#like SOMETIMES its how they dress but usually its how they carry themself

[aro-oak]

I don't do it often and I only do it when it's accurate but one of the worst things I can tell someone is that they look like a youthpastor

[trashboatprince]

Here we go again, another one-shot of Fourteen in retirement!

And this time it's about them and their retirement squish~

Warning: anxiety issue for the Doctor that makes them too nauseous to eat (Don't worry, this isn't going in a specific direction, this is just general anxiety making someone feel sick)

As always, I use they/them for Fourteen. Also, at this point, I'd like to think that Fourteen is keeping in contact with some of the companions, like Tegan, Ace, Martha, the Fam, so if you're wondering about the mention of Ace or their friends, it's that.

Also, the art is mine. I know I've posted it before, but this fic is based on the doodles.

On with the fic!

--

"Oi! Spaceman!" Donna's voice carried from somewhere beyond the bathroom door. "Hurry up! Breakfast is almost ready and I am not saving you a plate!"

The Doctor scoffed, shouting back that they were finishing up with getting dressed.

"Yeah, yeah, just make it quick!"

They rolled their eyes, smiling as they grabbed for the button up hanging from a knob on a cabinet in their personal bathroom. Ah, it was such a nice thing to have now that they owned their own home, not having to share a bathroom with Rose like at the temporary home UNIT gave them.

They hadn't expected to meet someone as high maintenance as themself when it came to getting ready in the morning, but Rose was a worthy opponent for races to the bathroom.

They hummed to themself as they got the buttons done up on the shirt with an unconscious ease, their attention mainly on their reflection in the mirror. Did they need to shave, they thought as they grabbed for their favorite vest.

Hmm... probably not, it wasn't anything serious. In fact, they thought they looked rather-

Huh?

The Doctor frowned, tugging at the vest, trying to get the button into its hole, but noticing that it... wasn't quite making it. That's odd. Had this shrunk in the wash? Oh, they told Sylvia how to wash it specifically, she better not have just tossed it in!

This is why the Doctor usually just did their laundry in the TARDIS, she always did their clothing perfectly in her machines. For the most part. Sometimes there was a hiccup or two.

Looking down, the Doctor struggled to get it through the hole before finally succeeding. But it wasn't a perfect victory, it was... it was a really tight fit.

"This is... tighter." They frowned, tugging on the vest, and noticing something else.

It wasn't the only thing that felt a bit tight.

The button up fit fine enough, not yet tucked into their pants, but the pants themselves? Well, they felt a tad bit tighter around their waist, and the Doctor wasn't exactly liking that. They tried to adjust them, but it wasn't much.

"Did you shrink in the wash too?" They asked their clothes before lifting up the shirt, eyes widening a little.

Oh, that's new.

There was a slight difference to their waist, a bit more to it than they really remembered. Actually, when was the last time they really checked out this new-old body? Hmm... probably not since their first week of retirement, when they finally sat down and did a self-check over all of their body.

Same face and teeth, same eye issue which required the glasses to be worn a bit more often because it was slightly more annoying now, same minor issues that the old face had. Except there wasn't a mole on their back, it was actually up on their left hip, which was interesting.

There was also the fact that they were much thinner and a bit more worn down this time around, which Donna have pointed out a few times.

Oh, and more freckles, but that was more for the Doctor to be excited over, they liked the freckles. Freckles were cool.

Uhg, Chinny was still an influence, wasn't he?

Still, this was different. The Doctor poked at their stomach, feeling the softness when it had been a bit harder before. What was going on?

How had they not noticed this before? Had it happened overnight? Was it something they ate? Had it happened when they got into that drinking challenge on Sebvie 4 with Ace last week? They hadn't been sure of some of the drinks the Sebv had challenged them with...

Or was it from eating that biscuit they found in the TARDIS library yesterday?

"DOCTOR! Hurry your arse up!" Donna's shout snapped the Doctor from their worried thoughts and they quickly bolted from the bathroom, tossing off the tight vest. They'd deal with it later, best not to keep the family waiting.

"What took you so long?" Donna huffed as the Doctor rushed to the table, jumping into their favorite chair at it.

"Oh, you know." They grinned, gesturing at themself. "Takes a lot of work to be this beautiful."

Donna scoffed, then handed them a cup of coffee, perfectly measured to allow them to pour as much flavored creamer and sugar into it as they'd like.

Breakfast was a full spread, as it always was on Sundays, and the family tucked in. The Doctor decided to distract himself with conversation and tasty food, ignoring the slight, unexpected weight gain.

However, while they were washing dishes, it came back to them as they shifted where they stood. The pants were still tight, and it was bothering them. They felt tighter.

They'd need to run some tests, look into whatever this was. If it was dangerous, it could affect his family! Can't have that! Maybe it was a strange side effect of being on Earth this long?

No, no, they'd been on Earth for ages before, several times. They never had this issue.

But then again, the Doctor had been quite active. Running about, solving problems, not staying in one place like this. Even working in the Black Archives now wasn't anything like working as the Chief Science Officer before.

"Somethin' on your mind, son?" Wilf asked and the Doctor turned to look at him, as he pulled the milk from the fridge. The Doctor held out the mug they had been washing, might as well let him use that if he was getting himself tea.

"Oh, it's... nothing. Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Wilf took the mug and grabbed for the kettle that had been on the stove, pouring himself hot water for his tea. "Work stuff? Aliens?"

"Uhhh..." The Doctor didn't want to trouble him with this issue. "Thinking about this video that Rose showed me the other day. Really interesting stuff, it was this guy playing video games and talking over them. She said I should do it, would be really funny."

"Oh yes." Wilf laughed. "I don't understand any of that nonsense."

"Yeah, neither do I." The Doctor grinned, once more distracted, probably for the best.

--

"This might be a problem." The Doctor muttered to themself as they stood in their bedroom, looking at the mirror before them.

It was Thursday now, just days after the discovery on Sunday, and the Doctor hadn't done much to look into what could have caused the softness around their middle.

But it seemed to be in other places as well.

They knew their body well, it was Time Lord nature to do so. They could tell that there was more of this softness in other places. Just barely there, nothing to be noticed by anyone else but themself. A tiny bit in the arms, the thighs, and maybe just the slightest bit in the chest and face, but it was mainly there in the small pudge around their middle.

They stood in front of the mirror in their boxers, and watched as their reflection pinched the squish. They wracked their brain over what caused it, but nothing came to mind.

Well, except for one thing. Which should have been obvious from the start, but their instincts didn't really... click for that.

It was just weight gain. Perfectly, ordinary weight gain. A normal thing for normal species, right? Well, not for the Doctor. Because the Doctor always ran, always forgot to eat, always did this and that and didn't eat much except for nibbles and such.

But being with the Noble-Temple family meant living by their schedules. Three meals a day, Donna made sure of it. With tea (or in the Doctor's case, coffee) time, and some snacking through the day as they worked on projects at home, in the TARDIS, or on the days they went to work.

Was this normal?

To gain weight like this?

They'd been retired for about six or so months now, was this supposed to happen? Were they doing this thing right? Or was this a bad sign, that they were not doing this correctly, that this was a step in the wrong direction?

The Doctor turned away from the mirror, they needed to stop looking and get back to getting dressed. They grabbed a t-shirt from the closet and some jeans. No work today, they were going to fix the old box TV in Wilf's sunroom so he could watch programs from another galaxy.

They smoothed their shirt down and bit their lip, an uncomfortable feeling was in the pit of their stomach, twisting itself in knots. Uhg, they hated when they got themself so worked up like this. Maybe fixing the TV would help with anxiety.

--

Donna watched her best friend at the dinner table. They had spent most of the meal chatting with Wilf and Rose about the TV in the sunroom, and how it could get access to over nine thousand channels.

She had noticed that the Doctor hadn't really touched much of their dinner. When dinner was done, she helped them with the dishes, where she washed and they put away. "So, not hungry tonight?" She asked as casually as possible.

The Doctor paused while drying off a bowl. "Huh?"

"You hardly touched your dinner tonight. You like curry, you told me my mom makes delicious curry, you typically ate two helpings."

They looked at her, frowning just a little, before putting the bowl in the cabinet. "Just... not hungry tonight."

She pulled the plug from the sink and turned to face them completely. "Bull, what's on your mind?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Don't tell me that nonsense, Doctor. I know you." She jabbed a wet finger against their chest. "You have been troubled by something lately. You think you're so good at hiding that, but you're not. I'm your best friend, I know you inside and out. Literally. Your mind was my mind for a while."

The Doctor squirmed where they stood and they looked a bit pink in the cheeks as they glanced around. Then they sighed, leaning in close. "I... I think I'm failing this retirement thing..."

Donna raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I just... I noticed something. On Sunday. And I think it's a sign that I'm doing bad at this, that the calm life isn't working for me."

She felt the pricklings of worry as she listened, and she touched their arm. "Go sit down, we're gonna talk about this."

"Do we have to?" They asked, a whine in their voice.

"Yes, you knob. If it makes you feel better, we're do this in your weird study." The Doctor nodded and left the kitchen for said study, which was more of just a room full of weird books and things they had collected over the years, and a couch that looked uncomfortable but was the complete opposite.

That's where she found them sitting when she entered the room, two mugs in her hands. One with coffee with just a dash of milk, the other one mainly that nasty candy bar creamer with a dash of coffee, just as the two of them liked their drinks.

The Doctor took the offered mug, looking at it with a complicated stare. Donna rolled her eyes and sat down on the other side of the couch, taking a long drink from her mug. "Start talking."

"About?"

"What you think is the matter."

With a small, weird noise from their throat, they set the mug aside to adjust how they were seated on the couch. They leaned back and grabbed at the hem of their shirt and slowly pulled it up. "I've gained weight."

Donna stared at their torso, where there was a bit of pudge there, nothing to really write home about. "Really? That's it?"

The Doctor looked at her, confused. "What do you mean 'that's it'? Is this not... I dunno, a bad sign or something?"

"How?"

"I-" And then they stopped, giving this some thought. "I don't know. I mean, is it normal to gain weight when recovering and taking the slow path?"

Donna groaned, slapping her forehead. "You're the smartest person on Earth, and yet you are a great, big doof! Of course it's normal!"

"It is?"

"Yes! It's a perfectly good sign, actually! Lots of people gain weight when recovering from stress, trauma, and PTSD! My granddad did after the war, told me so himself. Said he came back a scrawny thing and had felt bad about things, but when he started to get better, he ate right and put on weight. It's perfectly normal, and it means you're adapting to a calm life."

The Doctor looked at their stomach, poking it. "So... this is a sign I'm recovering?"

Donna nodded. "Yep! Just like how you look less exhausted. I know the nightmares still come and go, but you've been sleeping better, right?"

"Of course! I've been able to sleep for several hours without a single nightmare waking me up for the past two weeks!" The Doctor stated, waving their hands.

"There you go, this is working. You just being here, not running around, trying to ignore your problems like you had been doing. You've got your friends hanging out with you, you have a job that you actually like, and you still run around, but without having to save the day all the time cause the beautiful Doctor is out there doing it for you."

"Oi! I'm beautiful too!"

"I'm not going to call my pseudo-brother beautiful." Donna made a face and they laughed. "You're starting to enjoy the slow, Doctor. And there's nothing wrong with this." She leaned over and tapped at the softness they had gained. "In fact, it's nice to see you with some meat on your bone."

The Doctor nodded, taking this in. "So, retirement squish is perfectly normal?"

Donna wanted to question the Doctor on their choice of describing this as that, but decided not to. "Yep. Means you're relaxing and doing well."

They perked up a bit. "Oh! Brilliant!"

The Doctor grabbed their coffee mug, taking a long drink. "That's good, cause I was worried and kinda freaking out about it. A lot."

"Please don't tell me you didn't eat dinner because of this..." She winced.

"What?" The Doctor blinked. "Oh! No, no! I actually got myself so worked up with worry that it made me nauseous. Actually, now that I feel better about this, I could do with a nibble. I didn't have my afternoon snack today for that reason too."

"Oi, go make a sandwich or something then!" She shooed the Doctor off the couch as they laughed, getting up and fixing their shirt.

They turned to look at her, smiling. "Thanks, Donna. Sorry about this, I didn't know what to make of it, I'm not... I'm not used to taking it slow. I don't know what to expect, what's a good sign or a bad sign."

She stood up and looked at her best friend, smiling just a bit. "I get it. Trust me, I do. After losing my memories, it was hard to get back on track. After Rose came out, it was an adjustment to knowing if I was doing the right thing or the wrong thing. I'm here to help you along this one, spaceman. Don't ever forget that."

The Doctor grinned and gave her a hug. "Thank you. I'll come to you for things like this, I promise." They pulled back. "You really think it's a good look for me though? The retirement squish?"

"Oh yeah." Donna grinned back. "Also, are you really going to call it that?"

"Of course! That's what it is!" That's one way to call it that.

--

I hope I wrote this right, I have my own issues with weight that I'm working on, but I felt like the Doctor did when I was younger after I had lost a lot of weight due to medical stuff and started gaining it back when I was healing. I hadn't been sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but it is a good thing.

[youngestdaughtersyndrome]

Tagged by my darling @glassangels <3<3<3

1. Are you named after anyone? Im named after a kinks song which is a massive win for me personally. They almost named me rosa after the pixies album (which wouldve made sense bc we do in fact surf) but one of my moms friends was already knitting a sweater with the kinks-name on it and she convinced them to keep it. My middle name is also my paternal grandmas middle name so i guess that counts too

2. When was the last time you cried? No idea tbh. That thing where you lie down on your side and then your eyes start leaking happens to me a lot but a proper sadness-induced cry hasnt happened for months. I will say that sometimes i say something made me cry, and although it technically didnt due to no tears falling, it did make my soul hurt and crying is the closest phrase that expresses that <3

3. Do you have kids? Thank god no

4. What sports do you play/have you played? Soccer, ran track for a bit, ultimate frisbee, swimming, fencing, fighting (mma, kickboxing, cage, etc), equestrianism (im including my brief and unimpressive time vaulting here), did some stuff with a circus briefly (contortionism, aerial arts, lyra), and then the usual outdoorsy shit (surfing, bouldering, hiking, skiing, and since caving is technically a sport, caving). Also danced for a bit (ballet, contemporary, and jazz). Yeah man idk either

5. Do you use sarcasm? Technically yes but its less "sarcasm" and more "inability to express a truth about myself without making it into a joke". A bit of sarcasm when the time calls for it is always fair game though and i will indulge

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone? The way they carry themself says a lot about their temperament and emotional state and whatnot so thats typically where my eye is drawn. Second place goes to wherever theyre keeping their valuables on them and how expensively theyre dressed though

7. Eye color? Blue but ive got a bit of yellow central heterochromia so they tend to look green if its bright out

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Kill them <3 scary movies 4ever

9. Any talents? Party trick-wise i did retain some contortionist ability and so thats always a good one to break out. Also can spit water up to 30 ft for tooth gap reasons. I am the type of person whos just naturally good at a lot of things (sorry) so i consider that a talent too

10. Where were you born? The top left corner of the USA, not including alaska

11. Hobbies? Writing, journaling, watching movies, reading, various textile arts, going for walks, playing assorted instruments, and occasionally traditional art (im particularly fond of ballpoint pens and oil pastels). Would say listening to music but thats a job to me and i clock into that shit like i get paid

12. Any pets? Maeve the most anxious dog in the world who i love very much <3

13. Height? 5'8/172 cm

14. Favorite school subject? I was a school hater so it really depended on the teacher... in high school i did have the same teacher for like three years in a row (she taught me english in freshman year, history in sophomore, + health in junior) and she was totally awesome so all those classes were great. Typically the classes i had the most fun in were english and history just bc there was more room for fucking around. In the single semester of college i took i did have crazy amounts of fun in my film class though which i will say was mostly because my professor rocked and i got him on my side early so i could kind of do whatever

15. Dream job? Due to the Issues and also common sense mainly i just wish the government actually took care of people and i wouldnt need to work. But if i have to chose a job than itd be a) writing a book or two that are good enough i could live off the royalties and film rights and whatnot for the rest of my life or b) pulling an enya (dropping some widely beloved and largely incomprehensible music and then disappearing totally from the public eye to live in a castle in the middle of nowhere)

Idk whos already done this so ignore me if you have lol @supersonic1994 @nothingrhymedwithcircus @hauntedwoman @halogenstreetlight @evebabitzgf @serethereal and anyone else who wants to <3<3<3

[berkfrye]

some of my nextgen ocs!!!! info about them under the cut.

Kisses Puppy, 17, #1 Borsie Fan

kisses is an incredibly adventurous person, and can usually be found in the woods behind his and his parents house climbing trees and watching animals run around. his favorite borsie is rainbow sprint and he has echolalia for some of her catchphrases like "30% cooler" and calling people "eggbrains". he has trouble with loud noises and socializing, but is very sweet and caring. (allotpun: Puppydog Kisses. Mood + Lovella kid)

Anthony "Antho" Philly, 15, #1 Flowers Fan

antho, inherriting his fathers sicks-a-lot, tends to be reclusive. this dosent really bother them, though, since they get to spend time with his garden! he considered his garden his romantic partner, and will speak with it for hours, if not longer. the flowers he wears are gifts from his partner, and he appreciates them so much!! he is insecure about his intelligence compared to his parents, but they assure him they love him no matter what. (note: antho is objectum! please dont make fun of him for this or play it as a joke. it makes me upset.) (allotpun: anthophilia. Barry + Hemera kid)

Imp Ending Doom Mood, 16, #1 Bones Fan

flying around looking for bones to take home and clean is one of imps favorite passtimes, but he loves it even more when she can do it with her cousin kisses! carrying kisses around on his back while they fly makes the hunt for bones all the more exciting. his second set of arms makes it easier to carry sometimes entire skeletons. his mom, doom, is disturbed by the sight of corpses, but tends to not bring it up for fear of revealing their past as a "nurse". caroline finds them cool, and uni is neutral on them. (allotpun: Impending Doom. Uni + Carrie + Doom kid.)

Callie Midi Doom Mood, 13, #1 Slashers Fan

despite her love for cuteness, callie has an affinity to violent and gorey films and media. she understands that this isnt for everyone, but when asked to show off what shes drawing she wont protest. this has gotten her in trouble a few times in school, but her generally understanding parents dont really mind. they do try to limit her engagement in horror media to at-home time, though. other than that, she is very energetic and caring and has friends over for sleepovers and playdates pretty constantly. (allotpun: Calamity Doom. Carrie + Doom kid.)

Bread Cornelius, 19, #1 Fantasy Fan

bread is a firm believer in magic, dragons, and other fantasy creatures like phoenixes and mermaids. how could he not be? he is a unicorn, after all! he uses his magic in storytelling, which he does at his local library, usually for children. his elaborate illusions are quite impressive, even for a unicorn. other than storytelling, he loves to daydream and write about his princess and knight characters for the internet. his room is very cozy and he loves halloween for the fact that he can dress up as anything he wants. (allotpun: Cornbread. Doom + Uni kid)

Nerve Ish Coughs, 20, #1 Ghosts Fan

since they were a baby, nerve has been able to see ghosts and talk to them due to their magic. this has led to a lot of problems in life, but they can generally get by. they dont get a lot of sleep, however, because of how loud their spectral friends can be. this leaves them with a short temper, but they usually manage to keep themself under control. they have a vague idea of their parents pasts as patients, but dont bring it up because they understand that its difficult to talk about. they get the inside scoop on a lot of things like that from ghosts spying, but they never really ask for it. ghosts are just mischievous little buggers! (allotpun: Nervous Coughs. Carrie + Uni kid)

maybe ill make more? maybe not. depends on what everypony thinks of these ones!

[imogenkol]

For the Character Design questions, how about stillness, texture, & favorite for Imogen, and glance, arms, & alternate for Wicke?

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

Imogen is a very still person in general when she's not in a fight. All of her movements are deliberate and she prefers not to waste time/energy with unnecessary motion. She does not fidget. She has no tics. When she goes still still, she's basically a statue and it's difficult to even see her breathe. A lot of people find her talent for this unsettling, which is the point. It's Imogen's way of being ready for anything while also appearing unpredictable - like a big cat that's stalking you, going utterly still with an intensity in its eyes that makes you hold your breath because you don't know if it's going to pounce or lose interest.

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can’t wear or don’t like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

Imogen almost exclusively wears high end fabrics and leathers from all over the galaxy, with a slight preference for durable materials over comfortable ones. Her entire wardrobe is a mixture of expensive taste and practicality. The one thing she does compromise on is legwear. Certain materials can snag on her cybernetic leg, which can be uncomfortable at best and painful at worst and that can also restrict her movement in combat.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What’s the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

Imogen has an armorweave coat that she wears every single day for a bit of extra protection. She had it custom made not long after she started to rise through the ranks in the Bounty Hunters Guild, so she's pretty proud of it. It has a detachable hood and plenty of storage/hidden compartments for whatever can't fit on her belt. And she looks damn good in it.

glance: At first glance, what stands out the most about your OC’s appearance? What’s their distinguishing feature?

Probably her smile. Wicke has a wild, troublemaker type grin on her most of the time that makes you equal parts excited and a little worried. It's contagious though, especially when Wicke starts going on about her projects and ideas. Nora certainly loves to hang out in her little workshop and hear all about what she's cooking up. It's usually a new gun that can pack one hell of a punch.

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they’re not fighting?

While Nora usually gets the special toys Wicke makes (gf priviledge), she also modified a special lever-action rifle just for herself. Fondly dubbed "Jolene", you can always find the gun within reach of Wicke at all times, either slung over her shoulder or resting in a chair while she works. Sometimes.... sometimes she lets Nora borrow her, but only if Petrichor (the hunting rifle Wicke enhanced for Nora) needs repairs.

alternate: What would your OC’s alternate universe look be? If they’re a fantasy character, what’s their modern look? If they’re sci-fi, what’s their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself?

It would be really fun to have a western au for Wicke. I already picture her having a bit of a southern drawl (idk why they're literally in boston but what the hell lmao) and seeing her in a cowboy hat, button up shirt, leather vest... woof. Maybe she just needs to make a trip across the country to New Vegas.

[of-love-and-starlight-if]

Can you give us facts about your ROs, please?💕💗💖✨

I most certainly can! Please enjoy some small, miscellaneous facts about our dear ROs;

⋆⋆⋆

R. Dubois

R. is ambidextrous and can use both hands with equal skill

Rene (m) has his left ear pierced, and Renee (f) has both of her's done— both of them wear small, blue gems that dangle

they often smell of vanilla and baking, though they themself do not bake

their favourite food is lemon meringue pie, a dessert they don't know how to make— and burned the last time they tried

they're an only child, and was adopted by a same-sex couple (they have two mothers)

M. Ariti

M. is an incredibly sappy individual, they will melt at any kind of romantic action (for example: give them a bunch of flowers, they'll combust)

they often smell of citrus, mostly oranges though sometimes there's a hint of lemon

they're an only child, and don't have the best relationship with their parents

they still sleep with a plushie, a small rabbit simply called "BunBun"

they have their bellybutton pierced, and usually keep a black or silver bar in it

I. Morin

I. has known the MC since they were toddlers, they've often been called the MC's shadow, as they always seem to be there— steady and stoic

they often smell of pine and the forest, an unsurprising fact given their tendency to feed Poprock at the forest's edge

they have a younger sister, who's only six years old— she writes them letters (with help) daily

they are an eerily good liar, though its likely because they're usually quiet— people don't know how they act normally, let alone their tells

their favourite food is plain rice, they'll eat it whenever they want the comfort of home

Qiao Shí

Qiao is one of four, they have two brothers and a sister

given their slightly masc. leaning presentation, Qiao likes to wear dresses and skirts every now and again just to fuck with people

they smell of ozone, a slightly metallic smell

they're always wearing a small shell on a chain, something that they'd acquired when they were ten— they never take it off

they're always carrying around a small rope with beads on, and fiddle with it when they're nervous

[whump-a-la-mode]

mangata (n); the reflection of moon on water

Okay so I may or may not just have talked about my OCs here for far too long and I apologize.

This is part of my Villainsicle series. I’m unsure of how comprehensible it is without background knowledge of the series. In general, in this context, Villain is Whumpee, Henchman is Caretaker, and Trainer is Whumper. The rest of the series is linked on my pinned post.

This really is just self indulgent nonsense. Even the linguist came out in this one. But, regardless, I hope you guys enjoy!

CW//Trauma, difficulty speaking, muzzles, leashes, whumpee caring about whumper

As the two walked along the beach, moving at a plodding pace along the sand, Henchman couldn’t help but consider just how odd they must have looked.

On the surface, sure, it wasn’t odd at all. The oppressive summer heat that beat down throughout the day had ceased its sweltering, giving way to a mild warmth that made the ocean waters look horribly inviting. Behind the water’s horizon, the full moon dangled on a thread, filling the sky and creating a great mangata upon the ocean’s water.

None of that, of course, was odd. There was nothing especially strange about two people taking a late night walk along the abandoned shoreline.

The fact that both of them were fugitives from a secret Organization was perhaps a little more unusual, though, luckily, nothing about their appearances suggested that.

That wasn’t to say that the two of them looked entirely normal. Perhaps Henchman did, but Villain had never had the most normal sense of dress.

Henchman wasn’t one to judge the fashion sense of someone who had showed up on their doorstep wearing rags that had, perhaps, once been a hospital gown, at least not generally. But they couldn’t help but wish that their fellow fugitive would agree to stop wearing bulky mittens and a thick scarf wherever they went, regardless of the heat. They must have been burning up in that dress, but they didn’t seem bothered by it.

Then again, they didn’t ever seem bothered by much. At least, if they were, their facial expression hardly reflected it. Instead, they had an odd habit of tightly gritting their teeth, regardless of the situation, to the point that they feared one of them might crack at any moment.

“It’s pretty beautiful at this time of night, isn’t it?” Henchman spoke, putting on their best smile as they looked out over the shoreline as they continued to walk.

Villain nodded.

“Very pretty.”

They had been rather talkative all night. Not in an objective sense, really. To anyone else, they would seem awfully shy, speaking almost entirely in short phrases, never exceeding four or five words in length.

That alone was an amazing improvement, in and of itself. When Henchman had first met them, Villain didn’t speak for at least a month. Not a single word. They could communicate in other ways, pointing and writing and nodding or shaking their head, but they hadn’t spoken.

Ever since they’d finally opened their mouth, they’d had a very... odd way of speaking. Everything about their speech was abnormal, in one way or another. If they were a non-native English speaker, which was entirely possible, they had no accent to show for it. Instead, their voice was rather hard to describe. Every time they spoke a word, it seemed as though they were reading it for the first time, struggling with syllables and sounds. Their grammar was slightly better, though they had a tendency to forget words, leading them to furrow their brow and hum until they found a way to get their point across.

Still, every time they remembered a word they had formerly not known, Henchman couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride swell up in their chest. Slowly but surely, this practical stranger was recovering, and, in a small way, they were helping.

That was why they were taking this walk, in the first place. Henchman had discovered pretty quickly that public spaces were far too much for Villain. Even the peace of sparsely populated parks would quickly be shattered as soon as a stray dogwalker appeared on an adjacent side street.

So far, they’d had incredible luck with this specific stretch of beach. After a certain time, it got too cold to be any good for swimming or sunbathing, leaving the great expanse of sand free of the public.

On the surface, their little walks didn’t seem to do much of anything. Still, somewhere deeper, Henchman couldn’t help but feel that they helped. Even if just the slightest bit.

They looked out over the sand, seeing the dunes curl far off in the distance. At their side, the low tide lapped.

“Have you ever been to the ocean before?” Henchman asked, still keeping that warm tone, making sure they moved slow enough so that Villain could easily keep up.

“Um... Kind of.”

“Kind of?” They hummed inquisitively. “Did you live on the coast?”

“Boat.”

“A boat?”

“A boat.” Villain corrected themself.

“Like... a houseboat?”

“Um... No. Big, big boat. Really big.” Their brow furrowed, and they began to hum as they struggled to find a word. “Boat for planes.”

“An aircraft carrier?”

“Yes! Yes. An aircraft carrier.”

That brought up perhaps more questions than answers, but now wasn’t the time to quiz Villain about their past.

“You must have seen a lot of the ocean then... the moon is always so pretty, when it’s like this.”

Villain nodded, attention seeming to turn somewhere else as they looked out at the water.

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Licks of water lapped up against the edge of the ship’s hull, rocking it ever so slightly that those leaning over its railing could not so much as pretend to feel the movement. The sprawling metal beast was simply too large to be swayed by the forces of the tides.

Trainer slipped the end of Villain’s leash off of their wrist, letting the leather strap dangle loosely from their muzzle. With the newfound freedom to lift their head, they did so, staring out over the expanse of black water, contrasted by the stark reflection of the moon upon its surface.

Villain couldn’t say that they understood, entirely, why they were here. They had returned from their last mission almost half an hour ago. By all accounts, Trainer should have followed their usual procedure; removing Villain’s mission gear, bringing them back to their kennel, and perhaps giving them something to eat if they were feeling particularly generous.

Tonight, however, none of that had happened. Instead, they had stayed on the ship’s deck for quite some time, with Trainer speaking to teammates and colleagues until all of them had retired to their quarters in the ship’s depths. Villain would have been lying if they said they hadn’t been getting antsy around that point, eager to get back to their own resting place for the night.

But that hadn’t happened. Trainer hadn’t followed their teammates to the lower decks. Instead, they had drifted over to the railing, looking over it as if there was something stunning beyond it.

Villain understood, somewhat.

What they didn’t understand was the fact that Trainer was still talking. The deck was deserted, and yet, still, they were talking.

As if they were talking to their own Asset.

Their voice had a wistful quality to it, carrying on a thoughtful conversation to nobody.

Of course, Villain had no idea what words were being spoken. Even after so many months, the tongue remained completely foreign to them. That didn’t eliminate, however, the whimsical tone of the noises.

An odd feeling swelled in their chest. It had been there, brewing, ever since they’d walked over here. It was... pleasant.

They were happy. They thought so, at least.

Even if they didn’t understand why Trainer was speaking to them as though they were anything but an Asset, they were happy.

It was hard to make much in the way of noise, with the muzzle forcing their teeth together, but in their throat, they did their best to approximate speech. It came out more as a soft humming. Almost a singing noise.

Trainer smiled, ruffling Villain’s hair with such affection that the latter choked back tears. They leaned into the touch, relishing it, even with how brief it was.

The next words spoken in that foreign tongue sounded almost like a question. Not a serious one, of course. No real answer was being prompted. Instead, it sounded hypothetical. Philosophical. Dreamlike.

They responded with another singing hum. They, too, smiled, looking out onto the endless water and the mangata upon it.

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Villain stopped walking.

Henchman stopped in turn, immediately more concerned about their friend than about the walk. They turned to them, not saying anything for a moment. Giving them time to think.

“We used to look at the moon sometimes.”

The surprise was nearly enough to make their jaw drop. That must have been the longest sentence Villain had ever strung together, even since Henchman had met them. And all of it, pronounced perfectly. With an overtone of sorrow, sure, but perfectly.

They tried not to smile, feeling that it wasn’t quite appropriate for the moment.

“We?” Henchman questioned as softly as they could manage. “Who did you look at it with?”

“Um...” They clenched and unclenched their fists. “They, um, person from Organization.”

“Oh. Were they your friend?”

“I... Um... I don’t know. They... um...”

Henchman waited, allowing Villain to collect their thoughts for as long as they needed.

“Trained me. Um.. thing on my face.” They gestured along with their words, tracing a line from the corner of their lips to just above their ear. “Mean sometimes. But, friend, um, yes. Friend. I think so. Sometimes.”

Henchman frowned. They didn’t know what to say to that. Of course, they knew that Villain had been from Organization, just as they themself had been. Whatever they were describing, it didn’t sound much like friendship, but they hated to debate them when they were trying to think.

“They were your friend sometimes?”

“Nice sometimes. Mean sometimes. Friend sometimes. Trainer always.”

“Oh. Do you... Villain, do you miss them?”

Henchman couldn’t help but think of the way their friend always held themself, teeth pressed so tightly together. As if held in place by something. ‘Thing on face.’

And the way they acted...

“Miss them...”

Villain raised their head, turning, and staring out over the water. Staring at the moon.

“Yes. I think so. Yes. I miss them.”

[angel-tries-to-write]

This is not how you pay your debt

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Hanji Zoë Word count: 4507 Genre: smut, fluff

A little idea I came up with while watching Junior High. Hanji is in debt to Levi, but gets a very unique idea of paying it.

They/them pronouns for Hanji.

"I'm not treating you. Make sure you repay me later."

These words were still ringing in Hanji's ears, even though Levi spoke them in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He said it only once, but Hanji knew he meant it every other time, just by the look he was making. That was the funny thing about Levi: he was a mystery, a real enigma to everyone except for Hanji. They always knew what was on his mind, they were studying him for long enough to be able to see through his façade and even explain it to the others. They would lie if they said he was easy to read, but they were somewhat proud of this relationship. None of them knew actually what they were, the two of them never spoke about it. Hanji knew fully well that Levi was someone way more than just a friend to them, even though they didn't know what he thought about it, this thing about him remained a secret even to them. But that meant that maybe, just maybe, it was worth to try taking their relationship on the next level and them being in debt to him was a pretty convenient excuse. It wasn't an easy decision to make, if he didn't feel the same way, this friendship can be ruined, but if he did... Well, life is too short to waste this opportunity, especially in this world and Hanji has always been a "ride or die" person, especially when it came to Levi. It was worth trying.

The opportunity arose on its own, actually. One night Hanji was busy in the lab when they heard a knock on the door frame. They looked up from their notes and saw Levi, dressed very lightly and casually. Hanji themself was wearing light clothes, but it wasn't as contrasting as it was in his case. They usually were way more casual than Levi, who just had to look neat and elegant. This time, however, was different. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he had trouble sleeping.

“Do you want me to help you fall asleep or do you just want my company?” Hanji asked straightforwardly, not trying to pretend they didn't know what he was doing there.

“How about both?” he asked quietly and closed the door while Hanji sent him a careful look from above their glasses.

“My, my, Levi Ackerman openly saying what he wants” they teased him and stood up when he made an irritated expression, ready to leave. For once experiments and science could wait. “What a beautiful day to live.”

“Don't make me change my mind and leave, four-eyes” he even sounded annoyed. Hanji knew they were about to test their luck and strain his trust, but it was now or never.

“Like hell I'd let you” they said and before Levi realized what they intended to do, he was pinned against the lab door. The distance between them was nearly nonexistent, yet the man didn't protest or push his friend away. “Say, Levi” they reached up and caressed his cheek tenderly “what would you say to collecting my latest debt in a slightly different way?” they asked with a soft, sweet voice, their hand slowly wandered down his body.

“What do you mean?” he asked carefully, his breath hitched at their touch.

“Oh, you know, I have this new idea about how can I repay you.”

“Yes. Simply give me the money back” he said, trying to keep his composure.

“Or I can help you relax” they offered with a smirk and their fingers barely brushed his crotch. Levi's eyes widened and his face reddened as he finally realized what kind of idea it was. At this moment Hanji could clearly see through him and almost all of his barriers. They could tell he was in kind of conflict with himself, he was torn and didn't quite know whether he wanted it or not.

“Oh really? And what do you have in mind?” he teased, trying to get his emotions under control, even though his own body betrayed him. The thought of what Hanji could do to him in context they suggested made his cheeks burn even more, arousal shot through his spine right to his lower abdomen and he panicked a little, feeling his penis hardening slowly. He thought he buried this ability deep down, things like love or lust seemed impossible to experience for someone who had this terrible life and carried such a huge trauma inside. Yet again, Hanji Zoë proved to him that impossible wasn't an option. Their chaos completely ruined his perfectly ordered life, yet to his surprise, Levi didn't mind it that much.

“A lot, actually” their eyes twinkled with satisfaction when they felt Levi's erection. Their other hand that was leaning against the door above the man's head, fell softly to his hair and slid down to the cheek. “And I promise you're going to love it, but I need you to trust me” with every word their voice was getting quieter and more sensual and it was doing its job. When their thumb caressed his lips, it was the last straw. Levi grabbed them by the collar and closed the distance between the two of them, sealing Hanji's lips with a hungry kiss. He wasn't quite himself, but his friend wasn't complaining at all, on a contrary, they loved this side of him.

Well, just like any other one. Hanji was probably the only person in the world who knew everything about Levi and who loved him despite his terrible personality. He just was to understand it yet.

“I do” he whispered, breaking the kiss. “I trust you.”

Hanji smiled warmly, they knew it, technically, but hearing these words was something quite different than just sensing them. They slightly pulled away and started unbuttoning their shirt, then shrugged it off. As they did, Levi shyly put his hands on their muscled body. Hanji wasn't as strong as he was, but enough to be good in fight and they had quite nice muscles either. His fingers traced their abs, then toyed with the hem of Hanji's sport bra that kept their small boobs in one place and helped to keep their chest comfortably flat.

“Should I take it off?” Hanji teased, knowing fully well that his answer was a yes.

“Please” he breathed and that somewhat surprised his partner, they didn't expect to hear such a need in his tone. They stripped of the bra faster than they first intended, letting Levi stare and then touch their breasts. It wasn't the first time he was doing that, after all he was the only one who would make Hanji take a bath, sometimes in a quite violent way, but it was the first time the situation was sexual. They let him play for a while before pushing him harder against the door and capturing his lips in a kiss. Levi let out a small whimper when he was denied the boobs, Hanji only chuckled at his reaction.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you” they said with amusement, unbuckling his pants.

“I was having fun too” he protested, pulling them closer and kissing their neck. Hanji gasped as he suckled on their pulse point, they tugged the fabric of his pants, drawing Levi even closer. Finally they managed to free his cock and the moment their fingers touched it, their partner was gone. He stopped kissing their neck and bit down his lower lip, fighting a moan.

“Oh, you like it already? But I didn't do anything yet” Hanji laughed and slightly pulled away. They took their glasses off and put them away.

“I swear, four-eyes...” Levi panted with irritation, but his voice died in his throat when Hanji kneeled down in front of him. Immediately he covered his mouth with his hand, muffling any noises he was making. They were right, they didn't do anything yet and he was already done. He closed his eyes as they moved closer, kissing softly the tip of his member. He had to use all of his strength and willpower to not cum that soon.

“Tell me if you want me to stop or if I do something wrong, okay?” they asked, but all Levi could do was to nod a few times, his eyes still closed, cheeks flushed and mouth covered, which was necessary, because he nearly screamed with pleasure when Hanji took his cock in their hot, wet mouth, carefully testing every move and observing his reactions. Almost as if they were doing an experiment. Levi's free hand clenched on his partner's hair, not wanting them to stop, but he also minded to not enforce anything. Every lick and suck, even the slightest move, was pushing him closer and closer to his climax, apparently Hanji could use their mouth to pleasure him as well as they were using it to talk. Their tongue was impressively swift and the deeper they tried to take him in, the more he struggled to hold on. He could have probably lasted longer, but he made a huge mistake: he opened his eyes. The sight of Hanji kneeling down and looking up at him with their messy hair, flushed cheeks, bare chest, beautiful dark eyes and mouth full of cock, was enough to send Levi off the edge. He came suddenly, surprising Hanji who choke a little, some saliva mixed with sperm escaped their mouth and fell on their chest, but they managed to finish him off, swallowing all they could. When they let go of him, Levi didn't move, staring at them with unfamiliar feelings and trying to calm down.

“Hanji, you look gorgeous” he whispered half consciously as they wiped their chin and licked their fingers.

“Does that mean you liked my payment?” they smirked. Levi dropped to his knees and kissed them hard, pulling them by the hand he still had tangled in their hair. He could taste himself on their lips, but to his surprise, he didn't mind.

“Hell yes I did. You were amazing” he panted, leaning his forehead against their shoulder.

“I guess you can tell I have PTSD: Professional Talent for Sucking Dick” Hanji joked and Levi managed to let out a chuckle. He suddenly felt hands on his neck and back as his partner hugged him. “Do you want to go to sleep now?” they asked, but he made a sound of protest.

“No, just give me five minutes.”

“For what?”

“For round two. If you think you can suck me off and not expect being fucked later, then you should re-evaluate your knowledge about me.”

“I never knew this side of you, but I like it. I guess it's not too late to get to know it better” they smiled and slowly slipped their hand under his shirt to massage the skin on his back. They waited patiently and when his breath steadied, he kissed them first on their lips, then jaw, neck and he moved lower as he reached their breasts again.

“I see now why did you decide to undress” he smirked, licking his semen off their skin.

“I knew you would make a mess. What an irony, usually you despise it.”

“Oi, you're asking to be punished.”

“I can think of a few ways you can do that, but at the same time I'm not sure if you're actually capable of doing that. A few minutes ago you were completely at my mercy. Who knew you could be this submi—” they gasped loudly when Levi caught their nipple between his teeth, then sucked, and rolled the other between his fingers. He smirked, looking up.

“You were saying?” he asked triumphantly and pulled away to take off his shirt. Hanji reached for their own one and placed it on the floor, so they could lie down a little more comfortably.

“I feel tempted to tease you more and check what else you can do to me” they admitted, wriggling their boots and pants off.

“You might regret it” he simply said, following their lead. “If not tonight, then tomorrow. And it won't be worth it.”

“We can discuss it once we're done” they pulled him close impatiently and kissed hard. He pushed them down, so they would lie on the floor. “It's cold” they winced.

“I'll warm you up” he assured, pulling away and looking at them loosing their hair. He never thought he would think that, but Hanji was freaking beautiful. They were intoxicating him in a way no other human being could.

“You're staring, Levi” they chuckled. “Are you stunned by my beauty?” Hanji joked, unknowingly saying exactly what he had in mind.

“Actually, yes, I am” he admitted and caressed their thighs. Laugh died down their throat, their eyes widened in shock as they looked at him.

“What?”

“I don't know how or why, but you look so fucking good right now, I've never seen a more attractive person” he admitted, kissing their stomach and going up. He had no idea why suddenly he was so honest and open, he would usually keep his guard up, not counting rare moments when he was breaking down in Hanji's arms, the way they were in his. But even then he wasn't talking much, they just knew. This night was so different, he was doing things he didn't think he was capable of and to his surprise, it wasn't terrifying him, he actually enjoyed doing it all.

“You think I'm beautiful and attractive?” Hanji stared at him dumbfounded. They clearly couldn't believe it.

“Of course I do” he answered, kissing all the way up to their breasts while his fingers brushed their sex. Hanji gasped at his touch and clenched their palm on his shoulder, sensing a nasty scar under their fingertips. He had way more scars than they had, but Hanji knew almost every one, just like Levi knew theirs. Both of them tended to their wounds, they were the only people the other trusted to take care of them. Of course, Hanji was more open and they could let Miche or Nana do the job, but they preferred to leave it to Levi. It was a way to gain his trust, he would never let Hanji take care of him if he couldn't take care of them in return. Just like he was doing now, fingering them with a skill he didn't quite expected he possessed. Yet it was there and it allowed him to give more and more pleasure to his lover. He watched them carefully, observing every reaction and the first thing he noted was that they were much quieter than he was, but it didn't mean he was doing something wrong. At least he hoped so, judging by the way they were moaning his name intertwined with "yes" and "just like that". It took him a while, but he finally made them come all over his hand and if he thought they were beautiful before, they looked fucking gorgeous now, all sweaty and panting, with neck and breasts covered in hickeys and bite marks, eyes closed, limbs spread and lips curved in a smile.

“That was amazing. You were amazing” Hanji praised him, caressing his cheek. Levi just looked at them with a glint of mischief in his eyes and never breaking eye contact, he put his fingers in his mouth, licking them clean, observing the growing desire in Hanji's eyes

“I'm just getting started” he said and climbed up their body to place a hungry kiss on their lips. Both of them moaned as he positioned himself and the tip of his penis brushed Hanji's entrance.

“Do you really want this?” they asked and Levi looked at them, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I do. I wouldn't do that if I didn't want it.”

“Good. I do too and I just wanted to hear it from you.”

“Why?”

“Consent is sexy” they shrugged. “Besides, after all we've been through, I really wouldn't want to ruin our relationship by making you do something you don't want to. You deserve all the best and I want to make sure you get it.”

Levi froze, looking at them with shock, disbelief, but also hope, deeply moved by their words. He kissed them, slowly pushing his member inside. He might have been inexperienced, but he wasn't an idiot, he knew what to do to not hurt his partner. Hanji winced a little when his cock stretched their inner walls.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing their hair out of their face.

“Yeah. Well, you are short, but your dick clearly isn't, so I need a moment” they chuckled.

“Don't make me regret it” he sent them an annoyed look. Only Hanji could crack a joke about his height when he was balls deep inside them.

“Sorry. I'll behave, you can go on” they promised and kissed him. Levi sighed heavily, absolutely done with them and pulled out, but as he thrusted back in, any bickering and jokes were left forgotten. Both of their brains went blank, not caring about anything besides their mutual pleasure. They had no idea for how long did their act last, it seemed like an eternity of thrusts, kisses, touches, moans and overwhelming pleasure. When they finally reached their orgasms, Levi simply collapsed on top of Hanji, knowing fully well he could do that and he wouldn't crush them. If it wasn't for his insomnia, he would have had more strength, but for now he was exhausted. Hanji embraced him and kissed his sweaty forehead.

“Thank you” he whispered, when their breaths steadied.

“It was my pleasure” they smiled, playing with his hair.

“I've always thought sex was dirty and disgusting. I don't know how did you do that, but you managed to prove me wrong” he said, apparently even Levi Ackerman confirmed theory that people after sex are more open and honest.

“Well, we're quite messy right now, all sweaty and sticky” Hanji pointed out, but made no sign indicating they were bothered by that.

“I don't care.”

“You? A clean freak? Don't care?” his lover looked at him with disbelief. They never thought he could say such thing. “Are you even alright?”

“More than alright. Tonight I'm just doing things I never thought I was capable of. Being dirty, having sex and actually enjoying it. Feeling this warm and fuzzy inside. That's so strange to me, it's nice, of course, yet I can't help but think about...” he didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to. Hanji knew him and understood like no one could.

“She wouldn't want you to feel bad. She did what she had to do.”

“Do you think she would be proud of me?”

“Of course! She would be very proud to see everything you've achieved. I'm sure you are someone she wanted you to be. Someone who lives a better life than her. I've never met her, but I'm sure she loved you more than anything” they assured him. Levi rarely spoke about his mother, it was very personal to him and no one but Hanji actually knew the whole story. They were the only person in the world he could open up to.

“Hanji, what am I to you?” he asked suddenly, his voice almost cracking because of the emotions. He pushed himself up, so he could look them in the face.

“What do you mean?” they were surprised by his sudden question.

“How do you feel about me? Please, tell me” he pleaded. Levi Ackerman never pleaded, he was never desperate and he never cared about other people's feelings. Except for Hanji's.

“You're my best friend” they started and a flash of disappointment crossed Levi's face. “You're the one I can deeply trust and I can always rely on. You're the first person I think about when I wake up and the last when I go to sleep. And if we were given a chance to live a peaceful life, you're the one I would share it with. I just love you, Levi” they confessed and his eyes widened with shock.

“You do?” he whispered barely audible.

“I do. I have for a few years by now. I just never thought you could feel the same about me. Tonight... well, let's say I was tired of being uncertain and I had to make a move.”

“I love you too” he blurted out and it was Hanji's turn to be shocked. They never expected him to actually say it. “For a long time I couldn't admit it, maybe I didn't want to, because I was scared. Everyone who ever loved me and whom I loved, are dead. I don't want you to die” he admitted. Hanji stared at their lover, processing everything he said, then moved up and kissed him hard.

“I can't promise that I won't die, but you know you can't get rid of me easily.”

“I know but—”

“No 'buts'. Stop thinking negative. I know you've been through so much, but you have to move on. You have to live a better life. For your mom. For me. For yourself.”

Levi thought about their words, he knew they were right. He nodded, defeated. One last time. Just once, he would let himself love and be loved. He would risk his heart being shattered once again. He knew Hanji was tough, they survived for this long, they could certainly live through much more. So he was safe for now. At least he wouldn't live in constant "what ifs" invading his mind anymore.

“Alright.”

“Great. Now let's call it a night, shall we? As tempting as staying like that sounds, I'd rather not give Moblit a heart attack in the morning” they snickered.

“Fine. Let's take a bath and go to sleep” Levi pulled away from them with a slick sound.

“Yeah, for once I won't be arguing” Hanji said, looking at the mess between their thighs. They both got up and got dressed, made sure to not leave any mess in the lab, went to their rooms to take fresh clothes and met in the bathroom. “You know that if the others find out, they're never going to let us live?” they asked when the two of them undressed once again and proceeded to clean themselves and each other.

“They don't have to find out.”

“You think so? This thing is way harder to keep a secret than any other thing we've said or done.”

“They know we help each other fall asleep, so even if they would catch us sleeping together, it's not the first time.”

“And you were furious when they saw us for the first time, now it's our advantage.”

“Yeah. Good thing it was in common area, it was easier to explain.”

“Let's hope we're lucky enough to keep it secret.”

They finished their bath reminiscing old times. When they left and got dressed, they headed to Levi's room where they fell asleep as soon as they went to bed. Both of them had trouble sleeping recently, yet the presence of the other one was soothing and calming enough, to let them peacefully sleep for all night and even longer than that. Because when they finally woke up, it was almost noon.

“Hey” Levi spoke, his voice was even deeper and lower than usual.

“Hey” Hanji smiled and rubbed their eyes. “Did we oversleep?”

“Seems like it. But I guess we deserved that much sleep.”

“Yeah... You look way better than yesterday. I mean, healthier, not more handsome and beautiful, that's physically impossible.”

“I can say the same thing” he brushed away Hanji's hair, taking it out of their face, then leaned in and kissed them.

“I KNEW IT!” Nanaba's sudden scream made the couple jump away from each other, as much as they could, being limited by the bed and their embrace. “MICHE, ERWIN, I WON THE BET!!!” she shouted and Levi furrowed his brows.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled at her.

“Yes, Nana, what the fuck?!” Hanji echoed. None of them got an answer, because Miche and Erwin appeared by the door.

“You didn't win shit, just because they share a bed it doesn't mean you won” Miche protested, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Besides, they're fully clothed and they slept together in the past” Erwin noticed. “It means nothing.”

“I saw them kiss, I swear!” Nanaba realized she didn't think this through, as she had no proof to convince them.

“Oi! What's that supposed to mean?” Levi yelled, sitting up, his partner followed his actions.

“Nana was convinced you're dating, while we were pretty sure you're not. So we decided to bet. If she found out any proof in a week, she wins, if she won't, we win” Miche explained. “But since we know you two have huge trouble sleeping and the only person who can help you is the other one, we don't count that.”

“Technically it's against the rules, but I can either allow that or risk getting two of my best people get themselves killed, because of sleep deprivation” Erwin admitted. “And since you said you're not dating...”

“Of course we're not dating” Levi scoffed.

“And that's why Hanji has hickeys all over their neck?” Nanaba pointed out triumphantly. The couple exchanged looks, they didn't expect to see anyone before getting out of bed, so they didn't mind less covering clothes. Which meant that most of the marks Levi has left on his lover's body were visible.

“We're not dating yet” Hanji precised, giving up. There was no point trying to lie, the evidence was obvious. “Last night we talked about our feelings, but we didn't figure out the status of our relationship yet. Also we would like to have our privacy respected, thank you very much.”

“So did we win or not?” Miche wondered, apparently that was his priority.

“I'd say under these circumstances we can say none of us wins or loses. The bet is cancelled” Erwin decided. “Now let's get back to work, you two, get out” he pointed to Miche and Nana “you two, get up” he pointed to Levi and Hanji “and we're never talking about it again, that's an order” he commanded and the three left.

“So much for keeping a secret” Hanji sighed, resting their head on Levi's shoulder.

“That's not what I wanted to do. But maybe it's for the better” he admitted, wrapping his arm around his partner and kissing their head. “We don't have to bother whether someone sees us or not.”

“Really? You're going to ruin your reputation of unavailable idol only to be able to kiss me in public?” they joked.

“Like I ever cared about my reputation” Levi rolled his eyes. “But there's one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“While I enjoyed the way you paid your debt last night, don't get used to it or I'll stop buying you anything” he said and Hanji couldn't help but burst out laughing.

[irishseeeker]

Prompt: Day 1, Jealousy and all its cousins @katexanthonyweek​

Kate Bridgerton  was definitely not jealous.

(She was.)

rating: mature!

---

Kate tried really not to dislike people.

That did not mean she was always successful but she truly did try to give people the benefit of the doubt.

It became an exceedingly hard task when certain people made it incredibly difficult for Kate to like them. Especially before she knew them.

For example, the woman across the room who was standing far too close to her husband, openly flirting with him.

That was hard to like.

Kate was not a fool, she noticed how women behaved around Anthony. She could accept women would always be attracted to Anthony. He had been a notorious rake for a reason, after all. It made no difference to their marriage, Anthony was hers. Whenever he was in a room, the female gaze naturally drew to him.

She could not blame them. Her charming husband, who would kill her if he ever heard her say this, was beautiful.

He was incredibly handsome but there was so much more. There was no better feeling than being wrapped up in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He had long, dark eyelashes every woman dreamed of. He had a strong jawline that she loved to kiss and trace with her fingertips when they lay in bed. He had a head full of dark hair that she loved to run her fingers through, unlike some men his age who were already bald.

Kate herself could barely keep her eyes off of him and she got to see him everyday, especially when no one else did. She got to see him when he first woke up in the morning, completely content with his tousled hair and half awake eyes. She had the privilege of seeing him with his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his cravat loose and best of all-with nothing on at all.

It was a challenge sometimes in public not to touch him, especially at balls and parties when he was dressed so well. She usually kept her hands occupied with a drink or an appetizer.

Anthony usually subtly touched her anyway, always improperly, to tease her or just because he wanted to.

(Even when she blushes and scolds him for it, they both know she loves it.)

However, she could not accept women who stepped a bit too far. From across the room, a woman was talking to Anthony. She was leaning towards him, taking subtle steps towards him and creating an improper distance between them. The woman was petite, blonde and her skin glowed in the dimmed lighting of the ballroom. She was beautiful.

She also had her hand on Anthony’s forearm.

Kate did not like this feeling. This bitter, bubbling anger in the pit of her chest as she watched Anthony across the room.

She was not jealous.

(She was.)

Technically, that was also Kate’s forearm. She had married that forearm just under a year ago.

They would be celebrating their one year anniversary, hosting their first ball as Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton in Aubrey Hall next week. The ball would mark the end of the season, and Anthony and Kate were staying in Aubrey Hall for the rest of the summer before returning to London.

Kate was incredibly nervous.

She still felt at odds with her role as Viscountess. Her broken leg had put a stop to her social calendar after only a month of marriage, and she had not been able to carry out many of her roles as Viscountess.

It had taken a few months for her leg to heal. Kate could finally walk again, without the need for her stick or Anthony’s arm. Anthony had objected to their vigorous social calendar since the season had started but Kate was determined to attend as many balls as they could. Anthony, of course, was always by her side.

She was trying to do exactly as Violet Bridgerton would. Her days were now filled with parties, balls and social calls. Her first ball as Viscountess would be perfect.

It had to be.

She could not bear to think of the possibility of disappointing Violet and Anthony. There was a nagging feeling deep inside her, that society had been right to question why Anthony Bridgerton had chosen Kate Sharma to be his viscountess. The whispers that she was not fit for the role.

She was determined for those whispers not to be right.

Kate knew how lucky she was to have Anthony. Her marriage was wonderful, something she never would have dreamed of for herself. They loved each other to the point it was almost nauseating, as Eloise and Colin enjoyed to remind them, but they were also friends.

Anthony was her best friend.

Oh, she truly was nauseating.

The woman currently talking to her husband was making it exceedingly hard for Kate to concentrate on anything but them. Anthony had been talking to this mystery woman for just over three dances, when Kate had left him to dance with Benedict. This woman was now laughing at something Anthony said, her blonde curls bouncing in the air as her head tilted back.

What was so funny?

Kate loved her husband to death but he was not that funny.

“You cannot keep dancing with me to avoid dancing with other eligible ladies,” Kate teased Benedict, deciding to focus on her brother in law who was waltzing with her for the third time that evening.

“Can I not enjoy the company of my sister and not have any ulterior motives?” Benedict’s grin was wide across his face as he spun Kate around, narrowly avoiding her clumsy feet. She was a challenged dancer on her best days but when she was distracted by her husband across the room, it was every dancer for themself.

She glanced across the room again and now Anthony was laughing. Why was he laughing? She hoped it was a pitiful laugh.

“I thought I was doing you a favor by asking you to dance for a second and third time,” Benedict said, “I was distracting you from glancing over at my dear brother every few seconds.”

“I was not glancing. I was simply observing the room,” Kate said, but even Kate did not believe herself. She was blatantly staring at her husband. “Besides, we both know you are dancing with me to avoid dancing with one of the eligible ladies your mother is trying to marry you off to.”

“I believe three dances is all we have, so in a few moments I will have to venture back into the wild and attempt to avoid my mother for the rest of the evening,” He said, “However, I have been waiting for you to ask me who he is conversing with since the last dance. I thought you would give in five minutes ago”

“The thought had not crossed my mind.” Anthony had told her previously what a terrible liar she was. She previously thought it was because he knew her so well that she was incapable of lying to him, but she really was quite dreadful at it.

“Your face says otherwise.” Benedict glanced down at their feet before his teasing gaze returned to Kate’s face. “You have stepped on my feet at least four times while staring over there.”

A pang of guilt hit her. She was being rather rude. It was Benedict, so she knew he was not actually offended. Kate had gotten to know him quite well since her marriage. He joined them for dinner quite often, and spent a lot of time with Anthony at Whites or at their home. “You know, this is precisely why Gregory and Colin are my favourite brothers. They would never point out my flaws.”

Benedict chuckled. “Oh, how you wound me.”

Kate could not help herself. She had to know. “Who is that woman?”

Thankfully, Benedict chose not to tease and indulged her curiosity. “Her name is Eleanor Trent, previously Falmouth. My father and her, the Earl of Falmouth, attended Oxford together. They were friends until his death.”

Kate’s face fell. “She was a family friend?”

“Yes. She has brothers around the same age as Colin, Anthony and I. I know there were discussions of a betrothal, between Anthony and Eleanor. Nothing came of it, father died and Anthony would not discuss it further. He focused on the family and Oxford.” Benedict was not shy with the details, which Kate was equally grateful and upset about.

Kate’s stomach suddenly felt nauseous. Had something happened between them when they were young? Had Anthony courted her before his father’s death? Eleanor was the perfect candidate for a Viscountess. The daughter of an Earl, a family friend, a regular part of London society. “I imagine your mother was displeased.”

Kate loved her mother in law. Violet Bridgerton had been nothing but kind to Kate from the moment they met. She had been even kinder before their wedding, despite the circumstances that caused their nuptials.

They shared a lot in common, their love for gardening for one and met for tea multiple times a week, but Kate had always feared she was not the wife she had envisioned for her son. The same fear that had made itself known to Kate before her wedding remained inside of her: she feared Violet believed Kate had trapped her son.

The woman had witnessed her son’s face in Kate’s bosom, for heaven’s sake.

Benedict did not deny it. “Mother was furious when Anthony still refused three years later after he finished his studies. Eleanor later got married that season to a Baron and that was that. It took our mother a long time to learn that Anthony only does what Anthony wants to do.”

The music ceased and the dance ended, all the participants clapping before departing the dance floor. Benedict and Kate moved to the edge of the dancefloor, weaving through the crowds towards the refreshments table. Kate had been dancing for quite some time and she was quite thirsty. She wanted to find Anthony, but when she turned to look for him he had disappeared.

So had the woman.

Her heart sank in her chest.

“Brother, I believe that is enough dancing with my wife for one evening.”

Kate turned around to see her husband standing in front of her. She had regained her ability to breathe and realized how silly she was being. He smiled at her and she felt her insides melt.

It was ridiculous really, how this man’s smile always made her giddy.

She wanted to fall against his chest and bury her face in his neck, but instead she moved to his side and wrapped her arm around his. That was as affectionate as society would allow. Anthony covered his hand with hers, squeezing it briefly. It was a promise for later.

“Thank you,” She said, smiling as she took the glass in his hand and took a long sip, the dryness of her mouth disappearing. Her husband had developed a sense of always knowing what Kate needed. He had rarely left her side during her bed ridden months with her broken leg and they had spent a lot of time together.

Kate wondered if they could leave soon. She wanted the privacy to ask Anthony about that woman earlier, she could not remember him ever mentioning an Eleanor when recounting his childhood tales.

“Jealous, brother?” Benedict teased, grinning at Anthony as he took a sip of his wine. “I was always the better dancer. Kate simply wanted a better partner.”

Kate let out a long sigh, her eyes flicking between the two brothers. “Now, boys-”

“Kate took pity on you and indulged your attempts at hiding from our mother’s matchmaking endeavours.” Anthony narrowed his eyes at his brother, his competitive edge seeping out. Her dear husband did enjoy being the best at everything and disputed anyone who thought otherwise. “My waltz trounces your waltz any day.”

At the mention of his mother, Benedict scanned the room around them before visibly relaxing, his shoulders dropping. “It is a nuisance. Mother had cornered me at every ball so far this season, introducing me to potential marriage candidates. Colin had his wits about him to travel as far as Greece to get away from her.”

“You should consider looking for a wife,” Anthony said, scanning the crowded room for their mother. “I presume mother is hassling Eloise.”

“Not you too,” Benedict replied, glaring at his brother. “I am perfectly capable of finding my own wife, thank you. She simply is not here.”

Anthony, now bored of his brother, turned to his wife with a teasing smile. “How many times did you step on his toes?”

It was Kate’s turn to glare at her husband. “None, thank you very much.”

Benedict decided to join in on his brother’s teasing, glad for the change in topic. “Lying is a sin, Kate.”

“Oh, Violet!” Kate said, looking over Benedict’s shoulder.

Benedict jumped and darted to the side, causing Anthony and Kate to burst out laughing, muffling their laughter into their sleeves once other party goers began to stare.

Benedict glared at the pair of them once he realized his mother was nowhere to be seen. “Very funny. Your ball at Aubrey Hall is only next week. Maybe I shall take a page out of your book and compromise some young lady in the garden?”

That wiped the smug smirk right off Anthony’s face.

Kate had to disguise her snort with a cough into her glove.

Before he could retort, Anthony’s eyes froze at something across the room. “Who is that man Eloise is speaking to? Alone?”

Kate and Benedict’s heads turned in the direction Anthony was glaring in. The man’s head was all they could see, Eloise hands waving in the air as she spoke passionately about something.

“I will be right back,” Anthony squeezed her hand before he charged in the direction of his young sister.

“Benedict!” The distinct voice of Violet Bridgerton came from an unknown direction, but it was enough for Benedict to say a quick apology to Kate before disappearing into the crowd.

Kate found herself alone at the refreshment’s table.

“Lady Bridgerton?”

Kate finished swallowing the biscuit she had put in her mouth, trying not to choke before she turned around to see who had addressed her. Kate held in her gasp, eyes widening as she looked at the woman in front of her.

It was her.

She bowed, and Kate did the same. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, I hoped we would be introduced sooner. I have heard so much about you.”

Kate felt herself blush. This woman was assuming she knew who she was. “Apologies, I do not believe we have met.”

“Oh! Forgive me,” She said, shaking her head and laughing to herself. “I would have thought Anthony would have mentioned me. I have known Anthony and the Bridgertons my entire life. I am Lady Eleanor Trent. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Apparently, she was on a first name basis with her husband.

Kate smiled pleasantly, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “How lovely to meet you, Lady Trent.”

“I am very much looking forward to your ball in Aubrey Hall.”

Kate did not know she was invited. Violet had handled the guest list. “I am very happy to hear that.”

“I have not been there in quite some time. We used to visit Aubrey Hall a few times a year throughout my childhood. It was like a second home. I adore it. Have you been yet?”

Kate blinked slowly at her odd question. “Have I been to my home? Yes.

For some reason, Lady Trent was not phased by Kate’s blunt response whatsoever. “I have been more times than I could count. I have known the Bridgertons my entire life, as I am sure you know. That is quite funny, I have known your husband longer than you.”

Kate tried to unclench her jaw, breathing steadily through her nose. “I did not, actually.”

“Oh, how odd.” Her laugh was almost a shriek. “I was practically a Bridgerton until my marriage.”

Kate was not being dramatic, that was a peculiar thing to say. Benedict had not conveyed it that way at all.

Lady Trent continued to speak. Kate wished she wouldn't. “Was your father an Earl? A Duke? A Viscount?”

What did that have to do with anything? Kate's heart sped up at the mention of her father. “No. My father was a gentlemen. What does that have to do with anything?"

“Oh.” Lady Trent was not subtle with her disdain. “How interesting. Forgive my curiosity. One would think that must have made the transition quite difficult.”

Kate blinked. “Pardon?”

Lady Eleanor took a small sip of her wine, nodding sympathetically. “It must be difficult coming into such an important role as a Viscountess at such a young age. Especially when one is marrying a man like Anthony.”

This woman had no clue what type of man her husband was.

“I know this from experience, of course. I would be terrified if I came into the role of Viscountess with no experience,” Eleanor smiled sweetly at Kate, her voice dripping with everything but kindness. Her not so subtle dig made Kate’s blood boil.

“Oh!” She let out a cheerful laugh. “I am sure you are doing a fine job, Lady Bridgerton.”

Kate was nearly positive she had been insulted at least twice in this bizarre conversation.

If one thing was certain, it was that Kate did not like this woman at all.

She particularly did not like how she had been looking at her husband but her personality was just as unpleasant.

Kate was debating how significant the consequences would be if she launched her wine at Eleanor’s pink evening dress. She could stumble, blame it on her healed leg. It would be worth the earful she would get from Anthony, who still believed her leg had not fully healed and Kate should still be bedridden.

Kate didn’t cause scenes intentionally, she had been in the background for most of her life.

It definitely was not something a Viscountess would do, to cause such a scene, so she resisted.

Instead, she finished her glass in a few gulps. Kate replaced it with a glass from one of the server’s trays quite quickly as she composed herself.

“Thank you so much for your concern.” Kate matched the falseness of her tone, her smile stretched far too wide across her face to be genuine. “It has been a splendid year. I suppose, experience or not, some people are just born for certain roles.”

Eleanor appeared as if she was at a loss for words. She simply nodded, her smile wrinkling the skin on her forehead. “I could not agree more, Lady Bridgerton.”

“I must go find my husband. It was such a pleasure to meet you, Lady Trent. I look forward to seeing you at our ball next week.” Kate certainly was not. “Good evening, Lady Trent.”

Kate found Anthony in the crowd, he had also been searching for her. He took her arm in his, squeezing it softly. That was their signal it was time to go home. They kissed and bid their family goodnight, making their way towards the front of the house to get their carriage.

Anthony nodded at the valet and opened their carriage door, making way for Kate to step in before closing it behind them.

“I am exhausted,” She said, pulling a few pins out of her hair that had been digging into her scalp all evening. Relief flooded her head as she gently massaged her sensitive scalp. She couldn’t wait to take off her corset and go to bed.

Kate knew she would not be able to sleep until she spoke to Anthony about both of their conversations with Lady Trent. Her interaction with Lady Trent had left Kate feeling uneasy.

“Come here.” Anthony pulled her on top of him, her back resting on the carriage wall and her feet resting on the cushioned seat.

“There is a seat right beside you.” Kate laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and lightly running her fingers through his hair.

“I prefer you on top of me.” Anthony moved his hands down to lightly squeeze her buttocks.

“I thought you liked being on top?” If he wanted to tease, Kate could tease him right back.

Anthony laughed, nuzzling her neck and leaving a trail of kisses from her collarbone all the way to her lips. “Right as always, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Did you have a good evening? I did not see you much,” She murmured against his lips. She could tell, with his fingers already creeping up her thigh, that talking was the last thing on her husband’s mind.

She would have to be quick if she wished to find out anything. The carriage ride home to Bridgeton House was less than fifteen minutes and he would not waste one of them before they had to stop.

They would not get caught in a carriage.

Again.

Once they arrived home, they wouldn’t do any talking once they got to their bed chamber.

She had enough willpower to focus on the task at hand and not let her husband completely distract her.

Right?

She needed to find out about his conversation with Eleanor.

His lips brushed hers before he spoke. “It was fine. A ball is a ball. I would have much preferred to stay home with you or at least sneak off to the gardens. Why did we not do that?”

Kate let out a laugh, her fingers tightening around his strands of hair as his lips moved down across her jaw. “How many gardens do you wish to compromise me in?”

“All of them,” Anthony said, his lips tickling the skin of her jaw as his laughter vibrated against her.

“Did you speak to anyone interesting?”

“Mm?” His teeth tugged at the top of her bodice, his tongue dipping behind the satin fabric.

“Anthony.” Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, his tongue was eliciting tingles throughout her chest and between her legs. “I said, did you speak to anyone interesting? Anyone you have not seen in a while?”

She would power through. “I met someone new, actually. Lady Eleanor.”

Anthony hummed in agreement against her skin, “Oh. Yes.”

“Benedict mentioned you have known her since you were children.”

“Indeed.” His face remained expressionless. He wasn’t listening to her. He was far too interested in pulling her dress down, which he did promptly.

Kate had lost the battle, and Anthony had won the war. He palmed her breasts in his hands, squeezing them softly as he pulled her in for a deep kiss. She could feel him hard against her thigh, and she reached down to palm him through the fabric of his breeches. His groan filled her ears and made her limbs weak.

“Oh,” She whispered, her lips parting as Anthony began to kiss his way down her neck, down her chest until his tongue grazed her nipple. He teased her momentarily before taking her fully in his mouth.

The carriage came to a halt and Kate hastily pulled up her dress, smoothening her dress and hair to fix her disheveled appearance. This was not their first indecent carriage ride. Anthony helped Kate out of the carriage, not letting go of her hand as they raced up the steps and entered the foyer, wasting no time running up the stairs.

If she did not keep up with Anthony, he would carry her up the flights of stairs to their bedroom.

Anthony dismissed her maid, fully intending on undressing his wife himself.

There wasn’t any talking for the rest of the night.

Kate’s morning had started off pleasant.

The following morning, Kate and Newton had joined Eloise and Penelope for a walk in the park. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the cool breeze was refreshing. They joined Kate at Bridgerton House afterwards for some lemonade, before leaving to return home.

She had called on Daphne for the remainder of the afternoon and on her way home, her carriage had stopped at Madame Delacroix’s modiste for one last fitting before the ball.

“Lady Bridgerton!”

Kate had finished her fittings and was waiting on one of her gown’s to be packaged. The last person she had wanted to see had walked into the modiste. “Lady Trent. How lovely to see you.”

She smiled widely at Kate, it was unnerving. “How are the ball preparations going?”

“Very well, thank you.” Kate had always found small talk with strangers quite uncomfortable. Kate could not find the words to describe how she was feeling in this current situation. She had not found the opportunity to discuss the evening with Anthony last night and he had left early this morning for Parliament. She would not see him until she arrived home.

“How nice,” She replied, nodding her head slowly. It reminded Kate of one of Hyacinth’s frightening dolls. “I always found the menu planning quite tedious.”

Kate nodded. “Indeed. A pleasant task, nonetheless.”

“Have you finalized your menu?” Lady Trent asked, examining the different materials in the display case.

Kate nodded. “For the ballroom, yes. We will have traditional English pastries, desserts. I would not want anyone to go hungry.”

Lady Trent continued to nod slowly, her lips in a flat line. “It is always a good idea to keep things simple. However, I do remember Anthony having a more adventurous palate.”

Kate would hardly call pastries, sandwiches, desserts and food displays she had planned simple. Kate had known this woman for a day and she had already had enough. “Why would my husband’s palate be any concern of yours, Lady Trent?”

That shut her up.

Kate squeezed the ribbons between her fingers, trying to stop her shaking hand. This woman was a beast.

“Have you ever been outside of England, Lady Bridgerton?” She asked, circling the ribbon’s display with disinterest.

“I have not,” Kate said through gritted teeth.

“What a pity.” She tutted, her curls bouncing in the air as she shook her head. “I suppose my traveling has given me a new outlook on life. It has opened me to a whole new world of cuisine and flavour. Traveling really exemplifies how dull the English customs and cuisine we are all accustomed to are.”

“I am sure it will be lovely. I must be on my way. Good day, Lady Bridgerton.” She bowed her head before turning around, swiftly exiting the modiste.

Kate was furious.

She sat incredibly still, not uttering a word during the carriage ride home until she reached Bridgerton House. She made her way towards the drawing room, not checking to see if Anthony was home in his office.

She stood in the middle of their drawing room, pacing in the same spot before she screamed.

There’s the slamming of a door and Anthony appears, Newton barking at his feet, looking incredibly alarmed. “Kate! Kate. Are you alright?”

Anthony charges towards her, holds her shoulders, scanning her entire body to assess any damage. “

“No. Yes, but no. It...it is that….that woman,” Kate spat out her words.

“What woman?” Anthony asked, frantically looking around the room.

“That woman. That, that-what was that word you taught me the other night?” Kate’s

“Bitch?” Anthony supplied, looking incredibly concerned for his wife.

“Yes!” Kate waved her arm in victory. “That bitch.”

Kate had sobbed in front of her husband before, from their declarations of love to the agony of her broken leg, but she had never expressed such fury before.

Anthony had not the slightest clue what was going on. “Kate, what the bloody hell are you talking about?”

Kate was pacing the room again. “Lady Eleanor Trent, of course. Firstly, she was standing far too close to you. Then she touched your forearm. That is highly improper-

“At the ball?” Anthony furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about it. “Wait.”

Anthony stared at her as if she had grown another head. “Kate Bridgerton. Is this all because you are jealous?”

Her husband looked positively gleeful.

“Anthony!” Kate nearly threw a pillow at him.

“I am sorry, I am sorry,” He pleaded, biting his lower lip to restrain his smile as he walked towards her with open arms. “Tell me what else happened.”

“She introduced herself and the conversation was strange. She was incredibly rude last night and this morning. She insulted me, my father, my

Anthony’s face darkened. “She insulted you? She insulted your father? That is unacceptable. I will make sure she is not welcome in London again. I will call on her and tell her exactly what I think of her-

Kate shook her head rapidly. “The last thing I want is you going near her. She has some strange infatuation with you. She referred to herself as practically a Bridgerton until she was married. Did you court her?”

“I barely knew her, Kate,” He said, looking bewildered at Kate’s words. “I had not seen her for nine years until last night. Our parents were mainly friends. Her family usually visited when I was at Eton. I most certainly did not court her, no.”

Kate did not reply, although she was relieved to hear Lady Trent’s words had been based on delusion. Kate felt incredibly overwhelmed, as if every emotion and fear she had been bottling up was crashing into her at once.

“Kate,” He stepped towards her cautiously, wary of the readily available pillows within her grasp. He sat on the couch, extending his hand towards her. “Come here, darling.”

She broke, practically falling into her husband’s arms who wrapped himself around her, pulling her onto his lap. Their foreheads and noses were touching as he spoke to her.

His lips brushed her cheek as he spoke softly. “Can you tell me what else is wrong? Is there something else going on?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead she stares down at her hands in her lap. “I am terrified I am letting you down.”

“Kate, you could never let me down,” He says, affection flooding his voice as he tilts her chin up softly with his index finger to look at her face.

Kate took a deep breath. “You have had so much on your shoulders for so long. Since your father died. Between your family and your duties, you have always worked so hard. I want to do whatever I can to help you. I want to do this right. I want to make your life easier however I can and I want to be a good Viscountess. I am really trying. I just feel like I am failing. What if she was right? What if my lack of experience means I am not right for this role? I-I want you to be proud of me.”

He leans down to kiss her firmly and it’s the type of kiss that makes her toes curl. “Kate,” He murmured, drawing back but staying as close as possible. “You are the perfect Viscountess because you are my Viscountess. Everyone adores you. I was merely existing before I met you. After you, I began to live. You brought this light into my life that I didn’t think was possible. Everything I do is for you and everything I am is because of you. I am so proud of you. I am in awe of you. You are everything, Kate. Everything.”

“I love you,” She says, because that is all there is to say. She loved him, and he loved her, even when she acted slightly insane in their drawing room. That was all she needed. Anthony was all she needed.

She could do anything with Anthony by her side.

“I love you,” She whispered,

“Anthony,” She whispered a few minutes later, feeling a lot calmer. “I was jealous, you know.”

Anthony tried his best to not look too pleased, but he was slightly smug. “Jealousy is a difficult emotion to deal with.”

“Not all of us can shove people out of the way, you know.” If Anthony saw a man try to speak to Kate, he simply shoved them out of his way to his wife.

Anthony shrugged. “It is quite an effective method.”

“I did not like how she behaves around you,” Kate said, nibbling on her bottom lip. “When I saw her touching you and standing so close to you-I did not like how it made me feel.”

A panic stricken look flashes across his face.“Kate, I would never encourage it-”

“Sweetheart, I know,” She murmurs, cupping his cheeks in her hands as she kissed him softly. The thought had never crossed her mind and she immediately went to comfort him. “I know. I know you would never stray.”

She felt his sigh of relief. “You would kill me.”

“No I would not,” She lightly teased, pecking his lips. “That would be merciful. I would physically and mentally destroy you.”

“That will never happen,” Anthony murmured, brushing some loose strands of hair out of her eyes. “There will be no more joking about infidelity.”

Kate took a deep breath before she spoke again. “So you have noticed Eleanor flirting with you?”

Anthony cleared his throat, frowning slightly as his uncomfortableness set in. “I have noticed. She is not exactly subtle.”

“I would never have married her. She was a young girl with a crush, which I cannot fault her for. I am incredibly handsome.” Kate rolled her eyes at her husband’s cheeky smile. “However, she was never kind. These recent events have only re-confirmed that. I remember when I was seventeen, I had come home for Christmas. Her family had come to stay for a week. She was incredibly rude to our servants. She cared more about parties and appearances than family. She was so disinterested in my younger siblings to the point of being cruel. She was not the type of person I could marry.”

“Why would your mother want you to marry her?” Kate asked, resting her forehead against his.

“My mother was grieving.” Anthony shrugged his shoulders, running one of his hands soothingly down her back. “She thought she knew what was best for me. She has always chosen to see the parts of people she wanted to see. Not all the parts that were in front of her.”

“Well, I for one am very glad you did not marry her.” Teasing was always an effective way to snap Anthony out of one of his serious thoughts, and she was successful when he snorted.

“As am I.” His thumb was making small circles on her cheek.

“She insulted my choice of food for the ball.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow at his wife and stared at her. “What?”

“She called it simple English cuisine,” Kate said, still incredibly bitter. “Who in their right mind does not like scones and cucumber and chicken sandwiches?”

“Colin will be there and he will wolf them down, so there is no fear they will not be eaten.” Her brother in law was returning to England the day before their ball, conveniently missing most of the season much to his mother’s dismay.

“As someone who lives in your household, your menu choices have always been exceptional. I have also eaten many of those food choices, including off of you, and they were delicious.”

“Anthony!” She smacked his chest, laughing against his lips as he stole a kiss. He always knew how to make her feel better.

Anthony had always made her feel safe, she had trusted him even when she did not particularly like him. That stormy night in his library had changed everything. It was his nature that made people admire him and trust him. He took care of people. He had been misjudged by society, made out to be a cold hearted rake incapable of true affection.

It angered Kate beyond belief. Anthony had suffered more than most, losing his father and becoming the head of the family at such a young age. He had become a father to his siblings and a Viscount to his tenants and society. In a way, his life had begun and ended when his father died.

He was the first person she opened up to about her fear of storms and the reason she had been brave enough to face her fear.

He had become her anchor, and her his.

“Our ball is going to be wonderful, do you know why?” Anthony asked, grinning at his wife.

“Why?” She responded, smiling right back at him.

“Because it is ours,” He said simply. “It is celebrating one incredible year of marriage and many more to go.”

“Until forever.” Kate rested her forehead against his, feeling completely content.

Anthony nodded in agreement. “Forever it is.”

A week later, the Viscount and Viscountess' ball was a complete success.

The food was devoured.

Laugher could be heard all around the ballroom.

The Viscountess was praised for her efforts throughout the evening.

Lady Trent's absence was not missed.

Anthony had surprised Kate at the end of the evening with a show of fireworks.

It was perfect.

Kate and Anthony had their own private celebration that very night.

Edmund Bridgerton was born nine months later.

[corvidshipping]

modern au red/milo dump while i try to get myself together to answer asks nd work on ATJ:

(tw for alcohol mentions near the end, also this is an EXTREMELY long post, its so long that even after i split it into categorized sections each section could be its own post)

CLOTHING

milo absolutely has no sense of fashion. i feel like this is basically canon - for the styles at the time, he dresses fairly basic, mostly focused on looking put together for his job (definitely dresses aimed more towards how he would like to be treated by his peers, despite his actual position - then again our best example outside of the expedition is when he's about to deliver what he considers the most important presentation of his life, so who knows, maybe he usually dresses like a slob). aside from that his main concern seems like practicality and comfort. his wardrobe is dominated by earth tones - beiges and greens set with white and greys. all of that taken into account, i can see him dressing like this in a more modern era:

basically- a lot of cardigans, usually collared shirts or comfortable turtlenecks (since he does still occupy a research position at the smithsonian, even if only in title), big ol' coats, khakis and chinos and slightly stiff dress pants complete with ironed creases. i can see him wearing similar clothes outside work, just more comfortable - jeans and knitted shirts, henleys, more turtlenecks, and comfy cardigans over short sleeved shirts. i dont really see him wearing a lot of prints, i think he'd veer more towards solid clothes in lighter colors, but maybe he has a few. hes definitely the kind of guy to think of wearing the single graphic tee he owns as "bold and wild".

im very married to the idea of him wearing converse though. i cant explain it. milo in converse keeps me going in this world

hes kind of broke so i think maybe he got the converse secondhand maybe? or a gift of some kind. aside from the converse i can see him wearing a lot of oxfords and maybe wingtips

i want to see him in a hawaiian shirt so bad. i am losing it at this thought. he buttons it all the way up to his neck like someones awkward dad. milo wears a hawaiian shirt to "let loose". he wears it with like, khakis. or knee length jorts AHHHHDJHDSGJHDSJGh

a tie??? does he wear his hawaiian shirt with a tie???? does he think it makes it look cooler?????????? i am sobbing

red is the COMPLETE opposite. in the canon 1914 setting, red is already very rebellious for an AFAB person of their era- theyre openly a suffragette, they frequently refuse to wear skirts even in public and dress in mens clothes even before they were openly nonbinary, despite not being accepted into the male-dominated research fields and colleges they continue to educate themself with or without help, they purposely aim for an "unfeminine" silhouette when they dress, refuse to wear corsets, etc. (spoiler alert- there's a clear reason they get on so well with audrey in ATJ)

theyre also easily mistaken by people that didnt know them prior to their transition for being just a very small/young cis man- even though they canonically have a very soft "traditionally feminine" face

so basically, in any era theyre set into, red is always gonna aim to be ahead of the curve- both in their personal beliefs and practices and in their fashion. theyre also very androgynous in their clothes, although they tend to aim a bit more masculine (thats partially due to the era though, and having been forced into skirts exclusively for their entire life- i think in a modern setting where its more acceptable for AFABs to dress and act in a less hyperfeminine way, theyd be more okay with a fluidity in their gender presentation).

all that taken into account, i can see them dressing like this:

lots of baggy clothes, especially baggy jackets and shirts. they like loose fitting high waisted pants like JNCO jeans, cargo pants, etc but they arent averse to pencil legs. they rarely ever wear skinny jeans or drainpipes though. messy hair is a lifestyle for them- their haircut is definitely home-done

you know how in BICSTLY they used to have really long hair before they cut it? in a modern au i can see them impulsively doing the cut at like 3am and waking milo up at his door cause they screwed it up and he ends up having to help fix it (even though hes literally no better at cutting hair than them. worse even)

definitely have an undercut bob- bob on top, shaven on the bottom layer. they might end up growing their hair into a mullet at some point if they get bored. probably dyes their hair all the time out of boredom and then regrets it later and has to use dye remover.

lots of ripped tights and fishnets, leggings with big loose crop tops, big hoodies, safety pin jewelry and homemade jewelry. maybe some sticknpokes.

all that said, they still know how to dress in a professional situation. since its a modern au theres really nothing holding them back from the education and career they canonically want but cant get in the 1910s, so i imagine they would work at the smithsonian as well, maybe their father helped them get the job? potentially in that case they might be his assistant- after all, he trusts their opinion on artifacts more than anyone else's.

at work you can still very much see the punk/skater/grunge/goth style but its more understated- turtlenecks, high waisted and looser dress pants, lots of black, slightly unbuttoned collared shirts with a loose overcoat and no tie

since i elaborated on milos shoe taste i may as well elaborate on red's: they definitely wear converse as well, probably newer than milo's since their father is fairly wealthy and they can afford it. they also have a doc martens collection. they have a pair of demonias but they never wear them and milo is really the only person to even know they own them, let alone see them in them. they really dont like to wear heels much, but they own a few just to play around with. they have a bad habit of wearing any laced shoes untied, but they never trip over the laces. they also use lace code- their most-worn Docs have purple laces on the right foot and yellow on the left. some of their Docs have (reclaimed) pink laces.

has an extensive pin collection including feminism pins, anti-racism pins, punk-related pins, skater-related pins, and pop culture pins (80s music, modern music, old movies, etc)

MUSIC TASTE

milo's into a lot of older music- stuff from the 50s is his favorite. really into jazz and ballroom style stuff. his favorite band is queen, i think- he likes the old-fashioned sound, the jazz-chamber-ballroom influences, the diversity of their lyrics, and the complexity between the guitar riffs, the basslines, and freddie's vocal runs as well as the vocal harmonies.

sometimes he hums good old fashioned lover boy to red and they two-step in the living room in their pajamas :pleading:

also very into rush. yes, he is a rush guy :pensive:.

also listens to a surprising amount of lo-fi? he really likes stuff that remixes older music with hip hop and lofi elements, like earl grey. nearly exclusively into instrumental stuff but also very into louie zong. he listens to it while he works a lot.

knows a lotttt of foreign artists, especially niche ones. fuckin LOVES casiopea

red's spotify is a goddamn mess. everything from 2000s emo, to classic 70s punk, to post-punk and new wave, to 90s pop, to rap. they cant be easily classified at all

their favorite bands are oingo boingo, prince, queen (they listen to a lot of their harder-rock music, but milo knows theyre into the ballads too. theyll never tell anyone else though), doja cat, lil nas, fall out boy, and billie eilish.

red recites the intro monologue to lets go crazy very seriously to make milo laugh, sometimes. they get very into it with their facial expressions. sometimes it devolves into a full air guitar/keyboard/drum and wild dancing session. milo does not know how to participate in this but he loves watching them have fun with it. sometimes they pull him off the couch to make him dance with them, though

they are a huge sucker for dark pop, vaporwave, retrowave, EDM, hip hop, emo, punk... etc etc. anything that combines any two or more of those genres in an original or interesting way gets their attention right away

there's a lot of sharing between the two of them- even though their music tastes are so different, they like a lot of the others taste, and theyre always up to listen to whatever their partner is playing.

red is a huge softie, and milo has found them more than once listening to or humming something he was playing for them the other day because it reminded them of him

speaking of which- in the 1914 canon, red can play piano. i think that carries over to a modern au, where they could play piano and by extension keyboard. i like to think they experiment with a lot of instruments but i doubt they ever really mastered any others. maybe theyre okay at drums or bass?

they learned to play and sing teo torriatte for milo, as a surprise. when they first performed it for them, they had everything set up for when he got home from work- the lights were dimmed, they had candles lit around the keyboard, they draped stuff in cloth to make it look pretty, they scattered flower petals around. when milo walked in and saw it all, he almost proposed then and there- the only thing that stopped him was that he would kick himself for the rest of his life if he did that without a ring.

HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES

milo is still an avid chess player in this, but i like to think hes in some kind of groupchat or text or discord server for it. he doesnt necessarily consider any of the others in the chat close friends, but he does know them all by name

he tries to get red into chess but they never really get it

he tells them all about the stuff that goes down in the games and they just. do not understand. but they love listening to him get excited about it anyway

"red you're not gonna BELIEVE this, eddie played an italian game on star today! i thought for sure she would see through it since everyone knows it but she slipped and he beat her in like, 13 moves! i wouldnt have believed it if i hadnt been there!"

"yes sweetie please tell me more" (barely disguised pained expression)

red is a skater and a regular at the skate park by the smithsonian

most regulars there know them by name, they can spot a newbie a mile away

they have a sticker of a broken tv with a skull inside of it on the underside of their board, its become recognized as a symbol of them unofficially

since theyre so regular and have been going there a lot longer than most of the other skaters that frequent the place, a lot of what they say is kind of just accepted as the rules

they have a bad habit of lecturing new kids who show up without knee/elbow pads or helmets at the very least. all the other skaters enforce it too. kids dont end up showing up without protective gear very often after their first visit

they brought a first aid kid and left it there and everyone has kept it stocked pretty well without them having to have much input. its kind of just a communal first aid kit

they once drew the broken tv symbol on the inside of a half-pipe and everyone started calling it red's ramp after that

they also started calling the bowl at the center of the park the Soup Bowl and now thats just accepted as the name. some of the newer kids genuinely thought that it was called that by the park and were shocked when they found out it was just a random nickname red gave it one day

theyve brought milo a few times but hes extremely awkward on his feet and could never really get his balance on a skateboard, and quite frankly red is afraid of what might happen if he tried even a low ramp, so he usually just sits at the rim of the bowl while red skates around

everyone knew he was their boyfriend before they even met him. a few of the regulars called him by name right away. one of them was certain red had brought him before.

but no

they just talk so fuckin much about him that its like they already know him

aside from skateboarding, red is pretty good on rollerskates/blades

they tried to take milo to a roller rink once but it was a disaster and they ended up going home, changing into pajamas, ordering chinese food, and marathoning movies till they fell asleep on the couch together. so not a total loss

theyre both very into movies. red is deep into horror and milo likes indie/art movies and just Cannot handle horror at all, but they both agree on old movies, from the 80s and 90s to like the 30s.

red has shown milo some of the classic horror movies and the niche old ones (from like the 40s) since theyre not difficult to stomach

every so often when red brings up wanting to see a horror movie milo is like "aw babe we can watch that tonight i promise it wont be bad" and he genuinely thinks he can handle it this time

he cant

he never can

it is always a lie

red ends up holding him every time and talking him to sleep, but it thankfully never causes like a major panic attack or anything like that

they love going to museums together, of all kinds. they love art museums. they also go to aquariums and aviaries

sometimes they like to go to other history museums and criticise the veracity or accuracy of exhibits/translations, all in good fun of course. theyre never actually being mean about it

SIDENOTES/UNCATEGORIZED

they both used to work at starbucks, when they were younger and before they worked at the smithsonian. they worked at separate stores 2 blocks from each other.

milo cant stand soda or carbonated drinks, red can and will chug a java monster in order to survive a long workday if they must. milo is constantly concerned for their health and wellbeing

they r both lightweights when it comes to drinking. they can split a six pack and both be falling-over drunk by the end of the night.

given the changes in beauty standards people DEFINITELY think milo is more attractive than they would in 1914. cmon. hes a lil twinky nerd. you think people wont eat that up?

he never really catches onto the flirting much though

did u think i would forget ki/da and the others? youd be wrong.

i simultaneously like the idea of something similar to the movie happening, but also just like... ki/da just being a regular person living on the surface. in either case they r all friends still

in the case of ki/da just being a regular person on the surface- i like the idea of atl/antis just being A Place in this au, maybe its a bit of a closed off country though? like, not many foreigners live there and to get there you basically need to be there as a diplomat or a scholar

maybe ki/da visits DC as a diplomat? she is a princess, after all

red meets audrey online cause they both yell at the same misogynistic asshole on twitter

they exchange discord names in the replies of the tweet and tell the guy not to interrupt them while theyre talking in his replies

i like to think red and milo are selected to go on an academic visit to atl/antis (to learn about the culture, with permission of the king), and audrey ends up as the mechanic on the ship during the visit and theyre like (spiderman pointing meme) at each other

red and audrey have so many inside jokes that they basically speak a different language. milo gets some of the terms from context and pop culture (they use "so very" in real life- as in "wow, that shirt is so very.") but he is hopeless to learn all of it

one of their inside jokes is any variation of "milo hot girl summer" and they REFUSE to explain it to him no matter how much he begs

milo wears that iconique tank top on the ship and they say it literally any time he bends over, picks anything up, reaches for anything, moves, BREATHES. he is bewildered and at this point concerned

(in truth, the joke came from red taking a really blurry picture of him in a short sleeve shirt where he looked pretty cute and captioned it "milo's having a hot girl summer rn" and they just could not stop repeating it once audrey met him IRL)

they have a minecraft world. i do like to believe that every so often vinny finds a way in- theyre never sure how- and griefs the shit out of them by blowing up EVERY. monument.

this post is getting long bc im enraptured by the idea of an atl/antis modern au so im cutting it off here but expect WAY MORE later

[save-the-spiral]

Wiztober Day Eleven: Darkness

Welcome to day eleven of Wiztober! One character is pointedly not named. I don’t like writing down or coming up with deadnames for trans characters, it makes me extremely uncomfortable (though they are misgendered, it’s from the perspective of people who don’t know they’re trans, or the character themself doesn’t know they’re trans). My first time writing more about actual cultures, and also a trans femme character more in depth. Feel free to send an ask and correct me if need be. (ALSO. I can explain the names in another post. the intersection of culture and gender comes into play). My content warning are specific but! they need to be. Sorry if it’s awkward! some things would be specifically upsetting to me if faced with them out of the blue, and I’d like to note them.

Content warnings for perfectionism forced upon children from their parents, physical and verbal bullying, ableism (towards a ‘weird’, not openly autistic person), chronic pain mention (endometriosis), attempted murder, injury mention, and like, two lines of implied racism, though it could be interpreted otherwise.

(link to prompt list)

Quyen and Phuong Jade were close siblings. Born only a year apart, Quyen was a good older brother, going out of his way to protect his two younger siblings, but with a soft spot for his sister Phuong. In the beginning they were three sons from a good, ‘normal’, Vietnamese family, even with an adopted youngest child. Now Quyen, Phuong, and their younger brother were wizards, and not all of them were sons, and they had left their home on Earth behind years ago. They had all left their names as well.

Quyen chose Celyn, and Phuong went by Morelle, and they chose the last name Jade together. Quyen was thirteen, Phuong twelve, and their younger brother ten. This youngest brother didn’t get input as to their new last name, and his first name was already western, given by parents he never knew. He saw himself as an afterthought most of the times, the adopted baby to be taken care of as Quyen and Phuong acted like twins, mischievous yet hard working together.

Celyn was eighteen, now. He never faltered when responding to his western, fake name. He was a year ahead of Morelle, and yet she spent more time helping him with his homework in their study sessions than the other way around. Morelle was also taller than him now, a consistent point of good-natured ribbing.

He was still supportive and protective, though his brother had insisted on being given space in his moodier teenage years, now fifteen with a steady girlfriend and a need to prove himself. So Celyn gave him distance, checking in sometimes but always being pushed further away. Morelle insisted that their brother needed to find his own friends, find himself, because although he seemed ungrateful, he still loved his siblings. They had to. They would always be family.

Morelle was seventeen, and even more outspoken and strong than before. She still had dragged Celyn with her to (almost) every doctor’s appointment as she transitioned, genuine when she looked him in the eye and said she needed someone to know, and care. Celyn already cared, and he found rare books on the magic used to help in her transition, and left them in her dorm.

Celyn always loved rare books, and had a skill for finding them.

That, one could suppose, is as good a start as any, though it goes back two years ago.

Celyn had been given a tip by a grateful acquaintance about where he could find rare, even forbidden, books in Wizard City. Just had to have the right key, and go behind the right waterfall, and be prepared to pay the price if caught.

Since he was sixteen Celyn had been sneaking into Nightside, slipping between abandoned streets and alleyways in the dead of night, wearing a dark cloak, carrying a dagger, maybe being a bit too dramatic. He had found some of his best finds in empty houses and bookstores, and even once grabbed a tome from the library, though that felt too actually criminal for him to attempt again.

At first it was just extra reading material, he and his siblings were all great life wizards, but they could always be greater. They strove for perfection as children back on Earth, and even now without parents to scold them, they still felt a frantic need to be the best, the kind that left them pulling all-nighters and waking up in a panic over tests already taken..

Morelle was fifteen when she started tutoring a pretty girl in life magic. The girl was known around school as quiet to the point of unnerving, never getting social interactions right, so the myth wizard had been labeled as ‘weird’ by the majority of people and written off as smart but too freaky to befriend. Morelle, who looked at this girl and couldn’t help but blush, who found her intriguing now that she noticed her, was thankful she had been assigned to tutor her.

Morelle and Morae became quiet study partners after that. Morelle came to Celyn for help with her rapidly growing need to get to know the girl, to speak to her and find a way to connect where no one else had tried before.

Celyn decided to find some esoteric myth tomes for Morelle to give to her new friend. That was when he found a book on Shadowmancy.

He kept the strange, unique book, shoving it under his homework an interest to pursuit later. He passed on the myth spell books and Morelle came back later, gushing about how Morae was from Earth like them, though on the opposite side of the globe, and then she said more and more until Celyn realized it indeed was a crush.

Celyn met Morae. She was as quiet as rumors said, though there was a logic to it, and Celyn respected that. They both relished in a silent, calm environment, and both enjoyed having someone outgoing and wild like Morelle to pull them out from time to time. They rarely spoke, aside from Celyn giving Morae advice about wooing his sister, and Morae asking clarifying questions about Morelle and how to interact with others without coming off as always aloof, when in reality she was actually rather excited or happy.

Something Morae was startlingly quick to divulge was that she was in nearly constant pain, and kept a blank face as a habit so she wouldn’t scowl at everyone. Then, she would forget to smile. When asked further, she just shifted, pressing a hand to her lower back, and muttered that it was chronic, and even magic didn’t have a cure, so she took standard medication imported from Earth.

Celyn wasn’t one to adopt others as friends quickly. That was Morelle’s forte. But something about Morae opened up his heart, and while his brother pushed him away, he felt like he was gaining a second sister rather quickly. He answered Morae’s questions, he kept and eye out for interesting books Morae would like. He even picked up food for her to try, although she was quick to dismiss things with unpleasant textures, it was something he did to add variety to her life, as she admitted living by routine was soothing, but sometimes monotonous.

It was a month or so later that Celyn actually delved into the book that had gotten lost in his shuffle of books and homework. Shadowmancy was interesting. It spoke of other schools of magic Celyn had never heard of before, ones concerning the Moon, the Sun, and the stars. Some part of him burned with a cold resentment that such lost knowledge was buried in abandoned shops and homes, that it could have been lost to time, even though students would always be eager to discover and learn a new school. He had to know more.

As Morelle grew closer to Morae, Celyn fell into isolation, only studying for school, and for this new magic he had found. Months passed, and the only times he left his dorm were for class or seeking out more books in Nightside’s forgotten corners, then dropping off books for Morae and Morelle during group study nights.

Things progressed. Now, Celyn is eighteen. Morelle and Morae are seventeen.

Celyn would graduate in a few weeks’ time. Morelle and Morae had been dating for half a year, still tentative, barely doing more than some adventurous hand holding in public.

The world shifted when Morae showed up to one of Celyn, Morelle, and Morae’s group study sessions with a bruised face, and couldn’t speak. Morelle instantly went to her girlfriend’s side, emotional but trying her hardest to not raise her voice or cry herself.

Celyn sat there, watching it happen, and felt like he was grinding his teeth into dust. Anger surged, as if someone flipped a switch inside him, and his usual pleasant and sometimes coy demeanor became nothing. His face was devoid of emotion, his green eyes, something so different from his siblings’ plain brown, were dull.

He saw nothing but the shadows, and the shadows saw him. Life magic had no solution for this aside from soft words and healing spells. Shadow knew how to twist circumstances in one’s favor, how to change the game and make others regret.

Morelle told him the next day before a shared lecture. Morae had allowed her to confide in him, and so his sister told him that there were some very persistent bullies seeking a response from Morae. That they had been doing this for years, and were just now escalating to physical actions. After that day, he spent more time with Morelle and Morae, supporting them. She would show up to their usual meeting spots with a random bruise or two, insisting it was nothing. He was trying his best to remain calm and not lash out at the entire world for allowing harm to come to Morae.

Instead he watched, waiting, but still he felt tense. A bow string pulled past its limits, cold with righteous fury that must be sated eventually. He became less orderly, forgetting some of the last assignments in his school career, dressing in ink stained theurgist robes, no longer tying his hair back.

Morelle joked that they looked like twins more than ever, and Celyn grinned at that. Their sharp smiles were identical, and Celyn knew he could bring Morelle in on the only secret he had ever kept from her, if only from omission.

So on a night where Morae wanted to study on her own for myth school exams, Celyn invited his sister over. He showed her the books he had accumulated, hidden behind his driest, most boring textbooks. She was interested, downright fascinated, but only drawn to what Shadowmancy could do to make her a better healer and protector.

Celyn had been drawn the violence. He was always of the opinion that the best defense was a swift and ruthless offense. Morelle had a better sense of when to play fair, where he was more ruled by anger. He probably should have guessed what facets of this school she would find entrancing.

She knew this about him too, and vocalized it when she noticed how much fewer his books on healing and protecting were. Morelle simply teased him, smiling as if it was something as commonplace as her razzing on Celyn over his height. Celyn smiled back, and knew Morelle was better at predicting him than he was at reading her intentions.

Celyn even brought her along on a visit to Nightside, where she could scope out and pick books of her own, and they didn’t sleep that night. It was amazing, the adrenaline of a heist combining with the giddiness of their old mischief making them carry twin smiles.

They were not careful. They were seen.

Those who saw them knew who they were. Who their few other connections were. A distanced, adopted brother who was busy being dragged around by an overbearing girlfriend anyway, and wasn’t consequential. And then Morae, the same girl they had been harassing, that they were so keen on finally getting a reaction out of.

So that was how things came to a head. Threats were made to Morae about getting the only people who cared about her kicked out of Ravenwood. Morae was angry, very angry.

All her life, Morae had been passive. She was quiet, sensitive. A good girl back at home on Earth, who kept quiet and did everything asked of her, even when that meant failing school to take care of siblings, even when that meant smiling and pretending she didn’t understand the insults, even if she was fluent in English as well as her native Spanish. She was different no matter how silent she was, her large afro of hair and Vitiligo always easy to point out.

Then Morae was told she had to potential to be a wizard, to go learn fantastical things. She took the chance, because when she asked her parents, they said they didn’t care either way, and tried to guilt her, but she didn’t get that they were trying to guilt her, and so she just left. She cut her hair close to her skull, the texture finally no longer a constant pain just under her skin, and became a myth wizard.

And for years, she still acted the same. Quiet, passive. A good girl. Until she reached out and asked to be tutored in life magic. And she found someone worth being herself for. 

Almost two years of being friends, almost six months of being girlfriends, and Morae had found her spine, confidence wrapping around her like a heavy, anchoring blanket. When threatened, anger rose up for the first time since she was very young. Anger made her fists clench around the strap of her school bag. It made her look up from her shoes. It made her pay attention and want to defend what was hers.

So Morae looked the bullies in the eye, standing at her full height of six feet, and scoffed. The eye contact was uncomfortable, but it was worth it for the bullies’ discomfort, as they noticed just how tall she was, how severe her face could look, even in the dappled sunlight outside the myth school. She told them she didn’t care, that they could bring it because nothing had worked yet, and she was getting bored.

Then she left, and within a minute she had interlocked her fingers with Morelle’s, and she kissed the girl on the cheek, spontaneous enough to leave them both giggling.

Morae told Morelle and Celyn about her confrontation that night when they were supposed to be studying, her eyes bright as she rambled on, open and honest and excited about this new development, as if it were idle yet juicy gossip, and not a serious threat.

Morelle knew Celyn was angrier than ever, though it was because he was scared, and he knew if they got caught it would be his fault. Morelle knew what kind of person Celyn was, and that her brother would take the punishment for the both of them if he could figure out how. And she wouldn’t let that happen, not when they could control the situation. In the past few weeks her studies in shadow magic pushed her towards thinking like this, and she found it very beneficial.

So Morelle, that night, told Morae about the school of shadow magic. Morae, who had already gone to the limits of her magical prowess mastering life magic alongside her first school of myth, was interested, but unable to learn it anyway aside from maybe a spell or two. Celyn, understanding what Morelle was going towards, helped her plan out what they were to do next.

What neither of them considered was that plans always fall apart the moment one comes in contact with the enemy.

And so this was where they were.

A day before graduation, and Celyn’s dorm was being searched after he was accused of attacking some students who may or may not have a reputation for bullying. He did attack the students, but it still felt unfair. Of course they found the shadowmancy books too, because Celyn didn’t exactly think things would get this far, and in his defense, he was eighteen, and thought a few stuffy textbooks would be a good cover for contraband. He was expelled, and then exiled, quickly and quietly. He was leaving through the Spiral Door before anyone knew what had taken place that morning.

Morae was missing. Morelle was frantic and looking for her, a lime green aura of powerful life magic fluttering around her, lighting up all the dark spots as she scoured everywhere one would expect Morae to be.

Someone, like a god damned serial killer, had slid a note halfway under Morae’s door sometime after Morae had searched her girlfriend’s dorm that morning.

It had just a location, and Morelle was on a warpath. If those who caused this, whoever Celyn had missed in his little vengeance mission, were still there, they would regret it.

Luckily for those people, they weren’t there. Morae was.

She had been thrown from the edge of Ravenwood, down into Nightside.

It was a gorey scene. If Morelle hadn’t been medically trained, she likely would have been unresponsive when faced with something so awful. She did all she could with her life magic, straightening broken limbs and bandaging open wounds, staring helplessly at obvious internal wounds. She even managed to conjure a stretcher, the fabric and wood a deep green, her magic too emotional to bother with proper colors as it glowed and levitated, illuminating Morae’s injuries in a sickly color.

Morelle ran as quickly as she dared, the stretcher following her, Morae’s breaths wheezing and shallow, filling the small cave entrance behind the waterfall when Morelle stopped for breath, in her mind trying to construct any plan.

There was no plan for this.

So Morelle walked out of the fine mist of water from the waterfall, using her magic to shield Morae’s body as the stretcher floated through. The busy students preparing for the graduation ceremony tomorrow stopped and stared from their places scattered about the Commons. Once shock turned to alarm, people began yelling and crowding around, more and more coming as they heard the others, and Morelle only got as far as the courtyard right before the tunnel to Ravenwood when she snapped.

Instead of lime green life magic, Morelle’s magic darkened. It became a forest green, still surrounding and shielding Morae, what little healing magic she had left being slowly fed into her body, trying not to overload her.

But around Morelle herself that forest green darkened further. She shouted for people to back off and clear the way, but still the crowd shifted, fellow theurgists offering their aid and conjurers offering faux sympathy after years of ignoring their peer, one of the best of them.

Then, ink falling into water, blood falling onto cobblestones, Morae falling into Nightside, Morelle’s ambient magic became a deep, unfathomable black. It absorbed light around it, filling out and circling like a predator, a deep chirruping hum of interest as it built a barrier.

Then Morelle’s shadow stretched, rising, holding a scythe she didn’t own yet. Shadow didn’t care for time, it knew who Morelle was.

And, as Shadow always does, it broke the rules.

There were limits to magic in healing, the potential to make magic spill over as if the wizard body was a cup and magic was water, and it was infuriating to many healers. Shadow could overflow, and still stay, all that magic anchored and solid, as if frozen and still rising, leaving bit by bit as the body absorbed it and truly healed.

Morelle’s hair rose, long black strands twisting and warping as she merged with her shadow, a sentinel and seraph in one form, armor clad in indigo and black, wings protectively curled where they became one with the barrier around her.

Next Morelle knew, she was in a daze, and it was the dead of night, and she was told of her expulsion, a key in hand as she entered the Spiral Door.

Next Morae knew, she was waking up as healthy as she could be, told of her girlfriend’s expulsion, and girlfriend’s brother’s exile. How those who were attacked by Celyn and those who she knew had thrown her off a cliff were getting off with no punishment for their bullying, or for their actual crimes of assault and attempted murder. And she was angry, and spiteful, but this time she was willing to wait for a better plan.

She would complete her last year of school in only months of time, and find her girlfriend. She would return to Wizard City one day, Morelle at her side, with a plan that wouldn’t fail.

So Morae smiled softly, if not a little tearfully, and quietly thanked the life student in the clinic who was known to rip up the homework of those he disliked. Morelle and Celyn had such interesting gossip from the secret hierarchy of life wizards.

There were many secrets in Wizard City. Morae would just have to find the right one to make Ambrose regret his choices. She would bide her time, but when the time did come, she would make eye contact no matter how painful, just to see that soft sparkle in Headmaster Ambrose’s eyes to fill with stark terror.

[fotiathymos]

do you have trans hcs for any other characters in promare? :0

I do! under cut cause im a TALKER whoops.

uhhh trigger warning that i do talk a bit about transphobia and unsupportive family.

I realize in my last post I didn’t mention it but Gueira and Meis aren’t cis! 

Gueira was born intersex and doesn’t agree to calling himself cis or trans. He is proud to be intersex. (do know this is a fictional character and not all real life people who are intersex agree or disagree with calling themselves cis or trans.)

Gueira uses he/him pronouns but doesn’t strictly dress masculine. Really just a comfy clothes wearer. 

Meis is trans genderfluid. Mostly uses they/them pronouns and has girl days or boy days sometimes where they can be more okay with she/her or he/him. Just leans into a mix usually. Actually doesn’t like being called Gueira’s boyfriend and rather ‘partner’. Gueira says it like a cowboy usually to make Meis giggle.

I do enjoy Ignis being an trans elder. (He is like 55 in my mind not 40 as i think canon states?) Ignis knew Galo was trans upon entering the job but of course did not out Galo to everyone. Galo isn’t secretive about being trans though. When Galo finds out Ignis is trans he cries happy tears and hugs him, making Ignis just a lil uncomfortable but not rejecting the hug.. hes got a reputation Galo.

I always had it in my head that Galo joined Burning Rescue and challenged all their thoughts on gender and etc. Considering they all grew up in a strict propaganda filled city some of them mightve just heard of terms but not thought about it too hard for..reasons. But then Galo comes into the work place being the ‘queer kid’ and wouldn’t take any bullshit. He grew up mostly by themself, discovered things on his own and does still feel that outward pressure to conform (esp with Kray, Galo is the most ‘passing as cis’ as he can be around Kray most times). So I thought mostly about everyone in BR were cis, not all of them straight but cis...bbuuutttt

Galo makes everyone question their thoughts on gender cause Galo is so open about his own and loves helping others. Galo does ‘mask’ themself sometimes and at first joining didn’t go full blown open. But one day Lucia needs a tampon and Galo had one in his bag and Lucia is like ‘um what?’ Galo goes casual and just ‘oh yeah.. i don’t need them anymore but its become habit to carry it around yaknow and you never know when it could come in handy!’

Lucia is the first to question if its okay to be non-binary lesbian, like maybe shes not entirely strictly ‘girl’. She’s loud and proud about being gay, lesbian flag above her desk, talks bout going to lesbian bars and wanting to just hold a girls hand. So she’s the first to feel okay enough to question herself gender wise.

Varys is that guy you might know in life who is just chill about everything. Galo comes out to Varys casually one day and Varys doesn’t linger on it at all. “Trans? Hell yeah! We still going out for bbq? Double hell yeah!” But he’s also a guy you never know whats going on in their head. He just remembers weirdly specific things you say sometimes and comes back at you with them later. Galo mentioned briefly that sunflowers remind him of his mother. Varys mails Galo sunflowers when Galo takes the day off on his mothers bday. Varys also randomly texts Galo ‘hey you know how youre trans, can i be like not always a man?’ 

Remi............................reMI UH. Remi is weird in my head. I feel hes that guy who just makes everything into a TMI or sex joke or just awkwardly flirts with everyone he becomes friendly with. Like just pushes the boundaries cause he thinks were friends now i can do this, without realizing hes over stepped them. That guy who thinks just cause your his friend now we can talk about sex casually. Hes quick to apologize when told off but still. I’m horrible I feel like Remi is that guy who’d consider him getting pegged by his girlfriend means he’s in with the lgbt crowd. He’s cis and comfortable with that and is confused by non-binary identities but won’t insult his coworkers and respect them. Eventually he’ll learn that just cause you are over 18 now, not everything in the world is related to sex. Idk if that made sense or if I threw him under the die-cis-scum buss too hard.

AND THEN THERE IS AINA.

Who... I adore. And even my head canons for her contrast and complement Galo like her story/character in the movie. So....shes trans.

We don’t get info about her family life but I’m assuming her sister raised her by herself and the parents weren’t in the picture. Aina came out to her sister right out of high school. Heris was starting college and working to provide for her and Aina. She flipped out on her and her words were ‘i dont care if youre a girl or a boy but those hormones can be pricey we dont have insurance you cant get surgery your too young, etc etc’ Unsupported in misreading the situation as an inconvenience to money and life and not the actuality of Aina just being herself and wanting to be honest about it. 

Aina gets ignored as her sisters career and life revolves around a sudden job with the Foundation. But Heris has money now. And is “supportive” in giving Aina money. Pays for her HRT, doctor visits, therapy, and then eventually training to be in Burning Rescue. And Heris is adamant that Aina never, EVER tells anyone she’s trans. Sweeps up any possible info about that under the rug. Doesn’t want to be looked at with a bad eye from Foresight. What Heris feels is a safety measure for her family is what Aina sees as shame. Kinda reflecting how Heris in the movie sees that shes doing ‘all this for you, Aina’ only for it to be cruel and harmful directly to Aina.

Aina doesn’t know what drew her to Galo. He’s cute and nice and friendly. Maybe it’s a crush? He understands me and no one ever did. He respects me for me. “Youre you Aina and theres nothing wrong with that.” (I forget the exact quote) The words play in her head for the longest time. She never came out to Burning Rescue for fear, cause Heris said not to, cause its ‘inconvenient’. And suddenly Galo is loud and proud about being trans??? Should she be too?? 

Eventually she confides in Galo. Probably after the Parnassus events. She realizes she doesn’t have a crush and was just not use to someone being nice to her and accepting her. She eventually tells the rest of Burning Rescue. Finds out Ignis knew all along due to paperwork but just once again, Captain isn’t gonna out his team member. 

And then finally during a late night movie sleepover. Galo’s like ‘you know we should hang the trans and non binary flag on the front of the station.’ Lucia goes ‘YEAH a big FUCK YOU to the Foundations normies!!!!’ Aina says ‘we should really run that past Captain first...’ Finally Ignis walks in, tilts down his sunglasses and says ‘I planned for this’ and unveils a flag that just says ‘fight the cis-tem’ and Galo and Lucia SCREAM. Only Galo knew Ignis was trans til that point..

I made a STORY damn.

I hope that wasn’t... too much... thank for reading.... ;u;/

[bobblesnbittybites]

How about Hydrangea and Spectrolite for the adoptable challenge?

Spectrolite supposedly has the properties of enhancing creativity. It has been believed for its power to realize things from imagination. This gem has been and still is used to express an original idea. Spectrolite can support everything from imaging to expressing. Or so says the internet.

Hydrangeas normally symbolizes heartfelt emotions. It can be used to express gratitude for being understood. In its negative sense hydrangea symbolizes frigidity and heartlessness. Thank You for Understanding; Frigidity; Heartlessness.

The traits that this Olive variant shows from these are very noticeable! These ones have one eye being entirely useless (therefore covered in an eyepatch with the false blossoms) while their other eye is completely sharp, if there were guns her size then she might be an amazing gun woman however these ones stray from violence. The most aggression you’d get would be a crudely written or very aggressive note along with passive-aggressive comments. These ones love to craft! sometimes they get a bit too carried away, this may result in a few more plant creatures running about. Some examples would be a plump head of a venus fly trap with no eyes but a hairless bear-like body, totally ready to chomp any pesky bugs and rodents around!

These ones normally have their hair up and are busy at work, weather prettying up a bush, making a bouquet full of meaning, painting the cutest thing with her solid spectrolite fingers, or simply making her caretaker a ring out of the two most active powers she has, these ones are full of ideas and love making everything look lavish if not just to make sure their caretaker enjoys themself and not have to worry if someone comes over or you were in a hurry. Olive types are known for this type of stuff after all!

The second I saw the flower blooms I knew this type had to be in a puffy ball gown or at least with a parasol covered in the colorful star-shaped flower heads! Though due to her being palm-sized (able to be held in one hand) the idea of doing the eye buds wouldn’t work in her hair so instead, she has a dress and parasol covered in these flower heads with eyes, although she doesn’t entirely need them she likes having the “company” so to speak.

Be careful as these Olive types might look pretty and act sweet they are full of emotions, but they usually bottle it as they may look pretty Hydrangeas are poisonous- this shows when this bitty does what she deems necessary as a means of being safe or keeping herself content. Remember those venus flytrap bears I was talking about earlier?- they are as large as a labrador, now, who do you think she’ll use this against?- Although hydrangeas are poisonous they are not lethal/fatal so these bitty types are more likely to chase someone off, be passive-aggressive, and show their worth by disabling someone but never go as far as killing anyone. Eating the remains of someone, yes. But killing someone?- that’s a bit too much work and they don’t know if the meal will go to waste or not if they do pull through with the deed.

These Olives are great for those who want lavish homes, are in need of inspiration, or are artists themselves, even if it’s singing/music, writing, drawing, painting, or sculpting you’ll just need this little one for a cascade of ideas!

[dragonologist-phd]

Soft asks for Nona: 🍁🌾🌿🌸🌠 And for Desta: 🍄🌻🌲🥀💫

ooh thank you!

Nona

🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themself? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone? 

Nona has her room at the LK headquarters- it’s not very large, but she has a comfortable chair and bookshelf, and that’s all she really needs to relax for a little while. She also knows a path outside the city that she likes to walk when she needs some quiet time, although she probably shares that with Thaos at some point

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them 

(disclaimer- this isn’t really intended to come from anyone in particular, just an idea of what that type of description might be like)

Nona has many features worthy of admiration. Her soft, dark auburn hair that frames her green eyes, which light up whenever she is presented with some new puzzle to investigate. The way she carries herself, graceful and diplomatic, her head always held high. But the most beautiful is her smile; not the reserved, polite smile she gives most people, but her genuine smile, the one that causes her freckled nose to crinkle and that brings a softness to her expression. The one most people don’t get to see.

🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech? 

She’ll offer some comforting touches- holding hands, or (if they’re very close) giving them a hug, or she’ll do things to try and take care of them like bringing them tea

The things people do for Nona are similar. Thaos will often hold her hand and stroke her hair to comfort her, and he likes to give her little gifts to let her know he’s thinking of her

🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of! 

Books, philosophy, hot tea, blackberries, warm pastries, cats, wurms, thunderstorms, fancy dresses, jewelry, lavender, piano music, learning, puzzles, soft blankets, dancing, fireworks, history, and of course Thaos

🌠 On a scale of 1 - 10 how Baby is your OC? BONUS when asking this question rate the OC yourself as see if the reply matches up!!

Maybe a 2, and I only go that high because she’s still pretty young by elf standards, bu even taking that into consideration she’s always been mature for her age

Desta

🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen? 

Strawberries! Desta loves anything with strawberry in it, and she also just likes things that are sweet and fruity in general. She’s not much of a cook herself; the best things she can make are things like sandwiches that don’t take much preparation

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them? 

She loves noticing little quirks about people that are unique to them or the way they do things- stuff like how Aloth holds his grimoir to protect the pages from the rain, or how Kana hums to himself when he’s focused on something. And she loves finding little flowers and other bits of nature!

🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for? 

Desta is very passionate and feels everything very deeply, to the point where she gets a little carried away in her emotions sometimes. But it does make her very empathetic, and her method of comforting someone is usually to strongly reassure them, make them comfortable as possible, and ask if there’s anything she can do to help them

🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry? 

Lots of pressed flowers! She doesn’t do too much writing, although there might be some (not very well done) drawings in there as well!

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

Oh man, that’s so hard to choose!

I think it’s that despite everything she’s been through, she truly believes in the inherent goodness of people and that kindness and compassion will always win out at the end of the day

[safrona-shadowsun]

A Courier and the Sea: Kul Tiras

{Completed Rp between myself and the amazing “C” over at @theconstructsworld. Thank you for reading if you do...! Long post, will be put under }

"I've heard that you've been lingering around Boralus. Is that true, lovely Sea? It's been a while."

A faint smile gently teased at his lips as eyes focused upon the familiar face.  For such a minute shift in expression, his entire demeanor seemed to suddenly change into something more welcoming and friendly.  He allowed the silence to cling to the space between them while that curious gaze studied her.  “You have changed.”  It wasn’t a question, but an observation.  Slowly he wets his lips as his gaze passes over her form once more in a studious manner.  “Or have become what you were always meant to be.”

Pallid fingers loosely clasp together at his waist, finally nodding in response to her question.  

“Yes.”  The man could easily pass for a Quel’dorei or a Sin’dorei, allowing him the ability to wander through both Horde and Alliance territories without drawing much attention.  Any that did feel the need to question him often found themselves suddenly speechless once that icy gaze fixated upon them. “It is an intriguing city. The humans that reside here are much taller and wider than those back in the other lands.  Is it a place you visit often yourself?”

The Void-touched courier was held in place for those few moments those icy blue eyes arrested her with their study. What you were always meant to be. The crease of a brow gave a touch of expression to cool composure, a hint those words had hit something past the surface of business. As the topic shifted and he inevitably spoke of himself, Safrona smoothed herself over, engaging ‘Sea’ with carefully crafted words and professional charm. 

“A courier is often here at the need of many. The import business is an active one, and travel is a necessity to maintain connections and make new ones, yes? All shapes, all sizes, all voices. All quite…intriguing.“

Her eyes had slipped down to the small screen of Ethereal make cradled in her arm, but soon those violet pupils were pinned again to the mysterious C, lambent with some idling curiosity. 

“What of the experience do you find the most interesting, mmn?”

His comment wasn’t meant to be probing, at least not to him, it was in his nature to say most things that were on his mind and for some reason this new ‘appearance’ seemed to suit her quite well.  Given she seemed to ignore the topic, he too moved on from it.  For now.

“Is business good then, yes?  Have you added much to your trade?”  He gives a brief scan of her body, pausing on the device she held in her arms before his gaze greets hers once more, accompanied by a gentle smile.  “The city smells very different from any other.  Every corner smells heavily of the sea or what is contained within.  It is inescapable and overwhelming.”  Not that he wanted to, the way he spoke sounded as if it were rather enjoyable to him.  “It makes the residents smell very different as well.”

He thoughts drift away for a few moments, not bothering to fill the silence between them before continuing, “Have you spent much time there yourself?”  With that question, he leans forward.  Not enough to provoke any sense of alarm, but instead to sniff the air around her as if he could tell by her scent alone.

A merlot eyebrow perked quizzically as he would lean closer to sniff at the air around her, but Safrona did not move, more bemused with the innocence he seemed to mold to his actions. The Courier was a presence of both sound and smell to those that took notice, a combination of the natural overwhelmed by the unearthly. The savory aroma of the liquor she stained her hair with most prominent, the Thalassian Bloodwine with its licorice taste, as was the subtle, static hum that was the Void she was more obviously infused with. And just beneath that wine aroma, to the most sharpened senses, one might be able to pick out the odd scent of burning leaves…

“Boralus adds its own business, yes, especially when it comes to alcohol. The Azerothian mainland is always craving newer tastes, and I enable the eager crafter to provide, and the afficionado to take part. You can always taste what makes a land in their alcohol, learn much about a person by what they prefer to drink. But it’s sweeter still to introduce something new, and broaden tastes.”

Her eyes floated back to her datapad, seemingly entering information with a tap of fingers, lightpoints flashing at her fingers upon its glass-like surface. “Do you have a particular taste you enjoy? In drinks or …fashion? The Kul TIran’s coats seem to be a popular want, I’ve been noticing.”

His senses had sharpened over the years after he learned how to make better use of them.  At first there had been a distinct lack of taste and smell, or perhaps he just didn’t know how to differentiate between the various flavors and scents; it was impossible to know.  His palate had become more honed since, finding more pleasure in particular flavors over others.  Not that he had ever found anything he didn’t like or wouldn’t eat, some foods were just more exciting in his mind; usually things that carried a variety of flavors and scents all mixed together.

For that reason, he hovered closer to the Courier in an attempt to pick out and place all of the interesting scents she carried on her person.  He slowly reached out, hovering a hand near the side of her shoulder; not touching, but simply feeling the magic she radiated now.  Nostrils flared before he returns his hand to his own personal space as if nothing weird had just occurred.

“What is that word?  Afficionado?  Is it not a word stored in my memory.”  He was still technically ‘young’ and learning; never afraid to ask questions about things he did not understand.  He awaited her answer with a curious gaze, eager to learn something new.  “I enjoy the taste of bitter.” He nods in confirmation of his own words.  “It makes my tongue feel strange, but a good strange yes?”  

At her question regarding fashion, that icy gaze drifts downwards to his obviously expensive suit.  Perfectly tailored to fit his slender form and quite flattering, the dark colors make his eyes pop even more.  “I enjoy suits.  I enjoy the way this material feels against my flesh..” He brushes his fingertips along his opposite sleeve.  “And I enjoy the way that others around react to it.  I am treated well.  What is it that you enjoy most?  For taste and fashion?”

Violet eyes rose up from the datapad to pin almost haltingly to that icy blue gaze, stilling completely as his pale hand reached to touch the air around her. The unnatural resonated against his skin in a low, barely detectable frequency, a world-shifting vibration that was felt more than it was heard. The unassuming smile at Safrona’s lips quirked to tightness, straightening as he breathed her in. 

“A…connoisseur, yes?” Safrona gradually pulled herself from the uncommon closeness to casually explain. "Someone that might count themself a master of taste. One who lives for a certain taste, you could even say. But, there are many tastes, and there will always be one out there that tells you your own is wrong.” A chuckle withered out of her now as she cast her gaze to the side a moment. “An aspect of living that applies to many conflicts, I’m sure. Some things must always be the eternal argument, mn?” Her gaze stole back to the eponymous “Sea”, leaving the pure blue stare to rove over his garments as he would give them his attentions. The hard, near bitter smile smoothed once again in agreement of the Gilnean style that was adopted.

“What I enjoy…varies. I find I’m drawn to what pairs with my mood the most at the time. Sometimes it’s the smooth, savory taste of my Bloodwines I like. And other times it’s the sweet burn of a Bourbon I like. But clothes, ahh, that never changes. I also like what feels good on my skin, like you.” Silk, velvet, and supportive pieces of a worldly style all the professional’s own indicated she matched touches of luxury with necessity, laced with a subtle embroidery of an enchanter’s fingers. 

“But luxury for me is nothing without the sensibility of durability. I travel and end up in not so smooth situations weekly and my wardrobe has to keep up with me. You dress impeccably, lovely boy.” Her interest had her inclining naturally nearer, though she made no attempt to touch where her gaze studied. “But your tailor must be hungry for gold, trying to follow up on delicate upkeep for that handsome suit, yes? Or do you have talent with a needle yourself?”

He listened intently at the learning lesson; a new word, a new place, these were always things that keep his attention without fail.  Learning was probably his favorite thing to do next to exploring and lucky for him the two went hand in hand.  "Yes, I understand.  It seems strange that one would tell you your tastes are wrong when tastes, by their very definition, are personal to a singular being."  He smooths his fingertips along the edges of his jaw while his gaze drifted somewhere behind her.  "The living are curious creatures."  He mused mostly to himself, as if it were a thought said aloud.

Once again his eyes traversed her choice in clothing as she spoke on it, focusing mostly on her choice in footwear.  "Do you do much traveling by foot?  How often are you having to replace your shoes?"  Maybe a strange question, but C himself preferred walking over any other form of travel.  While his shoes did not show any wear currently, it was a problem he often had and ended up barefoot by the end of his journey.  When she leaned in closer, he mimicked her movements, allowing the touch if that is what she were after.  He never minded touch, at least the kind that was expected and not sudden.  He rather enjoyed sharing a closeness with those in which he was acquainted, especially the ones that radiated magic.

Head tilting at the mention of gold, the peculiar man appeared as if he were quite wealthy but that was not the case.  In fact, he never carried a single gold on his person. "Sewing is not within my set of skills at the moment so I visit a tailor for all of my clothing.  I get my suits for free."  Said as if this were completely normal.  It was to him, at least.

"Curious...ahah," Safrona breathed a slight chuckle in repetition of him, eyes casting out to the city lights of Boralus just down the fork in the Kul Tiran path they stood at now. "People are many things on an individual basis. I find it curious that I always seem to find you at a literal crossroads. Fate is sometimes funny like that, yes?" That lambent violet traced back to pause on Sea a few considering moments, as if trying to place the meaning herself. There was almost an expectancy in that gaze, but it quickly passed to approach the more obvious conversation.

She nodded when she was asked on her footwear, a seemingly normal enough question on her own merit as she scraped a small line in the path with the point of a black boot. "I'm not travelling as I used to, but I still do find myself on foot quite a bit when I am. No doubt footwear becomes important for the well-traveled. I used to go through boots like glasses of wine. Which is not quite as satisfying. But with an enchanter's help, I have the same pair of boots now for a year or so, which is lovely really."

Scarlet eyebrows lifted up slightly at his admittance that he acquired such expensive suits freely. "Your generous tailor should have the names of a few enchanters in their circles. In my experience they tend to work hand in hand. But if you're looking for an enchanter, I can point you to the one I go to in Dalaran if that holds your interest. They can definitely have your clothing or your shoes augmented for durability."

His icy gaze peers down one path and then the other, lingering on the road that led to a seedier part of the city.  "Perhaps it is an unspoken metaphor that you meet me at a crossroads when experiencing a crossroads in your own life."  His eyes drift back towards her, unblinking and now focused on her own gaze.  "Are you?  At a crossroads?  Maybe a difficult decision with an impossible choice.  You always strike me as the type that has taken the road less traveled..." The melodic tenor trails off as does his gaze once more, focusing on nothing in particular behind her.  "And that has made all the difference."  He smooths a hand down the front of his vest, sliding pallid fingers into a pocket to wrap around the pocketwatch contained within.

When his gaze does finally return to her there's a pleasant smile on his lips, "Yes, enchants.  I have heard of this, I will inquire of the tailor, thank you.  I am not terribly fussed with durability as I am rather fond of the feeling of the ground beneath my bare feet."  He looks down to his polished shoes, tapping his toes faintly against the cobblestone.  "But many establishments claim a 'no shirt, no shoes, no service' policy which I find very interesting that pants are not included among the other articles of clothing.  That seems to be the most important piece of a wardrobe to remember when out in public, no?  Or something that covers the lower half of one's body as it seems to be shameful to flaunt parts of the anatomy that everyone possesses."  The amusement was obvious in his expression, some of the societal norms still confused him.

And her eyes had followed out the icy floe of his too as they stretched down the forked paths, remaining there as the light melody in his voice touched on words that had meaning. "Paths less traveled? Yes...yes I suppose I have. And am." The admission lilted wistfully from her, a sound and smile that was sourced from something besides that practiced professional she exuded. She hadn't remembered where she heard those words before, or the author that had written them, but they had resonated with her in the moment of their reading as they did now. The "Sea" spoke poetry.

A silent inhale, and she folded her arms loosely at her chest, arms lost within the cloak of burgundy that mantled her shoulders. Another breath of a chuckle escaped her as she gave him the easiest words she could from the cluttered altar of her mind. "There are always choices to be weighed in my life, for as long as I can remember. But yes, I did always stray the way most would not follow. Tonight...tonight I am on the well-tread path though, yes? I know where I'm going just as much as I know the address of the package I have in hand." Curiously, there was no very obvious package to be seen, but the Courier's eyes still lay on her destination in the city one of the roads would inevitably lead her through. "My feet may feel to wander elsewhere though. Away from the well-known paths."

These were words that grew more and more into a considering murmur as she trailed off. Yet as she glanced his way to find his eyes meeting her once more, Safrona closed her lips into their little smile again, refraining to let the waiting Sea speak. Her eyes travel down to his fancy shoes as he explains his dilemna, blinking once or twice as that token innocence is so masterfully delivered. The top off of his amusement sets her to begin to counter, only to close her eyes as she caught herself in some wordless chuckle. "Trousers are just...expected, lovely boy. No one ever believes they need to spell that out on a sign. You didn't wander in to a store without pants and get yourself kicked out, did you?"

His head tilted curiously, much like an animal's does when they hear an unfamiliar sound, as if the very action itself may make him understand.  Eyes darted over her form, silently gathering information for a few quiet moments before responding.  "What is it?  The current predicament that you find yourself in?  I hear that speaking such information aloud can sometimes bring clarity and answers."  He wasn't trying to pry, C didn't seem the sort to do so, nor did he seem the type to spread any sort of private information regarding anyone.  He kept to himself mostly, as did his master, he was just interested in stories - in lives - that were not his own.  A collector of stories, he would say.

He wets his lips briefly and looks down at his trousers:  Expensive materials, neatly pressed, fitted perfectly.  He dressed as a noble might dress at a fancy party and was rarely seen in anything else.  "No, I was told before I was allowed to wander on my own that it is frowned upon.  It always seemed like a silly rule to me, we are all the same underneath."  Lips curl into that oddly warm smile as fingertips trail along the sleeve of his suit jacket.  "I suppose it is one way to show status.  I have seen the well dressed often look down upon those in commoner clothing or rags.  It makes me wonder that if perhaps we were to shed these..." He pinches the cloth of his button-up shirt, giving it a little shake, "...modesties, then perhaps many would be treated different."

"Mmn..." was the considering utterance as Safrona let her gaze focus somewhere past the creases of embellished fabric Sea wore, glazing over into her own headspace. "Most are very...visual people, yes. Judging by what first comes to the eye. But judgement can go past fashion to the very skin you wear, unfortunately. And that's less easy to change." 

The Courier let some dry air of amusement leave her lungs, lips tugged to their faux smile as she let her gaze tick past her company and follow back on down the well-travelled road. "Most are trained to their stigmas no matter what you wear, lovely boy. In some places in Stormwind, I'm barred simply because I am what I am on sight, which is in their eyes, someone not to be trusted, along with the rest of my kind. And there is nothing I can do that will change their fear, ignorance or mistrust. The same could be same for Silvermoon, which is all, in its entirety, now banned to me. Even Dalaran is becoming questionable since Khadgar's gone into hiding. The wars sow their grudges deep into many."

"Question is, I suppose...do I continue walking that well-tread path among them, trying to settle my little places of business in the walls of places that were never really home. Or...?" Her gaze went off to the other path that lead away from Boralus. "Or do I settle on a whim of idea to build my own little place where any feet may come through? And where in all the world would that be, really?"

Her void-star gaze met back to the serene sea of his own. "As a fellow soul struck by wanderlust, what do you think?"

"That is true..." He considers quietly for a moment, fingertips trailing along the sharp edge of his jaw in thought.  "It does not have to be difficult to change the skin you wear."  An idle comment without explanation, not that this was anything new for him.  Strange things went on inside his mind that he rarely explained so he left it at that and moved onto his next thought.

"There is always a reason for those fears though, they do not appear out of thin air just because you have become something...different."  He gestures to himself, "Many see me and make assumptions from what they know of elves with blue eyes and pale skin.  They know what others like me have done in the past, they know what I may be capable of and it is likely the same for you.  Unusual and foreign magic can be a frightening thing to the non-versed.  I am not saying it gives them an excuse but people are generally sheep, so I understand the hesitation and the distrust.  However, I welcome it and I thrive in it.  The sort that turn in fear or scowl make it easy for me to know who I do not wish to interact with."  Or those that could be considered an enemy.

Again he goes silent and pensive in expression to think over her predicament.  Fingertips idly trace along the edge of his lapel as his gaze focuses somewhere far off in the distance.  "Does it matter what others think of you?"  A brow raises, eyes focusing once more on her.  "I am not sure I am a good source to ask, I enjoy my travels too much to give it up...but I also have not been out in the world for long.  Much is still new, much is still unknown and I wish, above all else, to learn.  I do not think remaining in one place would allow me my desires.  If you have found yourself well traveled and in need of a change then perhaps that would be the better choice for you.  What is it that you prefer?"

'...Not difficult to change the skin worn...'

The initial commentary drew the Courier's eye, and the perk of a quizzical brow as her breath stilled. Her eyes studied the subtle nuances of his porcelain face as he proceeded to attach to the next thought that would come to him, and she wet her own lips as her gaze would avert, letting herself slowly breathe into her nod.

"Sheep...though they may be," she answered through a half-smile, "I'm afraid the nature of business depends on my ability to relate and not seem too foreign or suspicious, and to have insight into what is wanted and be depended upon to get it. So, in a way yes, it does matter what others think of me. It is by their coin that I able to support myself and my people, and maintain a sense of security in this world."

A slight shrug of a single, slender shoulder, let the courier's voice release on a softer sigh. "But at the same time, I know there is a part of me that will always be this restless thing, looking for more than the mundane trade entails. There is more to life than wine, and alcohol. There are...places that hold echoes of old ancients and their secrets. And worlds beyond this veil, and souls yet to be known. And there are the demons and things skittering in the darkness that would destroy it all, if they could, of course. At times I want more, and at times...I'm tired of it all."

She lifted her gaze to Sea, that beautiful blue gaze that was still fresh, and so seemingly earnest. "I sometimes wish I still felt that...newness, like you do. That wonder about the world. Just don't let it disappoint you, or grow too attached to any one sight, yes? Things, people and places all have the habit of change, and forgetting who you are, no matter how much you might invest in them."

He nods in understanding, it was much the same for him.  While he wasn’t exactly what one would call ‘relatable’ by any means, there was something about him that intrigued people, sometimes even eased their minds despite his peculiarities.  His innocence was authentic thus drawing away the suspicion of many.  The gullible were endless.  “So you wear your welcoming smile and speaking your calming words, shepherding the sheep whichever direction you wish them to go.  They do not question it because they trust you.  Yes…”  His smile turned a little more mischievous, an odd look for him.  “I understand.”  Whether or not that is what she meant, that is what he picked up from it.

“If those are curiosities of yours then you should explore them while you can and while they still exist.  While I am familiar with the term ‘regret’, I do not believe it is something I have ever felt or can ever feel but it seems like something you would not wish to live with.  The mundane will always be there for you to return to, that seems to be a constant in this world.  Mundane is easy and safe.”  He wets his lips as unblinking eyes rake over her form, it wasn’t done in a lewd manner but almost as if he were looking for something in particular.  “This world and many others hold many mysteries waiting to be discovered, would it not be nice to be one of the few to know the secrets life has to offer?”  For all the innocence that seemed to radiate around him much of the time, in that moment he had a look about him that was wise beyond his years.  Innocent expression, old soul.

“Do you wish to feel that again?  To see things as I do, through my eyes?”  Fingertips reach for his tie, smoothing it down to tuck into his vest better before grazing the lapel of his suit jacket.  “There is always something new to see, something ancient undiscovered.  I am not disappointed by this world, I am more so disappointed by the inhabitants that dwell here.  So many take much for granted.”

The rather dapper gentleman was nothing if not insightful, and with it was with a touch of momentary bewilderment that the professional was again brought to stare on this unassuming figure as innocence gave way to something teasingly knowing. Safrona gave him a playfullly chiding look in turn. "Yes, people trust well enough when you offer something that is wanted. But business is a two...sometimes three way street of getting what is wanted, yes? Satisfied client, satisfied customer, satisfied...heh, me. But something tells me you have your way around people on your own merit. And that seems fairly fitting given your name, Sea. I wonder how many ebb and flow to your influence, mmn?"

Faint amusement dulled on the heart-shaped face as Sea gave a conundrum of words that sent her to a space of deep consideration, violet eyes narrowing slightly in the moments that he seemed to speak something strange. Something old peering by a mask of innocence was studying her. Most observant eyes may have stopped at the scarab-shaped adornment in her long braid, the slight, momentary shimmer of something contained within a jeweled carapace. Magic and mythic themes were not entirely uncommon in fashion among Azerothian's certainly, but the scarab design was echoed in a neck piece as well, the Void Elf obviously placing meaning in it that had gone unspoken. By the time his eyes might find her face again, he would only find a faint smile returning, armor for secrets that were yet to be earned.

Her gaze followed the shape his hands made, smoothing down his tie, gathering careful words. "I...feel we all exist to learn something new, don't we? Knowledge is the greatest power someone can have. But, some have died for it, sacrificed for it, and destroyed themselves for it. And yes, people often take what they have for granted. And I am...uncertain if I would wish to see through the eyes of a man that does not feel regret."

It was difficult to dampen the truth around the man, or simply give him easy, universal answers as she might give another, and it was only just occuring to Safrona how odd that felt. But it was the same aspect of Sea that made him so compelling. She chuckled quietly to herself as she fixed both eyes on him again. "You are a very interesting man, Sea. For that, I have no doubt. But for now I need to be back on the well-trod path and be about the regular business. Until we meet again, yes? And who knows? Maybe next time, you’ll be showing me something new.”

[thatsilvermagic]

I for one would definitely be into that, my own unfinished drafts have gotten a little boring

I have a bunch of single-paragraph starters; here’s a reasonably long run that i did at a dragon/fairy tale kinda thing that I haven’t touched since July 6, 2018:

my bright night, my morning bird

Hanschen’s life was very simple - at least, to him. He had a job to do, he did it, he got paid, and that was the end of the story. Sure, maybe the work wasn’t his first choice, but there were so many people who didn’t like what they did and got paid less. So he was satisfied. His world wasn’t complicated. At least not from his point of view.

Everyone else, though, would probably think he was just as much of a monster as the dragon he served. There it was - the reason Hanschen always kept talk of his employment to a minimum (not that he really had anyone to talk to about it). Hanschen worked for a dragon. And not just any dragon. He worked for the most dreaded, power-and-wealth-hungry dragon that had ever terrorized the lands. Legends were spread far and wide about everything from the dragon’s horrible flaming breath to his cave filled with so much gold that its reflection would blind mortal men to how he would kidnap princes and princesses for ransoms so high it would bring their kingdoms to ruin.

That was where Hanschen came in.

Because the dragon was always off terrorizing peasants and hunting and burning down forests, he had very little time to ensure that his hostages stayed alive long enough for his ransom to be paid. Sometimes that could be days, but it could also take weeks or months, depending on how many valiant attempts by the kingdom’s armies or best knights occurred before they realized what a futile effort it was to attack the dragon. So, instead of leaving the hostage to fend for themself and hoping for the best, the dragon hired Hanschen to see to it that they had everything they needed to stay alive. Hanschen made sure to feed the hostages and do whatever else was necessary, depending on how much they usually did on their own. For example, one princess had never dressed herself before, so Hanschen had to learn how to lace her into her dress so that she wouldn’t die of a chill. 

He knew that what he was doing was, by most regards, wrong. He could see it in the frightened eyes of the hostages when he introduced himself, or in the deploring looks from a departing monarch when they noticed a human working for the monster. But he was able to detach himself from his work, detach himself from the cries and pleas of the young victims, and find a way to sleep every night. He reminded himself that he was keeping them alive and even helping them, and that was enough to get him through his days. And the money. Despite the dragon’s lust for wealth, Hanschen was paid handsomely, or at least more so than any of the jobs he might have had living in the town where he grew up.

The first time he’d seen the dragon, he’d barely been a young man, and watched with awestruck eyes as it burned down his neighbors’ homes. The dragon claimed that he’d noticed Hanschen’s lack of fear and knew that he was the only one who was neither afraid enough nor righteous enough to oppose working for him, and so the deal was struck. With his reasonable pay, Hanschen knew that he could potentially leave any time he’d liked, but what kept him in the dragon’s employment wasn’t a fear of the beast, but a knowledge that a better opportunity would probably never present itself.

Hanschen’s life was very simple. But sometimes it seems that the world can never be content with a simple life, so the course of fate decides to complicate everything it can.

The first thing Hanschen noticed on the day his life would change was how sweet the air smelled. Summer was just beginning and this was the first day he could feel it - the sunlight and the cloudless sky and the grasses and flowers all perking to attention. The world was at peace, and he found himself taking a moment to enjoy it and letting the warmth wash over him. If he had to guess, he’d say that that day would be a good one.

Judging by the thunderous gusts of wind and general screams of terror he’d heard last night, Hanschen figured there might be someone new that the dragon was currently holding hostage. After all, the last one had been released from the tower just a week before. She’d been quite a few years younger than Hanschen, but she sat still and stared at the wall with empty eyes. Hanschen had to keep from looking into them so that he wouldn’t feel anything. He was glad the summer was coming because the better he felt outside of his work, the more effectively he could avoid the guilt that came with the depressed eyes and shaky tears. This winter had been harder for him than any before.

But he tried not to think about that. Now, all he had to do was focus on the task at hand.

Hanschen started up the steps to the stone tower. In his hands he carried a jug of water that he’d collected from the dragon’s spring near the base of the tower. At the top, he moved with ease through the enchanted stone - the only man it allowed through was he. And, of course, the wizard who made it.

His guess was correct - there was someone already in the tower’s windowless room. A prince. He looked startled, and Hanschen couldn’t blame him - most of the hostages did not expect to see another human, especially not one who walked through the wall.

The prince was young, as most of them were - kings generally paid higher ransoms for children who still lived in the palace with them, but he wasn’t a child. He was just under marrying years - around Hanschen’s age, in fact. He was wearing relatively simple clothes, and it looked as though the dragon had plucked him from a solitary walk or ride or something of that nature. He sat with his back pressed up against the wall and his legs tucked tightly against his body.

“Who are you?” His wide eyes looked at Hanschen with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Hanschen resisted the urge to smile at the boy’s bravery - judging by his wiry body, he was not a prince that spent most of his time fighting battles and training. Many weaker captives screamed when they saw Hanschen for the first time, or cowered in fear, but this boy just stared him down.

Hanschen, for his own part, did not respond, and instead extended the jug towards the boy, who looked at it warily. After a moment of hesitation, he began drinking the water with greedy gulps. Hanschen didn’t know how long he’d been in the tower (he figured it couldn’t have been more than a few hours, perhaps overnight), but he drank the water like it was the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted. When he’d finished about half of the jug, he put it down on the floor next to him and kept staring at Hanschen.

“I’m Ernst,” he said. That also surprised Hanschen - many princes who introduced themselves would use their full title, and insist that Hanschen do the same (if he ever decided to speak to them).

“I know,” Hanschen lied. Years ago, he’d learned that it helped him to pretend he knew as much as he could. Nobody had to know that the dragon probably hadn’t spoken to him in, at that point, several months. The boy tilted his head at Hanschen’s voice - probably surprised by how young it sounded.

“Surely you have a name?” Hanschen knew that names were dangerous. Names were so important to a person’s soul - if Ernst knew his name and used it, it would be that much harder for Hanschen to treat him like a prisoner.

“You must be hungry,” Hanschen replied, dodging the question. Before Ernst could respond, he was through the stone wall again and headed back down the staircase to fetch something to eat. Anything to get away from those eyes boreing into his skull. He reminded himself that it wouldn’t be long before Ernst realized that he was not a friend, but just a part of this prison. A piece of furniture, essentially. He would stop trying to talk to Hanschen and he would stop staring at Hanschen and Hanschen wouldn’t feel the tumbling in his stomach that he sometimes felt when he let himself get too close with the captives. They were prisoners, Hanschen was doing his job, and soon they’d leave and he’d be just a hazy memory in a story they told their grandchildren as they warned them about the dangers of dragons.

When Hanschen came back into the tower, Ernst was curled up into himself again, staring at the great glass door. Another enchanted feature of the room. Although the room was windowless, there was a large door set into the ceiling that was made of a magic glass that let in the light. Magic because it wouldn’t break, and it was also completely clear with no distortion, almost as if it wasn’t there at all. It was what the dragon used to bring the hostages in and out, and it was so heavy that only he could lift it, and so high up that no one could even try. Ernst was staring up through it, where he could just see the tops of the trees that stood near the tower. In the moment before he noticed someone come in, Hanschen could see the look on his face. He was frightened, much more so than he had seemed when he tried to speak to Hanschen. He rubbed together the fingers of his left hand just above his chest, but he was not holding anything.

He turned to look when he heard Hanschen’s footsteps on the stone floor, and his expression softened again. He got to his feet when he noticed the tray that Hanschen was setting down.

“Why bother feeding me?” He said, his voice filled with curiosity.

“It is my job to keep you alive,” Hanschen responded curtly. Ernst laughed, although it sounded strange against his still-frightened face.

“Your job? Does the monster pay you?” Hanschen nodded. “How do you live with yourself?” It was as if he could see right into Hanschen’s heart.

“Not all of us can be born princes,” was his response, and Ernst frowned as he sat down next to the tray.

“But still, you work here of your own will?” Hanschen didn’t have to have this conversation. He turned on his heel to leave the prince to his supper. “Where are you going?” Hanschen ignored him and kept walking. He knew then that this prince, more than anyone else, would be more trouble than he was worth. He only hoped that the prince’s father would pay the ransom soon, and that he wouldn’t have to see those wide eyes again.

Chapter 2

Over the next few days, Hanschen did his best not to talk to the prince at all. It should have been fairly easy. After all, he only went up the tower to feed the prince and make sure he had something to drink and to check that the hearth was still warm. The rest of his time he spent keeping up his own home. He lived in a shack near the tower, also in the forest, and since he had no wife and no family, he had to keep everything running by himself, whether that was baking bread every day or tending his own fire or going into the nearby town on errand. The people of the village knew him but rarely asked questions, at least to his face. He knew that his life must seem mysterious to them, but he preferred that they knew nothing about him rather than them knowing exactly what he did for a living.

Of course, the prince did not make himself easy to ignore. Every time Hanschen came up into his room, he looked liable to burst with excitement and would shower Hanschen with questions or thoughts. Hanschen did his best to avoid making eye contact and to not respond. Ernst also invited Hanschen to eat with him every time, but Hanschen walked away.

“It’s been five days, and you haven’t said a word to me since the first. Did I do something wrong?” Hanschen knelt in front of the fire without looking at him, like always. “Are you not allowed to talk to me? Does the dragon forbid it?” Hanschen heard Ernst lie down on his back. “I think I shall go mad soon if you don’t talk to me.” Hanschen stiffened when he thought back to that winter. Maybe part of his job of keeping the hostages alive was to keep them sane. Maybe he should talk to Ernst. For his health.

“I’ve decided to call you Georg,” Ernst said, still looking at the ceiling. Hanschen finally laughed, and the prince sat up to look at him.

“My name isn’t Georg,” he said before he could stop himself. Deep in his mind, he knew it was a mistake to engage with the prince, but he was beginning to fear his own sanity as well as Ernst’s.

“Well, if you told me your name, I wouldn’t have to call you Georg.”

“Why do you care so much about my name?”

“Do you have one?”

“Yes, of course.” Ernst shrugged.

“I don’t know, you could be some nameless forest creature that’s taken the form of a human to work for a monstrous dragon. That would certainly explain your situation.”

“I’m not a forest creature, I assure you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Just a man.” Hanschen could feel Ernst looking at him, as if his eyes were two beams of light.

“Ordinary men don’t work for dragons.” Hanschen stood up.

“Maybe speaking to you was a mistake.”

“Please don’t go.” His voice was full of desperation and it tugged at Hanschen’s heart more than any voice ever had. “I don’t think I can bear your silence forever.”

“It won’t be forever,” Hanschen promised gently. “Just until your father pays the dragon.” Ernst let out a huff of air in a bitter laugh.

“So I’ll be here forever,” he said. “My father doesn’t care at all. You should tell your dragon he’s wasting his time.”

“But you’re a prince, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and eighth in line for the throne, after my brothers and sisters. Father’s probably glad to have one less child on his hands, especially if I’m that child.”

“What have you done to so deserve your father’s indifference?”

“It’s a question of what haven’t I done. I can’t joust, I can’t strategize. My sister can beat me in a duel. He’s not interested in me if I’m not interested in bloody wars. What happens to princes that no one comes to rescue?”

“I don’t know; it’s never happened before.” Ernst shook his head.

“Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”