gasp at how deep some of them had been; there's a huge scar that runs diagonally from the top of his chest to his stomach and you could already feel your stomach churning at the pain.

you couldn't imagine having to sustain those injuries for so long, and being alone through it all.

and, now, you hope that the injuries currently on his body heal faster knowing that he isn't alone this time. not when he has you by his side.

diluc's eyes burn holes into your skull as he watches you dip a towel into the bucket of warm water at your side; you pretend to ignore him. twisting the soaked cloth to rid it of the excess water, you gently begin to clean the wounded man in front of you.

a man you consider an old friend, but you fear he doesn't hold the same sentiment. not anymore.

it's quiet, the only sound shared between the two of you being the occasional sound of the towel dumped back into the bucket and the crackling of the fireplace in your living space. the moon casts her illuminating rays through the window of your home, but her light is nothing compared to the comfort of the fire in your home.

the comfort of the man in front of you, even if you didn't want to ever admit it to him now.

the glass jars containing the disinfecting ointment for diluc's wounds clink gently as you open them to spread over his skin.

"why are you helping me?" his voice breaks the thick silence between you two. his sudden question makes your hands pause, but you don't raise your head as you think of something to reply.

"and let an old friend bleed to death outside my door? you think i'm that heartless, diluc?" you ask him. your fingers resume their previous job of slathering the medicine over his new wounds. "i could say the same to you, why show up to my house like this?"

another silence follows your words and you assume he's done interrogating you for your kindness to him.

"i had nowhere else to turn to," diluc says after a while. your eyes catch his fists tighten on his lap as he takes another breath. "you've shown me nothing but kindness even after i was so cruel to you."

you exhale softly at his words. of course he thinks dealing with his own problems this entire time was the worst thing he could do to you. if you were being honest, it did hurt when he seemingly pretended you didn't exist or pushed you away when he had returned home from whatever he was dealing with away from mondstadt.

you had hoped for a joyful reunion, one filled with tears as you finally welcome home your old friend. but he never announced when he was coming home and you only figured out through the grapevine. he was never home when you looked for him and when you finally caught a glimpse of him, your eyes would meet for barely a second before he rushed off elsewhere and leaving you in the dust.

according to kaeya, his brother whom you've kept in touch with throughout the years. diluc had changed even more ever since his return; he kept his feelings to himself and his face remained 'constipated,' as per kaeya's words, due to his inner turmoil.

but from everyone else, he had always been so kind to them. the old women in the city would always praise how gentle the young master was, helping them walk across the city or carrying their groceries if they needed it. the young women also constantly swooned over how mysterious, yet warm-hearted diluc was; seemingly cold in nature but treating children and animals with such tenderness.

"it did hurt knowing you were ignoring me," you confess as your fingers begin to unravel the gauze to wrap over his wounds. "even if you wanted everyone to think you've changed and have become cold and guarded, i know you're still the same caring boy i've known since we were young. i hope so, at least."

his skin is warm to the touch, another feature you realize has never changed about your old friend. with bated breath, you lift your head to let your gaze finally settle on diluc's own. just as you predicted, despite the physical changes, you can still see the diluc you once knew within the scarred and older man in front of you.

diluc has definitely gotten older; the baby fat on his face slimming down slightly to reveal a more defined jaw and the bags under his eyes were evidence of his restless nights away from mondstadt. there are light scars on his face, nothing too deep to keep from his princely demeanor but are definitely proof of a troubling journey, and he has grown taller than the last time you had seen him in your youth.

but one thing that has never changed is the fire the lights up his eyes. so red and warm, you're tempted to hold his face in your hands to get a closer look. they're so vibrant, alive like the embers that flicker in the fireplace that lights your home, as they stare back at you in anticipation of your next words.

"you would never intend to hurt me on purpose. so if i should have to wait forever for you to be ready to come to me like you've had in the past, i don't mind doing so."

diluc's stoic expression wavers at your words. a sliver of guilt shines in his eyes and he looks away briefly as he digests the words you've spoken to him.

he couldn't tell you the reasons why he always kept you at arm's length; was he wary of your intentions for always being kind to him despite how he treated you or was he so used to people close to him lying to his face that he feared you were also pulling a facade?

or was he scared of you sharing the same fate as his family should he loved you with his heart on his sleeve, a fate of being held in his arms as he feels the warmth that once comforted him when you were young fade away like the embers in the hearth of a fireplace?

diluc did not want to know and he did not need to know, not when you're looking at him with such trust and compassion that he finds it hard to even hold any distrust towards you.

his dear friend from his youth who was always there to pick him up when he fell.

you did not break through the walls shielding diluc's heart for you had already found your place beside it, holding he's life with your gentle hands and protecting his soul's flames with your faith in him.

"i'm sorry," diluc apologizes to you, looking into your eyes. one of your hands is grabbed to be held by him, rough and scarred and so calloused as it held the memories and grief of what he went through to become like the man in front of you, the gauze held in your other. his warmth seeps into your skin, heating up your skin as the flames of his heart grow and encase your entire being within its embrace.

your lips part to say something, but he continues to speak.

"i thought keeping you away would benefit us both," he takes a breath as his eyes scan over your own features, taking in all that has changed since the last time he saw you in your adolescent years; how much you've grown both physically and emotionally. you look so much more mature than the naughty child who ran around breaking their mother's rules just to play with him or the dear friend who would bicker with him endlessly during their teenage years.

the years of their beautiful youth, years that he wished so dearly he could go back to and live in that peace for eternity.

but while the winds continue to blow and move time along, you've continued to stay the same despite the change.

you're still so kind, so inviting to someone like him.

you treat him like the friend you've remembered in your adolescence, even if his hands were bloodied with vengeance and his heart is scarred and wounded from betrayal and deceit.

he is still diluc, just diluc in your bright and beautiful eyes; he always had been.

his hands squeeze yours tightly, hoping that he has the courage to say what he wants to say.

"i don't deserve your kindness, or your love. but if i imagine a life where i have succeeded in pushing you away and we no longer talk," diluc begins, the fire in his eyes wavering as they hold your gaze.

"i don't think i would ever want to live a life where you're not in it."

diluc's words shake you to your core; it's something you wouldn't expect him to say now after all these years. as much as you want to immediately forgive him and push back the years of agony, waiting for any sign that he was alive while leaving his vision behind, or even watching as he ignores you despite being home after all these years, your heart aches knowing knowing he even did this to you in the first place.

"how can i know that you won't leave me like you did?" your voice is small despite being so close to him. in fear of having him see how much his actions have affected you, you face tilts down to your lap to avoid his gaze. "i can't just wait for you forever, it hurts sitting here all these years with a promise i don't even know if you'll keep."

you take a shaky breath as you speak again.

"you didn't even say goodbye."

your voice breaks as you say those words and you can feel the burning sensation as the tears threaten to spill over your eyes.

there's a moment of silence between the two of you before you hear him gently call out your name. his free hand reaches up to cup your face, tentatively guiding you to face him. he says your name again, softly as if even saying your name too harshly would cause you to break, and you hesitantly meet his gaze.

there's a tenderness that you recognize deep in those fiery pools in his eyes, one that flickers like the hearth of your fireplace and suddenly you feel like you're experiencing the most beautiful yet fleeting moment in life once more. diluc's thumb gently presses against your cheek to wipe away any tears that overflowed from your already wet eyes.

his pinky links with your own, a childish thing to do but one that you still hold dear to your own heart.

a promise between the two of you bathed in firelight and your youth reflected back at you in the shape of the young man sitting before you.

[mecachrome]

silverstone 2024 landoscar post-race stage > full transcript + gifs

watching recordings of this stage genuinely makes my ears hurt because of the crowd noise and i also find the 132843 videos and photos so hard to keep track of so i was like... fuckit, let me transcribe it once and for all so i can have access to a written recap for reference! figured i'd post here in case it's of any use to anyone else... i compiled different fan-posted material to provide visuals from multiple angles whenever possible since i wanted to piece together a somewhat comprehensive summary; sources are linked but if any ops run across this post lmk if you'd like something removed 🙏

(tbh i mostly made this because i wanted the Three (3) instances of them touching in one post. sorry)

Host: Lando and Oscar. What can I say? Wow! Lando: Hello! Beautiful, huh? It's beautiful to see so many people here. H: This is the most people we've had all weekend. They've all come back for you guys, who've come and seen us after the race. How are you both doing? Oscar: (pauses) A lot better now! L: Yeah, better now. We're—we're both... (strokes Oscar's shoulder) we're both a little bit unhappy with how the race ended, but uhhh. You made our day.

"We're both… we're both a little unhappy..." (x)

O: Yes. You really have, so thank you! H: As you said, you were a little bit unhappy, but I have a feeling that every single one of you [fans] is absolutely ecstatic to have these guys up here. I mean, this is... potentially like one of the best crowds you guys have ever had, right? L: Oh no, this is, uh. I think this is even better than last year, so. O: Yeah. (crowd cheering) H: Oscar, what is it like getting all this love from the Brits? We love you! O: (slight pause) Weird, but I love it. So thank you everyone. I know there's a few Aussies here as well, so thanks everyone that's traveled far and wide, thanks everyone for putting up with the weather… Ummm. And yeah. Thanks for supporting us. H: We've got several Oscar signs. I just saw an Oscar sign here— (O: Thank you.) We've got "Let's go Oscar" here… (Crowd starts chanting Ohhh, Oscar Piastri) Lando. I've seen so many signs here saying that next year is your year, mate. "Champion next year." World champion next year for Lando Norris! (crowd cheering) O: (looks over and gently elbows Lando's arm)

(x) / (x)

H: These guys are all behind you! L: Aww... shit. Nah, I'm uh… I'm good. I'm just—you know, there's one race every year where you want to do better than anywhere else, and that's here. This is the one race, and things were going so beautifully, I was leading the majority of the race, and… yeah. It hurts! It hurts coming away from it knowing I almost could've won in my home race, and that's been my dream since I was a kid. So. I'm sorry! But… I'll save it for next year.  H: Hold on a minute. I don't think you need to apologize for anything. I think these guys are still absolutely over-the-moon. I think I can speak on behalf of every single person here to say that they're immensely proud of you and your performance this year. And that goes for you too, Oscar! The team as a whole. This is your team's home race... L: (stares at Oscar intensely and quickly pats his arm) O: (giggles)

(x) / (x)

H: And look at all the papaya! That's all I can say, look at it. O: Yeah. We have the best fans, so thank you very much. To steal that line from Lewis, we have the best fans.  H: What is it actually like being up here, though? Soaking this up. I mean, we never do this any other race; this is the only race we come back to after the race is done and see all of the fans. How special is it? L: It's, uh… it's quite easily the best race of the whole year. It's genuinely the most incredible feeling standing here, having so much support. It was a hard act to follow after Lewis was here, but we want to come back and we want to do better every single time. (gestures at teleprompter) You've only got two minutes left, but I could stay here all night. H: Okay! I just want to say, you do this to me often on stage. You always read my [teleprompter] and tell me when I need to wrap up.  L: (shrugs) H: (sarcastic) I've got it, thank you. Thank you very much. (notices crowd chanting for a shoey) Oh, they want a shoey! L: (softly, shaking head) No.  O: Not happening. H: I think that's a you thing, that's definitely an Aussie thing. O: Last year I got peer pressured. I'm not going to have it again. H: Can we peer pressure you again? O: (shakes head)

(x)

H: Lando, can we peer pressure him again, d'you reckon? L & O: (exchange knowing glances) O: I did one last year, though. L: (teasing) You're going to let down sooo many people!  O: …Well, since you put it that way. 

"You're going to let down sooo many people!" "...Well, since you put it that way." (x) / (x)

H: We've got the beer here! It's happening! (crowd cheering) L: (shakes can) H: Right. Get the shoe off, get the shoe off. (Oscar toes off his right shoe) Oh, the shoe is off! L: (chugs from can, then bends down to fill up Oscar's shoe) O: (pointing between them while Lando shakes his head) You're doing it too!!!  O: (drinks) H: Lando, I think you've got to!  O: (insistently hands Lando his shoe)

(x) / (x) / (x)

H: Everyone, make some noise for Lando. Top it up, Lando. Don't hold back. L: Cheers. (drinks, dumps out the rest, shakes Oscar's shoe out and then tosses it into crowd) O: (bends over and giggles helplessly) [x2]

(x)

H: Guys, absolutely sensational effort from you both. Fantastic. (to Oscar) I hope you've got a spare pair of shoes. O: (lilting) I don't even think that was the worst part of our day!

"I don't even think that was the worst part of our day!" (x)

H: Of course that wasn't the worst part of your day. You're up here with the best fans in the world. I'm being told that I've got to wrap up.  L: Wrap it up. (takes out phone) O: (shuffles behind Lando to snap a crowd selfie)

(x)

H: We have to let Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri go. (crowd booing; L: Boo!) But before we do, please make noise for the incredible, incredible McLaren drivers, and for their fantastic [inaudible] shoey! One last word before you go, for the fans. L: One last word? Uhh, I love you all, thanks so much for all the support. I can't wait for next year already. I'm excited, I want to come back. Um. (waves) O: (smiling) Yep. Thank you everyone. We've had a 2-4 and a 3-4 at Silverstone, I think next year is the year to make it a 1-2. L: Next year [inaudible]. O: Thanks for all your support. Thanks for putting up with the weather, uhhm. I know most of you choose to live in this country, but. Um. Anyway. Thank you very much, and we will see you next year, better! L & O: Thanks everyone. Thank you. (take official crowd photo) H: Fantastic. L: (hypes the crowd by waving his arms up and down) O: (takes signed cap to give to a fan before noticing and giggling at Lando's antics) O: (crawls to the edge of the stage and puts the cap on a young fan's head, signs her poster with Lando)

L: (goes around collecting things thrown onto the stage; first picks up 2 friendship bracelets that say ♥OSCAR♥ and ♥LANDO♥ (can be seen on the underside of his wrist in this video), then picks up a fanmade Oscar doll that he shows Oscar, then picks up one last friendship bracelet and holds it in his left hand as he leaves the stage) O: (takes a few steps away before turning back and chucking his remaining left shoe)

+ bonus: lando keeping the bracelets on

😵‍💫 end scene.....

[galedekarios]

Hey there! You're one of the best Gale-ish devnotes\datamines sources that I know of, so I might as well ask. I remember that at some point Gale mentions taking part in Blackstaff Academy balls (or something like that). Is it mentioned elswhere, and do we have any details on his involvement in such activities? Need that for science\personal lore, and I'd appreciate any info (including EA), if you have time. Thanks!

thank you for your message and i'm sorry for the belated response!

i took my time to comb through everything and sadly, the banter with wyll is the only instance i could find of gale mentioning a ball at blackstaff academy:

gale & the annual blackstaff's ball

gale: i knew you were a graceful man, wyll, but i hear you're quite the dancer too. gale: i've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. mine was a popular hand at the annual blackstaff's ball. wyll: i'd have love to have witnessed it, gale. i wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

the only other banters i could find that are only loosely related. some give us glimpses into his life at the academy, others into his life in waterdeep.

here's another story about gale & being a young student at blackstaff academy, which triggers in the wizard tower in the underdark:

gale & the death slaad

gale: ah. quite. a misadventure from my days as an apprentice at blackstaff academy. gale: i was but a child, only a few months into my studies, but already i knew i was destined for greatness. no one believed me, of course, so i decided to prove it. to cast a spell with the blackstaff itself. gale: from one perspective, i succeeded. i opened a portal. however, instead of pointing it at the first year dormitory, i found myself pulled into limbo, facing a very irritated death slaad. gale: fortunately, the blackstaff himself came to the rescue, hauling me back from the brink, and straight into several months of writing lines. or rather, finessing my autograph. gale: now, much as i enjoy reminiscing about such tomfoolery, i believe we've more pressing matters at hand. is there anything else?

this dialogue path from the epilogue has him speaking a bit more about those days as well:

gale & his days as a wayward apprentice

gale: teaching at blackstaff academy has proven such an unexpected pleasure. sometimes i find it hard to tear myself away. gale: just one of the myriad unexpected ways life has delighted me in recent months. gale: even my own city feels new to me, now that i share it with you. player: probably because i make you put down your quill once in a while and enjoy it. gale: that you do. i've not had so much fun in waterdeep since my own days as a wayward blackstaff apprentice. gale: you've certainly made quite the impression on my friends down at the yawning portal. the last i heard, they were thinking of naming a drink after you.

while he seems to have enjoyed a much richer social life in waterdeep before his time of isolation, it's mentioned in another epilogue banter (devnotes) that he didn't seek out any of the more dangerous parts of the city.

there are also other banters about gale's life in waterdeep before the game:

gale & the temple of beauty in waterdeep

gale: i must tell you, shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. gale: the ablutions offered at the temple of beauty in waterdeep are far superior. and they have the most excellent soaps. shadowheart: hmm. i was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager.

gale & spending time in the hospice of st. laupsenn

wyll: this was a hospital? feels more like a prison. gale: a common enough interpretation. sickness has a nasty habit of making you feel trapped, if only within the confines of your body. gale: i once spent weeks convalescing in the hospice of st. laupsenn after a nasty bout of ruddy pox. for all their kindness, leaving that place behind felt like freedom to me. wyll: i’ve always relied on the kindness of the healers and menders of the coast. better a cleric’s healing touch than a chirurgeon’s scalpel.

gale & florist

lae'zel: these flowers are quite vivid - not to mention, pungent. not to my liking. gale: are there no flowers in tu'narath? lae'zel: in the city of death, the mlar cultivate the fruiting bodies that sprout from the corpses of the slain. gale: i'd rather get them from my florist in waterdeep, if it's all the same to you.

i'm also including this banter between wyll and gale here because it speaks (even if somewhat joking) about his upbringing as a whole by morena:

wyll: i admire your courage, gale. gale: thank you. any particular reason? wyll: between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers. gale: what can i say? mother always taught me to be a gracious host.

we also know that he has had multiple tutors:

lae'zel: you strike me cleverer than most istiki, gale. multiple tutors, i should guess. gale: many a wise man and woman indeed. waterdeep is the home of myriad scholars. wyll: ah, the city of splendours. spent a whole fleetswake there with my father. what a delight.

hiring tutors appears to be relatively common in waterdeep:

so while this sadly wasn't what you were looking for, i hope this is helpful to some degree! 🖤

[offtorivendell]

Is an oily residue corrupting Azriel's hypothetical mating bond and making him feel off kilter? Is it related to Valg-type magic?

Disclaimer: this theory is a continuation of a few of my others that I've been too lazy to post until now - first I was going to post it for Elriel Month 2023, then Azriel Week 2023... it never happened - but like everyone else I'm having massive FOMO before HOFAS, so here we finally go, even though I know I've forgotten something lol. As usual, this makes no claims of being accurate, it's just theorising for fun.

A massive thank you goes out to @wingedblooms, @tswaney17, @silverlinedeyes, @psychologynerd, @ladynightcourt3, @cassianfanclub, and anyone else I've forgotten (sorry!) for all of our discussions that finally became this post. Love you guys. 💜

Spoilers: this is a Maasverse post, and draws from the ACOTAR series, CC 1 & 2/HOEAB & HOSAB, and the TOG series. It is CC 3/HOFAS spoiler free, as I'm waiting to read it in its "original English" 🤓 on the 30th of January. Please be respectful of that if engaging in the comments before it's published!

Plenty of people, including @silverlinedeyes, @icedflames and myself, have posted our thoughts on mating bonds in the Maasverse, and this theory builds on those previously established - though again, as yet hypothetical - ideas. Specifically, this post about the use of “oily” throughout the ACOTAR series is recommended reading.

What we do know is that:

Mating bonds contain threads, and so do spells.

Mates are the song/music of the soul, and their laughter is likened to music.

Different fae, and magics, contain different scents, be that personal or regional

First, let's go back to ACOWAR, when Feyre described the Ravens' entrance into the library as being like an off-kilter chord:

I felt it at the same moment she did. The ripple and tremor. Like … like some piece of the world shifted, like some off-kilter chord had been plucked. We turned toward the illuminated path that we’d just taken through the stacks, then to the dark far, far beyond. - ACOWAR, chapter 30

Initially, I had wondered if the King of Hybern had had Jurian use the Harp to infiltrate Velaris, but it was @merymoonbeam (I think) who theorised that the Cauldron might be mimicking the Harp, and maybe not doing the best job of it. Which made me wonder, could it do the same with mate bonds?

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate. - ACOWAR, chapter 24

What if the Elucien bond, as either a spell or piss poor Cauldron-Made approximation of a bond, causes Azriel - and maybe Elain, possibly Lucien - nausea when Lucien is around because it's constantly changing, or reverberating over the top of, what remains of a hypothetical Elriel bond?

What if it's making the Elriel bond off-kilter, out of whack, imbalanced?

Does this make Azriel feel sick, nauseous, or simply overwhelmed/overstimulated?

When people are feeling off-balance, for whatever reason, they can feel sick or nauseous. It's one of the symptoms of vertigo, which can be triggered by severe headaches such as migraines. And guess who rubs their temples? Azriel!

Alternatively, certain chords played loudly enough on a string instrument can really mess with your chest - and where do mating bonds attach - if you're standing close enough for them to vibrate through you (at least, they do for me haha). It can be weirdly disconcerting, and I'd imagine that if Azriel or Elain feels something like this, no wonder he describes such severe discomfort that he needs to leave, and she shrinks away from Lucien, the unintentional cause of her pain.

Same with the smell; if the magic of the Cauldron, in whatever way, is messing with the smell that should be there? Contaminating it? Unbearable.

Is this too crack for you? Well, let's get even crazier.

I have previously suggested that the Cauldron's actions throughout the series could be tracked, in part, by SJM describing a feeling or quality as “oily,” and I've also wondered if the dark maker of the Cauldron - Koschei? - could have hijacked it in some way, as the Book of Breathings being made from leftover iron gave me “One Ring” vibes. I still stand by that, but with a clarification (and here is where the TOG and CC spoilers come in, FYI). I think it's only half of the magic belonging to the Cauldron that is "oily":

Throughout TOG, the Valg are heavily associated with “oiliness,” in terms of their blood and magic. The smell “reeks” and always results in the involved characters experiencing extreme revulsion, including headaches. Sound familiar?

Wyrdstone has an oily, hideous aftertaste.

Even in CC 1/HOEAB, Danika was described as oily when she came into Griffin Antiques.

Celaena looked at the sealed door, her stomach turning. A half-dried pool of blood lay at the base of the door, so dark it looked like oil. She crouched, swiping a finger through the puddle. She sniffed at it, almost gagged at the reek, and then rubbed her finger against the pad of her thumb. It felt as oily as it looked. - COM, chapter 45

“What the hell is that?” Rowan demanded, kneeling beside her, sniffing her outstretched hand. He jerked back, snarling. “That’s not dirt.” No, it wasn’t. It was blacker than night, and reeked just as badly as it had the first time she’d smelled it, in the catacombs beneath the library, an obsidian, oily pool of blood. Slightly different from that other, horrific smell that loitered around this place, but similar. So similar to— “This isn’t possible,” she said, jolting to her feet. “This—this—this—” She paced, if only to keep from shaking. “I’m wrong. I have to be wrong.” There had been so many cells in that forgotten dungeon beneath the library, beneath the king’s Wyrdstone clock tower. The creature she’d encountered there had possessed a human heart. It had been left, she’d suspected, because of some defect. What if … what if the perfected ones had been moved elsewhere? What if they were now … ready? - HOF, chapter 45

The overseer roared, thrashing as her magic swept into him, melded with him. But there was nothing inside to grab on to. No darkness to burn out, no remaining ember to breathe life into. Only— Aelin reeled back, magic vanishing and knees buckling as if struck. Her head gave a throb, and nausea roiled in her gut. She knew that feeling—that taste. Iron. As if the man’s core was made of it. And that oily, hideous aftertaste … Wyrdstone. The demon inside the overseer let out a choked laugh. “What are collars and rings compared to a solid heart? A heart of iron and Wyrdstone, to replace the coward’s heart beating within.” - EOS, chapter 15

* Side note, it's giving Tamlin and his stone heart.

Danika didn’t just look like she’d been rootling through the garbage. She smelled like it, too. Wisps of her silvery blond hair—normally a straight, silken sheet—curled from her tight, long braid, the streaks of amethyst, sapphire, and rose splattered with some dark, oily substance that reeked of metal and ammonia. - CC HOEAB, chapter 1

The Hind held Ruhn’s gaze as the game began. She was the spitting image of Luna, with her upswept chignon, the regal angle of her neck and jaw. As coldly serene as the moon. All she needed was a pack of hunting hounds at her side— And she had them, in her dreadwolves. How had someone so young risen in the ranks so swiftly, gained such notoriety and power? No wonder she left a trail of blood behind her. “Careful now,” the Harpy said with that oily smile. “The Hammer doesn’t share.” The Hind’s lips curved upward. “No, he doesn’t.” - CC HOSAB, chapter 33

I think the dark maker of the Cauldron could have been Valg, whether that's Koschei or someone else I don't know though Koschei currently makes the most sense. I also don't know when the dark maker would have had the chance to influence the Cauldron; was it always made from dark and light, or - as @fawnandshadows theorised a while back - did Koschei bastardise it after the fact? Where the Valg would fit in with the Daglan and the Asteri is also a mystery, though my current train of thought is that they could be family names or allegiances, like different clans of the same parasitical species, thanks to the description of Danika in HOEAB.

But, back to Azriel and his severe reaction to the Elucien bond.

I know I'm not the only one who wonders at the very Valg-ish themes with which Rhys and Azriel's powers have been described - maybe one day I'll post my thoughts about the possible link between lightsingers, shadowsingers, daemati and the Valg (but it is not this day lol) - and how that may have come about. For example, are the Valg interwoven, genetically, with the Avallen people, or is it because the Princes of Hel are also involved, and have similar magics? Are the Princes of Hel a similar species as the Valg, Asteri and Daglan, or completely different? Ugh, let's stop this spiral here.

Oily: the obvious train of thought being that oily things are slippery, which can lead to an imbalance… ie. becoming off-kilter.

Sounds like Azriel could be suffering from some sort of vertigo, of which symptoms can include nausea; severe headaches, such as migraines, may trigger an episode… and who rubs his temples enough that Elain noticed it?

Maybe Azriel can sense the corruption in the bond, either the current Elucien bond, or the hypothetical original bond between Elain and himself; if like calls to like, and his shadows are Valg-ish, maybe it is because his OG bond was fucked with. So, what if:

Azriel's shadows can slip away from spells and binding magic (Slippery > oily > Valg).

The guards at the prison know what he is.

Valg magic making Azriel nauseous and Elain sourcing/making a healer's powder for him? It's giving Chaol and Yrene. Especially since Elain (and Mor) make his shadows brighten.

So, we have in-text mentions of Azriel feeling overwhelmed due to the proximity of the Elucien bond, as well as Elain shrinking from Lucien - an action that parallels Azriel hanging out in the doorway, and even Lucien retreating to the human lands, if he feels any bond-related discomfort around Elain. But what about his initial response to seeing Elain, and thinking she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen? The quote that sent me down the “oily” rabbit hole to begin with?

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate. - ACOWAR, chapter 24

Well, Aelin felt oily disgust at the thought of marrying someone who wasn't Rowan:

“There are no allies,” Darrow said. “Unless Her Highness decides to be useful and gain us men and arms through marriage”—a sharp glance at Rowan—“we are alone.” Aelin debated revealing what she knew, the money she’d schemed and killed to attain, but— Something cold and oily clanged through her. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty. She could not look at Rowan, could not face those pine-green eyes without being sick. - EOS, chapter 5

This example from Aelin could describe Azriel and Elain’s potential future if Elain accepted a theoretically Cauldron spelled bond to Lucien, but also for Lucien and Jesminda, if they were originally true or fated mates before she was murdered.

Some final thoughts:

We know from TOG that healing light is known as the Valg executioner. In a parallel to Yrene killing Erawan with her healing light in KOA, Elain killed the King of Hybern - who I suspect was possessed or assisted by a Valg, as Feyre described his magic as a “galaxy” in his palms - with Truth-Teller, which had recently devoured the (her?) sunlight; does this mean that Elain could heal or purify Valg possessed things, with or without the magical, Made dagger? Could this be extrapolated to Azriel's magic, the Dread Trove, or even the Cauldron (possibly with Feyre and Nesta for the bigger ticket items)?

If the Asteri are the same species as the Valg, and the Valg somehow had a hand in making or twisting the Cauldron, it could follow that they used the Cauldron to create offspring bonds for a more powerful food source. If this pans out then Elain, bright light, could hypothetically heal the Cauldron. Maybe that is why Azriel describes her with purity language? Not because SJM wants to display Azriel's apparently toxic thoughts about her (🙄), but because she, along with her sisters, will be his/their salvation? Rhys once said as much to Feyre!

@mrspettyferr has suggested that Azriel's shadows ability to hide him from binding magic - see: the High Lord's meeting in ACOWAR - could have prevented his true bond from snapping with Elain when she came out of the Cauldron. This could be supported by any Valg/shadow link.

Thank you for reading! Please don't mention any CC HOFAS spoilers in the comments or reblogs until after it has been officially published. 💜

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

ROUGH Chapter Snippet

I know I said I was on hiatus- but when inspo hits, it hits, and I mean, I've been feeling it lately- so the chapter might come out later this week)) Maybe. I hope you enjoy lol.

Music filled the air as she felt her finger gently glide against the surface of the now glowing water.

 The warmth of the sun and the water filled her, a wonderful change from the dark and dreary world they’d left behind. To say that the whole ordeal had left her in disbelief would be an understatement, but for now, she was alive and that was all that mattered. 

A sudden movement from beside her caught her attention as she watched fish of all shapes happily swim by them. A few even leaped into the air as the drops of shimmering water cascaded behind them. She chuckled, shielding her eyes from the water as Valentino pleated, gesturing his hoof down towards the side where a whale arose. 

“Whoa,” she whispered, catching sight of her reflection in his eyes before he sprayed water into the air and promptly disappeared into the sea once more.

“Valentino did you see that?!” she excitedly called as the goat nodded. “That was a Fin Whale! I didn’t know they swam by here this time of year! I never realized how big they were in person. Did you see how he looked at us? It was like we were ants!!” Valentino pleated, nodding in agreement with her as the castle and several ships came into view.

She could recognize one of the nearer ones as belonging to Silver’s and judging from the sounds of music and chatter that emerged from it, she was willing to bet that she’d been right.

“We’re here,” she told the dolphin-shaped star beneath her, feeling as he obediently began to slow, allowing her to take in the view once more. 

Against the sparkling sea and golden warm hues of the midday sky, there was no denying how beautiful the scene before her was. A beauty that she’d admitted had been hard to spot in the official’s meeting rooms or the dreary stone walls of her study. 

The star beneath her slipped from her grasp, nearly plunging her into the sea once more, before she’d felt hands hold her up, and the star’s smiling face greet her once more.

“Whoa!” she called, surprise filling her as he easily lifted most of her body out of the water. It was so easy to forget how strong he truly was when he wasn’t that much taller than her. 

He chuckled, gently releasing his hold on her, before reaching to pull off a piece of seaweed that had comfortably settled itself across the bridge of his nose. “Ugh,” he groaned, his face twisting in disgust as Asha laughed, taking his hand as he pulled her towards himself. “It seems as if I’m never safe from seaweed, regardless of where I go!” 

“You’ve had previous encounters with it?” she teased, trying to ignore how warm he had felt and how close they were to each other. 

“Far more than I care to remember,” he sighed, his upper half sinking beneath the water as his hair covered his eyes. But that didn’t stop him from turning towards her as he began, “So-,”

“So what?” she repeated, unsure of why she’d felt her heart skip a beat as she felt his hand wrap around her waist.

“Aren’t you going to admit that I was right? I told you that spending the day with me wouldn’t be bad!”

She frowned, quietly cursing how a strange heat had spread across her face. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Between the discovery of the city and her father’s journals, there was no way she could truthfully say that she was having anything close to what she’d consider a bad day. But that hadn’t meant that she was going to give the already smug-looking star the benefit of knowing he’d been right all along.

So she’d decided to pull a page from the star’s own playbook and quickly change the subject. “Hey Cepheus, you know how you said those buildings in the city were all inspired by star architecture right?”

He nodded, watching as she pointed towards the castle.

“What about the castle? Does it look like it took any inspiration from star architecture?” 

Much to her expectations, the star had shaken his head. “No, no that building is far too young and small for that.”

“Small? I’m sorry- the castle is small to you?”

“In comparison to a star’s castle? Yes. Of course, we have to have different-sized castles to accommodate our true forms, Asha. I doubt a low-ranking member of the court could fit into that castle, much less an alpha star,” he shuddered. “so the ones we have exclusively for stars are far bigger than the ones we build for human visitation and viewing.” 

“You guys let humans visit your palaces?”

He nodded, rising and falling with the tide as he held her. “Yeah. The astronomers who served closely under the alpha stars would frequent there when needed…”

“Were they beautiful?” she implored, looking from him to the sky. “The castles I mean.”

“Very,” he breathed. “And they still are. The alpha stars own several palaces across their domains, but they’re all beautiful.” 

“Have you seen them all?”

“I’ve visited most on occasion,” The alpha stars let star peasants visit their castles on occasion. Hmm, maybe the stars were more progressive than she thought. But then again, she wouldn’t be shocked if the term ‘peasant’ was another thing she could add to her list of interspecies cultural differences. 

“Do you have a particular favorite castle?” she inquired if only to distract herself from her impending questions.

Cepheus hummed thoughtfully as the pinkish-golden hues of his eyes met hers. “Hmm, they’re all beautiful in their own ways, but if I had to pick one, I think I’d give it to the Cerulean court’s castles, or more specifically- the Cygnus castle..”

“The Cygnus castle? Is that in the Cygnus constellation?”

He nodded, a pleasant smile making its way onto his face. “It is. My favorite castle there is the one that sits on the very edge of the domain,” he lifted a hand from the water and pointed to the sky. “You can see the waves from what we call the ocean, gather there. It was a gift from the stars of the sea constellations a few eons back that’s quite sentimental to us,” he sighed, the very edges of his lips quirking upwards in nostalgia. “But It’s always been a very beautiful place to go. Both for its history and its myths.”

“Really? Like what kind of myths?”

“Well…” he started carefully, as he brushed his hair from his eyes. “There’s one that says that if a star wishes to change their fate, they should go and visit those waters…It’s how they believe Deneb, one of the older alpha stars ended up unexpectedly meeting her soul mate when she was promised to another…Personally, I never saw much weight to it…until recently…” 

“Really?” she swam forward, too curious to feel embarrassed as she closed the distance between them even more. “I thought you said you never desired or wanted  for anything more.”

“And I don’t-,” he retorted, evidently not appreciating her question. “I was there for other reasons…sentimental ones if you will, it had nothing to do with what the glowing waters could or couldn’t do for me.”

“Hmm…So, what made you change your mind?” 

His voice trailed off as he turned his gaze upwards into the sky. “Well…I was there right before you wished on me.”

She blinked in surprise. “You were?”

He nodded, this time facing her. “I was.”

“So you think that me wishing on you is an act of fate itself? Really?”

He shrugged, “maybe? But who knows, I didn’t expect anyone to wish on me.” She was silent, as he thoughtfully continued, “One second I was with the others, talking to them, and then the next thing I know, all I can hear is your voice, and it was all that mattered to me in that moment.”

‘Was it?’ she wanted to ask. Of course, it was. He was a wishing star, granting wishes was the sole purpose of his existence, and as soon as he granted her wish he would disappear just as quickly as he came.  That was what she wanted, right? So why had the thought in and of itself, had filled her with an emotion that she couldn’t quite identify? 

She sighed, closing her eyes as she tried to reason. They were from two different worlds. Worlds that by all means were no longer connected. The best they could be was friends. The best she could be to him was a friend, one that she wasn’t sure if he’d remember in a few more years, regardless of- “BAAAAA-,’ screeched Valentino as he leaped into her arms and nearly on top of her.

“Valentino?!” she exclaimed as the star let her go. “What’s gotten into you?!”

The goat pleated before gesturing towards an incoming fin that was rapidly headed straight towards them.

“Shark,” Asha said, her brain barely comprehending what she’d seen until it neared.  “SHARK!?” she screamed, swimming backward.

“Where?” Cepheus asked, turning towards the direction of the incoming shark as it lifted its head out of the water. No sooner had the shark’s eyes met his than she saw the shark come to an abrupt halt before quickly taking off in the direction that it had quickly come from.

Had he-...A shark?!

She exchanged glances with Valentino, who was just as stunned as she was before the star turned back to her, smiling innocently as he’d proudly declared, “Apex Predator.”

“Hahahahahaha!” she erupted into laughter, feeling her stomach hurt as the star neared her, joining in her laughter as well. In all her years at the sea, she’d never seen a shark swim so fast, not even from whales or dolphins that had threatened to kill it. Tears welled in her eyes, as she wrapped her arms around the star. 

Had she not been laughing so hard, perhaps she would’ve noticed that the trio was no longer alone. But unfortunately for her, her discovery would come in the form of a familiar voice cut through the echoes of her laughter, “Asha-,” 

Wait.

Her laughter was cut short as she spun around, facing the familiar sight of Silver’s ship mere yards behind them. The captain stood overhead with the eyes of his prying crew and friends, all looking down to observe the trio as she saw her grandfather frown.

“Asha,” he spoke again.

“Saba?!” she screeched, shoving herself off of Cepheus. How had she not noticed the ship approaching?! Had she been so distracted by the star that-

No. What was she saying?! She couldn’t be distracted by Cepheus he wasn’t even in his star form!

“Saba I can explain, I swear-,” she cried as the sounds of the sailor’s laughter filled her ears. Oh God, how was she going to explain this?!

Her grandfather shook his head, sighing, as Capella pleated from his side, “Yep…my bloodline is doomed….”

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light

Omg here we are. At the end. I'm sad, I've been having such a blast with you guys this week! But all good things... Anyway, this is a strange one, rambling and mournful but hopefully with some sweetness. I hope it makes you feel things, I hope it gives you something, I hope we part on this final day of Painland Week as friends and confidants 💛 Huge, huge thanks to the organisers of Painland Week for putting this magical event together! Special love on this day goes out to @mellxncollie , who has been creating amazing gifs all week and has made beautiful ones for this very fic. It's been so so wonderful to collab with you and everyone should go and look at these wonderful creations at ONCE. Warnings for canonical character death (sorry, Charles) and the stuff that comes with it (i.e. refs to bullying/hatecrimes), non-graphic injury description, and just general mournful grief vibes all round. But hopeful ending bc let's face it, we all know how this played out! 7.3k, M-rated, available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Colour! What a deep and mysterious language. The language of dreams."

~ Paul Gauguin

Edwin Payne had always possessed a thirst for knowledge. As a child, he'd wished to learn just about everything there was to learn — every fact in every field. He'd been told, many times, that he could live to be a hundred years old, and still not have enough hours to do so.

Edwin had most certainly not lived to be a hundred. But he supposed that if you added his sixteen years of life to his seventy-three of death, he was getting rather close.

The dead years, however, had been far from conducive to study. Knowledge was hard to come by in Hell. Found either in burnt and bloodied books scavenged from individual damnations, or delivered in the form of cruel trials. He'd been taught a lesson or two in his time, but not on anything so polite and pedestrian as geometry. Edwin's key area of personal study in Hell had been one thing, and one thing only: how to escape from it.

It had taken seven decades, a slew of disembowelments and innumerable failed attempts, but at last he'd passed his final exam with merit. Or at least, a version of him had. But there wasn't much to be done for his original self, whose body lay mouldering on the dollhouse floor beneath a thousand savaged duplicates.

Best not to dwell on it.

He supposed he should have been upset about where the door to Hell spat him out. Not many people would be happy to return to the place where they'd met their untimely, violent demise. But to Edwin, after a small infinity in the blackest pit, stepping back into St. Hilarion's hallowed halls felt like greeting an old friend. Well, friend might be a tad generous. More of an acquaintance, or perhaps a second cousin one barely tolerated. Not a person one enjoyed spending time with, but nonetheless a familiar face.

For a day or so he'd wandered about in a bit of a daze, glancing over his shoulder for any sign he'd been followed from the depths. He'd drunk in every familiar feature, and puzzled over the unfamiliar ones. It was a small change in the grand scheme of things, but he suspected they'd replaced the drapes. They were a lighter grey now than they had been in his time. He wondered what colour they'd chosen — or for that matter, what colour they were in the first place. He'd never thought to ask.

Then on his second day of wandering, he'd stumbled across the old library. And that, for several weeks, had been that.

He'd probably had dreams about this, in his youth. Dreams of being left to his own devices, surrounded by books. All the information he could inhale, with no interruptions. Not even from the other boys. Their voices had startled him a few times, and he was always wary when a gaggle of them descended on the library. But he'd quickly realised that none of them could see him, and so long as he turned the pages quietly, he was free to continue his reading unmolested.

And he did so, continuously, for days. Not even boring old human restrictions like hunger, tiredness or eye strain could stop him now. He read everything he could get his hands on, brushed up on everything, filling in the gaps of the last decades. On the future that had been robbed from him, subsiding into history while his back was turned. He'd sat in his own shellshock when he read not only about how the so-called 'war to end all wars' had concluded, but also how little time had passed before the next one. He'd blushed and skimmed the pages pertaining to the nineteen-sixties free love movement. He'd gazed, thunderstruck, at the moon through the library window; wondering what the Earth must have looked like to the man they put up there.

All these years he'd been trapped in the gutters at the deepest depths of suffering, reaching up towards the light; all that time, humanity had been reaching, too. Up, up and up, all the way to the stars.

It became habit, after that, to gaze at the moon in between books and chapters. An opportunity to gather his thoughts on what he'd just read, to file away the facts, to jot down the most pertinent in his notebook. It was rather a meditative process.

Or at least it had been, until the night he'd seen something else beneath that moon. Something tragically earthbound amidst the gently illuminated greys of the grounds. A hunched and trembling shape against the trees, lurching by Edwin's window. A boy, on the run — his pursuers baying for blood like wolves at his heels.

They could put a man on the moon, but some things never changed.

It would be the first time Edwin had left the library since re-discovering it. Holding aloft the pilfered lantern he'd been using to read into the night, he trod carefully through the darkened corridors. The majority of staff and students were in dorms or common rooms by now, voices a soft patter, bleeding with the light under the doors. No one marked Edwin, or came to investigate the lantern floating past. Though some extinguished their own lights and hushed their voices, mistaking him for a warden. Edwin didn't wish to scare anyone, but he drew some comfort from it. He'd grown tired of being pounced upon in long, black, twisting hallways. How comforting for once to be the root of fear and not merely its captive.

Edwin had to search a little while, but he was already familiar with the best hiding places. It wasn't long before he was creeping up to the attic, minding his ghostly tread upon the stairs. He didn't wish to cause alarm, or send the boy deeper into hiding thinking his assailants had found him.

He crossed the threshold, and at once heard a shuddering intake of breath as the harsh white aura of his lantern bounced off the walls. He supposed there was no disguising the glow. He hung back a moment, conflicted. All he wanted was to offer some light and warmth, but perhaps a floating lantern would be a sight too much for the terrified boy. Well, it was too late for that, now. He stepped into the room proper, peering past the flare of his lantern to the source of the sound. A shivering bundle on the floor, tucked into a nook behind the shelves. Trying to be as small as possible and, by and large, succeeding.

Wide, hunted eyes stared into the light. A voice, low and wary, spoke.

"What do you want?"

It was then that Edwin realised the eyes weren't looking into the light. They were looking at him. He glanced behind himself, just to make sure, but he wasn't mistaken. "You can see me?"

It was also when he noticed something equally perplexing happening to the light. It had started to look... less white. No, in fact it no longer looked white at all, but it had not dimmed, and it bore no resemblance to any shade of grey Edwin had ever seen. It was... he didn't even have the language to describe it. If he had to choose a word, he could only say it looked warm. He'd never seen anything like it. Not in seventy years of Hell, nor in his life before. It simply defied description.

He tore his gaze from it. There were more pressing matters to attend to. "I... I thought this lantern might help," he said, still dumbfounded. He approached, with care — this boy was clearly a victim in this circumstance, but there was a defensive set to his jaw. A wild look in his eyes. A creature caught in a trap was as liable to bite a rescuer as an attacker. "You can simply extinguish it if those boys come up here."

The guarded expression cracked, vulnerability bleeding through. As Edwin drew closer, he noticed that the strange new quality of the light was reflected where it hit the boy. There were notes of something else beneath the pallid grey tones of his skin, something richer. Just as something beyond simple black glistened in his enormous eyes.

"You saw them?" the boy rasped.

"I did. I went to school here a long time ago." Edwin knelt before him, bringing the light closer to the lad’s face and marvelling, quietly, at the strange tones that sprang into sharp relief. Whoever this young man was, Edwin's very perception of the world appeared to be shifting in his presence. "We had bullies, too."

He looked so weak, curled up and trembling. He certainly wasn't weak, Edwin suspected that much. Peeking out from beneath the blanket were shoes and trousers of a kind he'd seen these modern boys wearing out on the sports pitch. The lad was no delicate flower, but at this moment, at the mercy of his wounds, he was helpless.

And if he could see Edwin... then his fate was already sealed.

Edwin looked at the boy levelly, at the fear in his strange eyes. He'd seen that fear upon countless faces these last seventy years, on the wretched souls crying out for respite from their torment. He'd worn a similar expression some decades ago, when a careless act of cruelty had damned him, too.

"Rest assured," he said, gently, offering the lantern. "I shan't hurt you."

He could see the moment the boy decided to believe him. His shoulders slumped, his breath escaped in a rattle of relief. He reached out from his blanket shell, and flashed a sliver of that curiously saturated skin at his shoulder. Against the stark white of the sleeveless vest he wore, the difference was now undeniable. Not grey, not white, but something altogether different. Like his eyes, like the metal at his throat and ear that glimmered in the lamplight. Tones Edwin had never seen before, couldn't even name.

It couldn't be...

"Cheers, mate," said the boy, shivering as he brought the lantern closer. "I'm freezing. Never been this cold in my life."

Swallowing, Edwin nodded. "It's the least I can do."

The boy's lips twitched in a feeble half-smile. "Yeah? You mean you can do more?"

Probably not as much as he'd like. But Edwin nodded again. "Of course."

The light shone upon the boy's face and the dark, waterlogged curls of his hair. Steeped in that impossible hue.

"Stick around a bit?" he asked, his voice very small indeed. "Bit lonely up here..."

Edwin had not come here with any plans to stick around. He'd wished to help, of course. But to say he was unaccustomed to dealing with people was a tremendous understatement. He'd planned to drop off the lantern, check the boy was alright, and slip away without a fuss.

But the boy was clearly not alright, half-alive and fading fast. And he'd seen Edwin, asked him in no uncertain terms to stay. Asked him with all the broken hope in his voice and all the impossible buried, blooming hues in his eyes. And if those colours meant what he had always been told…

Well. How could Edwin begrudge his own soulmate a last request?

"My name is Edwin," he said, as measured as he could manage. "Edwin Payne."

The boy grinned. It wobbled at the edges. "Charlie," he introduced himself. "Charles Rowland."

Edwin hummed. Charles. A pleasant name. Respectable. He thought it rather suited the young man. "A pleasure to meet you, Charles."

Charles chuckled, drawing the lantern closer to himself. "Pretty bloody brills to meet you, too, Edwin."

The colour — for it surely was a colour, Edwin knew of no other word or explanation — of the lantern seemed to pulse, then settle, stronger than before. It illuminated the feeble grin upon Charles' drawn face in hues as yet unnamed.

Edwin would have to find some names. Compare what he could see with what he'd been told, what he'd read. Identify what he could.

While he still had the chance.

"Best thing to happen to me all night," Charles mumbled. "You showing up."

Edwin wished to tell him things could only improve from here; but he knew it to be a lie.

~

"It is the color closest to light. In its utmost purity, it always implies the nature of brightness and has a cheerful, serene, gently stimulating character. Hence, experience teaches us that yellow makes a thoroughly warm and comforting impression."

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"Just didn't seem right. Letting that kid get beat on 'cause he's from Pakistan," said Charles.

His socks peeked out from the blanket, bright white in the lamplight. Interesting — a part of Edwin had always presumed that white would look vastly different with the rest of the spectrum unlocked. It didn't, but there was much less of it. The world was full of more off-whites in more hues than Edwin could've previously imagined. Charles' skin wasn't dissimilar. Pale-ish, but bearing pleasant warm under-and-overtones that made Edwin's look near-translucent by comparison.

"I mean, I'm half Indian," Charles continued. "Why am I so different?"

"That is a fair point," said Edwin, thoughtful, harkening back to some of the history books he'd skimmed of late. "They were the same country back when I was alive."

Fascinating how the times changed, new lines drawn in the sand. Fascinating, and frustrating. In the time Edwin had been gone wars had started and ended, entire countries had been ruptured, borders reshaped. And yet some of life's most persistent mysteries remained unanswered.

He'd not looked much into it, but it seemed little advancement had been made in understanding of the so-called 'soulmate' principle. It had been a frequent enough phenomenon to be common knowledge in Edwin's time, but no one ever had any real explanation for it. Plenty of spiritual explanations, of course. But it seemed no one could point to any tangible scientific reason why a person, upon hearing the voice of a certain other person, had the entire hidden colour spectrum revealed unto them. An entire dimension of the visible world remained inaccessible to the vast majority of the population, and still no one knew why, or even how. Clearly, there was still much research to be done on the subject.

And clearly, the notion of this mysterious person as a 'soulmate' was romantic drivel. Charles seemed a pleasant fellow, but he was a fellow. And two boys could hardly be soulmates, could they? No God-fearing Christian would embrace the concept if that were the case. So no, Charles couldn't possibly be his soulmate. Perhaps the phenomenon represented something else entirely. Like minds? Charles seemed an easy boy to get on with — and Edwin seldom got on with anybody. He even felt at ease sitting beside him on the hard attic floor, nearly touching. Perhaps Charles was simply his universe-appointed fastest friend; the one person in creation who could truly understand him.

Or maybe it was a cosmic fluke, a quirk of biology. Maybe it could have been absolutely anybody in the world.

Yes, that was probably it. Nothing deeper at play than that.

Still, it was a pity Charles would be dead before the night was out. Soulmate or not.

(Definitely not.)

"Right..." Charles mumbled. Followed by a frown. "Wait, what?"

"Hm?"

"What d'you mean 'when you were alive'?"

Edwin looked at him. Charles still seemed rather small, rather sorry. A chilly little lump, all curled in on himself, even now they were side by side and of a height with one another. He looked cold, sallow. Not even the warm hues of the light Edwin had tentatively designated yellow could hide it, cheerful though it may be.

"You ought to move around a bit," said Edwin, standing smoothly. "You must keep your circulation going."

It would do no good, of course. But who knew? Charles might be hardier than Edwin gave him credit for.

"Edwin," said Charles, all seriousness. "What d'you mean when you were alive?"

Edwin's brow twitched. He held out his hand. "Get up, and I shall tell you."

Charles took his hand — and startled. "Fuck — you're colder than me, mate!"

"And for good reason. Come, now. Two or three quick laps of the room. I'll hold the lantern."

~

"Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead."

~ Wilfred Owen

Edwin had heard some truly hideous sounds in his time. Crunching bones, squelching organs, agonised screams. And yet somehow, the wheeze of Charles hacking up water from pulverised lungs was among the worst to date.

"Are you alright?" Edwin asked, hands clasped upon the table — lest he risk something overfamiliar like a pat on the back.

"I'm fine," Charles deflected, voice hoarse and unconvincing. "Just answer my question.

Charles was looking worse by the minute. The warm tones of his skin that Edwin had grown so fascinated by were receding under sallow grey. A new colour was blooming, in and around his eyes; in the puffy lids underneath, in the spiderwebbing veins across the whites.

This colour was not nearly so puzzling — the veins were a dead giveaway. Edwin had read more than enough crime literature to be able to identify the colour of blood.

So, this was the famous red. A bold colour, possibly quite charming in the right context; which this most assuredly was not. Edwin was no physician, but he'd read a number of medical textbooks. Charles bore all the hallmarks of a man bedevilled with internal bleeding. It was not a matter of whether he would die, but of what would kill him first; the cold, or the injuries.

He tore his gaze away. Anger, bitter and harsh, had him by the throat, had his fists clenching together until his gloves creaked. Who were those wretched boys, to lay hands upon Charles? To break him so? This boy who, insofar as Edwin could tell, hadn't a bad bone in his body? Whatever Charles was to him, soulmate or not (definitely, definitely not), he was his. He was supposed to be his, and soon he would be dead, and Edwin understood, now. Understood how people found themselves mired in Hell's fifth circle, swamped in wrath and rage. For no reason, no reason at all, those boys had taken Charles’ life without a care. Taken his life, and the colour from Edwin's eyes, all in one fell swoop. Soon both would be gone; and if Edwin ever found the hooligans responsible they'd have a formidable haunting on their hands.

"Nineteen thirteen, to..." he counted one, two, three, slowly. Collecting himself. "Nineteen sixteen."

"Bullshit." Charles cocked his head, a small smile of disbelief upon his lips. It was a charming expression, in its impertinence. "When did you go to school here for reals?"

"Nineteen thirteen to nineteen sixteen," Edwin repeated, slower. "I am dead, Charles."

Charles laughed. Edwin raised his eyebrows — and pretended not to be fascinated by the flash of not-red in Charles' mouth, his tongue and gums. What was the word for a light red, again? He was sure he'd read it somewhere...

The laughter died, and Charles' eyes went wider still. "...Oh."

There was more of that not-red than Edwin had thought, actually. The shells of Charles' ears, where the dawning light from the window glowed through translucent skin. He'd never considered that a person's ears might appear a different colour to the rest of them. How many secret tricks of the light had he been oblivious to all these years? How many more had he yet to discover? How many would he never get the chance to see for himself?

Just how much more could possibly be stolen from him?

"I... I dunno if this is, um, bad to ask, or what, but..." Charles swallowed. "How'd you die, mate?"

His lips, too, were redder than the rest of him; although that was fading, rapidly. Cooling at the edges. Edwin suspected that wasn't supposed to be the case.

"As I said," Edwin replied, sadly. "We had bullies, too."

~

"Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay."

~ Robert Frost

He had Charles move around again, though it was clear it would serve no purpose. He was delaying the inevitable. Charles was all but shutting down already; the occasional boost to his circulatory system was hardly going to bring him back from Death's door.

But perhaps Charles would beat the odds. Why not? He seemed a resilient fellow. Perhaps he would, indeed, outlast the night, see another day. Perhaps help would arrive. Perhaps Edwin could give him the push he needed to survive this if he only persisted.

Besides, he couldn't let Charles seize up and expire just yet. Charles had questions and damn it all, Edwin would answer them!

"Actually, you can move around any space however you like," Edwin explained. "It is not that you cannot touch things, you just cannot feel them."

A blessing in disguise, on occasion. Though Edwin had done his utmost to fill up this nook by the window with whatever musty blankets and futons he could salvage, he doubted the floor was comfortable. He himself sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, bracing for discomfort he couldn't feel. It was far from ideal. But he supposed that a hard floor was the least of Charles' problems.

Charles was rapidly declining. That cool tinge upon his lips was growing more prominent, his coughs harsher and more visceral-sounding. But here, at least, he seemed as snug as Edwin could make him. Swaddled like a babe, tucked up against the cluttered old shelves. Perhaps this was warm enough to get him through. It certainly seemed warm, with the yellow light burning merrily on.

It glowed not only off Charles' skin and his eyes, but a myriad small reflective surfaces strewn about the forgotten nook. Edwin was particularly taken with the shimmer of it off what appeared to be a dented instrument — possibly a tuba? — near Charles' head. Metals had always looked very similar to one another, in Edwin's grayscale vision. Now he could see the metal of the horn was a somewhat deeper shade than that of, say, the earring Charles wore. Finally, he could see first-hand the differences between the precious and non-precious metals. Alas, he had few of them to choose from, and little way of knowing which was which. He supposed it safe to assume that the instrument was brass, hence its orchestral designation.

But the metal Charles was wearing was his favourite so far. It had a little of the yellow about it, but richer, more lustrous. Edwin found himself quite transfixed by the way it fluttered and flickered in the light.

He was familiar with the saying all that glitters is not gold, of course. But for want of further evidence, gold seemed as good a guess as any.

"It's stupid, but... I think I'd miss kissing," said Charles. He looked right at Edwin, earring and eyes twinkling with the motion. He did have... handsome eyes. Edwin simply must figure out what colour they were. Of a similar hue but different tone to his hair, to the old wooden shelves at his back. "Do you miss kissing?"

"Mmm-mmmm," Edwin mumbled, with a small shake of his head. "No. Not as such."

How many people had Charles kissed, he wondered? Surely not an abundance, they were of a similar age. Had he kissed someone this month, this week? Today? Before his lips grew cold and chapped, when they were... oh, what was that word for a lighter red? Pink, yes, that was it.

Then again, perhaps he went about with painted lips in every day life. He already wore some sort of cosmetic on his eyes, after all, so maybe it wasn't a stretch for a modern young man. Imagine. A boy, staining the lips of his paramours with lipstick when he kissed them...

Goodness. The world really had moved on.

Edwin cleared his throat. "No," he repeated, firmly. "No, I don't miss kissing."

He supposed it was fine that Charles liked it, though. And maybe he'd get the chance to do it again. He just had to hold on a little longer, outlive the dawn chorus, until the teachers noticed his absence and sent people searching. Then he could keep on living, and kissing and whatever else he wished to do and Edwin...

Well, Charles probably wouldn't have much use for a ghost friend. But at least Edwin could keep the colours. Just a little while longer.

Charles chuckled. It was a bit of a sadder sound than the last time Edwin heard it. "Must've had some shit kisses in your life, mate."

Edwin smiled, tightly. "Something of that ilk."

"Shame we weren't mates," said Charles. "I'd've..."

"You'd have... what?"

A smattering of colour returned to Charles' face, then. It might've been a trick of the light, but Edwin could've sworn his cheeks warmed. "I'd've... well, I'd've found you someone to snog, wouldn't I?" he laughed, drawing his blanket closer around his chin. "Got some fit mates from my old school. And the birds proper fancy the brainy lads."

Edwin frowned. "The... birds?"

"Y'know. Lasses. Girls."

"Oh." For whatever reason, Edwin felt... disappointed. And not just at the apparently abysmal state of modern slang. "Yes. Girls."

He cocked his head, watching Charles carefully. He was a very good looking boy. And he wasn't Edwin's soulmate, couldn't be, but...

Edwin cleared his throat. "Charles?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I look..." He wavered. "...Unusual, at all? To you?"

Charles blinked. "Um. Well. Outfit's a bit retro." His eyes widened slightly, a dash of mortification. "Not being rude! I like it! It's... it's cool."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "I don't mean my outfit, I mean... have you noticed anything different about this room since I walked in?" he pressed.

"Well, yeah."

Edwin inhaled. "You have?"

"Yeah."

He leaned in closer. "What have you noticed exactly?"

Charles smiled weakly. "Well. It... feels a lot less lonely. With you here. Warmer, too." He chuckled. "Daft as that sounds. With you being dead, and all."

Edwin's fingers flexed on his knees — all he could do to stop himself hugging them, wretchedly, to his heart. "Yes," he agreed, dully. "Daft, indeed..."

~

"Green makes me think of silence, or maybe it’s loneliness. I get the feeling of a terribly distant star."

~ Kobo Abe

Edwin had only ever known one person ‘fortunate’ enough to meet her soulmate.

Aunt Florence had always been a bit of an odd duck. Flighty and fickle, a perpetual embarrassment to her brother — Edwin's father — whose job it had been to lend financial support to her spinster lifestyle. As she alleged it, she'd found her soulmate in the late eighteen seventies. For reasons undisclosed (to Edwin, at least) they had never married. Edwin had never had the pleasure of meeting her mysterious match.

She had always seemed very fascinated with the world around her, Aunt Florence. A trait she shared with Edwin; though while his interest lay in facts, hers lay in aesthetics. He’d seen her dedicate hours to the study of a singular rose petal in her garden. Edwin was told she could do quite beautiful things with oil paints, for those with eyes to see. They were passable, too, in black and white, but lacking dimension.

Once, when Edwin was about nine or so, Aunt Florence had taken his chin between her willowy fingers.

"What lovely eyes you have, my boy," she'd said, in a smoker's croak. Uncouth for a woman to smoke, particularly one of her social standing, but she'd never much cared what others thought of her. Her tobacco-stained nail had nipped his chin as she held him close. "Your mother's eyes. Sea green... You'll find yourself someone who can appreciate them, won't you?"

Edwin, of course, had had no idea what green was, and little desire to find out. Not if finding a so-called soulmate was the prerequisite condition. He was of an age where the fixation that grown-ups seemed to have on kissing one another was both vexing and perplexing to him. A phase of his life that, to be frank, he'd never entirely left behind. He'd extricated himself from Aunt Florence's talons as politely as possible, and given her a wide berth for the rest of her visit.

The next time he'd seen her, she had taken one look at his eyes, and burst into tears.

They all ended the same way, these soulmate stories. It was a law of nature. Death was not neat, or particularly fair. No matter how blissfully happy the pair, someone always had to leave first; and when they did, the colour left with them.

Some, at least, got time to enjoy it all. Before their love — and their colour — died away. A few decades, or years. Months, even.

Some, like Edwin, got far less. Hours, if that.

And some, like Charles Rowland, got no time at all.

~

"They're out of the dark's ragbag, these two

Moles dead in the pebbled rut,

Shapeless as flung gloves, a few feet apart —

Blue suede a dog or fox has chewed.

One, by himself, seemed pitiable enough,

Little victim unearthed by some large creature

From his orbit under the elm root.

The second carcass makes a duel of the affair:

Blind twins bitten by bad nature."

~ Sylvia Plath

"Shut up, mate. That is brills."

Edwin was inclined to agree. Especially now he could appreciate the full effect. He'd been aware, of course, that his form seemed to partially dissolve into a mirage when he passed through solid surfaces. He'd been unaware that the mirage seemed to possess a certain hue. Not unlike the hue beginning to bleed through the filthy window.

The pre-dawn light was different to the majority of the colours Edwin had identified so far. It was colder. Greyer. Pale and stark against the opaque black silhouette of the distant treeline (interesting, how the trees still seemed black in this light. He wondered if he'd get a chance to see this green he'd heard so much about before the night was over.) If Charles' face was warmed by the yellow lamplight, it was cooled at the edges by the seeping tones through the glass.

This, like the red and the blood, came with an easy reference point. Everybody knew that the sky was supposed to be blue.

Seemed Edwin finally had a word for the sickly tint of Charles' lips.

"Why don't you fall through the floor?" Charles asked, puzzled.

"There are many, many, so-called ghost rules," said Edwin, sagely. He had, after all, spent several weeks conducting his own personal study and compiling the rules himself. "I shan't waste your time listing them."

"Well, I only asked about the floor, didn't I?" said Charles, a teasing lilt to his lip. Honestly, the cheek of the man.

"Because I choose not to fall through the floor," Edwin replied, in utterly falsified exasperation. "Happy?"

Charles had a certain way of smiling; one that spread up from his grinning mouth and into his eyes. Despite the cold, miserable state of the rest of him they fairly shone with warmth, a merry humour. A knowing gleam that said 'look at us, in on the joke'.

Edwin had never been in on the joke, before.

Charles chuckled; and Edwin did likewise, helpless to the draw of it. The magnetic sound. It had his lips lifting of their own volition — even as his heart sank further and further into the floor.

The blue devils, that's what his father had called it. On those rare occasions when he acknowledged Mother's low mood, or found Edwin weeping silently upon his bed. "You've just got the blue devils, my boy. Chin up, now, and soldier on. You've better things to do than mope."

He could feel them, now, those blue devils upon his shoulder. Cold, heavy, and the colour of Charles' bloodless lips. Weighing Edwin down like stones in his pockets. He hadn't felt hot or cold in decades, but now he felt as Charles must have done with the chill lake pressing down upon him, filling his lungs. And unlike Charles, he wasn't sure he possessed the tenacity to break the surface before the bubbles stopped.

He'd fought his way from the pits of Hell itself, and yet this climb seemed more insurmountable by far. He was no longer fighting his way from the dark to the light. There was no light above the surface of this icy water, no light at all. The light was here, the entire spectrum of it; above was only grey, grey, grey, as far as the eye could see.

"Oi," said Charles. He looked so very tired; but still inquisitive to a fault. "What other cool stuff can you do, then?"

Edwin huffed. "I can travel through mirrors, if you must know."

Charles' blue lips parted, breath escaping on a wonderstruck wheeze. "Wicked."

He ought to be more careful with his breaths. He couldn't have had all that many left to draw.

~

"We love the sight of the brown and ruddy earth; it is the color of life, while a snow-covered plain is the face of death."

~ John Burroughs

Charles Rowland passed away in the small hours of the morning. Edwin didn't even need to look up from the page; he just watched the pinkish tint bleed from his own ghostly fingertips, and made a deduction.

Even before his passing, Edwin hadn't looked directly at Charles in some time. He hadn't been able to bring himself to. The colour in his ailing new friend had diminished all but completely, his skin a sallow patina, his lips a cracked grey slate.

Edwin had only come to know colour on this night, and already he could feel its absence like a hole in his heart. He understood, now, why Aunt Florence had dragged herself so mournfully through her twilight years. Going through the motions of existing. Colour, for Aunt Florence, had been life; without it, there was simply no point living.

Somehow, Edwin found his voice, and he read on. Because Edwin was no Aunt Florence, arty and flighty and prone to outpourings of passion. Edwin was his father's son; he soldiered on. No matter what.

But the ache in his chest persisted, despite his best efforts to quash it. There had been so much yet to see. He'd never witnessed the colour purple — an expensive hue of which he'd heard a great many appreciative things. He'd never seen a flower, any flower, in full bloom, or watched one of those famous sunsets.

In the end, he never even got to see what his aunt meant about his eyes. But he had no reflection anymore, so. Perhaps that one was always a lost cause.

On the topic of lost causes; there was someone else in this room with him, yet. Someone who'd lost far more than a fleeting glimpse of creation in technicolour.

""— I cease to believe,"" Edwin finished reading with a soft, forced chuckle. To no response. He looked up to find Charles standing tall, gaze turned to the window. It was the first time all night he'd been without his blanket; and the first time he'd borne not the slightest shiver.

Well. At least he would never be cold again.

"Not enjoying this one?" Edwin prompted, gently. "Carrados the blind detective was just becoming quite popular in my day."

When Charles turned around, of course Edwin already knew what he would find. Knew what his own eyes would fall upon when they followed Charles’ gaze.

But knowing did not prepare him for the reality. The cold, desaturated tableau of Charles Rowland's demise, illuminated like a crime scene in the stark white light of the lantern. How a person so vital, so vibrant as Charles should be without blood and colour defied all reason. And yet there he lay; bereft of hue, and of life.

Edwin swallowed, and closed the book gently upon Max Carrados. "When you could see me, I knew it was too late."

Charles was silent. For the first time all night. Silent as the grave.

"But I simply..." Edwin hesitated. "I did not want to scare you."

In the corner of Edwin's eye, the lantern guttered and died. Good. It didn't seem right; all that light upon Charles, and not a drop of warmth in it.

"Well. Glad you didn't say anything." Charles' voice was stronger, now. How different he sounded, without the rattle of lake water in his lungs.

Charles looked at his hands. As did Edwin. How strange they appeared, in the bleak grey of Edwin's impoverished eyes. How unsettlingly close to the pallor his skin had taken on in his death throes. And yet he wasn't pallid, not in the slightest. Standing tall, unchained from his ailing flesh, he was more wholly and healthily Charles than Edwin had yet seen him.

"Doesn't feel like I imagined. Being dead," said Charles, thoughtful. "Feels okay, doesn't it?"

In truth, there was nothing remotely 'okay' about this situation. Edwin felt... robbed. He felt robbed. Because he would never know the colour of Charles' skin when it wasn't frozen grey, or beaten black and blue. He'd never see this Charles, standing tall in the dawning sunlight, the way he was designed to be seen. The way he was chosen, by God or fate or an impossible quirk of biology to be seen, by Edwin. Only by Edwin. For he was Edwin's, no more could he deny it.

And Charles would never see Edwin. Not the way Edwin saw him. Because by the time they met, it was already too late. Because in a wretched twist of fate, Charles’ soulmate — his unfortunate, unorthodox soulmate — was dead in the ground before Charles was even born.

And Edwin had thought Hell to be cruel and unusual punishment.

"I sincerely wish we could have been friends for longer," said Edwin, dropping the magazine and standing from his seat on the old trunk. "But Death will come for you, now. You should go with her when she arrives."

He turned, and began his brisk march to the door. What's done is done; and Charles was, unmistakably, done. Done in and done for, done in just about every sense.

So Charles would be off, now. He'd be off, and Edwin would just have to carry him, too. In his head, with his facts and his torments and a thousand tiny heartbreaks. What was another one, in the grand scheme of things? What else was there to do in this fugitive afterlife but keep his chin up, and soldier on?

"Well I'm not ready, am I?” Charles called out. “I don't wanna go somewhere else, yet."

Edwin faltered. Turned. Charles was watching him.

"What if I stay here for a bit with you, instead?" said Charles, preposterously.

"Then you will always be running from her," was Edwin's quick, logical response. But Charles was still watching him with those... those damnably appealing eyes, and he felt the need to defend his case. "Also, I'm not good with other people. And I only just came back to this school after escaping Hell, so. I'm out of practice, to be perfectly frank. So. When the light comes. You stay, and I go."

He smiled, tightly, and turned once more. There. He'd avoided mentioning Hell all night, but it was done, now. No boy with a lick of sense would —

"Well, I'm aces with other people."

… He simply could not be serious.

"Pretty chuffed you got out of Hell, mate," Charles continued, maddeningly blasé. "That sounds hard. Nice job."

Edwin turned on him, incredulous. "That is not how you make decisions," he snapped, taking a challenging step towards Charles. "Just based on whatever you happen to be feeling in the moment!"

"It's how I lived my life."

Charles turned his head, looked down at his own body. Edwin couldn't bring himself to do likewise.

"Doesn't seem all that different now."

Charles looked at Edwin, unflinching. And what a different creature he was, free of cold and pain. Lithe but lax, eyes slightly narrowed in almost catlike contemplation of Edwin. He stood before a hellbound soul, near naked and freshly dead, and yet the easygoing slope of his narrow shoulders bore no strain.

He shrugged, nonchalant. White light glimmered from his dangling earring. "Looks like you're stuck with me.”

For a moment it was nigh on impossible to believe he hadn't seen it, too. Hadn't seen the spectrum unfold when Edwin said his name. Because how else could someone look at anyone, let alone Edwin, with such certainty? As if he'd never been more sure of anything or anyone in his tragically short life.

Breathtaking was not a word Edwin liked to use lightly. In fact, he preferred not to use it at all. Who had ever seen something so rare, so staggeringly beautiful they'd lost their breath? It was the sort of word Aunt Florence would have used; flowery and hyperbolic.

It seemed Edwin owed her yet another apology.

Light flared in the corner. Their eyes leapt to it. It was of no colour that Edwin could see and yet he could feel it, deep in his soul, he knew its shape and colour; blue. A kinder, softer blue than that of bloodless lips and dreary skies. The wild blue yonder that he was barred from forevermore; the one that awaited Charles Rowland with open arms.

Charles looked at Edwin.

Edwin looked at Charles.

Charles smiled, soul glowing lantern-bright in those dark, confident eyes. He didn't move, not towards the light or away from it, but he held out his hand. Planted like a tree, unbending, unbowed. His roots sunk deep into the loamy earth of life; his branches beckoning Edwin into their boughs.

Oh, thought Edwin, when he understood — didn't see, simply understood — the colour that had been gazing back at him all along. That's the word I was looking for.

~

Thirty years passed, fading into memory, and with them faded the sting. It was hard to mourn the loss of colour when one could scarcely remember what it looked like in the first place. Those fleeting hours blended and blurred amidst the grey years, lost to time; a single hand-tinted frame in a hundred miles of monochrome celluloid.

Though he tried to remember, Edwin struggled to visualise the yellow light that had bathed their faces; the gold that glinted at the cut of Charles' jaw. Pink lips, red veins, the blue stain of death. Such things were impossible to note down in a world of black ink and white pages, and his aide-mémoires soon failed him. The colours fluttered away into the past, scattered to the winds of memory like his mother's smile, his father's voice, Aunt Florence's smoky laughter and the roses she painted on the guest room walls.

But though he could not recall the exact shade of Charles' eyes, nor compare them to any other — not even his own — Edwin knew something about them. Just as he knew Death's light shone heavenly blue. And for once in Edwin's long and tormented afterlife, he felt truly fortunate. Because he'd been allowed to experience only a fraction of what the visible spectrum had to offer; colours he could count on less than two hands.

And yet somehow, by some stroke of luck, he'd seen the best one nonetheless.

~

"At breakfast that morning I had been struck by the lively dissonance of its colours. But that was no longer the point. I was not looking now at an unusual flower arrangement. I was seeing what Adam had seen on the morning of his creation - the miracle, moment by moment, of naked existence."

~ Aldous Huxley

~~

Thank you for coming on this journey with me, my darlings 💛 Love to hear your thoughts! Reminder to check out Olly's amazing gifs! This one took a little while to come together, bc in my first draft Edwin's feelings/progression were a bit all over the place. But I realised that all the sections of the attic scene (not including the very first one/my inserted flashback about Aunt Florence) could track along the five stages of grief quite nicely and that gave me a good framework to loosely follow, starting in his denial of the implications and ending in devastated acceptance of what he's lost. As to why he didn't like, *tell* Charles, well, what would you do? Be honest? If you were a dead Edwardian ghost boy and you found out your actual soulmate was not only another boy, but a doomed one? One who isn't even seeing what you're seeing. Maybe he thought Charles wouldn't believe him, or would take it badly. Maybe he thought telling him would sway him unfairly into staying when Edwin believed he should go. I think he will tell him, one day. And Charles is gonna be PISSED that he kept it from him so long xD For the quotes, I tried to stick to things Edwin could possibly have read, so pre-1989 things, as I like the idea of him using literature as a framework for understanding what he's seeing. It was really interesting writing about colour from the perspective of someone with no reference for it! Some of the quotes might have ended up anachronistic by a couple of years, tbh people are *shit* at sourcing their quotes and while I could source authors easy enough it was hard sometimes to isolate what specific book/anthology the piece came from, or what year it was published. If I'd have had more time I would have done more digging! Anyway, that's about all I got right now. I dunno when I'll be back, probably (hopefully) in a few weeks with the next chapter of Lonely Bones. In the meantime please, feel free to continue chatting with me in the comments, on my tumblr, come be a pal, I've had the time of my life with y'all this week and I'm not ready to get off this train just yet! Until next time! 💛

[girlwiththepapatattoo]

A Bit of Aid

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairing: Halsin/Female Reader

Warnings: smut, masturbation, vaginal fingering, praise, bad puns, Astarion being a little shit

Summary: A friend offers you some help.

Notes: This is going to be a PROPER ONE SHOT. (I'm telling this mostly to myself. *wags finger at my own brain*)

Anyway, I've had this mental image in my head for like two weeks and had to get it out. I hope you enjoy <3

Read on Ao3 here!

///////////////////////////////

You lean back against the tree, your face scrunched in frustration. The cool night breeze brushes over the beads of sweat at your hairline, on your neck, making you shiver softly. You pull your hand out of your pants, wiping your fingers in the grass and muttering a very heartfelt, “Fuck,” under your breath. 

It’s been a week and a half since you escaped the nautoloid, waking up with an unwanted passenger behind your eye. 

A week and half, and you’ve built up a group of similarly afflicted people, and a druid you saved from a goblin camp. 

A group of very attractive people.

Now, you were far from a prude, but being surrounded by some of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen in your life is intimidating. Especially when you’ve always felt yourself as being painfully middle-of-the-road. 

And being surrounded by the most attractive people you’ve ever seen in your life is making your active libido scream at you. 

Back home in Baldur’s Gate, before you were snatched up into literal hell, you’d always get yourself off at the very least a few times a week. It was good for your mood and body alike. 

But that was when you were in the quiet safety of your own home. Trying to touch yourself while you’re in a thin-walled tent while those gorgeous people sleep mere feet away is too nerve-wracking to contemplate. 

And so, you’d decided to sneak away for some well earned alone time. Once everyone but Halsin (who volunteered for first watch) had gone to bed, you snuck out of camp and trekked probably half a mile into the forest. After making sure you were alone, you’d sat down at the base of a tree, loosened your belt, unlaced your pants, and shoved your hand into your smalls. 

Almost an hour later, you give up. It turns out that stressing out over the very real possibility of sloughing off your current form to become part of a tentacled hive mind, nearly dying several times at the hands of goblins, and are now facing a trip down into the Underdark, doesn’t make for an easy time getting off. 

Who knew?

And so you sit there against the tree, deciding to wait out the arousal swirling in your gut, to wait out the rather insistent throbbing in your clit, and once you were back to your default state to just go to bed. You exhale through your nose in annoyance, wanting nothing more than to feel that sweet, beautiful-

“Ah, there you are.” 

Your eyes shoot open in terror. You hear Halsin’s voice, his footsteps approaching through the trees, and you scramble to do up your belt at least, so he doesn’t suspect. 

He steps around the tree just as your hands leave your belt, and he quirks an eyebrow down at your red-face, at the way you’re not quite meeting his eyes. “Are you well? You didn’t come back to camp after you left, so I got worried.” 

“O-Oh, no, I’m fine, Halsin,” you stammer, trying your best to give him a friendly smile. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came out to…think.” 

“To think.” He tilts his head a little. “I understand the appeal of having a private spot, but the middle of the night in these woods is more dangerous than you’d suspect.” 

You give a weak smile. “Yeah…sorry for worrying you.” 

Mortified at what he almost caught you doing, you move to stand. But when he crouches before you, smiling in his normal, friendly way… “Would you like some help?” 

You freeze, your eyes locking onto his bright hazel gaze in shock. Did he just…? “Um. What…do you mean? Help with what, standing up? I got it, I promise.” 

He chuckles. “No, no. I mean, help with reaching orgasm.”

You pray that the ground opens you up and swallows you whole. 

“I…” You clear your throat so that more comes out than just a squeak. “W-Why would you…think that I…I wasn’t…” 

His expression is soft, kind. You’re pretty sure that only makes it worse. “Be at ease. There is no shame in desire. For most people, it’s as natural as hunger, as thirst. And there’s no shame in accepting a helping hand…or two. After everything you’ve been through so far, it’s no surprise you’re having trouble on your own.”

Against your will, your eyes flit down to his hands. Thick fingers are laced together between his bent knees as he squats before you, and the thought of what they could do on your flesh makes the hair raise on the back of your neck. You’re suddenly hyper aware of your own body, every inch of skin sensitive. 

“And if you’re worried that I’ll be offended if you say no, you needn’t be.” You look back up at his face in surprise. He gives you a serious look. “I would never touch you without your permission. If you don’t wish my help, say the word and I’ll head back to camp.” 

His words go a long way to reassuring you, and you take a moment to really think about it. It’s been so long since you last had anyone to share an intimate moment with, and you could easily die at any moment. Why shouldn’t you indulge in this man who seems more than willing to help you out? 

You lick your lips. Nerves race through your gut, along with your growing arousal, but you meet Halsin’s eyes. You mean to say something like yes or all right then or hell yes let’s wake up the camp with my screaming, but instead all that comes out is a whispered, “Please…” 

His lips quirk up, his eyes darken even as they flash in delight. “Hm. Please what?” 

His voice has lowered, his customary rumble more pronounced. Your mouth goes dry. “Please…I’d like your help,” you respond. 

“Gladly,” he all but purrs. “Let’s get comfortable then.” He has you move over, and as you shift he pulls his leather vest off. You inhale sharply, your eyes darting over his torso. His shoulder muscles ripple as he lowers himself to sit down with his own back against the tree now. 

What really surprises you though is his body hair. Elves as a whole don’t tend to have hair at all below their heads, but Halsin…his forearms are thick with it, his chest sports a nice patch, and there’s a tantalizing line running from his navel to below his belt. “Gods, you’re gorgeous,” you breathe. 

He chuckles softly. “I’m flattered you think so.” He reaches out a hand to you. “Now, come here to me.” 

Anticipation roils in your gut. You take his hand, warm and calloused and huge. He tugs you over, helping you sit down on his lap, and you gasp as you feel a half-formed erection press against your ass. He rumbles in enjoyment at the sudden friction, tugging you firmly by the hips so that your back is flat against his chest. His cheek presses to yours on your right sight, and his voice vibrates into you, along your back and into your jaw. 

“We’re going to adjust your clothing now. Pull your pants and smalls down for me, hm?” 

His tone is soft and gently encouraging, almost casual, as though he’s teaching you a new skill. It makes you feel desperate to obey. You wriggle your pants and smalls all the way off in your eagerness, which makes him chuckle. His left hand pats your thigh, sending prickles over your flesh. “Lift.” You do, your toes balanced on his knee. He slips that arm under your leg. “Lower, and tuck the toes of both your feet under my knees.” 

You swallow hard at how open this leaves you for him. His thumb caresses your inner thigh almost fondly, which has you breaking out into sensitive shivers. You feel his cheek shift as he smiles. 

“That’s it. Now, pull the hem of your shirt up over your breasts.” 

You do so, taking your bra with it. Your shirt bunches up to your mid-back, and you can feel his belly hair on your skin.

“Mmm, you’re lovely,” he purrs, nuzzling his cheek with yours. His thumb suddenly traces the curve of your breast before his hand cups under it, giving you a soft squeeze, and you shudder hard on his lap and whine his name. “My, my, you are eager aren’t you?” 

He feels your face heat against his cheek. “S-Sorry…it’s been a while,” you whisper.

“Trust me, sweetling, that was not a complaint,” he replies, giving you another soft nuzzle. “I like it. Your desire is as beautiful as you are…” 

He turns his head toward you, and he presses his lips to the side of your neck at the same time the pads of the fingers of his left hand suddenly press between your legs. You gasp loudly, your hips bucking at the touch. “Easy,” he murmurs soothingly against your skin, waiting until you settle. 

You can’t believe how quickly he’s already gotten you dripping. You’ve barely been on his lap a minute, and you’re already desperately turned on. 

His fingers move again, his index and middle fingers parted and rubbing slowly up and down your outer lips. “Fuck,” you gasp out, and he chuckles softly.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had such a mouth on you,” he teases gently. 

You want to say something clever, something that’ll make him laugh that low, sexy laugh again, maybe even something that’ll have his cock twitching in his pants. But words are a bit beyond you right now, and so you very eloquently say, “Hnng.” 

You feel his jaw shift, as though he was going to speak, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers make another pass, nice and slow, up and down your outer lips, before gently parting you open. The cool air of the forest on your overheated, slick core has you stifling another curse under your breath. 

His index finger swipes through your slick as the other hand suddenly gives a pinch to your already hardened nipple, and you have to turn your head to stifle a cry into his neck. “Shh, sweetling, I know,” he murmurs, as though he weren’t the one making you lose your mind. He’s so warm behind you, and he smells so good, like the woods and clean sweat. 

He rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, all the while slowly, slowly dragging his touch through your dripping folds. You can feel your heartbeat in your clit. 

“You feel so good,” he rasps as he builds your desire. “So warm and wet for me…One day soon, I would like to take you properly, to feel all this around my cock.” As he finishes his words, the middle finger of his left hand slides slowly into you. You inhale sharply, your eyes nearly rolling back into your head at how good it feels to have someone else’s touch inside you. His finger is thick, nearly twice as wide as your own, and the feel of it makes your hips buck. 

He chuckles softly. “I know, sweetling,” he soothes, pressing a line of gentle kisses up the column of your throat. His right hand gives a soft tug to your nipple, before reaching across your chest to give the other the same treatment. The finger that’s inside you starts to move, gently pumping in and out of you, dragging against your walls…

Curses fall from your lips, muffled into the spot where his throat meets his jawline. You can feel him grin, glad to know that he’s doing a good job.

His right hand leaves your breast, tracing calloused fingertips down over your belly. You shiver hard, wrapping your hand around his bicep as you realize where he’s headed. His fingers slip through the soft hair at the apex of your thighs, down over your mound to your leaking slit. 

The first touch to your clit makes you hiss, and he eases up on his touch, brushing a kiss over your cheek in apology for being too harsh. He gently pets at you, testing, watching your reactions carefully to learn what touches are the best, what gives you the most pleasure. But once he figures it out…

“There we go,” he growls as you moan into his skin, unable to stop the sound that rips from your throat as he works you perfectly. His fingers slide wetly over your engorged clit just the way you like, his other hand pumps two fingers now into your drenched hole, rolling them to hit every sensitive spot you’ve got. You shudder and writhe on his lap, feeling yourself begin to sweat. 

You also feel his cock, fully hard now against your ass. He’s rumbling out soft groans next to your ear as your motions rub yourself on him. “P-Please…please, i-if you want, fuck me now,” you gasp out. 

You feel him growl at your words, and his fingers speed up their pace. “No, not now.” He nips at your ear gently. “Tonight is about you. Besides, I know in my heart if I have you now, your sweet body will be the only thing on my mind. I’ll want to do nothing more than take you, day and night…and we have too much to do for that, I’m afraid.” 

You make some sort of choking/wheezing sound in the back of your throat. You’re pretty sure that’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to you. Your soaked walls clench around his fingers, and he growls again at the feeling. “F-Fuck, you…you can’t just say something like that and then deny me!” you gasp out. 

He chuckles, low and dark. “Apologies, sweetling. One day soon I’ll more than make it up to you. We shall be testing the limits of your stamina…but for now…” 

His fingers speed up, rubbing rapidly over your clit. He adds a third finger, stretching you wide around his massive digits, and you shriek his name. Almost as soon as the sound starts to leave your throat, he turns his head and kisses you deeply, muffling your noise. His tongue plunges into your mouth, tasting of the remnants of supper and something uniquely him, and you eagerly twine your tongue with his. 

You feel it, then, the sudden swoop in your lower belly. Your eyes snap open at the same time he feels your walls begin to flutter around his fingers. Your eyes meet his, those intense hazel orbs sharpening. He pulls away from your mouth, grinning in triumph. “There we go, that’s right…come for me!” 

You throw your head back on his shoulder as your pleasure builds and builds, your hips bucking into his hands. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as, somehow, he speeds up even more, his fingers pounding into your cunt. He growls your name, you choke out his-

-and you nearly arch completely off of him as you explode. You howl your pleasure to the night air, lost completely to the torrent of fire and lightning rushing through your nerves. You barely hear Halsin, whispering encouragements and praise by your ear as he works you through it. “That’s it, sweetling, that’s it, soak my fingers. Oakfather preserve me, you feel so fucking good gripping me like that…” 

So lost you are in the throws of your orgasm you don’t see his eyes flash gold a couple times before he gets himself under control. You just writhe in the circle of his arms as he works you through it. 

When your movements begin to slow, so do his. He floats you gently down, down from the high he’d sent you soaring to just a few moments ago. You shudder and slump against him as he pulls his fingers from you, gasping for breath and shivering as the cool night air caresses over your sweaty skin. 

You hear him grunt suddenly, and you peel your eyes open just in time to watch him begin to lick your juices from his skin. You inhale sharply, your inner walls clenching hard around nothing at the sight of his tongue lapping you from his fingers. You watch, slack-jawed, as he licks every trace of you from his hand, and once he was done he smacks his lips. “You’re delicious,” he purrs, pressing his forehead to yours. “Next time you’d like help, I think I’ll take you apart on my tongue instead.” 

You shudder at his words, thinking about what he could do with that mouth. “K-Keep talking like that and I’ll be ready for round two right now.” 

He chuckles softly, brushing a kiss to your cheek. “Much as I would love to give you another one, we should get you to bed. We depart for the Underdark in the morning-you must get some rest.” He helps you to stand, then from a pocket in his trousers he pulls out a clean rag. 

You blink in surprise as he wipes at you gently, careful not to overstimulate you. “You…brought that with you? How did you know I’d say yes?” you ask, your thighs shaking a bit as he cleans you. 

“I didn’t.” He grins up at you, on his knees before your gently trembling body. “But in my years, I’ve learned that always coming prepared saves a lot of uncomfortable walks.” 

You snort, stifling giggles into your hand as he helps you into your smalls and pants. It’s quiet then as his fingers do up your laces, and then your belt. He gently pulls your shirt back down, tugging it into place, before he smiles softly to you. “If you ever need my help again, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

“Thank you. And I’m sorry for tomorrow morning, when I’ll inevitably be embarrassed that it happened at all,” you say with a soft grin. 

He can’t help but laugh, leaning down and brushing a fond kiss over your forehead. “I hope one day you’ll unlearn the shame. Now, let’s get back to camp.” He sweeps his hand back towards where the rest of your companions are hopefully still slumbering. 

You both walk in silence for a little while, before you pipe up. “Earlier, a little bit before I…finished, I could have sworn you were about to say something.” 

“Hm? Oh, that.” He grins, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’d uh…been having trouble talking through the pleasure. I was going to tease you a little, but the joke I’d settled on may have distracted you from my touch, so I kept it to myself.” 

“Oh?” You couldn’t help the curious, amused look up at him. “What were you going to say?” 

He sighs, looking embarrassed at himself now. “I was going to ask, ‘bear got your tongue’?”

You have to stop to lean against a tree, you're laughing so hard. He huffs at you, but he’s smiling, unable to find it in himself to be upset. You both bicker like old friends as you return to camp, no awkwardness at all between you. 

Of course, when you get back to camp and Astarion is sitting at the fire, obviously waiting for you both, you immediately blush as the vampire smirks knowingly. “Really, Halsin, you were supposed to be on first watch. I didn’t expect dereliction of duty from you.” He stands, languid grace incarnate, and starts to walk back to his tent. “Good thing I was awoken from my trance when something screamed out in the woods. Goodness knows what could have attacked us in our sleep!” 

He sounds of nothing but pure, pleased mischief. You’re left practically steaming in embarrassment, and before Halsin can say anything, you scuttle to your tent and tie yourself in. The huge druid sighs, shaking his head, but he can’t quite get rid of the fond smile on his lips as he settles back in for the rest of his watch. 

[elderberries-and-honey]

Dear Mother,

It's been awhile since I've written, I know but I must share the most exciting news. Your little girl has gotten married. Can you imagine it? Me, a married woman? I can still hear the girls at the workhouse, 'you'll never be anything but an old spinster, Winifred Monet!', but I've proved them wrong now, haven't I?

Lawrence and I met while he was visiting London browsing for new fabrics to sew himself up new work shirts, which he is quite talented at. He says his Mum insisted he learn to sew and cook for himself.

Anyway, we wrote to each other for several months before he surprised me at my little apartment. He did it real proper, you see, with a ring and on one knee, and I just couldn't help but to say yes.

The ride from London to Wales was quite pleasant; I'd always wanted to see the country-side and it's even more beautiful than I could've imagined. Standing there, Lawrence at my side, safety swelled within my heart. I finally felt it - I finally felt at home.

All those years I'd spent feeling so alone...so different...well, Lawrence makes me feel anything except those things. He makes me feel safe and loved. I think you'd be very pleased to hear this. At least, I truly hope so.

When Lawrence's parents passed, they left him the farm he had grown up on. It's breathtaking, truly, I haven't the words to properly describe it to you. Many animals, both Lawrence's and a few wanderers, reside here and some come and go as they please.

My favorite is a little goose, who was raised by some of the chickens and even thinks of himself as one! Lawrence named him Frank and I'm quite fond of him, but Lawrence likes to tease he's just trying to get extra handfuls of feed.

The pond in front is alright for fishing too and both swans and ducks wander to swim around the water from time to time. Do you remember when we'd travel down to river thames and feed the ducks there on Sundays? How special a memory to reflect on, hm?

My favorite animals by far though are the little sheep - Lawrence has four, Peony, Daisy, Tabby and Poppy. Lawrence taught me how to feed them proper with a little baby's bottle - how spoiled! And you wouldn't believe it, Mother, little Peony jumped right up into my arms after her feeding!

Tomorrow, Lawrence begins planting the fall and winter crops. He says this is necessary because soon, the ground will become too stiff with frost and nothing can get planted.

I must end this letter here; my eyes are far too heavy to keep them open any longer and I fret my hands are getting sore. Of course, nothing like what you experienced with your arthritis. I love you so, Mother. Wish you were here.

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝘼𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨, 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙙

next / previous / first

[leoneliterary]

Heya Leone! Hope you’ve been having a good (or survivable) week so far! Here’s two questions that have been on my mind for quite some time:

We know that Aretas and Laverna get a good stream of admirers, but how’s it look for the rest of the ROs? Do people tend to get crushes on/court them often? 🤔

Shoutout to Amatus for gracefully gifting his Ducklings the gift of Being Hot by simply growing up near him btw

Thank you, I've been preoccupied with staying warm, but I can't complain!

Okay this is a cool question, let's see:

Sarai:

(Some have tried to get with her and very few have lived to tell the tale.)

When Aretas was young, many nobles wanted to approach and control a young, politically vulnerable widow. They did not succeed. Now people at court are either too resentful of her power or too afraid to risk the ire of the Aretas to try anything. Still, she has many admires who still appreciate a beautiful woman. She gets love letters, gifts, and marriage proposal's from other kingdoms.

Sutek:

(If he wanted to, he could be getting busy on the regular and have a whole family.)

In the Jackal territory and other parts of Lower Cusmo, he's viewed as a catch. Idir wishes that Sutek would take advantage of his position as guild leader and followed his example, but Sutek keeps mostly to himself. He rebuffs people's advances, assuming people feel obligated or have ulterior motives for approaching him, but he doesn't do it in a cruel way. Unfortunately for him, this only increases his appeal.

Desma:

(She's had some casual flings and broken several hearts because she's careless when it comes to people's feelings. Unless you're one of the ducklings.)

Her intense connection with the ducklings, especially if she has feelings for the MC, makes it hard for her to invest too heavily in other people on an emotional level. The Talons are her family/friends and a roll in the sheets is good fun. Any of the people in Cusmo that thought there could be something more usually found themselves with empty pockets, no palpata, and Desma's confusion about what else they expected.

Merikh:

(People have been interested, but he's too unavailable for it to go anywhere. Plus his ex...was not the best.)

He has that whole broodingly handsome thing going on that has caused people to be interested, but he usually is too busy sulking and thinking about vengeance for it to go anywhere. He's dismissive of the attention he gets at best and at worst he's hostile. People that have been around him long enough to have a crush are usually crushed by his blunt refusal of a confession.

Nari:

(She has some quiet admirers, one closer than others, but most people don't view her that way.)

Ever since she began to follow in her father's footsteps, her marriage proposals have withered away to almost nothing and the offers she does receive are more disrespectful than flattering. She doesn't think any interest people express in her is genuine and has all but given up hoping for it. This has caused her to miss some of the people that are interested, but not vocal.

Heka:

(People are definitely interested, he just doesn't know it.)

He has grown up in a temple and is somewhat oblivious to his good looks. People gives monks food all of the time, so he thinks all of the nice ladies in some of the villages they help out at are just very kind to offer him dinner and baskets of fruit. When he was younger, some of the other monks called him a pretty boy, but that was usually trash talk before a scuffle broke out, so he assumes they're being sarcastic.

P.S. Oh my goodness you're right! Amatus is proof that being hot is contagious haha!

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

The Greatest Shame - ZoSan Divorce AU Fic Teaser

Presenting the first teaser for the ZoSan Divorce AU fic! I've been working on this for a bit after several talks on a Discord server about the idea. Well, now I'm not too far from finishing the first chapter, at least as long as I can keep the writing momentum going.

I hope y'all enjoy, and I highly recommend checking out @bubba-luz since they posted some soul-crushing art for this AU before I actually started writing this fic.

-

The All Blue truly was everything he had heard it would be, perhaps even more than he had pictured in his mind. Over the decades he had traveled on the Thousand Sunny, he had never seen the sea so clear or the countless creatures that lived below the waves visible in a rainbow of colors. It was beautiful, that he could admit, but it only caused the heavy feeling in his chest to grow. Zoro sat at the water’s edge on the dock of an island he had never realized was close to the mystical sea. It had been an accident finding his way here to the All Blue, maybe that was why he stayed on this island with no name. Maybe that was why he had chosen to stay silent all this time, waiting for the others to find their way here.

The rhythmic click of a lighter and the following all too familiar scent of cigarette smoke causes him to stiffen, closing his eye as the quiet footsteps slowly approach. He feels when the other stops, only a few steps from where he sat, watching the waves quietly. The silence only adds to the heaviness in his chest, broken only by the quiet exhalation of smoke. He slowly opens his eye, willing himself to glance at Sanji from the corner of his eye. The cook’s blonde hair was longer now, pulled into a loose tie at his back and once again back to the hairstyle he had joined the Straw Hats with, but that only caused the ache to spread, especially as Zoro’s gaze traveled down towards his hands. Guilt festered as he took in the way Sanji’s hands trembled as he held his cigarette, the scar he had inflicted long ago still obvious despite the years since then. Simply seeing the damage he had caused made the scars on his back light up with phantom pain, burning as if it had just happened.

He can feel the pressure build in his throat, choking any words he would have said to Sanji, if he believed that anything he spoke would be worth acknowledging. The air was tense with the silence, yet neither was willing to break the dark cloud that had settled over them since long ago. It’s sad really, Zoro thinks, gazing once again at the waters of the All Blue. He’s the world’s greatest swordsman, yet something so simple causes him to lose his voice, leaving him unable to find his way. What good is such a title when the one person he wanted most to share his success with no longer looks his way. But he knows he doesn’t even deserve a passing glance, let alone being in his presence. He lost that right long ago. This is the one thing that Zoro knows will never be fixed.

[sebsgirl71479]

I'm with you

Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized Reader

Warnings: none just absolute fluff.

AN/: I had a dream the other night, and this is the result of it. Most of my dreams consist of some kind of music. The song that this story follows is one of my all-time favorites. Hope you enjoy it purely self-indulgent as you will read. Typed on my phone, so sorry for any mistakes. The picture above is courtesy of nix on Instagram. I'm dedicating this to @christycurlswrites @povlvr

Bucky barnes was a man who loved music. Listened to it whenever he had free time. It was a way of escapism from the life he used to have. Lately, he has had a melody in his head that he can't seem to figure out. It sounds like a song from this time, but not now. So when he goes to the bar that is down the block from his apartment, spends about a good 30 mins going through the jukebox playing songs, hoping he will find it.

Y/N loved music as well. She thinks every type of emotion can be traced to music. Y/N grew up around music, with siblings and parents who constantly had it playing. Weather in their own rooms or out in the backyard while gardening or cooking on the grill. One day, she was fliting around her Brooklyn apartment, putting a few books that she had bought away. When suddenly she had the urge to hum a melody. She sort of recognized the tune, but she kept singing it anyway.

After tidying up her apartment y/n decided to head to her local bar and have a drink or two and talk with the sweet lady that tended the bar sometimes. Making sure she looked presentable y/n grabbed her leather jacket and headed out into the early autumn night.

Tonight was just another night for bucky. After having a quick debrief with Sam and going home to shower and refresh, he headed to his regular bar for another night of figuring out this song in his head. So far, it's been 2 weeks since he started this search. He didn't mind it so much. The bar was good, and the older lady bartender sometimes tried flirting with him, but she only did it because her husband got a kick out of it.

You were sitting at the bar nursing your drink and losing yourself in the music that was being played on the jukebox near you. You look up and a very handsome brunette walks up to the bar top and greets Eleanor, your sweet bartender lady. He orders a beer and goes over to the jukebox and starts entering money and pressing a fee buttons for several songs. You think to yourself 'hm this guy must like music as much as I do.' He heads back over to the middle of the bar where he left beer and sits back and waits for a new song to play.

"Pist Eleanor, who is that man?"

"Oh honey, that's James. Such a sweet but quiet man. I think he loves music more than you dear."

"Oh, I doubt that, but it is nice to know a fellow music lover."

"He's been coming her for a while now, but lately, he said he's had a tune in his head where he can't figure out what the song is. So he comes here plays the jukebox for a bit, hoping he will find the song."

"Well, I hope he finds it. I've had a song in my head all day today, and I'm trying to remember it."

As soon as your conversation ends, you hear a familiar cello playing the beginning of one of your favorite songs. So you start to sing along with it.

Bucky is on his 2nd beer when that same melody he has been humming finally comes through the speakers. When the chorus starts, he hears the woman to his left start singing at the same time. She has the most beautiful voice and even more beautiful face. He can't stop staring at her and Eleanor can see this.

"James, I see you staring. Why do you go and ask her to dance? It's a beautiful song."

"Eleanor, this is the song that's been stuck in my head. When I finally hear it, this woman is singing it as well. Who is she, she's beautiful? "

"That's y/n, she's a music lover like yourself. Go, ask her to dance."

Bucky takes another sip of his beer and finds the courage to walk up to you. As he walks up to her, she gets more beautiful.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to bother you, but you have a beautiful voice. I know this is strange but would you like to dance with me?"

You look up at the brunette and can't stop staring at his stunning blur eyes. Something in you is compelling you to agree.

"This is one of my favorite songs. I would love to."

You take his hand, and he leads you a bit away from the bar. He brings his right arm around your waist while you hold his left hand to the side. You both can stop staring at the other. So entranced with each other.

"My name is James, but you can call me Bucky. What's your name?"

"I'm y/n. It's nice to meet you Bucky."

"I'm y/n. It's nice to meet you Bucky."

After a few moments, you let go of his left hand and bring it up to the back of his neck. While he holds you closer by the waist. Still staring each other in the eyes.

"They remind me us, don't you think henry?"

"Yes, they do, darling. I hope these two have what we have."

Henry gives his wife a kiss on the forehead has they continue to watch the two of you dance.

The two of you are in your own world while dancing, the outside world doesn't exist.

"I've had this songs melody in my head for the past few weeks, and I never knew what it was until tonight. Then you started to sing along with it, and I feel like I was meant to meet you because of this song."

"I loved this song when I was younger and have always loved singing it."

"I know we just met y/n, but I feel this pull towards you that I've never felt before."

"I feel it too."

"I want to kiss you so bad."

"Then what's stopping you? "

Bucky leans down and captures your lips in a delicate, sweet kiss. His lips are so soft, and you can taste the bit a beer on his tongue and mint as well. You both feel like you need this is like oxygen to live. You both pull away after a few minutes and press your foreheads together.

"You know, it's not too late. Want to grab some dinner at the diner down the street? They make a great apple pie."

"I'd love dinner. Anything to stay in your presence."

You take each other's hand and walk back towards the bar to close out your tabs.

"Don't worry about your bill kids, its on us. Go have fun."

Eleanor and Henry can't keep the smiles off their faces. Bucky walks over to your seat and grabs your jacket, and helps you into it.

As the two of you walk towards the door, you hear Henry shout back to you.

"Don't forget to invite us to the wedding!"

And with that, you and bucky head onto the streets of Brooklyn. Hopefully, it will be towards a lifetime of love, dancing, and music.

[momolady]

War on the Mists :Author April #2

(This was another novel I was working on. The characters are ones I have used before and would love to use again. Heloise is one of my favorite OC I've ever created, and she's stayed with me forever. I was also super-duper into Revolutionary Girl Utena at the time. Anyways, this was my take on the Arthurian legends. There is a lot more to this if you all want to see the rest.)

Chapter One:

Just beyond the gates of Cleatom Academy is a wide polished stone with a slit in it’s center. It sits in the center of a wide, shallow pond. Water pours continuously from the slit, filling the pond and creating a simplistic work of art for all those you come to the school to see. The students referred to it as Stone Lake.

I had seen Stone Lake first through a brochure that I had come across when I had finally convinced my father to take me off home schooling. It took some hard work and heavy screaming to convince him to let me attend Cleatom. But I already knew all about Cleatom Academy. It is an academy was for the children of powerful people, people like my father. It was a place to turn the children of said people into equally powerful people, the kind of person I was afraid of becoming. Despite my dislike of the place and it’s populace I am looking forward to the transfer. There was a reason I had been needling my father for years about Cleatom. Not only is it a boarding school, which meant I would be able to breathe, I’d be out from my father’s oppressive, suffocating house. But there was something much more. Something I had been fighting for since I was a child. I would be able to see my brother Ty. The most beloved person in my life and someone who has been kept too far out of reach from me for too long.

The moment I was dropped off at Cleatom, I couldn’t help but smile as my father’s limousine pulled away from the boarding house. I laughed out loud even as I stood in the center of my room. I wasn’t even mad when they told me I’d have a roommate within a few days. Please, I begged the air, let it be someone normal! I didn’t have much time to celebrate though, as I wanted to get some sleep for school. But when my mind keep whirring and clicking, thinking about Ty and how I’d get to see him everyday. I just couldn’t turn off completely. I got up extremely early the next morning, the light outside gray and fog as far as the eye could see. I got into my school uniform, a white blouse with a form fitting black vest over the top of it and then a gray plaid skirt. There was also a silvery gray tie and the school’s emblem emblazoned as a pin at my throat. I got to wear whatever shoes and accessories I wanted the head master had explained to me like it mattered. For me, clothes were just the armor I put on for my father and the people he surrounds himself with. Since that was no longer necessary for my defense, I had my attendant back home help me order a pair of high top sneakers in my favorite color, red. I also bought for myself an assortment of odd and colorful knee socks. I was only ever allowed to wear tights or hose before.

Then put on my sneakers for the first time. I never knew comfort like this. I then slipped on the beaded bracelet Angie, my attendant, made for me and went out the door.

The hall was quiet and I heard no activity from the other rooms. But as I began descending the stairs I came across several girls who I assumed to be the attendants of the girls in the dorm. They seemed surprised to see me on the stairs, or just even there. I now wish I had allowed Angie to come with me, but I’m glad she’s getting some respite. Maybe I’ll call her here next semester.

I walk outside, shrouded in mist and cool damp air. I walk through the garden that surrounds the girl dormitories. They have all sorts of plants growing, its very beautiful in the light. Several classes have the students raise and cultivate their own plants. I made sure to sign up for one. I stop just before the gate leading out of the dormitory village and walk off towards the herb patch. The ground is freshly upturned and sprouts are peeking out all over. I think of the little clay pot that sat on my balcony. Angie and I began it when I was twelve. I’m sure she took it home with her to take care of it. At least I hope she did.

I look up, fairly sure I sensed a presence around me. I saw the swaying of the willow trees branches, but nothing else. I stood, looking forward, knowing I could feel eyes on me from somewhere in the mists. I take a cold breath. My lungs freezing as I turn and unlock the gate into the cobble stone path leading to the school.

Stone Lake was much smaller than I pictured. Then again, compared to the castle the school had been built into, everything looked smaller. The stone rested slightly above me. And the small shallow pond wasn’t even deep enough to hold fish. By the time I had come to the pond and sat for a moment students were arriving, not just from the dormitory village but in limos and cars coming through the front gates like I had yesterday. I watched as these cars pulled up at the doors, letting out their pristine cargo. I watched my new classmates. I watched for Ty.

I then heard laughing from around the other side of the stone and when I leaned out slightly I saw a group of girls walking away. All laughing and tossing their hair. It was a victory lap for them. I walked around to see what was so funny and saw a girl sitting in the water, her head down low.

I went towards the girl, standing up on the rocks to get level with her. “Are you alright?” I held my hand out towards her.

The girl looked up, her berry red hair plastered to her face. Her eyes were wide and gold, peering out frightened behind strands of shining hair. I tilted myself down towards her.

“Did they push you in here?” I held my hand out to the girl again.

The girl opened her mouth then closed it, lowering her head and began shuffling her hands through the water. I stepped up onto the platform and kneeled down beside the girl. “Did you loose something?”

“My glasses,” the girl murmured.

I began looking around too. “What do they look like?” I was feeling about the water beside her.

“Silver, with pearl accents.” The girl said.

I looked down to her left and saw the glasses hanging on a shrub. I picked them up and cleaned them with my sleeve. Smiling, I extended them to her. “Here.”

The girl quickly took then and placed them on her face. She looked up at me and nodded, pressing her lips firmly together. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” I replied. “Are you ok? Do you need me to help take you back to the dormitories?”

The girl stood up and smoothed her hand down utterly soaked skirt.

“You must be freezing.” I moved to remove my coat and the girl began stepping out of the water, moving quickly away from me.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” She picked up her bag from the ground. “You’re an Emerald, you shouldn’t have to.”

I touched the jeweled bauble on my throat, attached to the top of the school uniform tie. It was the school emblem, but encrusted with emeralds. “What do you mean?” I followed after her.

The girl lifted her chin, touching her tie pin. Instead of emerald, her pin was pearl. I arched my brow at this, thinking that all the pins would be the same. “I’m a Pearl,” the girl continued. “And you are an Emerald.”

“I’m sorry,” I was shaking my head. “But I’m new here. I’m not sure what you mean.”

The girl pulled her wet hair and placed it in a heavy bundle on her shoulder. “I am beneath you.” She said simply and walked away. I wanted to follow after her but I had a feeling she‘d be even more humiliated if I did. I decided instead it would be best to find Ty.

Cleatom Academy had been built into and expanded from a castle made of white stone. I’m sure all the students felt even more superior because of this. True royalty! I walked up the ramp into the doors and into the commons area. It was like the food court in a mall. There was a coffee bar, a cupcake place, many tables and chairs as well as several large overly stuffed sofas and recliners. It certainly didn’t look like an antiquated castle.

“Good morning Cleatom!” A voice sang from the speaker system. “It’s another lovely day and I have just a few announcements before we all go to home room. We have three new students joining us today. Gregory W. Mansfield, Diamond. Heloise E. Boniface, Emerald. And Samantha B.D. Lewis, Ruby. Let’s be sure to greet them warmly!” I did not like the sound of my voice being introduced. “Students with birthdays today make sure to make your way to Sweetie Belle Cupcakes today for your complementary birthday cupcake. Today’s special is a chocolate, strawberry glace cupcake with an extra large chocolate covered strawberry on top. Yum!” I also didn’t like how scripted the yum bit sounded.

I walked around a gaggle of girls heading for the cupcake shop then and began zigzagging my way through the tables and chairs. “Also, would Heloise Boniface report to the sound booth.” The over head voice said.

I froze, what did they want with me?

“You can find your way there by heading to the glass elevator and pressing the button labeled SB3.” The voice continued with it’s wide awake voice. “You are in for a surprise.”

As I made my way to the elevator I knew I was the topic of the hour. Most heads turned and looked my way. Girls bent to whisper into ears, their eyes trailing me. Luckily the elevator was unoccupied when I entered. I pressed the button, a shiny chrome one with the letters and numerals illuminated behind it. Once the button was pressed the lettering flashed bright green. I was jostled for a moment as the elevator sprang to life, pulling me up above the crowd and through the levels of the castle until I reached the third floor.

The elevator opened up into a dimly lit room full of dark furniture. Beyond this I saw a huge white room behind glass brightly lit and glowing compared to the room before it. There someone inside talking into an old fashioned microphone and working a control panel of buttons. He removed the headphones he was wearing and pressed a button. Behind me, I could hear music playing in the elevator.

The man inside came out of the white room, running his fingers through his brick red hair. “It’s been a while.” The voice from the announcements said.

I furrowed my brow at him. “Excuse me?”

He turned on a light, illuminating the dark room. “Surely, you remember me a little.”

I stared, recognizing the freckled face, the deep brown eyes. Mainly the toothy smile. “Ty!” I flung my bag aside and ran into his open arms. I noticed that Ty’s pin was ruby.

“I’ve been waiting on you forever.” Ty said, stroking my hair. He stepped back, bracing his hands on my shoulders. “You haven’t grown an inch!”

I scowled at him. My height had always been an issue with my father and a joke with some of the staff. “Some heart warming greeting.” I brushed his hand away and began pacing the room slowly. “What is this?”

“The sound booth where I make all the announcements.” Ty said, following behind me. Mimicking my posture and how I held my hands behind my back. “Normally I have groupies, but I chased them off so I could have you by myself.”

“How kind.” Rolling my eyes, I smile. “Why do they let you make the announcements?”

“I’m the House Speaker,” Ty replied. “I’m an elected official.” He mocked snapping suspenders.

I turned towards him, raising my eyebrows. “Elected?”

“Student government,” Ty said, putting his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side. “I’m a pretty powerful person around here.”

“I bet Mrs. Jerrick is so proud.” I sniffed.

Ty laughed. “Of course not. Not when my sister is  the VP!”

I looked back at him. He was talking about his half sister Cordelia Jerrick. Poor Ty was born between worlds. The bastard love child of my father and Mrs. Jerrick a world renowned business woman of the cosmetics industry. “So, are you meeting me illegally then?” I looked back towards the elevator doors then, just expecting Cordelia Jerrick to burst forth with soldiers, ordering I be tar and feathered.

“I made the announcement over the intercom, she would have been here by now if that was the case.” Ty replied, a smile in his voice. “She knows she has no control over me here.” He then reached out, taking my pin gently between his fingers. “Lucky you. You’re an Emerald.”

“I don’t get that.” I tap the expensive bauble on my throat. “What do these pins mean?” I had thought my father had simply chosen the Emerald because it was the most expensive.

Ty sighed, leaning back against the wall. “This school has a sort of…caste system.” My eyes widened at this. “It goes all the way from the working class students who serve the higher students, up to the most elite.”

He explained it all to me starting with amber, said working class. Most Amber students are actually the staff of the higher up students. That explained the maids I saw this morning.

He went on to the Pearls, which are students who are children of teachers or have scholarships. The girl this morning was a Pearl. This probably also explains why she was the victim of those girls. She was beneath them, like she said.

Then there are the Diamonds, students who are at the top of their classes or students who have celebrity. He explained that even Pearl students who have worked their way up can become Diamonds.

Rubies, like Ty, are next and they are the children of people who have donated a large amount of money. “Bought students, we’re called.” Ty smirked, somewhat proudly.

Then there was my group the Emeralds. A good combination of Diamond and Ruby. Students whose parents have donated large sums of money. These students could have been Rubies at one point, but moved up the rank because of celebrity status, grades, and etc.

“Then there are the Sapphires, like Cordelia.” Ty hesitated for a moment, gauging my somewhat disturbed expression to it all. “Sapphires are the elites, those who have all of the above and then some.”

I cleared my throat after a moment of it sinking in. “How is she a sapphire when you’re just a ruby?”

Ty laughed “You forget, I’m a bastard.” He put his arm around my shoulder and began leading me out the door. “I had to be bought.” As we approached the elevator it dinged and the door swished open, revealing the young man inside.

“Just in time,” Ty looked at the young man. “Heloise, this is John Whitney,” I saw that the boy’s pin was diamond. “He is going to be your guide.”

“Oh?” I looked from Ty then at John. “That isn’t necessary.”

“I think you’ll find it will be,” John said, a gentle chuckle to his voice. “This place isn’t easy to navigate for a first timer. It’s code that the Student Government assign a guide to each new student for as long as they need them.”

I nodded. “Well then, if it’s mandatory…” I looked John over. He looked like he was a football player from his build. His purposefully tousled dark blonde hair, hiding a scar on his forehead just so. His eyes were the a sort of hazel and gold color. His teeth bleached white. But there was a crookedness to his tie I liked, showed he wasn’t perfect.

“I was chosen because all our classes match up.” John replied, extending his arm and allowing me to stand in the elevator. “The Student Government normally tries to match up girls with girls and such, but I was the only one who matched.”

“It’s quite alright.” I waved to Ty as the doors shut. “I get along better with boys anyways.”

“So,” John said, pushing a button for the fifth floor, “what school did you go to before Cleatom?”

“I was home schooled actually. Well,” I set my bag at my feet. “My father hired tutors.”

John bobbed his head politely. “So what made him send you here?” He looked me over then, knowing Ty couldn’t see his eyes wander. “Excuse me if I’m being a pest.” His eyes immediately snap to my eyes.

I smiled, still looking forward. “No, you’re fine. But, I asked to come here. I’ve been fighting my dad about for a long time.”

John furrowed his brow. “What made him change his mind?”

“My dad is a gambler,” I looked over at John and his raised eyebrows, “so I made him a bet.”

John looked surprised. “What kind of bet.”

I put my finger to my lips as the elevator doors whooshed open into a crowded hallway. I gently dipped to grab my bag and slung it back over my shoulder. John walked a good few paces behind me, like one of my father’s bodyguards.

Turning and looking at him I snapped, “what? Student Government doesn’t allow you to walk beside me?”

“Well,” John blushed. “You are an Emerald, Ms. Boniface.” I arched my brows high at the fact he had referred to me in such a way. “It is not normally-”

I took a step back, aligning myself with him. “It’s not a rule is it?”

“No,” John swallowed, looking around. “Just…tradition.”

I then snapped my fingers, surprising him again. “Oh, do you know a lot of the students here?”

John nodded, swallowing. I was making him nervous. “It’s part of my role in the Student Government.”

I slide my bag down into the crook of my elbow. “Do you know a girl with really, really bright red hair? Almost like a lip-gloss color?” I motioned with her hands the style of the girl’s hair. “Also, wears glasses,” I mimed glasses.

John smirked at my monkeying and thought for a moment. “Maybe that’s Den Anais.” He said. “Why do you ask? You know her?”

I shook my head, looking towards the floor. “No, I just saw some girls push her into the fountain out front this morning. I tried to help her but she brushed me off.”

He nodded, sighing somewhat sadly. “Then that must be Den.”

I must of looked disgusted because his eyes took on an apologetic look. “Does that happen to her a lot?”

John shrugged, opening a door for me. “Sometimes. But I don’t work in her department of the Student Government.”

I balked. “She’s in the Student Government?”

“Hand picked by Head Master Emrys. She’s the Advisor.” John shrugged. “She’s sort of like…a personal consultant. She plans all the school events and dances and the like.”

“You think with a role like that people would like her.” I mumbled as we walked into the classroom. History was my first class, a class the dean of admissions said I would enjoy.

“Oh welcome, you must be Heloise.” I looked up sideways as a man in a dark green suit approached. “I’m Professor Lourdes.” He held out a thin pale hand to me.

“Uhm, yes.” I took his hand, it was warm and smooth. “Thank you for letting me in. I had been told you were full up.”

Professor Lourdes smiled, removing his thin wire glasses. He was an exceptionally striking man, young and beautiful for a teacher. “History is a much more popular a field than I anticipated.”

Something about his smile though told me he knew it was because of his looks.   “But I was more than happy to make a spot.” He waved his hand out. “Please, take a seat anywhere. I’m not picky.” He left, walking up to the white board and his desk.

John leaned to whisper to her. “His class is so popular because-”

“Because he’s so good looking?” I finished for him. “Easy to see now why history would be packed.”

We took our seats at a two chair table in the back. The seats were overstuffed rolling chairs. I had one just like it at home. Father had got it for me when I began complaining about my back during lessons.

“Ari is a good teacher though. He’s also the one who over sees the Student Government.” John explained quickly. “He gives a lot of extra credit and he takes us out on a lot of field trips. They’re mainly trips to museums mind you, but he makes the experience interesting.”

I found I couldn’t take my eyes off Professor Ari Lourdes. He was a lithe mover, and his handwriting was impeccable. “Put a long wig on him and he’d pass for a girl, he’s that pretty.”

John snorted. “I’ve actually heard several girls trying to convince him to do such a thing for the costume balls.”

We both exchanged smiles and then began taking out our text books and such.

My attention turned to Cordelia as she walked through the door at that moment. John continued talking, but I didn’t hear him.

Cordelia was tall and blonde, the kind of girl my father wishes I was. And she sauntered right over to Professor Ari’s desk and sat on its corner like she owned the place. She tousled her hair and laughed, slightly turning to see who was watching her, because she knew everyone was. That’s when her gray eyes fell on me. Her expression becoming instantly blank. Her eyes almost bleeding disgust.

John tugged on my sleeve. “Heloise?”

I didn’t move. “Yes?”

“Are you familiar with the Jerrick family?”

Cordelia was turning and whispering to Professor Ari. I looked at John then.

“I’m only close to Ty.”

John gave me a wary smile. “Cordelia certainly doesn’t seem happy to see you.”

I laughed. “That’s putting it gently.” I cupped my hand under my chin and looked at Professor Ari, trying his best to act genteel with Cordelia.

“She’s the vice president of the Student Government.” John whispered.

I scoffed, rapping my fingers against my jaw. “Now that, I did know.” I smiled back at John. He raised his brow. “She’s part of that bet I mentioned earlier.”

John raised his brows. “Oh?”

I laughed. “Oh, indeed!” I leaned closer to John. “I bet if I acted like I was flirting with you, Cordelia would swoop in and steal you away from me.”

John smiled somewhat deviously, his eyes glancing over to Cordelia and then back to me. “You’re that confidant in her evil, are you?”

I nodded. “If there is one thing I know about Cordelia Jerrick, it’s that she absolutely hates me.” I then reach out, adjusted John’s crooked tie, my fingers lingering ever so.

“Sorry about this.” I snicker.

“Oh please!” John laughs. “I don’t mind at all.”

I then reach up, playing with John’s bangs. “What’s she doing?”

John glances aside for me then looks back at me as I drop my hand. “You should be dead.”

We both burst out laughing, and in that moment Cordelia is standing beside me.

John blanches some, but I look up at her like it is the most casual thin in the world. I am more than prepared to deal with Cordelia Jerrick, in fact, its what I’ve been planning on.

“Why,” Cordelia gasps prettily but it sounds more like a war cry. “Heloise Boniface! What a splendid surprise.” She says splendid like it’s painful, like she’d rather wretch bile.

I nod softly. “Hello, Cordelia.”

Cordelia’s eyes flicker over to John then back to me. “I had no idea you’d be attending Cleatom.” She seems to be running out of nice things to say. “Is Whitney here your escort?”

I look over at John and smile charmingly, he blushes some. “Why yes! He’s a lovely boy, isn’t he?” I reach out, putting my hand over his. “I’m thinking about asking Daddy to hire him as my valet for the summer.”

Cordelia’s tongue to captured between her cinched teeth as she smiles. “Oh? Well how wonderful for you, Whitney.” She then squints her eyes at me in an attempt to smile, but it comes out all wrong. “I will have to talk to you later, Heloise.” She turns on her heel just as the bell rings.

“I feel sick.” John whispers to me.

I look at him apologetically. “I am so sorry.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that!” John chuckles, relieved. “I knew she could be something of a bitch, but I had no idea it was anything like that.”

“If she gives you any trouble, just let me know. I can handle her.” I quickly tack on, “Ty too.”

He nods at me. “You’re the bravest woman in the world.”

A smile perks up at the corner of my mouth. “It’s just one blonde girl.”

We both look up in attention as Professor Lourdes begins speaking. He’s writing on the board in his lovely script and we all follow his instruction. My eyes glance over at Cordelia who is also stealing look at me. She turns away, and whispers to the girl beside her.

John elbows me. “And thus one becomes two.”

We both snicker.

“Quite in the back!” Professor Lourdes chuckles authoritatively.

John and I cover our mouths, trying to surprise our huge grins.

I look to John and nod. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

I shrug. “Just for being on my side I suppose.”

Chapter Two:

I didn’t go with John to the cafeteria at lunch. Instead I walked back out to the front gate and sat by Stone Lake.  I pulled an apple from my bag and took tiny bites out of it. I was neither hungry nor interested in mingling with my fellow students. At least not yet. Considering the only ones I’d want to sit with would be Ty or John, are a Ruby and Diamond respectively. They are both technically beneath me. I doubt I’d be allowed by this ridiculous Caste system to even sit by them.

“It’s you again.” I turned to look up above me at the stone. Standing there was the girl from this morning. I stood, standing back up on the platform and waving to her. She smiled back, nodding gently.

“You seem attracted to this place.”

“It’s peaceful.” I put my hands against my hips. “And I love being around water.”

Den stepped down from the stone and into the water of the fountain, pulling her long skirt up as she did so. “Thank you for the help this morning.”

I bobbed my head slightly. I was unsure of what to make of her newfound friendliness. “Of course. Umm-”

“Sorry if I was a bit rude.” Den waded through the water until she stood before me. “I was scared, so I wasn’t much of a people person.”

“No, of course.” I was shaking my head. “I’m Heloise.”

Den beamed. “Heloise Boniface, yes! You’re new today.” Den stepped out of the water and onto the cobblestone surrounding it. “Ty has been anxious.”

John had mentioned she was on the Student Government. It had actually never occurred to me that she and Ty might know one another, talk to each other as friends. My surprised expression has Den explaining.

“Ty and I talk a lot during meetings.” Den twirls slightly. “He says you came here against your father’s wishes.”

I fold my arms behind my back. This is a gesture I take from my father. A gesture that Angie says makes me look like an old man. “That’s right.”

“But you are meant to be here.”

“Excuse me?”

Den stepped off the fountain and into her shoes just below. “Oh nothing.” She giggled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Are you busy at the moment?”

I shake my head.  “No. Why?”

“C’mon, just follow me.” Den waved her hand to follow and began walking back towards the school. I sling  my bag back over my shoulder and walk off after Den.

“We have a special gallery here at the school.” Den explained as we walk, bypassing the glass elevator and going behind it to a small service type elevator. Den pulled open the little iron gate and allowed me to step in first. She closed the gate behind her and locked it.

“Professor Lourdes helped piece it together, but not a lot of students know about it. It’s mainly a sanctuary for the Student Government.”

I tilt my head to my shoulder “Then why tell me?”

Den just smiled, pulling hard on the lever that began dropping the us down and down. “This place has a basement?” I ask, amazed.

“This old place has a lot of hidden places inside.” Den replied, looking up at the darkening ceiling.

I could feel the air dampen and chill around me. I wrapped my arms around me,  wondering just how far down Den was going to take me.  I pictured a cave below the school, massive caverns and alters like the Phantom had under the PAris Opera house.

The lift came to a jolting stop and Den unlocked the little gate and opened it wide, stepping out before me this time. I looked around, it was a massive round room. The walls decorated with tapestries and elegant paintings. Between these hangings were suits of armor, and in the center of it a wide, round table.

“Wow,” I murmured as I looked around, setting my bag on the table. I walk around the table, my fingertips gliding along the smooth, gilded edges.

“The student government meets here most of the time.” Den said, walking around the table, aiming herself at the suit of armor at the very back of the room. It was different from the rest, for one, it was on a raised pedestal and it was more golden. Also, although it’s hands were posed in such a way, it was not holding a sword.

“This one is my favorite.” She said, dusting at the helmet with her hand.

“What is all this stuff?” I asked, approaching a suit of armor that had long green feathers coming down from the top of the helmet.

“It’s a story,” Den said, folding her hands behind her back and turning towards me. “A history really.”

I had the long green feather between my thumb and forefinger. “Of what?” I gently rub the feather, a feeling of nostalgia washes over me and I feel warm and proud inside. The feeling disappears as I release the feather.

“Something that is thought to be make believe these days.” Den sighed, still dusting at the suit of armor. She places her hands over the gold golves, like she reassuring an old friend. “But, it is all tribute to a great king.” She smiles sadly.

I shrug, sitting on the edge of the table and pulling my apple back out from my pocket. “Like King Arthur or something?” I bite into the apple.

“The very same.” Den exclaimed. “Do you like Arthurian legend, Ms. Boniface?”

I grimaced at her formality. “Heloise, please.” Den looked surprised. “And yeah, I’ve heard a bed time story or two about King Arthur.”

Den seemed disappointed. “Only bedtime stories?” A hand slips away from the armor as she turns to face me.

I slide back off the table and walk towards her. “They were the only ones my dad would actually read to me.” I touched the shining helmet of the suit of armor before me. It had a blue, tartan sash going across its chest. “I always wanted Excalibur.”

Den smiled brightly at this. “Oh?”

“Dad said I couldn’t have it though, because Dagonet threw it into the lake.” I looked back at Den. “Is this whole school based on those stories? Castle and all?”

Den shrugged. “Perhaps.” She then sighed and looked down at her watch which had begun beeping. “Excuse me for a moment.” She turned off the alarm then disappeared down a hallway next to the lift.

I walked around the table, looking at each suit of armor and the paintings between them. Knights brandishing their swords, bowing before a king, being awestruck by ethereal women. I then stood before the gold armor, missing it’s weapon. Its mate. I reached up, cupping the helmet in my hand. It felt warm to the touch.

I was so captivated by the armor I didn’t hear the elevator churning behind me. I only noticed it when the creaky gate opened and shut with a tight clang. Turning I found Professor Ari Lourdes standing behind me, a book in one hand a sack lunch in the other.

He saw me. Even though he was some ways away, and his glasses covering them, I could see his green eyes widen.

“Ms. Boniface,” he took a tentative step forward as my hand slipped from the armor and turned from it, and folded my arms behind my back.

Ari removed his glasses. “What are you doing down here?”

I dipped my head to the side. “Den was giving me a tour.”

“Den?” Ari pocketed his glasses. “That’s odd, she’s normally so…shy.” His breath seemed to falter, seeing me posed before the golden armor.

I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “What happened to it?”

“Pardon?”

I turned back towards the suit of armor. “This suit is missing it’s mate.” I say,  laying my hands over those of the armor. “Den said you helped piece together this exhibit.”

“Ah yes, well, that is said to be a replica of King Arthur’s armor.” Ari replied as he walked around the table towards them.

I cup my hands around the gold gloves, thinking that they seemed small. My hands could fit inside them perfectly. “Then where is Excalibur?”

“At the bottom of a lake.” I looked up, Ari standing a few inches behind me. He smiled, “or so legend has it.”

I smiled back. “I believe that is the main theory, yes.”

“The head master of the school has always been fascinated with the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. His whole family in fact, dating back to the founding of this school.” Ari said, taking a seat at the table. “They wanted to be able to teach children to be chivalrous and brave like Arthur and his knights.”

My smile turns smug for a moment as the idea dawns on me. “So then, the Student Government is very much an attempt to copy the Round Table?”

Ari laughs looking at the table. “You’ve caught on to that, have you?”

My hand glides across the back of Ari‘s chair as I walk by. “A round table surrounded by suits of armor.” I want to tousle his hair but I draw my hand away. “It isn’t hard to catch the drift.”

“I read your records your tutors provided,” Ari said, watching me as I stopped two chairs away. “You’re…you’re actually quite brilliant, Ms. Boniface. You’re father is breeding you to be a great leader.”

“A leader of companies.” I spat hatefully.

Ari looked taken aback by this. “Do you not want to inherit your father’s dynasty?”

I whirl around in a viciously cyclone. “I want my own dynasty!” My hand slams down on the table.

My wild hair flying about my head, falling on my shoulders. Catching myself in his eyes I straighten my back, regaining myself. “I want to build something…with my own…two hands.”

“You could do it.”

I glance quickly at him and then away again. I felt near tears. “He, my father, would never allow it.”

I comb my fingers through my hair then tossed it back over my shoulders. Now that I didn’t have stylists to fashion my hair sleek straight or into to corkscrew curls it was beginning to return to it’s natural wild lion’s mane.

“He didn’t even want me to come here. Afraid I’ll learn to fight him.”

Ari chuckled. “Looks like you already know how to do that.”

Aside from his beauty, it was easy to see why his classes were always filled up. He could see me. Behind all my armor and father’s make-up he could see me. He knew how to reach people by that, too.

I laugh. Covering my hand with my mouth. “Yes. I suppose so.”

“I was surprised when I first saw you,” Ari said, opening his sack lunch. “You and Ty look an awful lot alike.” He pulled out an apple. “The only thing he shares with Cordelia is a name.” He said Cordelia’s name with an acidic bite.

I smile. Not just because he said Ty and I look like siblings but because he could also see through Cordelia. “That’s probably why Cordelia hates us.”

Ari laughed. A knowing glint glowing in his eyes. He looked up though as Den came back into the room.

“I’m done now.” Rather than seem surprised by Professor Lourdes, she smiles knowingly and quite brightly. “Oh, Professor Lourdes, how are you?”

He nods towards her. “I’m fine Den. Glad to see you befriending Ms. Boniface.”

“Heloise.” I corrected him.

Den smiled, not answering him. She turned to me and waved her hand to the elevator. “Ready to go? Classes will restart soon.”

I go back and pick up my bag. “Thanks for the chat, Professor Lourdes.”

He smiles. “Ari.” He corrects. I turn but he touches my elbow. “If you need help catching up to the rest of the students, my door is always open. I’ll help you in any subject you need. Heloise.”

“That’s very nice of you.” I feel my cheeks warm at his touch. “Might take you up on it.” I nod then head back to Den who is smiling at Ari. She follows me into the elevator and shuts it tight.

As the lift clatters back to the student commons, John is waiting for me. He is leaning against the wall reading a book. He stands in attention like a soldier as Den and I step out.

Den tilts her head at me. “Did you enjoy the gallery?”

“Very much.” I nod. “Thank you, Den.”

Den nods then flits off without a word. I stare after her, confused.

“She’s an odd one.” John says. He begins to say something else when the music for the student announcements comes on. “Oh bother.” John huffs. We stand in the middle of the commons.

“Hello Cleatom Academy!” Ty’s voice echoes. “Afternoon classes have been canceled for today.” A low roar comes from the commons as students cheer for their good fortune. “I know? Isn’t that just the bee knees?” I smile picturing Ty in his box. “But feel free to use the rooms for study. Also, it’s happy hour at The Creamery Coffee Shop. All drinks half off!”

Another low roar.

“Want some coffee?” John asks.

I shake my head. “Uhm, no thank you. I think I’ll just go back to my room for now.” I say. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

John nods as we begin to separate. “I’ll meet you in Professor Lourdes classroom.” He waves and vanishes into the growing crowd aiming for the coffee shop.

I turn on my heel and head back towards the lift. I go to wrench it open when I realize it is gone. I hear it below, churning and working it’s way up. I step aside and watch is rise. I see inside a couple inside. I recognize the sleek golden hair as Cordelia and I step further into the shadows. I see the man she’s with, tall and slender with dark hair. My jaw drops as he walks out, pulling Cordelia with his lips. They separate briefly before she has him locked again.

“I really must go.” Ari is breathless.

“Oh fine.” Cordelia pouts girlishly. She stays in the elevator. “I’ll see you later then, darling?”

Darling?

Ari smiled. “Of course.” He waves her off as she turns the elevator back on.

Disappearing below again. I look at Ari and watch him adjust his tie and collar. He wipes at his mouth and smoothes out his hair. He produces the apple he had been eating when I left him and takes a bite. He then walks away and into the glass elevator.

I’m not sure what to feel. Shock definitely. Betrayal? But why? I don’t even know Professor Lourdes. I only had a brief chat with him a moment ago. But he was nice to me. He listened to me. I thought he saw me. I thought he saw Cordelia.

Why Cordelia?

I slide to the floor. Bewilderment sweeping over my brain. I think about Ari’s apple and decide to throw mine away. It’s probably brown by now. I go to reach for it and notice a little red book in my bag. I take it out. It was the book Ari had been carrying when he first came into the room. How did it get in my bag?

The cover it soft cloth. Once it had been deep red but it was faded now, but the gold emblem emblazoned on the front was just as dazzling as it must have been when it was first published. The gold lion on the front matched the one on the school pins. I opened it up and a pressed flower fell out into my lap. Picking it up I realize it’s a lilac. I read the title page.

Merlin’s Arthur

I flip through the pages and something else slips from the pages. It’s heavy and cold. When I hold it in my palm I see it’s a key, a lion head serving as the top. It’s mouth gaped open, the key serving as its tongue. And engraved on it’s tongue was my name.

Chapter Three:

The academy has long since emptied out and I sit alone at Stone Lake. I thumb the key in my hand, wondering what it means. Did Professor Lourdes give this to me? I hold it against my chest, looking up at the dim windows of the academy. I wonder if he is still in his room? Was he expecting me to take him up on that study session?

“I can see you out there.”

I let out a yelp as a voice booms out over the empty campus. I huff, flustered. Realizing Ty has seen me some how.

“I’ll meet you in the commons.” Ty says and then the intercom goes quite.

I stand. Placing the key in the pocket of my vest before I walk back to the academy. I go in and wait before the glass elevator for Ty. I keep finding myself glancing at the little iron elevator behind. Why do I care what Professor Lourdes does? I convince myself its because it was Cordelia. Nothing more.

The glass elevator swings open and Ty comes out. He’s out of his school uniform, weAring only a pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt. “Wanna have some fun?”

I shrug. “Depends.”

Ty loops his arm around my neck and leads me away. We walk for a long time in silence. It’s hard to think we’ve been separated from one another for ten years now.

“I have a wonderful evening planned,” he tells be just before we reach the dorms.

I look up at him, his arm serving as my scarf. “Oh really?”

He smiles impishly. “You are a very lucky lady. Many women fight for the hand of Ty Jerrick, but only you can have it.”

I scoff at him, knowing him all too well.

He squeezes his arm tighter. “Go up and get changed, quick.” He commands me, pushing me to the front door of my dormitory.

I look back at him before I walk inside, slightly afraid when I come back out he’ll of disappeared into the golden autumn air. It’s where he belongs anyways, my flitting leaf.

He shoos me and I smile at him. “Ok, ok, just a second.” I call to him and rush inside and up to my room. I hurry myself into a t-shirt dress and grab my jacket. I don’t want to miss a moment with him.

We then walk to the school garage. A lot of the students who stay in the dorms have cars they use to go into town. We get into Ty’s car, a 1969 olive-green Mustang, and drive off.

He has the last picture taken of us together taped to the rearview mirror. I’m six, he’s seven. We’re hugging in front of the old cinema.

“I thought I’d take you to the docks.” Ty puts on a pair of sunglasses. “I know how you like the water. Plus, there is something I want to show you.”

“Sounds fun.” I lean back in the leather seat. “Why were afternoon classes canceled?”

He shrugs. “Silly reasons. Works in our favor though.” He says with a grin. It’s the kind of grin that makes me think he had something to do with it. But I know that’s just Ty. Everything he says sounds mischievous. He used to get in so much trouble back when he lived with father and me. I think that was one of the reasons Mrs. Jerrick and my father decided he’d be best with her.

Ty parked his car on the street and we got out to walk. He put his arm around my shoulders again. He probably thought I was cold in the wind.

We stopped at a sweet shop and got hot coco. I got marshmallows and cinnamon. Ty got whip cream and sprinkles, and another with marshmallows and caramel.

I crook my brow at him. “Why’d you get two?”

He mimics my eyebrow, then flips it to the other brow and back. “Too keep me sweet.”

I couldn’t wait to get to the dock. I loved the smell of the wind off the ocean. Even now I dream of the summer house in France, an old chateau overlooking the ocean. I’d fall asleep in the box window, just watching the sunset melt into the waves.

The dock is made of old but hard and sturdy wood. I love it instantly. The sun reflects in glittering cascades off the water. As I race Ty towards the end of the dock a small girl comes into view. The sun glows off her golden hair like she has a halo. I think of the extra coco Ty bought, marshmallows and caramel. I feel like such an idiot for not realizing it sooner. She turns, her pale face flushed from the breeze. I raise my hands to my face and race to her.

“Nissa!” I cry as I scoop her up in my arms. “How on earth?”

She clings to me, gripping on as tight as she can. “Heloise,” she whimpers into my chest.

I cupped her face in my hands, beaming into those blue-gray eyes. “I thought you were in America!”

She was almost crying. Then again she always had tears in her eyes when she was happy. “Grandmother convinced Mama to send me back here.”

I pinched her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She bit her lip. “Grandmother doesn’t like you.”

I laugh and pull her into another tight hug, cupping the back of her head. “I’m so happy to see you. I don’t care what that old bird thinks.”

Behind us, Ty laughs. “I told you you’d like the docks.”

“Are you attending Cleatom then?” I ask, reluctantly pulling back.

She nods. “Yes.” She pulls out her Diamond pin. “Isn’t it pretty?”

I feel upset she is only a Diamond. Her miserly old grandmother is a modern day Ebenezer Scrooge. Plus you add in both her mother’s celebrity and her own, she should be an Emerald. I cup Nissa’s hands in mine, ignoring it.

“I saw your last movie. You were so wonderful.”

Nissa beamed and asked about our father. I told her he was the same as always. I obligatory asked about her mother. Nissa answers that she’s been so busy, with movies, TV, and even a book in the works.  I have no idea what that woman would write about but I nod and smile. I’m just happy to have Nissa back in my arms again.

“How long have you been in Cleatom?” I asked.

“A year,” Nissa admits guiltily, biting her bottom lip. “But I’m moving into the dorms soon. Grandmother’s health is failing and she said it would be best for me to stay away from it.” Poor sweet, darling, Nissa.  She’s covering for the world’s oldest hypochondriac. I bet the bat sent Nissa away, complaining that she was the cause of her warts or something idiotic like that.

“I have us reservations set up.” Ty says, tapping the face of his watch. “I figured we Boniface children should have our long, over-do family dinner.”

Nissa squeezed onto my hand as we walked, she caught Ty’s and we walked in a row down the street. One thing I am grateful to my father about is this, my siblings.

Once we sit down at the restaurant Nissa and I begin peppering each other with questions. She asks me about home. Ty asks her about what celebrities she’s met. I ask her about her travels.

“Oh!” Nissa suddenly exclaims. “I haven’t told you the best thing!” She giggles excitedly. “I’m Ty’s assistant!” She says, touching his hand. “I’m part of the Student Government.”

“Really?” I gasp.

She nods. “Yes! I never thought Ty would hire me.” She blushes some. “I thought for sure he’d pick some pretty girl.”

Ty scoffs. “I did pick a pretty girl.”

Nissa rolls her eyes, same as me. “You know what I mean, Ty.” She looks at me and we both crack up.

“I see what you think of me.” He scoffs, slapping his palm against his chest and turning his head over-dramatically away. “I am saving myself for marriage.”

Nissa and I laugh harder. I’m squeezing Nissa’s hand, not realizing how hard, but she offers no complaint because she squeezes right back.

We leave just as the restaurant closes. Ty drives us back dropping me off at my dormitory. I kiss Nissa goodbye, almost wanting to cry as I watch them drive off.

I suddenly feel exhausted as I get to my room. I strip as I walk to the bathroom where I shower. As I dry my hair with a towel I pick up my dirty laundry and toss it in the allotted bin. One of the staff would collect it in the morning. I picked up my uniform and the key fell out of the pocket.

I had almost completely forgotten about it. I roll it through my hands then set it in my bedside table. I get into my sleep shirt then return to the key. I look up at it as I lay on my bed. I drift off to sleep soon with the key clutched in my hand.

I’m standing on a boat, my body badly injured and bleeding. I’m screaming. Fighting against arms holding me back. I know I have won against these arms many times in the past, but my body is so badly beaten they are winning.

I’m screaming someone’s name. Someone I don’t want to leave. Someone I love.

I finally collapse to the floor of the boat, sobbing their name over and over. I’ll never see them again will I? I look up at the one who was holding me back and he shakes his head sadly. He gently wipes away my tears and leads me into the boat. He sets me down gently on a comfortable chair and he extends my legs, removing the heavy metal boots from my feet.

I’m still whispering the name, over and over.

Two soft hands gently cress my cheeks and pull back my hair, tying it up and away from my face like I like. I look up into her warm, familiar eyes. She is crying too and I am comforted there. I lean my head into her arm as she removed the metal gauntlets from my arms. She’s singing a song to me.

I look down at the man tending to the wound in my belly and I ask him something. He looks at me and answers, “Your loved ones cannot follow you here, my lord.”

I’m baffled.

He doesn’t allow me to argue. I whisper the name again and he shakes his head.

The woman pulls a locket out from around my neck and opens it before me. I preciously cradle it in my hands. Inside is a lock of raven black hair. It sends me into shuddering tears.

I awake from the dream, still whispering the name, still crying. I sit upright and rub hard at my eyes. The name has already been forgotten, but the heart break I felt in longing for it still haunts me.

I realize I’m still holding the key. In the darkness I think for a moment it is glowing, but I decide it is merely the full moon reflecting off it. It is half past midnight and despite that I decide I must act crazy and go for a walk. Anything to subside the pain of my heart breaking.

I put on some jeans and a plain shirt. I stuff the key in my pocket and walk out of the dorm. I walk up the cobblestones of the dorm village. I walk past the boy’s junior dorm. The female senior dorm, and I walk further. I walk past the student garage and into the forest.

I think, perhaps if I keep walking I’ll reach the cliffs over looking the ocean. Instead, I come across a massive cast wrought iron gate. It looked like a palace itself with all the intricate works and towers to it. In the very center, where the gates open up, was a lion’s head. It’s mouth gaping open and it’s tongue serving as the latches.

I touch the key in my pocket. It is iron too. I take it out and compare the lions’ heads. They look like they match but in the moonlight it is so hard to tell. I stand closer to the gate, looking for the keyhole. I suddenly have an idea and hold the key in my hand and insert my hand into the large lion’s mouth. Sure enough, the key slides right in and I turn to unlock it.

The gate creaks open by itself, first slow then it suddenly blows open, sending me back a few paces in fright. I hold my arms before me as I am greeted by a cold burst of air, strong enough to almost knock me over, but I manage to hold my ground.

As I peel my arms away I see a thick, heavy mist pouring out from the open gate. I hold my breath and look all around me. I decide maybe I should head back. Then I think that the key had my name on it, perhaps Professor Lourdes meant to tell me about it and forgot. Perhaps, since I was Emerald, I had special privileges to certain areas on the campus. The campus was massive enough to allow such a thing. So I stride into the mist. I hear the gates close behind me and I am suddenly tight inside with dread.

I take a few steps, barely able to see anything around except for the cold, white mist. My toe hits something and I fall. Breaking through the mist I fall and hit on a set of stairs.

Stairs?

The mist is so thick around me I can barely make them out, rising through and going up in a gentle slope. So I begin climbing the stairs, I remember there being mist in my dream, it completely engulfed the boat I was on. Who else was there with me? A man and a woman of unearthly beauty. It is so funny how you can forget a dream so powerful so fast.

Above me I see the beginnings of a building rising above the trees, but the deep fog is swallowing me up.

Am I in another plain of existence?

At the top of the stairs I see not a building but a huge marble platform surrounded by tall statues of women bearing shells and children, massive lions with their mouths wide open, men wielding swords or embracing a woman. All of them an Atlas, holding up the a massive dome covered in tiny fragments of glass that glittered and glowed in the moon’s radiance.

“Oh wow…” I whispered. I am aware my toes are freezing, and the cold begins climbing its way up my body. Tiny frozen fingers ripping through my clothes and sending my skin into gooseflesh. I shuddered and hold my arms across me.

“Are you cold?” I look up in response to the voice. Before me, coming down from a platform at the far end is a man. “I see you didn’t need my help finding this place.”

I’m confused. The cold seems to be stabbing at my brain now. “John?”

I then see two more appear behind him, a tall figure that remains in the shadows and the second comes out farther than John. She smiles shyly at me.

“Den…” I shake my head. “What is this?” I ask, taking a step forward.

John raises his hand out of the fog and I was stunned to see him holding a sword.

“John!” I exclaim, jumping back.

My back hits a wall, cold as ice. I whip around, there were stairs here just a moment ago. Instead there is this cold wall. A wall of solid ice. My breath comes out in thick white puffs now, fast little ghosts leaving me. A warm hand touches my shoulder and I spin around to face Den.

“Hold still.” Den commands and I stand rigid, her hands touch my chest and I fell a small weight against the collar of my shirt. It is an Emerald pin. Den then puts her cheek to mine.

“Never let go of your key.” She whispers into my ear and then she steps behind me, her warm hand lingering on mine.

I look back up at John, squeezing the key tighter in my hand. “John, what’s going on?” I try to stay calm, but my voice is noticeably shaky.

“What is going on is a rite of passage.” The man behind John responds. His voice is deep and I don’t recognize it.

“For what?” I snap.

“If you have a name on the key.” The voice tells me. “John,” he says in a commanding voice.

John was suddenly charging at me. I hold up my arms, bracing myself. He knocks me upside my head with the blunt end of his sword, and I fall, hitting the frozen ground.

“Get up!” John yells.

My head in throbbing and words and pictures are mixed up in my head. My vision is whirling and spinning.

“Get up!” John barks again. Using his foot he flips me over onto my back. He then takes his sword and touches the tip to my pin. “I’ll break it if you don’t get up.”

“Heloise!” Den whispers demandingly.

I whimper a loud, choking sob. “For the love of God! What?”

John circles me, the tip of his sword pointed at me. “Draw your weapon.”

I swallow and roll to my side, wobbly standing to my feet. I still have my key clutched in my hand. “Tell me what’s happening.” My speech is slow.

John holds his sword up. “Draw your weapon.”

I grip onto the side of my head. “Weapon?”

John sneers. “Draw it, now!”

Confused, hurt, and angry I scream out. “I don’t have a weapon!”

I raise my hand, attempting to throw that damn key and then the sound of steel hitting steel resonates like a gunshot, and a bright flash of light that blinds me.

The mist clears. The light dims. Looking up I see a sword in my hand where the key was.

In my stupor John easily forces my sword down and he raises his against me again, bringing it down towards my neck. I swing upwards, hitting John’s wrist, ripping away at his starched sleeve. He jumps back and I run away, a stupid move because his sword is slicing by my leg, cutting into my thigh. I cry out and fall to my knees.

Den cries out. “Get up!”

I shakily move to stand and I hear John charging towards me. The fog is closing in, engulfing me, swallowing me whole.

I drop back to my knees and suddenly I am gone.

John’s sword hit’s the floor before me and I jump away, still low and in the fog. If I remain hidden in the fog, I think, perhaps I can regain my footing, regain some of the sense John knocked out of me. My ears are ringing, blood rushing to them and to the throbbing lump near the back of my left ear where John had hit me.

What was happening to me?

What the hell was wrong with the people at this school?

I then hear a scream. It’s Den. I jump out of the fog instantly, seeing John approaching Den with his sword ready.

Without a second thought I lunging through the fog and the air. I am flying. I am swinging my sword. As I swing at John, for the briefest flash, I see someone else. I see a man with long golden curls, and a strong yet angelic face. He is wearing shimmering armor almost pearl in color.

I strike him.

John’s arm is braced against mine, his hand pressing hard against my shoulder. I’m staring at him, wide eyed and frightened. I hadn’t been in control of myself.

Someone else had.

“Heloise-” Den gasps.

I hear the slight tink of something hitting the marble, echoed by tiny droplet-like sounds raining on the floor. Looking down I see I only have the key in my hand, the sword has gone away in John’s hand as well. He pulls away from me and the mist begins to recede.  Looking down I see John’s diamond pin on the marble, all the individual tiny diamonds scattered like so many drops of rain.

John is looking at me, hard and long. I look back at him, confused and afraid. Was he going to hit me now?

John lifts his head, looking away from me and towards the back. “You were right.” John says to the man at the back.

“I don’t…” I murmur, slowly shaking my throbbing and confused head. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been waiting a long time for you to come back.” The man in the back replies.

John is then bowing before me. “The one true king.”

I’m confused beyond reasoning. I clutch my head in my hand. “John stop. What are you doing?”

“Look at your key.” Den is behind me, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on my waist. “You’ll see your true name written upon it now.”

I lay the heavy key flat in my palm. Engraved where my name used to be read the name: Arthur.

[roguelov]

Ok, idk if you've ever read Jane Austen but consider the following:

Morpheus and the Reader making THE WORST first impressions of each other but eventually falling in love when they realize that THEY WERE BOTH WRONG

Morpheus falling in love with the Reader who's this spirited, passionate, creative soul who's more open than he is.

The Reader having an active imagination that amuses Morpheus and he sometimes uses it to make her thoughts come to life

The Reader who has been by Morpheus' side since the beginning and has been secretly in love with him and endures seeing Morpheus in different romantic relationships. Only after he returns from his capture does he realise how much the Reader means to him

Morpheus and the Reader once having a relationship but they break up only to find each other again due to the Reader having a connection to one of his symbols of power (it would be the Ruby and they would be the 'Mother and Son' instead of John Dee and Ethel Cripps).

Reader being the only one to call Morpheus out on his 'high and mighty' bullcrap

These are all based on some tropes I've spotted in each of Jane Austen's books.

BONUS: Reader and Morpheus falling in love but the ghost of his past romantic relationships looms over them and Reader has to run away because she fears she may end up like the others (this one was inspired by Jane Eyre)

🌹

I AM EATING UP ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!!

You gently turned over the ruby necklace.

It was his.

You knew it, you knew the moment you spotted it in an old market place. It drew you in, dare you say a moth to a flame.

You should return it, it was the proper thing to do. But, you couldn’t. You couldn’t say goodbye to it. Its warmth was a hug from him, it comforted you immensely. And most of all, you couldn’t step back into the Dreaming to even say hello. Despite the centuries together, despite him being your closest friend, he also broke your heart.

Or you broke his.

It was a mess. A heated breakup over something you couldn’t necessarily remember. Well, you suppose you sort of remembered why: pride, ego, secrecy, and guarded self.

You both thought you were ready for your relationship, but it was a lie. It was an awful rebound for each of you which only severed your once precious relationship and ripped it to tattered shreds.

You clutched the ruby to your chest. A rise of tears swelled up inside of you. Maybe you should just toss it out the window and forget it all. Maybe you should sell it. Or maybe you should hold if tighter and treasure it and all the wondrous happy memories.

“You could imagine my surprise to learn you have found my ruby.”

You whipped around. Dream stood in your room, and he was just a beautiful as you remembered him.

“Dream,” you whispered.

“Hello, my dear,” he spoke softly.

Your heart soared at his affectionate nickname for you. You quickly stood up. Your heart pounded in your chest. However, your initial excitement faltered. His ruby necklace dangled loosely in your hand.

Right. Of course.

You handed it over towards him, “Sorry, you are obviously here for this.”

Stepping closer, he gently pushed down your hand. “I was until I heard you had it.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together.

“I recently had some time to reflect,” he began. “And I wished to see you again.”

“What?” You breathed out.

“I want to invite you to the Dreaming, and I wish to discuss our prior … relationship.”

“Dream -“

“Please.” He stepped forward, invading your peace. He clasped your hands in his. His ruby necklace nearly clattered to the floor. “Just give me a few days time and come. We have much to discuss, and I have much to apologize for.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. He inhaled deeply. He let his senses be consumed by you. How long had it been? Far, far too long.

You sighed, closing your eyes. He was Dream, but something was different about him. To be honest, your heart screamed yes the moment he asked. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful.” He took his ruby back, clutching it in his hand. He softly kissed your temple. “I will come for you, I promise my dear.”

“And I will wait.”

[twice-inamillion]

Jihyo’s Concern

1.7k words

Chapter 190 

(Important concerns that need to be addressed.)

The group has the day off, and most use this opportunity to rest after completing a successful comeback. The night before, Jihyo asked you for some alone time to clear her mind after a busy couple of weeks.

With Jisoo at her grandparents, the both of you have the afternoon to yourselves, so you decide to go for an afternoon drive. 

You drive on the road with a fantastic view of the coastline, the windows down, and the air blowing Jihyo's hair. You can't help but admire how beautiful she is, your future wife. "You look amazing, Jihyo. I'm the luckiest man in the world to have found someone like you."

"You're the lucky one. I'm the one that went after the pursuit; you had no chance, haha," as she gives you a loving smile. 

She grabs your hand and intertwines it with hers, "I'm glad we took this time apart from everyone."

"Good thing you asked, it's been a hectic these past couple of weeks, but it's finally over."

"Haha, we did a good job; thank you for Fancy, it's such a good song. From what I could see, Once loved the song."

"Really? I'm too afraid to check, so I haven't been on social media."

"Oh yeah, the group chat has been flooded with pics of Once's comments on the song. You really did an amazing job, Mr. Producer."

"It's only going to get better, I have other songs in mind."

"I know they’re going to be great."

"Thanks, also… I got the finalized song list for the upcoming tour, so you might want to tell the rest to freshen up."

"I'm so excited! I can't believe we are going on tour again but this time, its a world tour. Can you believe it, going abroad to sing in front of international Once!"

"It's to be expected, you girls work so hard; you all deserve the best."

"Thanks, but that has been making me thinking about what we are going to do with the babies. They're growing too fast and are more active than before. I don't think we can bring them with us; the constant traveling from city to city, I don't think they will be able to handle."

"You're right. Three of them are over a year old, and they are going to start to run and throw tantrums; it's going to be hard to hide them. There is also Da-eun, who's only a few months old, and she is still too small to travel internationally. It's one thing to Japan and taking them since it's so close but going to other countries, it's going to be hard."

Jihyo's hand begins to shake slightly. "What are we going to do, oppa? I don't want to leave them behind, but we can't take them either."

"We're going to get through this. The tour's first leg is around Asia, so we won't be too far out. Let's see; we have two days in Seoul, one day in Bangkok, Manila, and Singapore. They're spread out that we'll be back home. The only part that would worry me would be the North American concerts and the last leg of Asia. Maybe we can ask your mom to watch over them for the first leg."

“I can ask, but I also don't want to rely on them too much, you know. I feel bad because it's not just Jisoo this time; its four children. Plus, taking care of an infant like Da-eun with Jisoo and Ari, I don't think it's would end well."

"Hmm… I might have another option, but I don't know if you are going to like it." Jihyo sees your hesitation, "Come on, tell me, don't keep it to yourself. You already opened your mouth, just spit it out," as she smacks your arm. 

"Okay, but just keep an open mind."

"Yeah, I'll try."

"You know how I go to the company building for meetings, right?"

"The one in the mornings."

"Yeah, well… there are times when we have a long break in between or finish early, so I shop for groceries here and there. Well… I've bumped into Chaeyoung's mom several times, and we talk here and there. She's sweet and friendly; she even invited me for lunch and asked me about Chaeyoung and the rest of the girls."

"Oh really?” with a suspicious looked.

"Yup, she mentioned how lonely she is at home since her two children are adults and no longer live with her. I feel bad because she gets so happy when I stop by to the point that I even bring her groceries from time to time. She's even shown me some childhood pictures of Chaeyoung; she was so cute when she was small, haha."

"Seems like you have a lot of time on your hands," as she gives you a side eye. 

"No, it's not like that. I forgot my main point…" as you try to remember why you brought up the subject in the first place. "Oh yeah, during one of our talks, she mentioned how hard it was for her to raise chaeyoung and her brother as a single mother. She struggled a lot until she enrolled them in a nursery. She said that they liked it so much that she ended up as a volunteering at the nursery as well. I remember her saying that she still does it from time to time, so I thought that maybe we can ask her to watch over the kids since she's more than qualified."

You watch as Jihyo remains silent and gives it some thought. "You haven't told her about the kids, right?" 

"No, I haven't said anything. All we talked about was your life as an idols and Chaeyoung. Well, she did ask me if I had something going on with Chaeyoung, but I just said that we like to mess around."

"Wait, what do you mean by mess around?"

"Like playful things, you know, joking around that type of stuff."

"Hmm, okay. That's fine."

"So what do you think? Should we ask her?"

"Hmm, if you think she's qualified, then I don't think it's a bad idea. Will we need to talk to Chaeyoung about it and check if she's willing to do it."

"If not then we can ask Mina's mom. Mina has mentioned that she always asks about the kids, so she might be willing to do it if we ask."

"You're right; with my mom and Mina's mom, I think we can make it work. It would be a win-win situation on both sides; the babies get to see their grandparents and spend time with the grandkids."

"Okay, sounds like a plan. All we have to do is talk to the members about it."

As you reach the final destination, you park the car in a spot that has a perfect ocean view. Parking high on a cliff gives you the best view of both the ocean and the surrounding terrain. "It's been a while since we have been right, oppa." "Yes, maybe a year or two?" "You're right, even before Jisoo."

"Wouldn't it be nice to live near the beach?" as you look at the beautiful scenery. Jihyo reaches for the cooler in the back and gives you an ice-old soda and some snacks. "Here, I picked this up before coming here." The both of you stay silent as you take in the view. 

Minutes pass in silence until Jihyo says, "What do you think about moving?" You're surprised by her question, "You mean getting a new house?"

"Yes, the house we have right now is doable, but with Sana's pregnancy, it will be difficult. Mina, Dahyun, and I have our own room, but the rest of us share, so it will be hard once Sana gives birth. We don't have the space anymore."

"You're right. I've been thinking the same thing lately."

"I've been looking online for any houses with rooms for all of us or two houses next to each other, but I haven't had any luck," sulks Jihyo. You try to comfort her, "It's going to be okay; we just have to try a pick harder."

"Just thinking about it makes me so stressed; I just can't help it. Eventually, the babies will need a room when they grow up; it's not like they can always sleep with us. They are going to want their room once they're older." 

"This might sound like a crazy idea, but what if we build our dream house? We can buy our own plot of land and build it how we want. Just imagine this, a large house, plenty of rooms, a big kitchen, a backyard, and a playroom for the kids." 

The idea of having a house built from the ground up sounds like a dream. You watch as she is in deep thought, thinking of what her future house could look like. "Okay, let's do it. If I want to have a big house, enough for all of us to live comfortably."

With Jihyo in agreement, you tease her, "We can even have a room that we can use to have fun," as you wink at her. Jihyo immediately understands what you mean, "you dirty boy," as she smacks your thigh.

"Haha, I'm just joking." 

"No, maybe we should," as she looks at you with a lustful face. She slowly rubs your thigh, "We can have some fun and not worry about anyone bothering us," she said before pulling her hand away. 

"I would really it; maybe we can try for a second one," as you wink at her. "Stop, you're going to make me really want one. You know how busy we are right now, so maybe later when Jisoo is a bit older."

With a disappointed face, you accept your fate, "Okay. I'll get on the process then." The both of you enjoy the rest of your evening together as you walk by the beach. 

————

Jihyo and Jisoo take a bath together once they get home after a long day. You tuck them into bed, kiss them goodnight, and return to your room. 

You look online to see the requirements to purchase land in Korea and compare prices between locations like the city, countryside, and suburbs. While browsing, you remember your friend Samatha from college and give her a call. After a long conversation, she recommends you to a friend she worked with for her bathhouse. Your night ends with you making a list of potential requirements for the perfect home. 

[gemini-sensei]

Need more Robby x PregnantReader fluff :( that shit was sooo so cute

@sensei-venus is amazing at writing Robby 🙈 I'm a little jealous, but i got an idea for a Robby fluff, so here it is.

Robby Keene x Pregnant!Reader

Fem!Reader ○ fluff ft. Robby angst ○ unedited ○ goes with the future parents au (as I'm calling it ig)

I didn't know how to end this exactly, so sorry if it feels unfinished. Also I haven't been to a ultrasound since I was 5 so I'm going based off of basic knowledge lol. hope you enjoy!

Robby feels like a tornado is raging inside of him as he sits beside his wife. His leg his bouncing and no matter what he does, he can't stop it. There's no reason for him to be nervous, it's only a scan to find out if the baby is a boy or a girl. It's not as if they're there for anything else. He knows that they have a healthy little baby on the way, but there's something in the back of his mind telling him that something can still go sideways. Otherwise, why would he feel this way?

Reader squeezes his hand and he looks up at her, seeing her happy smile. It always manages to brighten to mood, even if he feels like his joints have turned to jelly and his stomach is flip-flopping. All of that eases with one look and a kiss on the cheek.

She giggles. "You're nervous."

It's no question. She knows. He knows she knows. Still, he wants to deny it. He hums and looked down at his shoes. "I guess."

"What do you want the baby to be?" she asks, turning all her attention onto him.

They were still waiting to be called back, like they had been for several minutes now. They'd arrived a little early and the doctor wasn't ready for them, still seeing another patient. Though it had only been a few minutes, it felt as though they've been sitting there for at least an hour. The entire time, all he could think about was their little one.

Their itty bitty little one it seemed, as Reader is hardly showing much at all despite being halfway through her pregnancy. Her belly appears more tubby than pregnant, which sometimes make Robby wonder if he's imagined all this. In comparison to Hawk and Miguel's partners, his wife was so small. Hawk's girlfriend was three times the size of Reader whilst Miguel's wife was even bigger! The glory of multiples, he supposes, silently happy that they were having just one baby.

In all honesty, Robby isn't sure if he'd be able to handle taking on more than one baby. His own childhood experience was far from perfect, in fact it sat on the complete other side of perfect. He knows little to nothing about babies, but he's been figuring it all out. So when it comes down to it, he isn't sure if it matters whether he wants a little boy or a little girl.

He just wants to be a good dad to them.

"I don't know," he admits softly, looking at Reader with gentle eyes. He smiles at her. "Whatever you want."

"I'm fifty-fifty if I'm being honest," she tells him, playing with his fingers. She spins his wedding ring, which he doesn't mind, and giggles. "Though, maybe I'm leaning toward a boy."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She smiles at him shyly. "I want him to be as handsome as you."

He smiles back at her. "I want our baby to have your smile."

"Really?"

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She starts to tear up and he can't help laughing. He cups her face in his hand and rubs her tears away with his thumb. "Aw, don't cry, please."

"You know I can't help it."

"I know."

He kisses her forehead and as he pulls away, the door opens.

"Keene!"

He stands and extends his hand to his wife, helping her up. They walk back and follow the nurse to a room. They get set up for the scan, Reader hopping up onto the table and lifting her shirt, a little ahead of herself in excitement. Robby is at her side the entire time, smiling at her as she talks to the nurse, updating them on how she's been feeling and how things have been.

The doctor comes in and laughs at Reader's enthusiasm, seeing her already ready for the scan. They all make their greetings to each other, Robby staying on the quiet side as his nerves resurface. The doctor puts on fresh gloves and sits, gels up Reader's belly, and grabs ahold of the wand. Once everything is ready, she gently puts it to Reader's belly.

The picture comes up on the machine and those worries Robby has having before are swept away. Reader had done a good job of distracting him in the waiting room, but nothing puts his mind at ease like seeing their little one. His cheeks hurt with how big his smile gets and he squeezes Reader's hand. She smiles up at him before looking at the screen again.

As the doctor moves the wand, inspecting the image, she nods and eventually says, "the baby looks healthy as can be. We're still a little concerned about their size, but they seem to be progressing just fine. They might just be a small baby at the end of the day." She smiles at the parents to be. "Now, I understand you two wanted to learn the sex of the baby. Is that right?"

"Yes," Robby and Reader answer together. They laugh at themselves, their excitement permeating the air. They feel silly, but in the best way possible. He coughs, calming himself, and says, "Yes, please."

The doctor keeps her smile, radiant and happy, and nods to them. She turns back to the screen, explaining how they're going to look to check. As she moves the wand, Reader does her best to sit still. She wants to wiggle with a mix of excitement and the sensation of the wand tickling her belly. Everyone's eyes are glued to the screen as the image shifts a little, hardly able to wait any longer.

"Ah, there we go," the doctor chuckles. "Tried to hide from me for a second there, but now I see. Congratulations. She's a girl."

Reader cheers with a squeal, new tears coming to her eyes as she shaking Robby's hand in excitement. She simply can't contain herself, she's so happy. She would be just as happy with a little boy.

"A girl, Robby. Did you hear that?" she asks, looking up at him.

However, he's still staring at the frozen image on the screen, a certain sparkle in his eye. He hears his wife, though, and nods slowly. "Yeah, a girl... Our little girl."