#mostly i'm just musing and talking aloud

[brynnmclean]

Re: the beginning / prologue bit of Banishers, I was thinking about it this morning, but the Nightmare shapeshifting to impersonate Antea and singing "three blind mice" to taunt Charles, Antea, and especially Red-- the three Banishers who are trying (and failing) to figure out what her deal is-- is Very Good.

Also I've watched a few playthroughs now and I feel like so many people don't hesitate outside the meeting house like I did, so they miss the Nightmare outright singing "Run, Red, run... Run, Red, run..."

[softquietsteadylove]

Gil makes friends with an unusual Pokémon and this one decides very stubbornly he wants to be his partner Pokémon to someone who never really fought a battle.

Gil has no idea what to do and asks Thena for help

Snap!

Gil looked down, dread filling him from the neck down. Under his boot was a very nice leek stalk. And a very nice, very sturdy, plucked leek could only mean one thing. He looked up, "uh..."

"Farfetch'd!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" Gil held up his hands as the furious Wild Duck pokemon stormed out of the pondside grass and towards him. "I didn't mean to!"

"Far-Farfetch'd!" Well, of course he hadn't meant to, but what was done, was done!

"I know, I'm sorry, really!" Gil continued to plead, even holding up the snapped leek. "I would never-!"

The ruffled bird pokemon continued to glare at him, the marking of its 'unibrow' making it look even more severe. It snatched back the two halves of the leek from him in a huff. "Farf!"

"I really am sorry," Gil repeated, sadder this time as he watched the Farfetch'd look at its beloved leek forlornly. He removed his hat and pressed it to his chest. "I can help you find another one."

"Far?"

"I will," Gil nodded, already resolute to help no matter what duties he was putting off by doing so. "I'm a pokemon ranger. I took an oath to help any and every pokemon that needs my help."

The pokemon looked skeptical at best. It even crossed its wings at him in a look of pure disbelief, "Far-Farfetched."

"Well," Gil ruffled his hair in the face of the pokemon's skepticism. "No--but if you tell me what you're looking for, at least I can help you look twice as fast, right?"

Farfetch'd continue to glare at him, mostly, but he could see the expression on its face lightening. It slapped its webbed feet on the grass a little more firmly, "Farfetch'd?"

"I won't leave until I make this right," Gil vowed to the small avian pokemon, holding up his hand like he did on his first day of initiation.

Farfetch'd did not seem moved by his solemnity, but it did shrug its wings before tucking its broken leek under one of them. "Far!"

"Yes, sir," Gil chuckled. He wasn't used to such a non-confrontational - at least with humans - pokemon being so bossy. But the obstinate little duck reminded him of someone. "So, uh, I know the basic height and shape, but what else should I know?"

"Far!" he squawked back at him as he began rooting through the lower grasses as Gil searched the higher stalks. "Far-Farfetch'd-Far."

"Right," Gil murmured, directing his attention to the colours of the stalks of choice, as well as the thickness of them. This would be Farfetch'd's primary mode of protection, after all. Even if Farfetch'd mostly only confronted other Farfetch'd, he would still need to defend himself.

"Farfetch'd?"

Gil looked up and over, although Farfetch'd was entirely focused on the task at hand. He just wasn't used to making small talk with a wild pokemon. "Uh, y-yeah, I have a, uh, family...of sorts."

"Farfetched?"

Gil blushed faintly, batting some taller water grass out of his way. "I don't know if I'd say a hatchling, but we have a...we have a Teddiursa. I rescued him and he imprinted on Thena, so-"

"Far?"

"Yes!" Gil huffed, feeling agitated by the bird's overly direct line of questioning. He really tried not to let pokemon get him on the 'mate' topic, though. "She has a house up at the top of the mountain."

"Far," the little pokemon mused aloud, tapping the bottom of its beak. Only very strong trainers and pokemon chose to live so high up and in the open.

"Yeah, she is tough," he chuckled. "I think you'd like her."

"Fetch'd," he looked back over at Gil, still with no leek suiting his fine tastes. "Far-Farfetch'd."

Gil laughed, picking one with potential, "nah, I'm the lucky one. I love my job, but they also make it nice to go home to someone, y'know?"

"Far." Farfetched looked down at the grass beneath its feet, even the feathers at the top of its head sinking lower.

"Oh," Gil uttered gently, taking in the suddenly more melancholy Farfetch'd. Sure, not everyone in every colony managed to find a nestmate, but he couldn't imagine what it was like to be the only one without that feeling of having a family. "Hey."

Farfetched look up at Gil, letting him pat the top of his head, feathers and all. He sighed.

"Listen," Gil smiled down at the little guy. "I know it's hard to really devote yourself to taking care of everyone else. It takes a lot out of you, right?"

"Far," the pokemon reluctantly agreed, the weight of his responsibilities to the flock weighing on his wings.

"But you're doing great work, right? I bet your colony has been really safe all these years with you," Gil attempted to encourage him. "You may not have hatchlings of your own, but you've helped keep all of them safe."

"Far?"

"Really," he smiled, taking a seat next to the reticent duck. "That's kind of what it feels like to be a ranger, y'know?"

"Farfetch'd?" it tilted its head at him, also seating itself properly.

"Well," Gil shrugged, ruffling his hair under his hat. "Being a ranger is a tough job. And I'm not saying rangers never think 'oh, this would be so much easier if I had my own pokemon'. I'm lucky I have a Dragonite I hatched from an egg, but a lot of rangers don't have pokemon who are really bonded to them like that. We don't believe in it."

"Farfetch'd?"

Gil sighed, tugging at the collar of his vest. "Pokemon are amazing creatures, and we're lucky to share our world together. I don't wanna force any pokemon to be bound to me, in a pokeball or otherwise. Even Dragonite--I hatched him, but he doesn't have a pokeball. If he didn't wanna stick around, or be a ranger, he didn't have to be. He chose that life."

"Farfetch'd!" the bird pokemon squawked, starry-eyed at the idea of a pokemon having such a designated and impressive job.

"Yeah, he's the best," Gil laughed in agreement. "And now our little Teddi is a ranger too! Well, a ranger in training. He's still a Mama's cub when he gets home."

"Fa-fa-far," Farfetched chuckled into its wing.

"Don't tell him I said that! If you ever meet him," Gil rushed to amend. Teddiursa felt very strongly about being babied these days.

"Farfetch'd," the bird agreed, nodding and raising a solemn wing as a promise.

"Thanks," Gil sighed. He looked at Farfetch'd again. "So listen, I get it. It's hard to devote your life to the service of others like that. But you're doing good work, and I'm sure your colony really appreciates it."

"Far," Farfetch'd hummed, tapping its beak again. He looked up at Gil, something about his expression shifting.

"I really admire you, and all the work you've done," Gil tipped his hat to the pokemon.

"Farfetch'd!"

"Huh?" Gil blinked at the sudden demand. But Farfetch'd jumped back onto its feet, flapping his wings, repeating the request to see his life as a ranger--to meet his family! "I-I don't-"

"Far-Farfetch'd!" he repeated. He wanted to see what it was like to be a colony protector of a different kind! He wanted to see life outside the grasslands! And he wanted to know more about this ranger.

"I don't really, y'know," Gil paused. He had just described how he didn't really have a partner pokemon, and Dragonite and Teddiursa somewhat fit into that category for him. But he didn't think it was an invitation.

"Farfetch'd," the bird pokemon stood tall, though. "Far-Farfetch'd."

Gil looked at the stubborn pokemon. He had to admit, he did make him think somewhat of Thena and how hard headed she could be sometimes. Farfetch'd was a pokemon who was used to being a diligent protector and caretaker. He would probably fit right in with them. Gil sighed.

"Far?"

"I don't have pokeballs," he held his hands up. "But if you wanna just come and...see the ranger centre--I guess that's fine. Don't get ahead of yourself, okay? I'm not...catching you, or anything."

"Fa-fa-far-fetch'd!" he laughed in the face of his reluctance.

Gil rolled his eyes; a pokemon laughing at him would fit right in with Thena's pokemon just fine. "Okay, let's go I guess."

"Farfetch'd!!!"

"Right, s-sorry," Gil nearly tripped. He had almost forget they had to find him a replacement leek first.

[redolentgrove]

That Drifting Leaf

Loki and Bijoux had excused themselves to a quiet corner of Redolent Grove, settling together nearby the elder taur's plot full of Gracidea blooms. The spectacled Cinccino-taur gazed back at her mother with a concerned frown.

"Okay, Mom," she stated, "we're by ourselves now. So, you said there was more to you and Mum's separation when I was a baby, right? What actually happened?

Loki gave a sideways glance away from the younger taur, taking a deep breath and then glancing at her own forepaws.

"Bijoux, the reason we separated is… I cheated on your Mum."

Bijoux's eyes widened at this revelation. Her ears flattened somewhat, and she shook her head, shoulders slumping defeatedly. She didn't respond for a good few minutes, just casting a saddened, hurt stare back at her mother. When she did finally speak, her reply was simple, just one word.

"…why?"

Loki's ears wilted heavily. Of all the responses Bijoux could have given, this was the one that the hybrid dreaded would happen. The taur sat back on her hindquarters, letting out a long, heavy sigh. She pondered it briefly, looking at the Cinccino-taur with worried eyes.

"Bijoux, I loved your Mum. Part of me still does." Loki's arms crossed briefly over her chest, tail thumping angrily at the ground. "But… she and I grew apart. We fell head over heels early and became partners way too soon. Then we had you and grew even further apart. She was focused on modeling and barely had the time of day for me; I got lonely with just you in my life. So, when I met a beautiful Furret woman, I… began dating her behind your Mum's back."

"Did you ever tell Mum?

Loki nodded. "After about a year of seeing the Furret. I felt guilty knowing I was being dishonest, even though it hurt that your Mum and I never had any sort of romance in our lives anymore. I just couldn't take it; I gently let the Furret go and told your Mum what I had done. And of course, she dumped me. Deservedly, I'll admit. But I kept you in the separation, mostly because she wasn't about to give up a modeling career to take care of a cub."

Bijoux glanced sideways, then stepped closer to Loki, taking her left hand and gently patting the hybrid's side. "Mom, why didn't you just talk to Mum about that from the beginning? At least you could have parted peacefully. I mean, you've raised me alone for sixteen years; why keep this to yourself? Why stay alone?"

Loki's gaze turned to her daughter's, her muzzle forming an uneasy smile. "I was okay raising you alone, darling," she replied calmly, "because I knew I only had myself to blame for being alone. And I wasn't ready to start dating in case… well, I made the same mistake."

Bijoux blinked a bit. "You mean like with that Meowscarada you've got a crush on?"

Loki blushed hotly at this. Still, she nodded solemnly, her forepaws tippy-tapping the ground a bit. "Charade didn't seem disinterested, no, but... what if she isn't ready either?"

"Then you just start as friends and let it progress naturally?" Bijoux shrugged her shoulders. "Look, Fiamma and I stayed friends despite moving too fast because we were honest and respected each other. If you think you and miss Charade would make a good couple, just talk to her! The worst that happens is she says no. But be honest; that's all anyone wants, Mom."

Loki's tail swished at the thought. Still, she kept a quiet air about her, reaching out and hugging her daughter. "Thank you, Bijoux. For understanding, for being here... I guess an old mythical can still learn new tricks, heh."

Bijoux let out a squeak at the hug, her own tail wagging now as she patted her mom's back. "Even the legends aren't perfect," she mused aloud. "Warts and all, I'll always love you, Mom. You've done the same for me, after all. And besides..." Bijoux smiled slyly. "You're both the reason I'm alive, and the reason I can be my true self. That counts for a lot. Thank you."

The embrace held for a while, before the two separated. Loki finally let go of her daughter, tears glistening along her cheeks, then began walking to the gardening shed. Bijoux took her leave, left to wonder... just why had her mom waited until now to tell her? She'd ask later, but at the moment, she was happy just to know the truth...

[bejinyoung]

last act.

@bejoomi

he's been in this position a lot lately, he realizes. sweaty, still a little breathless, but basking in the quiet and contentment that follows release. it's joomi in bed with him again, of course, equally breathless and beautiful as they both come down from another amazing high. when was the last time jinyoung kept someone around this long? when was the last time he was so comfortable with another human sleeping in his bed at night, waking up to that same face in the morning, and blearily grumbling over a cup of coffee in the kitchen? he wouldn't be so dumb as to call it domestic or a relationship or anything of that nature. but it might be... something.

it's precisely because it might be something that jinyoung feels it coming to an end. this is what always happens to him; it's not so much the worry about someone catching feelings for him, but the other way around. if jinyoung starts coveting someone, wanting their time and attention more deeply than just on a whim, what will he do when they lose interest in him? he had already said enough good byes for a lifetime by the time he hit double digits; he promised himself no more, not unnecessarily. does he think joomi will disappear on him? someday, probably. there was a time in joomi's life before jinyoung where he was seemingly perfectly happy. there surely will be a time after too.

at least this time, the end is looking like something jinyoung won't have to call himself. with any luck, the universe will answer his prayers and the parting of ways will be out of his hands, for the most part. if he signs a contract, his hand does have a part in it. but really, it's the time demands of an entertainment company that will be his excuse. hopefully. maybe. two callbacks is pretty exciting, regardless.

"what are you going to do when i'm not around to do this to you?" jinyoung muses aloud, not quite realizing that his thoughts have partially become verbal. he traces his fingers along joomi's skin, feather-light and fondly smiling despite talk of leaving. "i'm still the best you've ever had, right?"

he leans over, suddenly filled with the urge to kiss joomi. so he does, perhaps too tenderly. he'd blame it on the warm, fuzzy feelings that tend to spring up post-coitus. "i have callbacks from companies," he tells joomi, pressing a kiss to his shoulder in lieu of punctuating the thought. "knock on wood, if everything goes right you might see a lot less of me." it should be sad, and maybe it sorta is. but mostly, jinyoung can't help but be excited to be taking a step forward again after so many backwards. for some reason, he expects joomi to feel the same for him.

[quaranmine]

3: Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic (im ALWAYS curious about this for different writers its so fun to see the differences and similarities) -trashcatgod

For oneshots, I just let the vibes carry me. I'll have a vague idea of a direction I'm heading in and just start at a random point and Get There. Except sometimes (several times) oneshots grow bigger legs than I expect and then--uh oh! I need an outline.

I'd say about ~10k (or whenever I realize we're gonna pass that) is where I realize I might lose track of things. So I always work with an outline, and for longer works I always keep a separate outline document. This will have a loose bulleted list of plot points, or chapters, that I often mark off as I go. It gets changed a lot. It may also contain various notes and musings about character motivations, lines I want to include, etc. Although it's a loose list, it can get very detailed because I don't wanna forget any random things I thought of in the shower or while driving or whatever.

I generally write linearly. So I tend to just write straight in order and not skip around too much, since skipping around means you eventually have to connect it all again. I do however, sometimes write out of order. In those cases I keep those scenes in a separate document. I also normally have a document for scrapped scenes or things I rewrote. It makes me anxious to delete any writing outright so I'll copy and pase it to the scrapped scenes document before I rewrite. So that way it's not gone forever.

In terms of schedule, I mostly write from like 8pm-midnight. So now that I live alone, I already know that most evenings are "writing time" and I'll try to continue from where I left off.

My other Secret Creative Process is that I use my somewhat regular (2x weekly) 1.25 hour drives as a sounding board and just talk aloud through plot points. Like 90% of my fics and headcanons get created by me figuring out ideas in the car.

[magnetiix]

Your muse has to share something that’s hard for them to talk about. What is the biggest thing they don’t want to say aloud/admit? What makes it hard for them to say it? | What’s one of the bravest things your muse has done? Did they consider it brave? | What’s something they’ve mildly been afraid of before? Not a huge trauma, something small? | What does your muse like about [Flash Man]? (Quick)

Headcanon/Development Questions (still accepting!)

Your muse has to share something that’s hard for them to talk about. What is the biggest thing they don’t want to say aloud/admit? What makes it hard for them to say it?

((Well... everything, isn't it? Everything is hard for him to talk about. It's hard to talk when talking is something you consider unnecessary and even wasteful. But above all, sharing his... appreciation for his linemates out loud is... especially difficult. The Seconds are not exactly known for knowing love, and perhaps Quick most of all. He wouldn't know where to begin. To verbally express his appreciation for even Metal, who he has no shame in naming as his personal favorite of the Seconds, would lead to nothing but awkwardness for them both. Quick does not know how to give love. And Metal does not know how to receive it. The way he values his linemates shows enough in how he behaves around them, anyway. Words don't need to be said.))

What’s one of the bravest things your muse has done? Did they consider it brave?

((The bravest thing Quick did was keep going after the Seconds' signals went down during the White Nightmare's invasion. After losing his siblings, there was a very real possibility that he could have just simply stopped working altogether. But he didn't. Does he think it's brave? No, not really, mostly because of how hard he'd effectively dissociated through the entire thing. But it was brave all the same.

For a more recent thing, talking to Wily! Making sure Shadow was there, making sure Shadow knew that he didn't mean to attack him and also regretted it, despite how muted his reaction might have been. Quick could have just been gone and put as much distance between him and Shadow as possible, but no. Shadow asked him if he'd had his systems checked recently and instead of shrugging it off, Quick took note of what Shadow was implying, listened, and invited him to come with. Before the Stardroid War, he'd have never done this, especially not with someone who wasn't a Second. Quick is very much trying to make an effort to be present in Wily City, and that's very brave. He doesn't really think much about it in terms of bravery, though.))

What’s something they’ve mildly been afraid of before? Not a huge trauma, something small?

((Not to point any fingers at any flamboyant Thirds in particular, but according to Quick it's frankly stupid to develop a Robot Master - especially one built for war - with fears, no matter how big or small they may be. That hinders their performance. No, Quick's not afraid of anything small, nor am I sure if he has the capacity to be. His emotions are so muted that I'm unsure if he'd feel anything to begin with. Something he used to be cautious of, though, was scraping his horns against a wall or doorway or low ceiling. Just. Augh. That noise. Bad.))

What does your muse like about [Flash Man]? (Quick)

((I will admit I'm not sure if you're expecting a legitimate answer to this question Cyber LOL And I tried to think of something, I really did. But nope. The answer's nothing. He doesn't like anything about Flash. At most he might tolerate or respect some things about Flash, such as Flash's ability to actually give him a decent fight, or rarer still appreciate his existence as a Second for fleeting moments, but like things about him? Nah. They're too different, they clash too much.))

[reflections-of-mobius]

@thehordemultimuse asked:

Shark Bite: [@ Rust] He's mysterious and kinda cute but mostly an ass. I like it though. It's so easy to get him angry, he really should relax. Would hate for him to die of a heart attack before I even got his name. Wonder why he's such a hardass.

Shark Bite: [@ Cinn] hehe, Cinn! They're fun. They keep sending me these memes and cute cat pictures, their cat is adorable! I really wanna talk to them face to face again, they seem like a good person to know! Never hurts to make a new friend.

[What does your muse think of mine? | Accepting!]

'Why do I always lose my cool around Shark Bite? I can keep it together around even my most infuriating coworkers, but the moment that blue hedgehog shows up...it's like my self-control nose-dives. I respect them as a speedster, but every time I even think of saying those words aloud...it's like the opposite intent spills out. I think I'm having problems around him, too. My heart keeps upticking in his presence. I'd visit the doctor at any of the bases, but that would mean admitting I have a problem. Damn hedgehog...'

'Oh, another meme!-- Pfffff....okay, I'll send five back from my private meme stash as payment for that snicker. Gotta send him another photo of Milky at some point. Can't keep this cute little fluffster to myself, after all!...I wonder if they'll drop by Windmill Isle again, any time soon. Is it bad that I kinda hope he does?...probably. Ehhhhh, I'm just missin' a fresh face to talk to. Maybe next time, I'll ask if he wants to go drinking- a good night out bar-hopping always seems to make my crew happy, so it should work with Shark Bite too!...right?-- I'll just.- Avoid drinking a lot, myself. I know I get to be a crass, picky drunk...don't need to invite that into a hangout with a friend I barely know.'

[likemosaic]

@overclocks sent an ask : [ SHROUD ] - our muses argue about who has to wear the silver shroud costume (and then - optionally - go run heroic errands) @ jocelyn (tony like: i'm already a superhero??? i have a resume???)

MISC FALLOUT SCENARIO PROMPTS.

joss has no excuse. they just really wanna wear the costume, having had no time to flex their acting chops since they climbed out of the vault. silver shroud was the only piece of media they had time to consume back in the day. sitting in front of a television requires constant attention, but a radio can be taken on the go: like on deployment, or listened to on low volume while rocking your son to sleep. they wouldn't say they're a huge fan of the shroud, but the campy vibe is full of fond memories of better times. a better world.

they also don't really believe tony about this supposed superhero career. they were mostly caught up managing a newborn at the height of it, though, so anything could've passed them by at the time, metal men and most heroes included. the name tony stark vaguely rings a bell from news broadcasts, but it's overshadowed by memories of a crying, colicky baby. if you asked joss to talk about some of the pertinent events in the year 2077 outside of the end of the world, they'd come up blank. most mornings were spent staring at a television in disassociation while codsworth finished charging.

so joss is diplomatic. as diplomatic as one can be when being painfully blunt is their default state. arms folded, not unfriendly but stern, like telling a kid that no, they're not going to play outside, it's raining. "it won't fit you. it runs small. maybe it shrunk." does radiation shrink clothes? it's not their area of expertise.

they also think tony is slightly deluded, but that doesn't deter them. most people are in their own ways, especially after the bombs. "i was an actor once. i should do it. but we could probably find you a costume of...that red guy you mentioned. there's gotta be one around the broadcast building somewhere." mom mode is active, yes. though they're not saying it aloud, it's clear they're not convinced about tony's past. i'm sure iron man was real, honey. eat your dinner and give me the fucking costume.

[cherrykindness]

let's make babies |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: you and harry are doing a live on instagram, you've drunk a lot of wine and now the world knows that the future Mrs. Styles is ready to make babies.

warnings: mostly cute, but the title tells you what you need to know 🤪

"What is your favorite song from the Fine Line album?" Y/N read aloud, twirling in her right hand the second glass of wine of the evening, the one already halfway through. "Adore You and Watermelon Sugar, of course."

Harry giggled, rolling his eyes upon hearing his fiancée's statement.

"Y/N will always choose Adore You because it was obviously written for her." He accused. "She wouldn't give that answer under different circumstances."

The comments climbed up the screen continuously, most fans gushing about how cute Harry Styles and YN/LN could be while the other part was concerned with wringing even more information out of the slightly inebriated couple who had decided to do a surprise live one early Sunday morning.

As expected after being away for some time to begin filming Don't Worry, Darling in Southern California, Harry enjoyed a lazy weekend in the house he shared with his fiancée and her pets. The days were filled with late naps and relentless Netflix marathons, sublime and ethereal evenings, marked mostly by unexpected declarations and rounds of sex that used to last until the beams of light were shyly coming through the linen curtains. They were not a monotonous couple, so this order could easily be changed.

"Watermelon Sugar is nothing more than about my love for watermelons, don't get too creative." Harry replied to a fan while sporting a corner smile, the message standing out among the rest for its dozens of emojis and large print, questioning the singer about erotic content behind the lyrics of his latest hit. "I really don't know what you guys are talking about."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head before leaning it against her fiancé's chest, propped up on the soft white pillows that were spread practically all over the bed. The air conditioner was on at a minimal temperature and a light rain whipped on the panes of glass camouflaged by the cream-colored curtain, that being the projection of Y/N's favorite nights.

"You can tell them, I'm not shy." She joked, nudging her fiancé's waist.

"You know what it was written about and who it was written for." Harry replied, raising one of his eyebrows. "That's what matters."

It went without saying that much of Harry's newest album, as well as some of his earlier work, had been done in exclusive dedication to his future wife. Y/N had been the muse for a vast repertoire of romantic songs, and even though the singer preferred to keep the story behind his more explicit compositions a "secret", the relationship the two had shared for more than three years was already solid and known enough for the media and fans to distinguish hidden messages in small details.

"It's a song about what usually comes before the act of making babies." Y/N laughed as he pointed at the display. "Honestly, you guys are impossible."

"No, we make babies every day." Harry joked, making a funny motion with his eyebrows. "I would spend my entire career writing just about that."

"Harry!" The actress exclaimed incredulously, slapping her fiancé weakly on the chest. "Children might be watching this."

"You don't want to have babies with me?" He asked falsely offended, accepting the cup that Y/N offered him. "Because I want some babies with you."

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes as she watched the internet freak out at the dialogue that had suddenly emerged. Since the beginning of the quarantine, it was kind of inevitable that the couple of artists would not become the darlings of all social media; they were fervently active with photos, videos, and lives that depicted step by step daily life in isolation, gaining more and more followers and making the media more and more fascinated by the relationship they both shared.

The wedding was scheduled for the summer of next year and it was perhaps the most anticipated event in the tabloids. Bets about what the model of Y/N's dress would be and lists presuming who would be selected for the short list of guests stood out among countless news stories about the famous people influencing pop culture today.

The possible arrival of a Styles baby was an inevitable topic in interviews. Harry and Niall were the only members of the ex-boyband that had not become fathers yet, and because they had maintained a solid relationship and were seen as one of the most enviable couples during the last four years, Y/N and Harry had gotten used to all this openly asked questions. They didn't mind, they even had fun with the montages and all the anxiety that dominated the whole internet, often mentioning the fandoms' efforts to represent them as such "cool" parents in perfectly edited pictures.

"No, guys, I'm not pregnant." Y/N amusingly clarified the doubt of dozens of new comments. "Please don't believe so many controversial news stories that appear out there. I was on twitter last week and saw several people theorizing about a possible pregnancy, most of the arguments based on a website that used photos from the set of How to Get Away with Murder in the season where I was actually playing a pregnant woman as Laurel." She laughed. "It's so funny! I know you guys love to guess these things, but we won't hide something so special when it actually happen, I promise."

"Especially because Y/N can hide absolutely nothing from anyone." Harry accused, leaving his drink on the corner table before settling into a comfortable position for the two of them. "Anyone who's a Marvel fan knows that. That's one of her most characteristic quirks."

"They gave me a fake script for the last two movies." Y/N agreed, shaking his head. "For me and Tom."

"We agreed to keep the engagement a secret for a while. The plan was to travel to Holmes Chapel to break the news to my family in person, but guess who got a call at ten o'clock at night from an angry Anne because she learned of her son's engagement from an interview Y/N gave the next day?"

Y/N gave a guilty smile, winking gracefully at the camera. "It was all James' fault! I'm sure he already suspected something, those questions were very suspicious."

"Of course the questions were suspicious, babe. You literally said you had a secret that involved both of us but that you couldn't tell because it was important that our families knew first."

"I thought he would think about a pregnancy or something!" The actress defended herself, feeling very convincing in her intonation bordering on obviousness. "That's a mania I can't get rid of, it's in my genes."

"Did you all hear that? Further proof that you guys don't have to worry about guessing when Y/N's pregnancy will be, I'm sure our baby will make sure to tell you everything while still in the womb, mom's genes will make sure of that."

"You are so funny, Harry Styles." Y/N sarcastically stated, holding back a giggle as countless messages with laughing emojis were frantically up. "Yeah, I know I talk a lot and all, but you have annoying quirks too."

It was obvious that live would be news the next day. Although they were completely open about matters concerning their relationship, nothing seemed better than receiving so much exclusive information from a Harry and S/N drunk on expensive wine.

"You wake up in a bad mood and you're dangerously sexy, that should be illegal."

Harry laughed, holding his fiancée's waist a little tighter as he felt her tumble a little further to the side, getting closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Y/N was dangerously weak for drinks, and the singer knew that the actress' body was already near its limit.

"You're the only sexy person here, love." He declared with a corner smile, evidently finding the whole situation funny. "Do you want to go to sleep now?"

"No." Y/N shook her head. "Can we watch some movie? Can we watch Sweet Home?"

"Of course, love." He murmured, giving the woman a quick kiss on the forehead.

Even though Harry knew that his fiancée was unlikely to make it past the five-minute mark of the episode, he made sure to restart the korean series at exactly the scene where she had stopped, the first chapter still halfway through after Y/N realized that it would be impossible to watch such a macabre work without a drop of alcohol in her blood.

She had been so excited by the taste of Argentinian wine and the idea of updating her fans after a few weeks away, that she had forgotten the main purpose of the live. Harry and Y/N had been apart for a few days due to the new movie the Brit was shooting in North America, all happening in an unrestrictedly careful manner due to the restrictions caused by the pandemic.

He was slowly migrating towards acting and the future Mrs. Styles couldn't be prouder. Y/N had felt on cloud nine when Harry had given her the news of his upcoming job, but her only pronouncement on the subject had been a succinct post on instagram. Just a photo of the couple on a trip to Germany with a simple heart emoji didn't seem enough for the actress' exhibitionist soul, and coming to that conclusion was the main reason she decided to invite him, already relatively changed, for a live appearance. Y/N wanted to go on and on about how much she loved that man and work on that whole honeyed speech that would bring her (once again) the title of "cutest bride of all time," but of course Harry had to come home from his trip with his favorite red wine and poison her with those sweet caresses that took her out of orbit, turning the degree of alcohol content into the least of her problems.

"You're going to kiss Florence." Y/N exclaimed suddenly, as if only now realizing that her fiancé would share the screen with Florence Pugh, one of her closest friends in that industry. "Kiss on the mouth."

The MacBook was still open and hundreds of new comments were going up every second, but Harry didn't bother one bit to warn her about the possibility of her becoming a meme the next day. He was having too much fun with the situation to worry.

"Are you jealous?"

"Yes." She stated with a pout. "I am jealous, I just don't know if I'm more jealous of her or of you."

"But you kiss me every day, babe." Harry laughed. "And you've been kissing other people's men for almost ten years." He joked.

"But I only think about you, I already told you that."

Harry shook his head negatively at the camera, knowing he was sharing with the fans the funniest side of his fiancée.

"I know that, honey." He assured, lightly stroking the actress' back. "I think we'd better turn off the TV and go to sleep now, I'm sure you'll have a terrible headache tomorrow."

The brit planned to bid his audience goodbye and put an end to that recording, but Y/N was drunk and her sense of right and wrong had already gone to space. Harry should have been quicker, however, because his fiancée's speech would be cause for new tags and the only subject for the interviewers for at least the next few months.

"I don't want to sleep, how about we make babies?"

That's what Watermelon Sugar was all about, after all.

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress (pt.IV)

Mmm. Blood for blood god, yes?

Warnings: mentions of abuse, poison, death, swearing

   The palace was a bit busier after the evening you announced your new employment. After the servants herd there would be a trip, they were mostly preparing for Techno’s, and Phil’s leave. Two days weren't much to you, but to Techno and Phil? They were busy days. Techno ended up stealing Phil from your side during those days, so instead you spent your time with Wilbur. 

   Wilbur was a brilliant child. For being twelve he already had a large understanding of how their kingdom worked. Not only that, but when questioned he could also tell you about other countries and nations. He didn't play up his intelligent, but he also didn't dismiss what he knew.

   Tomorrow was the day that Techno, Phil and you had planned to leave on. Phil did walk you to breakfast that morning, but Techno and Phil didn't waist time eating. They mostly hurried through, leaving little room for conversation, then left to Techno’s study. Leaving you and Wil alone for the day again. You didn't mind that though, yesterday you spent your time lingering over his shoulder well he did his studies. The studies, though sounding boring at first were actually pretty interesting. You had a education, however, the one you received was very basic. You were taught to read, write, and even shown basic math, but beyond that you weren't pressured to learn more. No one in your village was. This wasn't because your village viewed education less to survival. But mostly because your village was tiny, there were no great scholars. Most children were taught by there parents, like you, your mother taught you everything. Where Wilbur, at twelve was learning about different potion ingredients and there properties. You at the same age had just finished basic fractions. But that was ok, education wasn't something to compare, everyone learns differently and at different speeds.

   Well you maneuvered around the casual tables, bookshelves and sofas, he responded. “Oh! well, you see, Phil wants all of his kids to be respectful, especially to women” you nodded, ’most parents prefer that.’ you mused to yourself. The two of you walked through the library to a room in the back. This is where Wil did his studies. It was just a private room, mostly made so no one could disturb the individual reading inside. “Our mother, she was really kind- you would have liked her- and her most defiantly would have liked you” He was just loosely rambling off, but it was adorable, he had a bright smile. Well you listened, something told you, not many people sat and talked with him. “When Phil met our mother he always told us of how poor her home life was, she wasn't treated very nicely, you see.” Wil took the door to the study and opened it for you two. Both of you moseying inside, side by side. When you two found the sofa you sat down easy, mostly having to readjust after. Unlike you Wil half threw himself onto it with a little squeak of the cushion. “When Dad found out mother was carrying me, he quickly took her away from her home. Anytime he mentioned her parents you could have sworn he wanted to kill them. Dadza doesn't get mad, but when he does... it’s not exactly pleasant.” Wil had swallowed a bit thickly at that last comment. Letting it linger in the air.

   You walked with Wil towards the Library, the hall’s were a tad chillier due to the fact the sun wasn't out today. In its place was just grey clouds, offering more snow to the already maxed out ice cube you stood on. When you took the handle to open the door for Wil, he took it from your hand quickly. After grabbing it, he stumbled into profusely apologizing for his spur of the moment behavior.

“So sorry (y/n), it’s just, if Dadza caught me slacking on my manners... He wouldn't be too pleased.” You tilted your head slightly as he opened the door fully. Exposing the Ancient Book lined walls. The stale smell of paper, parchment, and the occasional ink hit you. The library was rather large, but then again, most things within this palace tended to be. The library did have a warmth to it, and a welcoming feeling. The type where if your not careful, you could get lost inside for hours at a time. In the corner rested a larger than normal fireplace, The attached Chimney ran to the celling, lined With thick Rocks and stones. The crackling and popping of the wood burning within was a very comforting white noise.

   “this might seem off, but, what manners?” they way you said it may have sounded wrong, but you meant it in the best way you could. Or more the less for him to expand on the manners he was talking about.

   “I'm not sure if I can ask, but, Techno looks older than you, did... He live with your mother when she was with her parents?” Wil shifted to face you a bit more. Putting his heel up on his knee. well he rested his elbow on the arm of the couch, he moved his head to rest in his hand. 

    “No, Techno was adopted. When dad was in the Nether he raided a lost fortress. from what he explained, there was just a toddler roaming around.” Your heart clenched slightly, you couldn't imagine leaving a toddler alone, none the less in a place like the nether. you have never been there, but the stories you’ve herd were enough to tell you the danger. “Since he’s a hybrid of a Piglin Brute and human, none of the other Piglins would touch him. So Dadza did, as Dadza does. he took him home.”

   You thought back on this a moment. Techno had a godlike amount of strength, not to mention how tall he was. Of course he was a Hybrid. You felt a bit stupid now for not picking it up. “Just, don't tell Techno I told you, he doesn't like his name being discussed behind his back” You nodded. Wilbur’s face grew into a smile. “This can be our secret” you nodded and smiled back.

   “our secret” The more you talked to Wil, you discovered he was a lot like Philza. The two had the most contagious smile you’d ever seen. The only difference you assumed was he had his mother's features. Phil had bright keen blue eyes, well Wilbur had deep beautiful brown eyes. Another difference was there facial structure. You two were quiet a moment before you spoke up. You had been curious of where their mother was, there were paintings of her. But she was no where around. The way Wil talked about her made you assume she had passed. “what happened to your mother?”

   Wilbur’s eyes saddened briefly before he- what you assumed- forced himself to contain. “Oh, well... Phil and Mom had a dinner one night with some other world leaders.” he paused a bit rubbing his neck. “It was supposed to be peaceful. but someone from the German Empire didn't want us to be allies. so he poisoned our mother’s food.” He started slowing down with the story as he went on. “Like you said with your father (y/n), you were too young to understand? That's how it was for me. I was only four. I didn't understand why Techno and Dad were so angry.” he wiped his eyes as they welled up, one eye let a tear fall. “They didn't keep me in the room long. As soon as mom started choking, they started yelling. One of our allies’, his wife, had taken me out of the room before it had escalated any further.”

   Your heart fell heavy, a pit forming in your stomach. you couldn't empathize with loosing a parent. especially at such a young age like that. You could easily tell Wil wasn't over his mothers death. The way he looked at the ground with such hurt, it genuinely pained you so see the happy boy like this. You moved yourself closer to his side and hugged him tightly, showing him the reassurance he needed. You didn't respond for a little bit. letting Wil express what emotions he had possibly bottled up. After a bit when you felt him pull back, you just kept your arm around his shoulder. You weren't his family. but you hoped that for what company you offered, it made him feel at least a bit better. “I'm sorry Wilbur…” was all you could muster. The atmosphere weighed heavier now. With the sadness of pressed memories lingering, the two of you didn't talk. instead you simply sat in silence.

   “So what’s France like?” you asked curiously, taking a bite of your mashed potatoes.

   By dinner that evening Wilbur and you had already promised each other that you wouldn't speak of what happened in the studies. He didn't want Techno on his back for opening up, or that he also cried a bit. You were ok with keeping it between you two, Wilbur had confided in you something very personal, the least you could do was respect his wishes.

   Dinner had gone by smoothly, the chatter between Wilbur and you had picked up quite a lot. You could tell this made Phil happy to see the two of you getting along. Especially since you now technically live with them. When you first arrived to the palace, dinner’s were kind of awkward, since only Phil and you really talked. But now it seemed that Techno was the only one that wouldn't partake in the conversations. He would put a word or two in. But mostly dinners were spent with Wil and you talking about whatever came to mind.

   Wil was hurrying to swallow to try and respond. “Oh! you’d love it there (y/n)!” Phil slightly chuckled at Wil. “Its really scenic!” Before Wil could ramble off about France and it’s perks, Phil had chimed in.

   “It is a beautiful place, but were not going to any specific places. were only going to the countryside's. We know that much” Wil and you cocked your head’s slightly. ‘what’s out in the country side?’ You mentally questioned, but Wil instead asked it aloud.

   “Not that the countryside isn't beautiful- why not stop by the towns?” Wil questioned, his brow furrowed. waving his fork between Techno and Phil for his answer.

   “The cities don't have what I need” Techno said plainly, at that Wilbur shot back with a remark.

   “mmn, like a girlfriend?” you couldn't help but laugh at the way Techno turned to face Wilbur. Since he still eats with his mask. you could only see his lips, to which Techno made a ‘heh?’ before he compiled his answer fully.

   “Keep it up I’ll take you to France and punt you out of my plane.” Phil laughed with you on that one. Although Techno was pretty stoic and monotone, over the last couple of days lately he’s been showing more of his ‘Brotherly love’ as Phil call’s it. you had a feeling that Techno and Phil were going to miss Wilbur during there trip. or, at least you would for sure. After Wilbur laughed a bit he got serious again.

   “But really, what are you looking for. there’s not many things in the countryside besides the occasional mansion or farm. Kind of boring if you ask me” Techno hummed in response. Appearing like he was aware of what was in the country already. Since Wil couldn't work a answer out of Techno he simply dropped the subject, viewing it no longer worth the push. Instead he started back on his steak, Phil picking up the conversation.

   “Those new clothes should be in your room tonight, (y/n)” you looked up and swallowed your mouthful. nodding before you answered.

“mhn! oh! right, thank you again for them. Are you sure my old pair wouldn't cut it? I’d hate to ruin a new pair of clothes on a side trip” Phil waved his hand in response, as if waving away your worry.

   “awh, I wouldn't worry to much on it. Besides, now that you work for us, you have to be official n’ shit” He grinned at you. “Besides, your clothes were nice for your village, but France and Russia have a bit different climates.” You nodded casually. The idea of visiting new places had you a bit giddy. Yes, you missed your home, but being with the royal family so far has been utterly pleasant.

   “do you have a certain time you would like to leave?” you questioned, your eyes dancing between Techno and Phil for your answer. Techno didn't look up from his food, expecting Phil to answer for him.

   “we’ll probably just end up sending a servant to wake you up. We don't have a specific time yet, but we know it will probably be early. Mostly so we can reach land on time. Techno has the map’s ready for tomorrow with the stops marked. fuel n’ stuff will probably draw us back time wise.” Phil poked at his food well he talked, moving a bit of the food to a nice size bite. “We don't have a designated time we have to return. But we also don't want to be gone from the palace long.” you tilted your head a bit, looking to Phil.

   “why don't you want to be gone long?” You assumed it was because they liked being in the comfort of their own home, but you also had a feeling it was something beyond that. Phil’s brow had came together in a bit of... frustration? 

   “we cant be gone long because the Governor's get antsy..." this was the first time you herd Phil's voice drop. It wasn't his casual light hearted tone, instead it was replaced with a deep, meaningful, yet precise tone. He knew what he wanted to say, and he knew exactly what he had to say. "We can't take Wilbur with us since he’s too young. It's also best to have someone to look over the palace in our absence."

   You set your fork down as you finished your plate. Mimicking how techno piled his plates. "Why do they get antsy?" You couldn't help your curiosity on this matter. ‘Did the Governor's not like them gone?’

   "Because they feel Wilbur is more fit to Rule. It's utter bullshit" Phil had a lot of pressed emotion on that topic. You could tell just from how he now handled and moved his fork. Usually he had a easy grip, loose moving it about his plate. But now his knuckles were a tad white, and his grip was much more secure. "Don't mistake my words, Wilbur could rule. He'd be a bloody brilliant king too. But Techno is my oldest son. The crown falls to him. Plain and simple. But They think, that because Techno isn't my blood, that it doesn't count." His words started becoming sharper and more hateful. He dropped his fork on his plate at this point out of anger. Even Techno who never moves his head much, Or talk for that matter, had moved his head to face Phil. Techno addressed his father.

   "Dadza..." you were a bit shocked, his tone wasn't as monotone. His voice showed his concern, or maybe his understanding. Phil only looked at his plate before he looked up with a breath.

   "I cant leave Wil because they pressure him. They pressure him into the thought of marriage with his best friend, into dethroning techno, last time the fucker's brought up killin’ tech and I" Phil leaned back in his chair a bit.

   Phil sighed again. Looking up at Wilbur with kind eyes, the hate from his previous thoughts wiped free. "I hate leaving him with that much pressure. He's only twelve".

   After the dinner everyone slowly retired to their rooms. Techno had stolen Phil again for some last minute run by plans, so in his stead Wilbur walked you to your room. You both didn't Talk long however, you both were aware that you would be up early the next day. Oh yeah, you were definitely up early. The sun hadn't rose yet and you were already being shaken awake by one of the maids. Telling you that Techno and Phil were patiently waiting. you hurried to change not wanting to leave them waiting any longer. 

   When you saw them in the hall you had just thrown your cloak and cape over your shoulders. The new attire Phil had made for you was just mostly more layers. This way if you got warm you could shed a few, or vise versa when you were cold.

   “I'm so sorry I kept you waiting-” you stopped mid sentence you couldn't believe what you saw. If anyone could have seen your face, they may have assumed you had witnessed a murder for the way your jaw hung open.

   There stood Techno in front of you, Phil by his side. But that's not what had your mouth open. Techno’s mask was long discarded, and by the gods was he good looking. Maybe not in the typical sense of beauty standards, but to you he was ethereal. He had scars, yes, but that only added to him. Maybe if he didn't have the scars he would have blown the beauty standard of Handsome, but speaking for yourself you prefer him with the scars. You definitely prefer the scars. There was a small scar over his lip. Then one larger one across his brow bone that dragged down to his cheek. From how the larger one appeared, you could only assume how long it took for it to heal. His eyes were delicate, but they danced ablaze. they were brown, but almost borderline red tinted. Without his mask you could see that he had a rather soft, natural appearance. He was young, younger than you assumed. He looked only about seventeen. The way he was dressed made him look like a casual, young gentleman you would have found on the street. you almost couldn't believe he was the feared Emperor. He must have noticed your lingering eyes, because his lips moved into the ever slightest bemused smirk. When you saw his expression you couldn't help the heat that flushed your cheeks. Worst of all is you could feel your heated cheeks, and that just made you redder from embarrassment. If this was how the trip was going to start, you were in for a long bumpy ride.

   “Hello, princess” was all he said. He was purposefully poking at you now. He just learned he had a big effect on you, and oh boy was he ready to torment you with it. You could only avert your eyes, you had nothing to say against that. You didn't even know where to begin with it all. it took you a moment to process. Phil still stood beside Techno, his hand rubbed at his mouth a bit to muffle the chuckle he had.

   “w...where’s your skull?... a-aren’t you traveling with it?” oh great, yeah your voice definitely, wasn't taking your side on trying to compose yourself. Techno hummed, he was really amused now.

   “Hm? Here I thought you would have preferred this... what a shame, I even shaved.” techno ran his large but delicate hand over his jaw and neck, the rings on his fingers stuck out against his skin. Phil laughed vocally now. The little shit was enjoying this. techno adjusted his stance and crossed his arms. He just held a bemused smirk, oh you so wished nothing more than to rub it off. You didn't care if he was a royal, if you thought you could take him, you would have.

   “Ok techno, that's enough, don't want her too red now. she might try and off ya’” Oh don't worry Phil you already thought about it. “don't worry about making us wait either kiddo, we had to get a few things ready anyway” you looked up at Phil as your cheeks finally started to return to normal.

   “What were you getting?” you inquired, your brows slightly furrowed.

   “This” Techno said, offering a sheath to you. You looked up to him and back down to it. It was a sword, not the one you made, but a different one. “We cant have you defenseless on your trip with us” You hesitated. you knew this was the wrong time to admit that you didn't know how to fight with a sword. You gently took it, parting the blade from its sheath to look it over. It was well made that's for sure, basic Iron, but still strong.

   “Your Imperial Majesty...” you were thankful for the sword but, again. you didn't know how to use it. you made them, but you were never taught on how to use one. Your mother forbid it, saying that you already took a man’s trade, there was no need for you to dirty yourself further down the path. “I... I cant...” Techno’s brow lifted in question. “I... d-don't know how to use it...” You felt shame take over you. Fully prepared for them to laugh at you. Instead Phil offered you a slightly surprised look. Techno only made a ‘Heh?’.

   “You don't know how to use a sword?” you could only shake your head, looking down slowly. Phil placed his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, moving his head down so he could face you. “Hey... Hey, your ok... Tell ya’ what. Well were out on the trip, we’ll show you ok? It’s still good to carry a sword, just incase things go side-ways. But I promise we’ll make sure you don't have to use it then, ok?” you nodded slowly.

   “O-ok, I'm still sorry...” Phil only shook his head, explaining you had nothing to be sorry for. He gently took the sword from you and put it back in it’s case. He told you to lift your arm’s, so that's what you did. He easily maneuvered the belt around your waist and secured the sword your hip. Almost like he would have done to his own kids. The weight of it would have to be something to get used to, but you were thankful that they were not mad or disappointed in you.

   The three of you walked to where all the planes were kept. this is where Phil offered you a choice. “Would you like to ride with Techno or I?” Oh, so you had to pick. You gave them a brief blank look. 

   “I figured I would be riding with you, Phil” You did assume you were just going to ride with him, but you also didnt want to be with techno if he was strickly in a teasing mood. Phil only smiled and nodded. 

   “Alright’ lets get going then” was all he said. Techno walked passed you and Phil. Making his way over to his plane, there was a heavier cloak waiting on the wing. Techno’s plane was different from the other ones, not physically. His had a crown on the side along with the signa, probably to shownit was the Rulers. He effortlessly threw the heavy cloak over his shoulder and stepped up on the wing. His arm reaching out to pull himself up. jumping into the cockpit easily.

   Phil handed you a similar cloak. “it’s colder right now due to the sun being down. you will definitely want this.” you nodded and took it with a ‘thank you’. well you put it on Phil had stepped up onto the wing. pulling his cloak on. He offered his hand down again like he did the last time you flew. His wings were spread out behind him, enjoying the freedom they had before they would be confined. when you took his hand he pulled you up effortlessly. letting you steady yourself before he lifted you up to the cockpit, assisting you in. when you were all situated the planes roared to life. Techno faced Phil and sent a nod. A wordless que. Phil sent a nod back before they both started moving together. Soon before you knew it, you were back in the air heading home.

@goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro @jackalopedoodles @angelic-scent @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @artsimatsu @justabalroginthenet @seme1e @fangirl570 @sweeetteaa @awlawdtheycoming @idkwhatusernametohave

[deltas-writing-corner]

Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

[calamxty-a]

>_>

<_<

Nah (ﾉ≧∇≦)ﾉ ﾐ ✨ throw the sparkle (ヘ･_･)ヘ💕 get the heart and it's loving Anu hours

First of all; you!

You're so nice. Just—that's the first thing okay? You're just so likeable and easy to talk to. I can just come to you on something and we just start bouncing things off of each other! I can send you something as long as I feel like you'd enjoy it. (Though I hope you tell me of you don't!!)

Be it angst, fluff or anything else! You're just so fun to talk to! Let's just shyly put our simping on display cause I gotta say, you is some beeg brain 👏

Second of all; your writing in general!

🤤🤤🤤🤤

I simp over it!!! It's just so nice. You use such simple words and they grasp on the emotion you want and portrays it. It's just so amazing how you string words together. If that full stop is ending, let's say, an anger controlled sentence it's so powerful. I can envision it. The way the full stop is just slapped there as a temporary way to stop the anger

Be it sad? I can see the leaky ink from the words. Just messing up the paper that's being worked on. That's how strongly you convey your emotions and I love it!

Third of all; muses

You have four muses that I know of on here! Each distinctly different from the other. They have their own problems and the have their moments too.

Some ignore their issues and slap god like ego on it.

One see the issues and try to fix them but in turn at the expense of themselves.

One knows nothing but to be behind a wall of it means they're nowhere near the pain.

One knows of it's problems and tries to fix them any chance they arise.

Just please let me kiss your brain? Just just let me please Anu? 🙏

『 ┍━━━━━»•» @sovereignxfae // send ✨for some positivity  «•«━━━━━┑ 』

GDI Kyu, I'm gonna cry over this. This was supposed to be about me being positive for you, you gremlin-- (jokingly)

But first off, you are lit. one of my best friends online. i message you whenever and however and i check on you very often. but--god. you're so easy to talk to. you're kind and always willing to help and be compassionate and understanding. you, as a person, are one of my favorites. I love everything you send me and i---god. it makes me feel so happy to know that you randomly think of me like that and makes me feel more welcome about approaching you--

and your writing. all your muses are so different and i adore how good you are at painting differently with each of them. you're very, very talented at meshing their stories together but giving them all their little quirks and keeping their personalities separate. it's hard to do. and you do it phenomenally. i read your writing and can immediately tell who wrote it and the sheer emotion that you're going for--i love the way you use commas. just :chefs kiss: good comma usage makes me go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

and all your muses--sage, quinn, itani, k'in, kio and onyx. all of them are so wonderful. in particular i love how k'in is so adorable and how attached they are to muzan and how they are literally his child. they've wormed their way into his very cold, broken heart and are there to stay forever. they've earned the loyalty of a man who only thinks of himself and that says a lot about how our interactions go-- and jumping off that, k'in is my bb. i love them so much--and i love how much you've fleshed them out and expanded on their personality since you started writing them

and onyx. he adores her, even if he doesn't say it aloud. sometimes it's good for him to be chewed out and put in his place even if it infuriates him and makes him want to pull his own hair out by the roots. (narcissist pretty man hates having his flaws pointed out). but-- he still cares for her, even if overall he's a toxic being. which is hard for him.

we haven't written with kio a lot yet but i can't wait to see that (and it's mostly my fault orz)

KYU KYU

I love you friend!!! (platonically)

hav a cute penguin gif

accept my internet lov (half-threateningly)

[averysexyleon]

Karl x Ada opener

Authors note: This is an intro to a two person roleplay between Ada Wong and Karl Heisenberg. You didn't know you needed it, but baby you did.

Strauss, or maybe the static between the notes, was starting to sound more like the grinder Karl was using. The engineer sneered to himself and dropped the tool to pound his gloved fist on the radio, which sat on the same pile of metal as his current Soldat installation.

The banging didn't help, and Karl frowned over at the cord. The ELF installation should have cleaned up the clarity of the radio. Maybe it had a blown speaker. He picked up the grinder and with a glance at the radio, it turned off. Now Wiener Blut's oddly lighthearted echoes left the subterranean chamber and Karl was left with his thoughts.

This probably wasn't the best way to work. The headgear he was cutting was for the corpse on the next table over; the cadaver was setting out to thaw. Implantation was never successful on a meat popsicle. It would be hours before this neural visor was done, so it was a rewarming race--Karl hated when the corpses began to decompose, when the too-familiar scent of rot overtook the rooms.

Now he'd done it; he glanced over at the corpse and then found himself lost again, not thinking, just staring emptily at the cadaver. What time was it? It had to be four in the morning. He removed a glove and his glasses, rubbing his eyes mostly as an excuse to not look at the grey carcass. He needed a break. Maybe Strauss had been trying to warn him.

He spun on his stool away from the intricate wiring and stacks of metal, to another workstation. He removed his other glove and now, without his dark glasses dimming the view, he reached for the wooden music box. It was comically out of place in his dreary workroom, painted a powder blue color and embellished with beautiful wood carvings and gold leaf.

DONNA was emboldened on the top, glittering in the reddish-orange light Karl insisted on working under.

She'd had another fit, some kind of depression or psychosis, and had broken it. Again. It had been a gift from her father, one of the best wood carvers in Europe, and thanks to Donna's own skilled hand it retained most of its splendor. But it also took a lot of beatings when she was, as Miranda said, "having an episode." An episode of missing her parents, Karl mused, turning the top over to look at the brass plating of the musical part. Imagine, being taken from your home and experimented on causing mental damage. Who would have thought.

It was, of course, that decrepit and obnoxious doll she'd spoken to Karl through, asking in syrupy tones to pretty please fix it. For decades now, Karl insisted that Donna use her own voice when asking a favor from him, which caused her excess stress...this time, he just didn't argue. It wasn't a big deal. He was angry at Miranda for discarding her "special daughter" and one of the "Lords"--what a fucking joke--instead of Donna, who he usually couldn't blame for having loose screws.

It was supposed to play "Für Elise." He inspected it, turning the box carefully while willing the parts to move. First it wound, and he heard the correct pauses between each click of thread. The winder wasn't broken. Now it released. Karl listened to the clunks that resonated from the little plates, a sad mimicry of Beethoven. A hammer or two was broken, it seemed, and one coil was off-center.

He wondered if using his hands was necessary, but then noticed a broken hinge on the lid. Might as well open it up, that would need a new metal lip. This was even more comical; a spring-loaded ballerina was poised to spin when he opened the lid. She popped up, waiting on the music box to send her into a pirouette. The little dancer looked sappily up at him as if challenging him to stare back.

He moved the ballerina close to his faintly luminescent yellow irises. One of her legs was cracked, her skirt askew from the throw that broke the music box.

"Donna, you really have lost your fucking mind if you think I'm gluing that." Donna of course would never--her craft supplies could work far more wonders for a ballerina fracture and wardrobe malfunction than anything Karl had in his entire factory. Just as he leaned forward, happy to repair the music box mechanism, a strangely modern sound blipped from the hall speaker.

"Son of a bitch," he said aloud, and dropped the music box. Karl swiftly, almost troubledly, exited the room and strode down the dark hallway.

Karl was always hesitant to introduce any "modern" tech into the factory, but as time went on it became evil necessity. Still, his paranoia was so excessive that he wired security systems to all devices: a speaker gave a tone any time an email made its way to his closed network. He rarely got any form of communication and liked it that way.

However, he'd had a thorn in his side ...awhile now. She called herself a few things, but he knew the truth. She was a goddamn spy. Karl listened to Miranda's sparse bits of information about contact with Albert Wesker, and organizations to help with her "science" projects long enough to pick up the name.

Ada Wong. Dangerous, calculating, murderous, mysterious, and not to be trusted with any level of seriousness. Blah blah blah. It wasn't as though Miranda thought any spy could be a personal threat. Oh no, that would mean Miranda didn't see herself as an infallible god. That would mean admitting there was a possibility where she didn't continue to get everything she wanted.

Let the bitch think so. But Karl had plenty of reason to want his motives and information kept away from a spy.

She found him, or he found her, when he was digging for information on the "Connections" group that Miranda kept flying to the US to meet with the past few months. Whatever she had planned with that group, it was big. No calculations required for Karl to feel an uneasy pit in his stomach. It was a big deal, and not in a good way.

Ada seemed to have information about it, but was pressing HIM to exchange what he had and knew. He had no intention of giving anyone anything, actually. And the longer the pair surreptitiously exchanged cryptic little notes with no discernable meaning, the angrier he got. And the more paranoid.

Now here she was, bothering him again.

He entered the pitch black room with no trouble at all, and nearly slapped the button that woke the screen. His eyes danced over her typed note, and Karl finally snapped. He knew he would never find safety in shadows, and interrupting his work was getting fucking old. Didn't she have any manners? And wasn't he a LORD???

As it usually did, genius struck him as his anger manifested.

He fumbled with the audio recording option, finally found it. Leaning over the monitor Karl spoke, for the first time, directly to the faceless, personless woman. His voice was recorded, little wave forms dancing across the screen.

"I'm done with the chess, Ada." His accent stressed the first A, as though he were mocking her name itself.

"I've got too much shit to do to be pen pals. You wanna talk shop, you meet me in the stronghold past the Forbidden Woods. I'll give you a week. Sunset."

It was perfect, he decided as he sent the clip. If this was a plant by Miranda to test his loyalty, the excuse of the Stronghold would be literal execution for any typical traveler. That's how he dealt with spies. Problem solved.

If that wasn't the case, and if Ada was as skilled as that Wesker had made it seem, then she might just live and he would deal with her then. If she wasn't a plant, and wasn't skilled, well. The Lycans would deal with that too.

He wondered as he left the room, telepathically turning the radio on again and hearing the magnificent tones of Kommt, ihr Töchter filter into the hallway, what day it was. Would he even remember when a week had passed?

Karl withdrew a cigar from his inner pocket. "You're gonna have to wait a little longer for a heartbeat, you poor bastard," he mused to the corpse, fishing for his lighter. "Gotta fix a fuckin' ballerina."

The choir, still scratchy, swelled from the radio speakers.

Seht! Wohin? Auf unsre Schuld!

Sehet ihn aus Lieb und Huld!

"Can't ask for better hold music."

[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part XIX)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI

((Author’s Note: I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG!! I hope the chapter makes up for the fact that it took such a long time to write/post it! I hope you guys like it!!))

Remus walked into Black and White carrying two coffee cups from work, his knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip. He was terrified, to say the least. This would be his first time seeing Sirius since their evening at the cafe, and Remus wasn't entirely sure if his presence was desired.

"Uh… Sirius? M— Mr. Black? Are… are you here?"

Of course he was there. Sirius ran the gallery himself. If he wasn't there, the door wouldn't be unlocked. Remus felt stupid asking his question aloud, but the response he got put him at ease.

"Yeah, I'm here, Remus. I'll be right out."

Remus.

So they were still on a first name basis. That was a good sign. 

It took a moment, but Sirius eventually emerged from his back office, looking rather worse for wear. His hair was left loose around his shoulders, dark inky tresses spilling over his unbuttoned collar. He looked tired; more tired than Remus felt. More tired than he had ever looked before.

"I… uh… I brought coffee…"

"What are you doing here, Remus?"

The tone of Sirius' voice didn't sound harsh or accusatory; it was filled with exhaustion and melancholy, but it wasn't rude, which was a surprise.

"Oh…" Remus glanced down at the paper cups in his hands, as if his reason for being at the gallery was obvious. "I… brought coffee," he repeated. "Cappuccino, skim milk, sprinkle of cinnamon?"

Remus watched as a slow smile bloomed across Sirius' face, lighting him up, finally revealing a hint of the gallery owner that Remus had come to know the past few weeks. Sirius walked towards Remus, straightening his posture and brushing hair out of his eyes.

"How'd you know?"

Remus shrugged, offering Sirius a friendly grin.

"A little birdy told me."

Sirius rolled his eyes and graciously accepted Remus' peace offering. The artist watched as Sirius' shoulders visibly relaxed with the first sip of coffee, a hint of colour returning to his sallow cheeks. Sirius turned his gaze towards a painting on the wall, both hands grasping the cup, as if to absorb its warmth and energy. 

"Well… remind me to thank her later."

"I'm fairly certain I brought the coffee here," Remus said, mostly joking. He took a sip from his own cup of tea, letting the spicy warmth from the chai trickle down and heat him up from the inside.

Sirius remained focused on the painting before him.

"Thank you, Remus. Not… not just for the coffee… but for coming. Here. I… appreciate it."

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Sirius Black?" Remus teased, attempting to lighten the sudden weight of the situation, trying to deter the looming darkness that threatened its way into their thoughts. 

Sirius didn't answer for a moment. He stood and stared at the painting, one of Lily's pieces by the looks of it, before finally giving Remus a response.

"This… this is the real Sirius Black."

Remus tore his eyes away from mercurial pools of despair, so deep and turbulent, the artist could drown in them if he wasn't careful. He directed his attention to the same painting, the same blues and greys of Sirius' eyes popping out from the canvas. 

"Well…" Remus muttered to the painting, twisting his cup around between his fingers. "Hello Sirius Black. I'm— I'm Remus Lupin."

Remus heard a sharp exhale of breath beside him— almost a laugh, but not quite. At least he could help bring some levity into their conversation.

"So…" Sirius began, before taking another sip of coffee. "How much did she tell you?"

Remus pondered the question, trying to find an appropriate way of answering it.

"She… uh… mentioned your brother. And… and you and James. She explained why you left the cafe the other day, why you seemed so upset…"

Sirius closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. When he opened them, there was a hint of pain still etched into his features. 

"And where does that leave us?"

Remus turned to look at Sirius, unsure what exactly the man was asking him.

"Wh— what do you mean?"

"Are you… still interested in showing here? Did you still want to… to work with me?"

"Of course." Remus' response was immediate. There was no question in his mind: Black and White was the gallery that Remus wanted his first show to be in. He wanted Sirius to run it, curate it, put the event together. He wanted Lily and James to be there. This was the gallery for him. "Why wouldn't I?"

Sirius' eyes drifted down to his coffee cup, his shoulders folding in on themselves ever so slightly. 

"You're not worried that the erratic drunk is going to ruin things for you? Cause you too much trouble?"

"I— what?" Remus took a step towards Sirius; he considered reaching out, taking hold of the man, showing a sign of affection, but he thought better of it. Instead, he simply looked at Sirius, his voice measured, his posture firm. "None of those thoughts ever crossed my mind. I— I want to show here because you're passionate. You have drive. You're confident… you're— you're a good gallerist."

You're annoying as all hell, but you know what you want from life and you aren't afraid to go for it. Someone like me could learn a lot from someone like you. You're fascinating. An enigma. And I need to figure you out…

"And you push me to do better. I'm producing better art now than I ever have before. You have a keen eye and you give good direction."

Remus waited for Sirius to respond, but the man simply stared ahead at the painting before him. The silence loomed over them as Remus watched the ghost of the man he thought he knew slowly fading into nothingness. 

It was a few minutes before Sirius eventually spoke, his voice echoing eerily across the empty gallery.

"You don't have to lie to me to make me feel better."

His words were soaked in bitterness, his expression crestfallen. He never once tore his gaze away from the painting.

Remus took a gulp of tea, weighing his next words very carefully.

"I don't lie." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "You don't know me very well yet, but that's something you should remember for the future. I don't lie." Another pause, another sip of tea. "I had enough of that growing up, I don't need it in my life."

The slightest hint of a smile passed over Sirius' face.

"You also had a shitty family?

"I'm an artist," Remus mused with a dark chuckle, "Do you know any that don't?"

Sirius' smile grew as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, one or two. But you make a valid point."

Remus brought his cup to his lips and tilted it back, draining the remaining contents and deliberating his words. 

"So…" he began after a moment. "Where do we go from here?"

For the first time since the conversation started, Sirius shifted his focus, his eyes settling on Remus' frame silhouetted in the fading evening light. 

"Where do you want it to go?"

Remus closed his eyes and pretended to take a sip from his drink, despite the fact that it was now empty. He needed time to think. Was Sirius talking about the gallery? Was Sirius asking about Remus' desire to show his art and work together in a professional setting? Or did the question go deeper than that?

Where did Remus want things to go?

"I…" Remus opened his eyes. He stared at Lily's painting, pretending not to see the way Sirius' gaze bore into him, pretending not to think about the swirling blues and greys, the perfection of colour, they way they shifted with each emotion. "I want to make sure that our show next month is your best one yet."

"Well then…" Sirius said softly, his voice relaxing, his tone sounding more and more familiar to Remus. "We'd better get to work. There's only a few weeks left…"

Remus turned to look at Sirius and felt his cheeks flush at the smile playing on the gallery owner's lips. The artist quickly looked down at the paper cup twisting between his fingers, trying not to read into the situation any more than necessary. 

"I'd better get home then…" Remus told his cup, trying to keep his voice steady and desperately willing his cheeks to stop feeling so warm. "I still have two more pieces to paint…"

"Yes, well…" Sirius muttered. From the corner of his eye, Remus could see the gallery owner shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I'll be in touch. I'd love to see your progress if— if that's okay…?"

Since when did Sirius ask for things instead of demanding them?

"Sure, yeah… that sounds… good. I'll… see you around, Sirius."

Remus glanced up and smiled, immediately regretting his decision. The look on Sirius' face was tender, affectionate. Somehow, he looked even more handsome like this. Remus hated it. 

The artist shoved his hand forward, offering it for a shake. Sirius hesitated before reaching out and grasping Remus' hand firmly. The two men had shaken hands a dozen times at this point; there was something frustratingly different about this one, and it lingered a beat too long.

Remus pulled his hand away and spun on his heels before Sirius could stop him. 

"I'll see you around, Sirius!" He called over his shoulder before making a beeline to the door. 

"Oh… okay… T— Thank you, Remus. For… for everything!"

Before he knew what was happening, Remus was outside in the crisp autumn air, trying not to think about the way Sirius' perfect lips wrapped so delicately around his name or how badly Remus wanted to find out what those lips tasted like. 

What was wrong with him?

((Bonus: Here’s a sketch that I did in a limited palette of this scene. Yes, I know there are inaccuracies, it was a quick sketch and I didn’t read the chapter before drawing it. Oops! Anyway, here it is!))

**THIS DRAWING IS NOT CANON! IT IS DONE BY MARAUDERERASMUT, NOT REMUS!**

[gayregis]

I love the fact that fave Joey's story is "A little sacrafice" bc there is that one particular Gerlion scene... (I'm not saying that there weren't ay other Gerlion scenes but, you konw)

lol it is interesting... because dandelion finally acts on behalf of what all the readers were thinking and tells geralt that he’s being a whiny self-victimizing bastard. i like how joey said that though b/c a little sacrifice actually does show a lot of depth for dandelion (although it’s mostly achieved through his relationship with essi, so... female character gets used for male character development is kinda cringe bro) but it’s one of the stories in which dandelion really isn’t comic relief . there’s like one funny slapstick moment he has ... in the rest of it he’s really acting like the true advisory voice of a friend and a kind and warm brother/mentor to essi. 

dandelion moments in a little sacrifice summed up:

when he’s worried that geralt is mad at him (even though geralt isn’t) and is uncommonly quiet because he feels guilty

when he puts on airs and starts citing his professional code to drouhard (and is quite furious at the idea of being a second singer until he learns of the conditions)

dandelion and essi bantering in the beginning and geralt not understanding a word of it and thinking they’re arguing for real... this reminds me of how my friends who do drag just throw a bunch of shade to one another as affection and i understand very little

dandelion being protective of essi and calling her “poppet”

he avoids the matrons of the women with a “deft flanking manuver” ... and his other his tactics to flirting and love that make it seem more like a war of conquest than a matter of the heart

“nocturnal talkativeness” and geralt notes that he is like this often... he just starts musing poetic thoughts in bed aloud

the contrast between geralt and dandelion in how they love... and the demonstration that dandelion is in his element when it comes to emotions but geralt can’t stand it

this is one of the times that he does actually tag along with geralt where he lists “i want to write a nice ballad about this” as one of his reasons

“dandelion! careful of the depths! you’ll slip!”“no i won’t! ah, what’s this-- oh, bLoOdY HeLL--”[geralt catches dandelion by the collar of his jacket]“i slipped on this...”

when dandelion, essi, and geralt are all drinking and joking together and dandelion and essi spar in song/duet for a while and geralt is just like :) i love this

the ending....................

[storydays]

"Gods have mercy!" Scholar Vash cried. "Angus...Grenn..." Ezra placed his head in his hand. "Oh no.." Nia covered her mouth with her hands, before kneeling down next to Agnus' body, brown eyes glistening with tears. Her lips moved in a silent prayer. A faint golden glow surrounds her, and a warm breeze rustles the overgrown grass..but then faded away. 

"I can't help them, they're gone. Beyond the Light's reach." she said sadly. "I can't believe this. We saw them alive just last night." Ezra muttered. "With the adventurer, Mal! Y-You don't think..." Kade looked at his brother nervously. "Mal didn't do this. I can't know for certain but..I don't think this was his doing. There's nothing in it for him; neither Angus nor Grenn had anything worth stealing." Ezra said, firmly. 

"Yeah, I agree. I don't think this was him." agreed the younger. "But then...where is he? And who did this?" looking around as if the brunette was hanging around. Scholar Vash paced around, shaking his head.  "This is an affront to the Light! A blasphemy! Whoever is responsible has desecrated a place of worship. A holy place!" He ranted. 

"Ezra, what should we do?" asked Kade, looking at his brother hopefully. "I'm going to examine the area. There are bound to be clues around here." The thick, unkempt grass is difficult to see through, but after a moment, Ezra's sharp eyes could see a pattern emerging. His hand hovered over the faint trail of trampled grass, until he saw multiple pairs of footprints. 

"Looks like the victims were ambushed here. Probably by a group lurking behind this column, there's at least six sets of  ambushers' footprints. " He mumbled out loud, forgetting about his audience. "Six?" Nia squeaked. "And one of them is massive." The elf concluded. 

"Six enemies, one of them massive...not a fan of those odds. Do you think this has something to do with the relic?" Kade asked, running a hand through his hair. "Speak clearly now, boy. What relic?" Vash turned towards the teen, who shrugged. "I don't know! It's just something Mal said back in town! That he had a tip there was a powerful relic, and he was going to find it."

"Then it's true; I had to hope it was a myth, but by the Gods above and below, it must be true. I believe there is an ancient artifact hidden deep within this temple. Forgotten to time, relegated to legend. An Onyx Shard." The old man said mysteriously. "Seriously? The Onyx Shards are real?" Kade gaped. "You've heard of them? Kade, what's he talking about?" 

"They're the last relics that the Shadow Court left behind after the Great War. Cursed artifacts of terrible power. Very very very bad stuff." Kade explained. "I came upon the locations of the Shards in an ancient text last year. Seeing these bodies here, I may not be the only one who knows their location. Please! If whoever did this is after the Shard, we need to protect it. We can't let it fall into the wrong hands!" 

Ezra shared a look with Kade, noting his reluctance before clapping his brother's shoulder, then looking at Vash. "We'll accompany you inside to get this Shard. But if we bump into whoever did this, we're all running like hell. Understood?" "Let's just hope we find it before they do."Vash said gravely. Ezra drew his sword, and led the way to the main archway into the temple grounds. 

"This place isn't the best shape, is it?" Kade coughed. "Once it was majestic, regal. Packed day and night. Have we truly fallen so far from the Light?" Vash lectured. Ezra sighed at the sad vines; seeing nature so sad hurt his heart. The group stopped in front of the tunnels, one going left and one going right. "Stop...something feels off. Be careful where you step." Ezra warned. "Ezra? What should we do now?" Nia asked. 

"We should look for traps." He crouched to examine the floor tiles on the left side, noting one was raised an inch above the others and gave in slightly when he touched it. "That's a pressure plate if I ever saw one. I think this way's booby trapped." He glanced to the right looking at groove in the floor tile like centuries of feet have worn out the stone. 

"The right path looks well-traveled. Let's see where it leads." He decided. The group followed the path which began to slope down, spiraling in on itself. "Gods, how deep does this thing go?" Kade asked aloud. "Only the top level of the temple was open to the public. The lower levels, the catacombs, were for the priests and priestess." Vash explained. "To study and pray?" Nia wondered. "And to hide away from the dark." said the old scholar. 

Finally they reached the path deep below the complex. A stone door stands before them, but it was clearly forced open.  Ezra held the door open and gaped at the treasure piled up in the grand chamber. "I can't believe this has been here all along! If we explored this place ourselves, we could've become ri--" Kade cleared his throat, catching Scholar Vash glaring at him. "Ri....diculously pious adherents of the Light." Ezra snickered at his brother's misfortune. 

Vash approached a pedestal with scattered with golden chains and goblets. He gently picked up a large green crystal the size of a watermelon from the pile. "That is definitely not onyx." whistled Ezra. "No, it's not the Shard," chuckled Vash, "but it's still quite fascinating. I must bring it back to Whitetower with me for further study." Everyone was distracted looking at the treasure. Even Nia was admiring  a jewel encrusted old tome. 

"I can't believe it...how was here, all this time? And no one ever robbed it?" Kade furrowed his brow. "Maybe, no one knew it was here. Kade, we live a day away and we  had no idea." Ezra mumbled. "Yeah, well, it's pretty, but I don't like it one bit. If the people who murdered Angus and Grenn weren't after this treasure...Then what are they after?" "The Onyx Shard." Nia said solomonly. 

"We'd better keep moving." Ezra said, standing up. At the end of the room sits a heavy wooden fortified by twisting metal runes. Scholar Vash examines it closely before brightening. "Ah, yes! The ancient elves often used elaborate mechanisms to lock their secrets away. I've always wanted to solve one. They test your deep knowledge of elven linguistics!" He continued on to himself. 

Ezra rolled his eyes, Nia and Kade giggling at his dry remark. "That sounds....delightful." Scholar Vash ignored him and focused on the puzzle in front of him. "Seems quite simple...If I just press this...and turn this." 

Nothing happened. 

"Ah, well. I may need a moment." He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Kade cleared his throat quietly. "Psst, Ezra. While he's busy with that, what do you say we keep scoping out  this treasure room? I think there's some hidden rooms down the back! We could go check them out...see what else this place has to offer." "Oooh! I would be interested in that! I recall seeing some fascinating statues.." Nia and Kade looked at Ezra expectantly. 

"Let's do it. That sounds way better than just sitting around here. Let's take a quick look around and see what we can find." While Vash continues tinkering with the door, the three younger ones headed deeper into the vault.  "So Nia, any idea why this treasure is all here?" asked Ezra. "These are offerings. Believers used to bring them as tribute to their Gods." Nia explained. "So like..bribes? People paying off the Gods to grant them fortune and favor?"

"No, not like that. The offerings are given voluntarily, with no expectations of reward. They're a reflection of gratitude, of thankfulness." Nia smiled. "Huh, that seems wasteful." Ezra mused. "Wasteful?" Nia asked, eyes wide. "I'm just saying...think of how many people this gold could feed. Think of how many sick, and wounded, and vulnerable, it could provide. " Ezra bit his lip in irritation. Nia paused, deep in thought. 

"I do see your point. There is much practical good that could come from this wealth, but there are other concerns here other than the materials. Faith and devotion, for example. It's not enough to live; It's a question of what you live for." Her smile fell when Ezra scoffed slightly. "Tell that to everyone who's starving." Kade looked around, curiously. "Rationally, I know I should be way more scared given we're in an ancient temple and we just found two people brutally murdered..." he broke into a giant grin. "But I still can't really believe this is happening! We're on an adventure! A real adventure! Imagine what an amazing story this'll make!" He danced excitedly. 

"You really love telling stories, don't you Kade?" giggled Nia. Kade's smile dropped slightly, and Ezra's gaze soften. "Well, yeah. Stories are really important to me. They're how I see the world." He hesitated, a somewhat sentimental expression on his face. "I-I was a really sick kid. Bedridden until I was 6, on the brink of death. Stories were all I had, I read every book in town, and when I ran out of books to read, I started to write them." 

"Kade was a precocious kid." Ezra spoke softly. "I always thought that was how I'd  live life. Ezra was the adventurer, the dreamer. I was content to just read about things like that. But maybe I misjudged myself. Maybe I can be someone who goes out there, who has wild adventures, who sees the world." He peeked through his lashes shyly at Ezra who smiled with joy at his brother. "Maybe I be a hero." Ezra's grin grew wider. "Damn right, brother."

"Look! Over there! A passage!" Nia led the way into a vast hall with mostly crumbled ancient statues. "This is a Hall of Gods! It must be hundreds of years old." The group spread out, gazing at the statues. Ezra walked towards the statue of a winged monstrous warrior clutching a spiked club. Nia followed the elf warily. "I don't know this one...It isn't one of the Gods I recognize." Ezra blinked. "You don't know all of the Gods?" "If you go back far enough you'll find different pantheons and interpretations....But I've never heard of one like this." 

Ezra studied the statue's brooding expression, its marble eyes simmering with hate. "I don't like it. It's too realistic." mumbled the elf. "Me neither." Nia shuddered. "Hey!" The two turned towards Kade's shout. "Wanna see something hilarious?" The teen held up an old ceramic vase with a creepy face painted on, and tries to copy its expression, but drops it and winces as it shatters. "Oops." He chuckled nervously. The shards shake and rattle and a spectral shape bursts out, lashing through the air with tendrils of smoking flame. 

Ezra quickly ran over to his brother's side, hand on his sword hilt. The spirit hissed, clearly pissed. "What in the hell is that?" Ezra cried. The creature's body pulsed and swelled, hungry eyes boring into the white haired elf, before hissing angrily. "Wait! I know what this is!" Kade called from behind Ezra. "It's a vorglin! I read about that in the Tome of Beasts that traveling merchant had! It's a spectre that feeds off psychic energy, specifically fear! " he explained. 

"So," Ezra hummed, "What if we feel other strong emotions? Could that drive it away?" "Actually....yes! That just might work! Think about something other than fear! Think of a time when you felt something really intense!" Kade stated. The vorglin hissed, clearly annoyed. Ezra turned his gaze back onto the red spirit, one of his saddest, painful memories coming to mind. The day he and Kade had laid their mother to rest; their father passed a few months earlier and it seemed their mother couldn't bear to be without her love. 

'It was raining, cold and wet. Kade and I were standing side by side, in the field as they buried her, right next to her  love. She and Father were the town's best seamstress and farmer, and they would sorely be missed. I was so heartbroken that day, I shut everyone out, Grenn, Annika and I even shut Kade out for a few weeks. I remember saying goodbye.' Ezra blinked when the vorglin pulses, gorging on your emotions. It lets out a satisfied wheeze, before disappearing into a puff of smoke, dropping something on the floor with a heavy thud. 

Ezra cautiously approached what was on the floor and nudged it with the tip of his boot. "T-This is solid gold!" He exclaimed in surprise. "Then we're lucky! When a vorglin is fed emotions it doesn't enjoy, it transforms them into an elemental discharge! It's usually iron or brass...but gold? Jackpot!" Kade cheered. "Are you saying that orb is the creature's waste?" Nia exclaimed, disgust clear in her face. 

"Heh, it literally craps gold." Ezra snickered, before breaking out into a loud laugh, Kade and Nia laughing along with him. Kade picked up the orb and tucked it into his bag. "Are you all right with is keeping this, Priestess? It's not an offering, and it might be worth quiet a bit." Kade's green eyes shine with glee, and hope. Nia bit her lip before replying hesitantly. "I...suppose." She said finally. 

"Now then, let's head back before Scholar Vash realizes we're gone." Ezra said, leading the younger two to Vash, just as he traced a final rune, and the door swung open with a whoosh! The scholar laughed in triumph. "There you go! A piece of cake, as they say! Nothing to it!" He looked back at Ezra who was hiding a grin. "Thank you for waiting patiently, I do hope it wasn't a bother."  Gold eyes look over at Kade and Nia before looking back at Vash. "Not. At. All." He chuckled. 

Vash gestured ahead, and with a firm grip on his sword, Ezra led the way. "Wait." He murmured lowly. "Does anyone else hear voices?" Knowing his brother's hearing was sensitive, Kade quieted down, and gestured for Nia and Vash to do the same. Ezra motioned for the others to be quite, until Nia spoke up. 

"What is that?" she asked in a harsh whisper.

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