#the excursion is over we will go out separate ways now

[marvelousartcatastrophe]

People really need to stop inviting themselves over to my dorm and then just not leaving like bro I have stuff to do and it’s weird if you’re gonna just sit on the spare bed for literally five fucking hours

[somerandomdudelmao]

OKAY SO GENERAL THOUGHTS AND SOME HYPOTHESES BASED UPON THE INFORMATION WE HAVE:

Holly is from Teegarden; a place where either all of his species can shapeshift or he himself is some kind of priest of whatever god they worship that has given him the ability to shapeshift. If ALL of the Teegardenians have innate shapeshifting, this makes the bird hunting Inherently More Sinister, but it makes far more sense to me for Holly to be special, because he says he's from a temple and attributes his shapeshifting to god. It also makes sense for Holly to be special amongst his species because Sculptor asked Oscar and Ward 'Which of you is smarter?'

They're keeping higher quality/more unique specimens in The Vault and maintaining them for some reason.

When Ward is still Very Much Ravaged by whatever the fuck the Science Scrapers were doing, we see probably-Sculptor saying they should put him specifically with 'someone peaceful'. We don't know why they have taken this consideration beyond determining he's not going to be a danger to a more peaceful inmate, but we do know Holly is also missing an eye, which means that must be part of the 'forcibly extracting information from a creature's body and brain' process. Ward was not doing any talking, they got the information about Oscar's laptop via stealing it out of his brain. Sculptor was not separating the dangerous smart one from the harmless stupid one. The Echolocators (this will be my shorthand for the rest of the Q) fully believe themselves to be above both these weird little dudes, but they know from experience they can get more, better information about humans out of the smarter of the two.

Holly sighs sadly and says 'they've found another civilization to destroy', and he's been kept alive alone in the vault for an indefinite period of time while the general ecosystem of his planet appears to be intact enough for regular hunting excursions. Either the Echolocators circle around regularly between planets they've previously colonized to keep the base resources on each planet fresh, or they are in the middle of ravaging specifically Teegarden beyond livability, and will move on to Earth next now that they've conveniently found some fun new pets. I believe the use of 'civilization' is significant enough to suggest it's the former, which is Way Scarier because they've also noted humans are edible and taste good.

A species of colonizer aliens being set up in an ant-like colony is delightful by the way. Also I saw someone in the notes saying 'oh no she doesn't know about The Incident' over Ecliptica being like 'I didn't really check on Ward, science is boring to me' and would just like to say No. Ecliptica absolutely knows about the unethical Whatever That Was and The Vault. She just doesn't know if Ward survived or is any semblance of okay. Because Oscar is a cute fun novelty and Ward is some guy she does not particularly care about.

Oh, my God, I want to express my thoughts on your hypotheses so bADLY. But that would be the wrong way to present information that should be shown in a story. But I still want everyone to see it, because carefully analyzing a story is one of the greatest forms of art that amazes me every time🧡

[vixstarria]

Communication

Surprise surprise, they're no good at it.

This is a continuation of my in-game bardlock series, seeing as I left a large gap in it between an intimate and emotional scene and a whole bunch of unhinged fucking. Sorry about that.

Takes place after Intimacy but can be read as a stand-alone!

Read on AO3

Astarion x f!Tav

Early Act 3. It has been nice, but it's time Tav and Astarion actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next.

Tav is a half-elf bardlock. I'm calling her Tav in this fic, but if you know you know.

Hurt/comfort, some fluff and a drop of humour (I am me after all) if you squint, love, angst

TW: some very casual violence and murder

Approximately 3.9k words. 

“Well?” A very giddy Astarion had appeared behind Tav. “Let’s go!” 

The party had finally reached the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate and were setting up camp near Rivington, after a brief excursion in the area. 

“Go where?” she asked.

“Anywhere! I haven’t seen these streets in sunlight in two centuries.” 

“Now..?”

The city was flooded with refugees. Some child whose mother was definitely not coming for her had seemingly declared herself adopted by the group. There was a towering pile of corpses just outside one of the nearby gates. A circus was in town.

It was nice to finally be back in civilisation.

“Yes, now! Forget the bloody tent, maybe we’ll find an inn to sleep in for a change.”

Nothing had been arranged, set up or planned yet. They had only the vaguest notion of where they were going.

“Sure, a walk sounds lovely right now,” shrugged Tav.

It very quickly became obvious that finding an inn would be nigh on impossible. The streets were crowded with refugees, frantic citizens and all those who would either try to keep them in order or prey upon them.

“Are we going anywhere in particular, or are we just... going?” Tav asked, trying to make her way through the throng. She had never seen Baldur’s Gate this busy before. 

“There is something I’d like to show you,” answered Astarion. “Some place, to be exact. It’s- hey!”

He realised that he was talking to no one, as they had been separated by a group of dwarves pushing their way through between them. Tav smiled at him over their heads, raising her arms in an open-palmed gesture of defeat and resignation.

“Can’t you keep up?” Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes, and reached for her, taking her hand and linking his fingers through hers.

This… This was new, particularly in public, and Tav bit her lip, fighting not to smile, as he guided her after him. 

Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at her, to see her grinning. 

“Oh shut up,” he huffed, before spilling into a smile too, despite himself, and drawing her close to kiss her.

“Half-elven whore,” a nearby elven woman muttered to her companion in elvish, tsking in distaste at the sight. Either she did not expect to be heard or understood, or simply did not care.

Astarion turned towards the woman, with a glower, but before he could retaliate with his own snide remark, Tav told the elven woman to go fuck herself with a splintered broom, in perfect elvish, and pulled Astarion further down the street before the woman thought of anything else to say.

“Such... delightful use of the True Tongue, dear.” Astarion seemed in equal parts impressed and taken aback. “Don't tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time..?”

“Oh, no, I only know a little bit,” laughed Tav. 

“Do indulge me.” 

“No, it’s really hardly anything,” she shook her head. “I can count, exchange pleasantries and profanities, know a few songs I can’t translate, and a few odd phrases.” 

“Such as?” 

“I can scream for help in elvish, for one,” she offered. 

“Why would you need to scream for help in elvish..?” 

“Men are more likely to come running if they think it’s a little elven maiden they’re rescuing,” she explained with a sigh. 

Astarion mulled that over with a frown for a bit. 

“I’ll have to take your word for that... What else? And for hells’ sake, just say something, I enjoyed hearing it.” 

She said the first phrase that came to mind.  

Astarion stopped dead in his tracks, with what Tav knew to be the expression he held when he was doing his best to keep his face straight.  

“So let’s start with what you think you just said.” 

“...Shit. ...Uhh.” Tav gave Astarion a sheepish look. “‘My small children have had nothing to eat for days.’?” 

“Darling,” he said, cupping her cheeks, trying not to laugh. “My love. That’s not quite it... Now, how many people do you think you’ve told you’ve ‘eaten nothing but small children for days’..?” 

“Ah... That explains the reactions,” Tav said thoughtfully. 

“Horror?” Astarion finally snickered.

“Usually laughter... I just figured most elves were assholes.” 

Eventually Astarion brought them onto a rooftop that offered an impressive view of the city and surrounding regions.

“It’s so strange to be here in daylight,” he murmured. “This was one of my spots,” he said, turning to Tav. “I used to come here at the start of my evenings, alone, and just… enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.” Astarion took a pensive look around. “Admittedly, the tiles weren’t as hot at night, and all the bird shit wasn’t as prominent.” 

They found a place to sit down.

“I thought you would try to get your job done as quickly as possible,” said Tav.

“There had to be a certain balance to it.” Astarion shook his head. “Start prowling too early, and the potential targets wouldn’t be ripe for the picking yet. And even if I managed to get someone back to the manor early on in the evening, it would only mean I would have to ‘entertain’ them longer.” He shut his eyes and leaned back against a chimney. “It was better to take some precious solitary repose, when I could.”

“Do you think you might have taken me back to Cazador if you’d met me back then?” Tav asked quietly.

Astarion opened his eyes and frowned at the sudden question. 

“Not if I’d ever seen you perform, no,” he deliberated. “I never went for the bards. They were almost my co-conspirators, though they didn’t know it. I couldn’t waste them.” He paused before continuing. “But otherwise, if I’d just bumped into you at a tavern… Probably, yes. A pretty, reckless stray… You would have been perfect. …Would you have followed?” He asked, glancing at her.

“Probably,” she replied, staring off into the distance.

They sat in silence until Astarion broke it with a question.

“Will you stay with me when all this is over?” 

Just the sheer amount of effort he put into trying to make that question sound casual spoke volumes. 

It caught her off guard. They’d spent many evenings in his tent lazily basking in vague fantasies about an ‘after’, usually concentrating on the idea of being able to stay in bed all day, or the concept of their hair and fingernails being free of dried blood and entrails for a change. They’d never actually discussed any realistic nuance of this ‘after’. Or what it might look like, other than what it wouldn’t look like. 

“Are you certain you want to take Cazador’s place in the ritual..?” she asked, carefully. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Astarion immediately sounded defensive. 

“You don’t even know what it entails or means, not really...” 

“It means having everything I’ve been missing the past two centuries, what else is there to know?” He scoffed. “...You haven’t answered my question,” he said after a pause. 

She said nothing for a while, looking down at her fingernails. 

“Stay and do what..?” 

“Anything!” he exclaimed. “Anything you want. We could do anything. Do you have any idea what I will be capable of? Of the power I will hold. The influence.”

“Yes, yes, legions of wolves, turning into mist,” she recited. “What else… Commanding ghouls, I think?” She threw her head back, looking at the sky. “I’m not sure why you would need to do any of that, though.”

“Unimaginable power, and you mock it…” Astarion said indignantly. “I suppose you would rather go frolic in the woods with Halsin..? …Oh don’t look so shocked, I’ve seen how he looks at you. Sleeping in the dirt, living off the land. Is that what would make you happy?” 

“He looks at you the same way! And must you jump to extremes?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Even if I were interested in Halsin, there is ample space between sleeping in the dirt and sleeping in that gothic monstrosity, in which I might find myself happy.” 

They sat in silence for a while. 

“I don’t think you should go through with it,” she said, finally. “Something about it just doesn’t sit right.” 

Astarion looked at her with an unreadable expression and didn’t say anything. She continued. 

“I know enough stories - and before you roll your eyes at me, there is usually a grain of truth to them – and I’ve read between the lines of enough history texts, to know there is no such thing as a jolly vampire lord that just has a grand ol’ time carousing in their castle. It’s always centred on cruelty, misery and violence.” 

“I suppose you know plenty of stories of jolly vampire spawn,” he spat. 

“Some, as a matter of fact. They usually revolve around romance and redemption.” She sighed and continued, as he let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never heard of any demonic deals that ended in anything that wasn’t disastrous, either. The point is, nothing that involves blood or soul sacrifice has ever made anyone happy.” She looked in the direction of Cazador’s palace. “We should kill Cazador, burn it all to the ground and dance on the ashes. I will be by your side. And yes, I want to stay with you. Of course I do.” 

“For how long?” Astarion asked quietly, after a pause. 

“...What?” 

“How long will you stay by my side? You have another... 100 years, 150 at best? I can’t offer any solutions to that as a spawn.” 

She blinked, realisation dawning in her eyes.

“...Astarion Ancunin, did you just say you want to spend the rest of eternity with me?” 

“Oh don’t you bloody dare turn this into a joke,” he bristled. “Just for once.”

“Not a joke, but…” She paused and gave her head a brisk shake, as if to snap herself out of a daze. “Just so we’re absolutely clear, what are you saying?”

“Isn’t it obvious..?” The grin that had crept habitually onto Astarion’s face felt like a suffocating mask. She only stared back into his eyes, unblinking, waiting for him to continue. “I could turn you. Grant you an eternity.” ‘With me’, he wanted to add, but the look in her eyes made the words die on his tongue.

None of this was going the way Astarion had expected. Not that he had planned any of this… Still, he’d made certain assumptions. He’d anticipated the conversation and day would flow somewhere along the following lines: re-affirm his plans for Cazador. Exchange words of undying love and devotion. Maybe, maybe make love to her again, later, in celebration. Instead everything was slipping like fine sand through his fingers. Words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Everything he thought he might say suddenly felt pathetic.

“Turn me? To become one of your spawn?” Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “Two centuries as something you say is less than a slave, a puppet, and you would so easily offer the same fate to me..?”

“First of all,” he sputtered, “I don’t know why you immediately assumed there would be others. Secondly,” he continued, slowing down, “there is another way, or so I’ve read. You wouldn’t be a mere spawn, but a-” Astarion winced, cutting himself off. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. This was rapidly spinning further and further out of his control. “I thought you trusted me?” he asked instead.

“It’s not about trust,” she said. “If you had the choice between a hundred years of absolute freedom or being enthralled to someone for eternity - doesn’t matter who - me, Gale, your long-lost grandmother, anyone! What would you choose?”

“I would never compel you,” said Astarion, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading.

“That’s not the point,” she said, looking away, running her hand through and tugging at her hair. “Let’s just head back. We still need to set up before it gets dark, and I promised Karlach we would visit that bloody circus…”

Something inside Astarion shattered and spilled, ice-cold, over his heart as she got up and walked away. 

Not even an hour had passed since some of the happiest moments he’s had in centuries.

They walked back in silence. 

Eventually they came upon an outpost of Flaming Fists and steel watchers, who had appeared on the road they had taken into the city. They were apprehending everyone trying to pass through, whether they were leaving or entering. 

“Let’s try a side street,” offered Astarion. 

They found and made their way through a narrow alleyway. It was empty. Suspiciously empty, in fact - no children running through, no one out for a quick smoke, no drunks pissing on the walls.

Sure enough, once they were halfway through, three goons intercepted their way, stepping out of a doorway. Two humans and an enormous half-orc wide enough to block out most of the passage. 

“Alley toll.” One of the thugs flashed a malicious grin, eyeing Tav up and down. “Better pay up, doll.” Three more jeering hoodlums appeared behind them as he spoke, armed with crude but lethal weapons. 

“Attempting to detain a Council battlemage on duty? Bold but stupid,” she said gravely. “Hand over your profits and Lord Gortash won’t learn of your little enterprise. This is your only warning.” 

Trying to bluff and deceive her way through, per usual. Was there even a Council anymore? Did it employ mages? No matter. Whether due to the fact that she and Astarion had decided to wander the streets of the city in civilian clothes, without armour, or simply because the lust for money and violence had gotten the better of the would-be muggers, they paid her attempt no heed. 

The leader laughed.

“Or, how about we have some fun with you, and your Lord Gortash can come and collect your body from the river once we’re done with it?”

Astarion’s blood boiled.

He reached for his daggers, thoughts racing. Why in the hells had they come here barely armed..? They were surrounded, but perhaps if she blasted the three in front of them they might run through..? But they were probably too close for that… Could she misty step behind them and get away? His undead body would most likely survive whatever came, even with the tadpole. 

“Take the ones behind,” Tav snapped, and Astarion followed her lead, as he had grown used to, silently praying to no particular deity that she knew what she was doing. 

He ducked as one of the goons bellowed and swung a sword at him, dodging the blow to come up next to his attacker, burying a dagger between his ribs and another in his guts, for good measure. At least the alley was too narrow for all of the bandits to come in on them at once. Behind him, Tav spat some incantation that he wasn’t familiar with.

The next lout came at him, only to stop short, as Astarion scrounged up his meagre magical abilities to hurl a firebolt at his face, making the man yelp and grind to a halt in shock and pain. Astarion’s dagger followed through his eye socket shortly thereafter. 

The entire altercation with the two thugs took mere seconds. Another controlled shout from Tav followed behind him.

The last of the muggers on Astarion’s side backed away, looking at the scene unfolding behind Astarion with a horrified expression, before breaking into a run and disappearing. 

Astarion turned back to witness Tav standing with her arms crossed, looking unaffected, just as the half-orc who had been behind the group’s leader pulled his sword back out from the leader’s stomach, having impaled him from behind.

Tav barked another command as the leader collapsed, and the half-orc slammed the head of his other cohort, who hadn’t understood what was happening yet, against a wall, with a resounding crunch. 

A domination spell. 

Astarion felt nauseous. If his body had been capable of producing bile, it would have crept up at the back of his throat. For once, the smell of freshly spilled blood all around them was repulsive to him.

 “Kneel,” Tav commanded, calmly. The half-orc’s body immediately dropped to its knees, with a thud that spoke of damaged kneecaps.

“I’m running out of time. Do you need him?” She stepped over the body of the group’s dying ex-leader and walked around the half-orc, to stand behind him. 

Disgust and revulsion continued to claw at Astarion’s insides. 

“…What?”

The half-orc’s eyes were void of any emotion. A small mercy.

“Blood. Do you want his blood, before I spill it?” she said nonchalantly.

“…No,” he swallowed. Not like this…

He watched as she slit his throat, carefully standing behind him to avoid blood spraying over herself. Comprehension returned to the man’s eyes just as he made his last gurgling sounds, before stilling forever. 

“That was despicable,” Astarion hissed, finally breaking his gaze away from the body. “Compulsion? Really?!”

She gave him an incredulous look, momentarily speechless.

“This is what I do!” she exclaimed. “This is how I protect myself. You know this! What the fuck did you expect - that I would set off a fireball in an alley?! Or make one of them have a fit of giggles?!”

“You didn’t need to do anything, I could have handled all of them,” he countered.

“Oh, stand behind you like a meek little lamb?” She scoffed. “While neither of us are even wearing armour, and they’re on both sides? Don’t be ridiculous.” She crouched to wipe her dagger on the dead man’s clothes. “What does it matter, anyway,” she said, offhanded. “Dead is dead - who cares how they got there?” 

“It was just like Cazador all over again,” Astarion said, bitterly. “Watching my siblings torture each other, for his amusement, waiting for it to be my turn to be compelled.”

She stilled as she crouched, not looking up at him. 

“You fucking hypocrite,” she said, finally, rising. 

“What in the hells are you talking about?” he grimaced.

“Comparing me to Cazador, when you’re planning to take his very place.”

“How dare you?” Astarion felt the last of his composure leaving him. “I am nothing like Cazador, and I never will be,” he growled.

“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re already thinking of your own spawn. Maybe you would keep your word and not compel me, but you would be curious. All that power that you’ve been wishing was yours for 200 years...” She gesticulated, tilting her head. “First just one teensy little slave - someone who’s wronged you, maybe, someone who deserves to bear your ire. Then, perhaps someone convenient, in a place of power. Someone like what you would have been, had Cazador not botched your death so bad that it became public. Then another. And another. And what will you do with them once you have them? Take them for midnight picnics and host slumber parties?” 

She spat on the ground. 

“I’m going back to camp.”

She stormed off, fuming, exiting the alleyway and mixing into the crowd. Astarion followed at a distance, discreetly wiping the blood that had landed on his hands on the shirt of a random passerby that stumbled out in front of him. He gritted his teeth, watching her.

It had taken every last bit of his self-control to not snap back at her during her little tirade. 

He wanted to stalk off in the opposite direction, but frankly all his things were at the campsite, and he still needed the group’s help, both with Cazador and the tadpole. And he couldn’t discount something else happening to her on the way back. 

No, none of this was what he thought would end up happening today. Was this the end..?

It didn’t matter, he thought. Let her be stubborn. Let her accuse him of gods know what. He would do what he had set out to do. Hells, even if she changed her mind later - it would be too late. Let her live out her “hundred years of freedom” in regret.

And how fucking dare she?! Insinuating that he was or could ever be anything like Cazador. After all he had given her. His trust. His love. He didn’t have anything else. Not as a spawn, anyway.

But perhaps she would change her mind, after she gave his proposal more thought..? He could talk her into it, couldn’t he? He’s talked so many people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do…

There was no point in anything otherwise. It was all for her. All he wanted for himself was revenge. Freedom. Safety. But all the power in the world was meaningless if he couldn’t share it with her.

Astarion winced at the thought, hating that it even crossed his mind. If only he could claw it out of his brain and smash it against the cobbles beneath his feet. How much simpler life would be.

He would not grovel. He would not apologise. He would not change his mind. And he would rather die, again, than be caught running after her like a dog. 

Astarion cursed, slipped into the shadows and turned invisible, breaking into a sprint. He wouldn’t be able to replicate the trick for a while now, if the need arose, but he couldn’t care less. 

He raced up sets of stairs, speeding through a terrace, dodging the patrons of whatever establishment it was he was going through, and leaped, unseen, onto the next building’s, until he was ahead of her, descending back onto the ground and losing his invisibility around the corner from the main street, stepping out just in front of her. 

He caught a glimpse of her scowling and furiously blinking away tears just before she crashed into his chest with a light gasp, as he wrapped his arms around her. She was stiff and rigid, but at least she didn’t try to push him away. Still, a part of him was screaming that it was already too late.

“I don’t want you to have to commit those atrocities when you’re with me,” Astarion murmured into her hair, holding her close.

“You’d rather commit them yourself?” she retorted, her voice weak.

“I don’t want to,” he said quietly, as she seemed to become more malleable, and sank into his embrace, slowly wrapping her own arms around his back. “But I will if I have to. For you.”

“That makes two of us, I guess,” she managed, sounding choked up. 

Astarion took a deep breath, relieved. Mine… Still mine… He thought to himself, touching his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek. Someone in the street heckled them, yelling something about getting a room.

“I already don’t have much to offer, beyond all my burdens,” he whispered. She looked up at him, eyes glistening. She tried to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I want to do what I can, for you. For us. What good am I if I can’t even keep you safe?”

He pressed his lips against her forehead as she hugged him tighter. He had no idea whether he had convinced her of anything, or if she simply didn’t have the will to argue anymore, but for now it didn’t matter.

“I will love you no matter what,” she breathed.

Another jeer followed from the crowd, and someone cursed at them to get out of the way.

“A legion of wolves sounds tempting right about now,” she added, as he smiled.

“Do you still want to get Karlach and go to that circus?” he asked.

“Fuck the circus,” she mumbled into his shirt. “But I guess we should.”

They made their way back to the camp, fingers interlocked again. The silence that stretched once more almost felt comfortable this time.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

Series master list

Next in series - A night at the inn

AO3

~~~~~

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[starlingflight]

A/N this is too long to count as a drabble but I have no self control.

Prompt: I20 — She went to the toilet and on her way back, opened the wrong door.

AO3 or read below:

“Did I mention it's infused with the natural rejuvenating properties of the spring?” Hermione asked for what must have been the fourth time since they'd begun the uncomfortably hot walk back from the ancient Grecian temple.

“Yes,” Fleur replied shortly. “You did.”

If Hermione heard her, she did an excellent job of not showing it as she continued. “It's said to have exceptionally powerful healing capabilities…”

Ginny stopped listening, letting Hermione's voice become a distant buzz which melded with the far-off rush of the sea sounding from the bottom of the cliff. Not for the first time, she wondered how exactly Ron and Harry had managed to get out of this particular excursion.

She kept her eyes focused on the villa, which finally came slowly into view ahead of her as Ginny tried very hard not to think about her dry throat, or the sticky sweat running down her back, or just how bloody warm it was.

It really shouldn't have been called a villa at all, in Ginny's opinion. The house – mansion – was huge, rising up against the dramatic backdrop of foliage-covered hills that lay behind it, shimmering like a brilliant white jewel in the blazing Greek sun as the three of them approached it.

Finally, they reached the whitewashed front steps. Ginny retained just enough self control to stop herself moaning in relief as they stepped through the rustic front door and into the blissfully cool air of the villa's lavish interior.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” she announced, cutting off Hermione's seemingly never ending lecture on the magical properties of ancient Greek amulets.

“I will get some wine,” Fleur said, her tone more like a command than a suggestion, but not one that Ginny currently felt inclined to argue with. “We will meet you by the pool.”

“I'm just going to put this in our room,” Hermione said, holding up the offending bronze amulet, which flashed eye-catchingly in the sunlight coming through the villa's many windows.

The three of them went their separate ways; Fleur headed straight ahead, towards the ridiculously opulent kitchen; Hermione turned left towards the wing – wing– that housed her and Ron's room for the week, and Ginny went right, hoping she could remember the route to the bathroom.

Upon locating it, Ginny went directly to the marble sink, set beneath a mirror which covered the whole wall, giving an excellent view of her red, and blotchy skin, and the way her hair, now damp with sweat, clung to her neck, hanging limply around her shoulders.

Desperately, she turned the shining golden tap, sighing in relief as a gush of cold water met the bare skin of her arm. She cupped her hands together, gathering pools of water and splashing it over her hot, irritated skin.

The relief, however, was fleeting, lasting mere seconds before the water evaporated and Ginny felt the closeness of the mid-afternoon heat surrounding her oppressively once more. Longingly, her mind filled with tempting images of the azure pool awaiting her outside.

She turned the tap again, ending the stream of cool water, before spinning on her heel intent on her new destination.

Her mind wasn't fully on the route to the bedroom that had been claimed by herself and Harry; Ginny was much too preoccupied fantasising about her plans to change into the smallest bikini that could still be considered acceptable for a family holiday, before sinking into the pool's inviting water for the rest of the afternoon.

It didn't become clear she'd chosen the wrong door until she'd already pushed it open and her lips had parted slightly in surprise at the scene that greeted her.

The room she’d entered was not their bedroom at all, but rather the small, richly decorated, library beside it, which she'd only bothered to enter once so far in the two days since they'd arrived in Crete, intent on finding a book for beside the pool. It was not, however, the shelves lined with books that captured Ginny's attention now, but rather the sight of Ron, who was balanced on one knee, holding a sparkling diamond ring aloft to Harry who was standing in front of him, one hand clasped in Ron's.

They both turned, evidently alerted to Ginny's presence by the creak of the door, identical looks of horror on their faces.

“Oh,” Ginny heard herself say.

“Ginny!” Ron hissed, dropping Harry's hand as though it was as burning hot as the sun outside.

“It's not what it looks like,” Harry added, nervously running his now-free hand through his hair.

The corners of Ginny's mouth twitched, her shock giving way to a great deal of amusement as she battled to keep her expression blank. “I'm so sorry to intrude.”

Harry shook his head vehemently. “You're not – obviously you're not – we were just –”

Ron shoved the delicate looking ring roughly back into his pocket as he stood, turning to her with panic in his eyes. “You weren't supposed to see–”

“It's alright,” Ginny assured, unable to stop her smirk from spreading across her face as they both rushed to give an explanation. “All I ever wanted was for the two of you to be happy – I'd assumed it would be with me and Hermione, but the heart wants what the heart wants, I suppose.”

“My heart doesn't–” Harry started.

“Don't be ridiculous!” Ron proclaimed at the same time.

“I'm not being ridiculous,” Ginny said through a laugh. “You know, Ron, when Mum taught us to share, I'm not sure spouses were what she had in mind.”

Ron surged forward, grabbing Ginny by the arm and pulling her into the room before kicking the door shut behind them. “Don't be so loud!”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I don't think there’s much chance of Hermione hearing me from the other side of this ridiculously large house.”

Ron turned sharply to look at her. “Who said anything about Hermione?”

“Well, I'm assuming the ring’s for her,” Ginny countered reasonably. “...Unless you actually are planning on stealing my fiance, which would make the rest of this holiday very awkward.”

“Obviously it's for Hermione,” Harry confirmed quickly, shooting Ron a look that quite clearly said, 'help me out here.’

“Don't tell her,” Ron begged Ginny, ignoring Harry altogether. “I haven't figured out how to do it yet – Harry was helping me.”

Usually, having Ron at her mercy in such a manner would give Ginny an immense sense of satisfaction, on this occasion, however, she felt only a warm rush of affection for her brother and an uncharacteristic willingness to help, not that she would say as much to his face.

She crossed her arms, leaning back against the nearest bookshelf as she looked expectantly between Harry and Ron. “And what have you two Masters of Romance come up with so far?”

Harry frowned indignantly at her dry tone. “I got you to say yes, didn't I?”

Ginny shushed him with a wave of her hand, which incidentally bore the evidence of the truth of his argument in the form of a ruby and diamond engagement ring. “This isn't about us.”

She returned her attention to Ron, her eyebrows rising in silent question.

“Well,” he said weakly, the tips of his ears turning magnificently crimson. “I thought I could do it here – the island is nice – and I have the ring so the time seems right –”

“I told him not to overthink it,” Harry cut in, obviously pained by Ron's stuttered attempts at an explanation.

Ginny caught his eye and suddenly they were both grinning. “Was that before or after he got down on one knee for you?”

“Before,” Harry confirmed, unabashed now that the shock of being caught had worn off. “You interrupted the actual proposal… Ron's still waiting on my answer.”

Ginny shrugged unapologetically, her shoulder bumping against the leather-bound books behind her. “I can't say I'm sorry to have come in between the two of you.”

Harry sighed wistfully. “You never are.”

“You never want me to be.”

“Can you stop flirting for five minutes!” Ron snapped. “I'm trying to do something life changing here!”

Ginny dragged her eyes away from Harry's and back to Ron who was now leaning heavily against the antique sofa beside the window. “Harry's right, you're overthinking it. She was very charmed by the temple this morning– take her there at sunset and ask her.”

“Today?” Despite being on a Mediterranean island in the height of summer, Ron suddenly turned so pale it was hard to believe he'd ever seen the sun in his life. “You think I should ask her today?”

“Yes,” Ginny and Harry said in unison.

“You said yourself the time seems right,” Harry reminded him.

“Really, there's no time like the present,” Ginny concurred.

“But I don't know what to say,” Ron croaked, looking desperately between Ginny and Harry.

“‘Will you marry me?’ Is usually a good starting point,” Harry suggested.

Ginny hummed in agreement. “Yeah, that bit's quite key, I'd say.”

‘Will you marry me?’ Ron mouthed the words as though they were completely foreign to him. He suddenly bore a striking resemblance to his teenaged self in the run up to a Hogwarts Quidditch match, and for the first time since she'd entered the small library, Ginny felt as though she was intruding.

“I'm going to go,” she said gently, taking pity on Ron in the face of the enormous task ahead of him. “You two can keep practising.”

“You could stay?” Harry suggested. “We could probably use the help.”

Ginny shook her head, her part in this mission becoming clearer to her by the second. “I'm going to go and let Hermione talk my ear off about ancient Greek magic customs for the rest of the afternoon so she doesn't notice you're both missing.”

She and Harry shared a look of equal parts amusement and exasperation as Ginny took a step towards the door, both no doubt wondering which of them had the more challenging task ahead of them.

“I'll come and rescue you soon,” Harry assured her.

Ginny smirked at him as her hand found the door handle behind her. “Just promise me you'll try to resist Ron's charms.”

[ginnymoonbeam]

I don't hate time skips as much as a lot of people do. In particular, I'm a defender of Aof's previous time skips in Bad Buddy and A Tale of Thousand Stars. The Bad Buddy one was kind of a mean trick, but I can justify it because it let the viewers really feel the pain of what their parents are putting them through, and then put a balm on it by showing how they've stuck together and made their own private happiness all this time. Was that the only or best way to do that? Maybe not, but it did work for me so I'm not mad.

The time skip in ATOTS I actually felt was necessary for Tian and Phupha to be viable long-term. Tian needed time away to grow, to experience freedom from his parents in a different context, to really think over whether this was a romantic one-season crush or something worth rearranging his entire life for. Also, not for nothing, those kids deserved a real trained teacher, not some city kid on a "find yourself" excursion.

So with all that said: if Last Twilight does give us a long separation and then time-skip reunion, I will be BIG MAD. That is NOT the right move for this story. Crucial in Bad Buddy and ATOTS is that the separation is driven by external factors - in both stories, the couples want to stay together, and in fact do stay as connected as they can in their situations. But this Last Twilight breakup is an internal problem and they need to solve it together, by fighting it out and apologizing and coming to understand each other better. This story has not built toward a "their problems are insurmountable right now but time will give them another chance" conclusion. Their problems are extremely surmountable! They just need to face each other and do the work.

Now I'm okay if this is a breakup that lasts for days or even a couple weeks. As I mentioned before, Day struggles with holding boundaries for himself and I can see him needing to go to this extreme to make it clear how serious this betrayal of trust was for him. That's an immaturity, but it's consistent with his character. But I need to see them turn toward each other again, soon, and affirm that this love is worth doing the work. Otherwise it will make every previous romantic moment feel hollow and shallow.

Maybe that's what we'll get! Aof has pulled deceptive trailer moves before and he hasn't yet broken a romance by letting the characters' mutual commitment fail. So I'm holding my breath until we see what happens next week.

[bumblebeerror]

Even if the Fed or the Eye are telling the truth about killing the eggs - I think the FAR more impactful thing going on here is the absolute breakdown of every major original group from the island.

Think about this. One of the Fed’s BIGGEST obstacles before now was the communication between all parties on the island - even heavy fed-positive folks like Foolish and Jaiden. All of the Order communication, go-betweens like Phil, Tubbo, Fit, etc, with fed positives - ALL of them communicated openly with very few secrets.

Think about how they’re split.

Cellbit, leader of the order, is completely cut off from all of the other Brazilians and all of the order members closest to him like BBH. He’s cut off from Forever, his husband, everyone.

The only official order member with him is Phil, whose involvement with the order has been heavily hampered by his timezone. Phil himself is cut off from basically everyone else from the Morning Crew, including Fit, Tubbo, Nikki, and Etoiles. On their team is Baghera, who doesn’t trust him, and she herself is cut off from all the other French players. Foolish and Jaiden are together, but they’re both fed-positive. Slime is being forced to further trauma.

And that’s just team red - all the others, from my once-over, are all also separated from their biggest allies.

And boy, is especially BBH absolutely DEMOLISHING all his positive relationships.

I know a lot of them consider this excursion separate from the lore, but… even if it is, there’s going to be that knowledge that the others on the island didn’t even consider the idea of working together or not repeatedly raiding and spawn-killing the other teams first. There’s no way nobody, especially team Red who are deciding to roleplay anyways, isn’t going to take the opportunity to make lore out of this.

And those rifts? That little bit of distrust - that’s going to do way more damage to their efforts against the Fed. And at this point, I think Killing the Eggs is ONLY going to heal those rifts and bring anyone who doesn’t get their eggs back together against the fed.

Plus, if Phil’s team loses, we know Chayanne and Tallulah won’t be picked to stay. And those eggs are the only thing that has Phil playing remotely safe right now and he’s told us as much. And judging by how the fed has treated Phil overall? They want him to keep playing safe, to keep playing defensive.

[d-dixonimagines]

Number 2 on the enemies to lovers prompt list?? Please 🥰🥰

Thank you for your request!! I hope you like it!! ^_^

Prompt: "Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you!" This is going to take place a little earlier in the show, like before Hilltop and Alexandria got taken over.

I’m hoping this will post!! I don’t know why it’s not working, but I’m running out of ways to see if it will let me. I hope you like it once I get it posted! I’m sorry if it’s horrible, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, so I’m a bit rusty.

You grumbled under your breath as you trudged through the woods. For someone who was an expert tracker, Daryl sure did have a way of getting you lost. Or most likely, it was just his obnoxious way of making you think you were lost. Wandering around aimlessly for seemingly no reason at all.

Whatever the case may be, you were beyond over it. You were annoyed that you got stuck to do the run with him and annoyed at him for... being annoying. He seemed to enjoy getting under your skin, and you knew he enjoyed the fact that he could. He might have been one of those strong silent types, but those were the ones you had to watch out for the most!

Being at Alexandria was very different than what you were used to. After separating from your previous group, you had been on your own for quite a while before you met Aaron and the rest of the community. Right from the start you and Daryl seemed to clash. He was very straightforward and blunt with his thoughts, and if he wasn't giving you some kind of scowl, he was making sure you knew stupid you were being.

Granted, you secretly agreed with him the majority of the time when he called someone out for their stupidity, but still.. he didn't need to be that straightforward with you. Before Alexandria, you had gotten into a cemented mindset that you could do everything on your own. Mostly because you had to. There was no one else around to help you. So it was an adjustment that you were still working on when it came to accepting help from others. It was felt nice being part of something and helping out and doing your part, but when it came to you and others helping you, you had a difficult accepting that.

And thus lies the main reason why you were so annoyed. You had offered to go out and gather supplies and anything you could find and had no problem going on your own, saying that you would be fine and it wouldn't take that long, help wasn't needed. But it was insisted that someone went with you, safety precautions or whatever, and for some reason Daryl was the best option out of 300+ people there. And Daryl made sure you knew how stubborn you were being.

But here you were, following the "leader" of YOUR excursion.

Another groan escaped your mouth, your eyes piercing daggers into the back of Daryl's head. "Are you done with all your moanin'?" Daryl asked, the first time in a while since actual words were spoken. "No, I'm not. Thanks for checking, though." You responded sarcastically. You knew he rolled his eyes at your response, you could hear him huff out a breath.

"Just tryin' to gage how long you intend on griping." This little shit had the audacity.... "I wouldn't have the need to gripe if I was just able to do this on my own. And FYI, I would have been back by now. How long have we been circling these trees for? With what supplies we were able to pick up? This empty bag is absolutely killing my shoulders.." "Quiet." Daryl interrupted you as he stopped a moment. You were too busy staring at him in surprise to notice that he was picking up on something.

"Excuse me?" You were about to rip him a new one when you heard faint sounds of sticks and leaved shuffling around in the distance. It could have been some deer or something, which is what you always hope for, though it was most likely a walker.

It was seconds later that one came into view. Taking your frustration out was the least you could do to release some tension. Brushing past Daryl, you pulled your blade from its sheath and lunged for it, striking it in the head. You both were about to continue on your way when you felt something grab at your foot, a hand appearing from the brush.

You let out a startled yelp, stumbling backwards and tumbling down a steep embankment. Daryl shot into high alert and wasted no time in following you down the hill to make sure you were ok. You landed roughly at the bottom, taking a moment to get the air back in your lungs before assessing the rest of yourself.

"You ok?" Daryl asked as he got to you. There was a sharp pain in your knee, but you didn't know the extent of it until you turned over. "For the most part, I think." Your hands and arms were cut up and the legs of your jeans ripped and seeping with red. Daryl took it upon himself to get a better look at your knee, the sudden jerking as he tore the fabric caused you to flinch in pain.

"It's already swollen, you won't be able to walk on that." He declared, kneeling back a bit. "Well hold on, you don't know that. I've managed in worse conditions before.." Your brows furrowed, determined to prove him wrong. It wasn't going to be easy getting back, but you were convinced that you would be able to do it.

You just weren't putting into account that besides your bleeding, swollen knee, you also managed to sprain your ankle. You adjusted yourself and attempted to stand up, Daryl keeping his arms steady in case you needed help keeping balance.

Grimacing and fighting through the pain, you finally managed to stand up but was only able to take about half a step before stumbling down again. Daryl catching you and helping you settle. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you wracked your brain on what you were going to do.

"What's your game plan now?" He stared at you with an even expression. You half expected to some kind of hidden proud smirk on his face because he was right about you not being able to walk, but there wasn't. "I don't know. You could go back to Alexandria, bring a cart or something, extra hands." Daryl just shook his head. "That ain't an option." He stated simply. "Why not? You asked."

"No. The sun's going down and it'll be dark before anyone gets back here. It'll be cold, you have no solid way of defending yourself in case walkers come by. So no. Not an option." Look at him calling all the shots! Taking charge and being all cute and bossy!

"If you're worried about the sun going down, why don't you get a head start, then! I just need a minute and then I'll catch up. Last thing I wanna do is slow you down, and there's no way in hell I'm gonna be carried back." You folded your arms across your chest, wincing slightly as the scrapes brushed against your clothing.

"Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you!" He stood up now like he was putting his foot down on the matter. "Whether you believe it or not, I am capable of taking care of myself. I've been on my own a long time before I came to Alexandria, I'm pretty sure I know how to handle myself." "Well, if you weren't so stubborn you'd see that you don't have to do it on your own.. Believe me, I know a thing or two about learning how to accept others' help."

You weren't sure if you should be angry at him for it or if you should feel some other type of way. "What your game plan, then? We don't exactly have anything to help set up camp for the night, I have no idea where we are or if there's any shelters near by... what's your plan?" Daryl shrugged. "I don't know just yet, but we'll figure it out. You may need to trust me a little bit, though. I'm not gonna carry you, but we'll need to hold on to each other so we can at least move somewhere. You think you can manage that?" "Oh I'll try." It was a snippy, sarcastic response on the surface, but you really were appreciative of his effort and willingness to help.

There was a lot of gasping and grimacing and cursing, but finally you were up and steady. You gripped on tightly to his shoulder as he gripped tightly to your waist. "You ready to move?" Taking in a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself and gave a nod and slowly you both set a steady pace back to camp.

"For the record, you're probably just as stubborn as I am, Mr. 'You're not going by yourself'." You looked up at him, a hint of smirk fighting to stay hidden at the corner of your mouth. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Let's keep movin', gimpy, it's a long walk."

[otherworldseekers]

Waiting for Your Return

A little bit of Severia x Nero writing that occurs during 6.55 setting up things for Dawntrail.

I wrote it for the prompt "return" sent to me by @gatheredfates for a single word fic drive, but decided to make a separate post for it as it got away from me a bit and then I decided to add a few screenshots.

Severia lay on her back on her bed in the Balsesion Annex and made herself comfortable. Beside her next to the pillow was her Cockwork Novus D*. A familiar voice came from inside it. 

“Hullo, darling. Miss me?”

“Of course I miss you, silly boy.” Never mind that they had seen each other just that morning before she had teleported to Sharlayan to meet with Krile. “Did you get much work done without me there to distract you?”

“At the risk of being premature-”

“You? Never.”

Nero laughed. “You tease. Are you sure you can’t come back for the night?”

“Well, of course I could, but we’re headed out at first light for the Isle of Hamm and you know teleporting that kind of distance too often wears me out.”*

“I can think of a few ways to-”

“I want to avoid that!” she protested with a smile. “Anyway, tell me your news.”

“I think I’ve made a breakthrough,” Nero said, smugness oozing from his voice. 

“So that puts you ahead of Cid?”

“I’m fairly certain this puts me months ahead of him in research,” Nero bragged. “He’s still struggling to work out the formula for-”

Severia interrupted before he got technical. It was far too late in the day for that. “Have you decided what you’re going to make him do when you win?”

Nero grinned to himself. Her complete faith in him was always a balm to his competitive spirit. “That is the hardest part of this contest.* I need an idea that is suitably embarrassing while also not technically harmful. But I’m sure it will come to me. Now. Your news.”

And so Severia told him all about meeting Wuk Lamat and what the enthusiastic Hrothgar had come to Sharlayan for. “I’d never considered going to the New World before. I haven’t exactly said I would go yet, but I can’t deny I’m tempted.”

“Indeed. From what I’ve read the continent of Tural is quite vast and diverse. There was some talk at one point among the Legati about what kind of resources would be necessary to mount an invasion.”

“Seriously? Garlemald wanted to invade Tural?”

“The Emperor wanted the whole world under him thumb. Of course that included Tural. It was on the roadmap for the future, but it didn’t get any farther than that before you Eorzean savages started giving us too much trouble.”

Nero’s tone was facetious and Severia knew when he spoke that way his tongue was firmly in his cheek so she took no offense. Their former positions on opposite sides of a war was something they often teased each other about. “Yes, how dare they. If only they’d rolled over and taken it you might have ended up lost in the jungles of Tural one day getting hacked to pieces by Mamool Ja.”

Nero scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. It would largely have been an aerial assault. I certainly wouldn’t have been trudging along in the dirt.”

“No, I imagine you would have been mowing down the natives in the Ultima Weapon or such like.”

“Possibly, possibly,” Nero conceded. “So what’s this excursion to the Isle about?”

“We’re all going on a hunt.”

“Again, we?”

“Er, me, Wuk Lamat, Erenville, G’raha and Krile. Wuk Lamat wants to see if I live up to Erenville’s stories.”

“She doubts you?”

“I don’t exactly cut the most imposing figure, you must admit.”

“I must admit nothing. You’re all the more intimidating for your adorable size.”

“Well, you have the benefit of having watched me fight a Primal the very first time you saw me. Also you’re biased.”

“I am only biased in how much your incredible talents made me love you.”

Severia closed her eyes and pulled her blanket up to her chin, smiling in contentment. “I love you too.”

“So when will you return?”

“Tomorrow.” It had been some time since they had been apart from each other for more than a day and she had gotten used to the luxury of it. With a pang she considered how long they might be separated if she went to Tural. The sense of loss that rose up inside her nearly took her breath away. “I’ll be home as soon as I can get away.”

“I look forward to it, with all my heart. Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, Nero.”

The following evening Severia walked through the front door of the cottage she shared with Nero in a thoughtful mood. She had all but made up her mind to go to Tural. The prospect filled her with both elation and a dread that she could not reconcile. She wanted to go. She wanted to see new lands, meet new peoples, learn new histories and make new discoveries. But she didn’t want to leave home. Home. A word that had once held no appeal to her had lately become so precious. 

Her ruminations were interrupted when Nero came tumbling down the stairs holding a large duffle bag in each hand. 

“Oh, welcome home, darling.” Without putting down either bag, he gave her a quick kiss and then went to the kitchen and started searching through drawers and cabinets. Every so often he found an item he wanted and carefully tucked it away in one of the duffle bags, which was now bulging with odd corners and bumps. 

Severia watched at a loss. “What are you doing?”

“Hmmmm? Packing.”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know that you were going to come home and tell me you’ve decided to go? Because I know you, love. It’s far too good an opportunity of doing all the things you like most to miss.”

“All right, fair. But you don’t have to pack for me.” Was he that eager to see her go? Was he looking forward to time uninterrupted for his work?

“I’m not,” said Nero, as he weighed two identical spatulas in his hands before picking one and packing it away. “This is all for me.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you going?”

Nero gave her the strained look he had when she was being a little slow. “To Tural.”

Severia sucked in a breath of surprise. “You mean…”

“I’m coming with you,” Nero said as if it were painfully obvious. He pointed at her with the rejected spatula. “You don’t honestly expect me to sit around at home once again twiddling my thumbs and waiting for your return while you’re out there having the adventure of a lifetime?”

“I didn’t… I just… I mean, that’s how-”

“That’s how it’s always been,” Nero finished for her and his brow furrowed in irritation for a moment before he released a sigh and relaxed it once more. He set the spatula back down on the counter and went to her, taking her hands in his. “But it doesn’t have to continue that way. Severia, I want to be at your side, you know that.”

“But your work… This contest with Cid…”

“Do you really think those things matter more to me?” He tipped her chin up so he could look in her eyes. Tears were gathering there. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. “Besides, the audacity of you going off on your own to explore an entire continent that may indeed be rife with monumental discoveries none but I are qualified to obtain! No true man of science could allow that.”

Severia laughed and flung her arms around his waist. “I’m so glad. Oh Nero, I wanted to go so much but I didn’t want to be away from you. You’ll really come with me?”

“Naturally. I look forward to sitting on the sidelines sipping refreshing tropical drinks while you slay all the beasties.”

“Absolutely not. You’d better pack your hammer because I won’t save you when you inevitably do something reckless and unleash some kind of great evil on the land. I’ll save everyone else, but not you.”

Nero gave her his best sad puppy dog look. “You don’t mean that.”

“No, I don’t mean it. But adventuring isn't all fun and games, you know. You are going to pull your weight.”

“Whatever you say, my love. Now, when do we leave?” 

“Oh, not for weeks.”

“Hmmm. I’d better unpack the cast iron pans.” He released her and began rummaging again through the duffel bag. 

Severia watched in astonishment as he pulled out an absurd number of cooking implements. “You’re bringing cast iron pans? Are you insane?”

“What? They’re excellent for cooking over an open fire.”

“This is too much stuff, Nero. I prefer to travel light.”

“Can’t you just put it all in your pocket dimension?”*

“Do you think I’m some kind of beast of burden?”

“Don’t be foolish. You know perfectly well anything that goes into that bag of yours is no burden at all.”

“Ugh. Fine! You win. As usual.”

Nero grinned and, still on his knees, pulled her into him for a kiss. “You love me.”

Severia sighed in surrender. “I adore you.”

Notes:

Nero turned the Clockwork Novus D into a long range communication device for he and Severia to use that is more secure and reliable than a linkpearl.

Teleporting large distances too often causes fatigue. A headcanon of mine developed for the sake of narrative pacing.

Nero and Cid have regular contests to see who can solve a specific problem first or make the better device fitted to a client's need. At this point they are tied for victories 11 to 11.

Severia's travel gear includes a pack with a relatively stable pocket dimension inside. A headcanon of mine to account for inventory space and a reference to this post.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Hi! I've been following your blog for a couple years since loving DiW and really enjoy your recs so I was wondering do you know any historical romances where the male lead has personality similar to Erik/the phantom from poto or is disfigured / wears a mask etc? Thank you!

Thank you so much, first off!

BOY. DO. I.

So the first one I'm going to recommend is not a strict historical romance... Like it is, and it isn't, but I'm going to strongly recommend you check it out because the entire series is amazing and if you're a POTO fan I think you may be able to get behind some BATTINESS.

It's Firelight by Kristen Callihan, the first in her fabulous Darkest London series. Which is absolutely set in the Victorian London we know and love... just with like. Supernatural creatures running around. The average people don't know about it, it really isn't Steampunk despite what people will tell you. It is a historical romance series. But with magic. It reads VERY similar to the 1999 Mummy, tonally speaking.

So, why I'm recommending it: Our heroine, Miranda, secretly has these fire powers. She's accidentally burned shit down in the past, her dad SUUUCKS and has had her pick pockets for him before, etc. But basically, hard times are hitting, and I think her dad owes the hero something... and the hero is like cool you can square up by giving me YOUR DAUGHTERRRR. But the hero, Archer, wears like, a full mask. Like a porcelain mask. And won't let her see his face at all. And is OBSESSED with her.

Features one of my favorite moments in a long time, where he gets stabbed in one of his mysterious evening excursions (TM) and refuses to let her help him medically, so she basically just follows him as he manfully bleeds out in their palatial estate until he's about to lose consciousness and is like "FINE MIRANDA YOU CAN HELP".

Ummm my favorite Grace Callaway book, Pippa and The Prince of Secrets, is a fun option. Pippa is a widow, and Cull is the guy who gave her her first kiss before they were separated. He now runs a band of CHILD THIEVES!!! and wears a mask because half of his face has been horribly scarred. The scene where he first lets her view his face without the mask is SO. EMOTIONAL. I got choked up.

Also they use a sex swing at one point. Cull FUCKS. But he also skulks and yearns.

She Tempts the Duke by Lorraine Heath has a hero who's scarred on one side of his face is very angsty about it (he doesn't wear a mask, but he does wear an eyepatch). The heroine knew him as a kid, they were falling in love (in a childish way) and he had to run away with his brothers because their uncle was trying to kill them. He comes back years later, scarred and self-loathing and very much a brooder, and she's about to get engaged to another man. Cue the angst!

The Taming of a Highlander by Elisa Braden. In this one, the hero was wrongfully detained for something he didn't do, and was very brutally treated and scarred on one half of his face as a result. (Another "no to mask, yes to eyepatch" book.) The heroine is this very sweet girl and ends up having to marry him in order to avoid testifying against him. It's very much a "he hates himself, she helps him heal" book and it's soooo good. Especially if you like a "it'll never fit" moment. Which.

To Beguile a Beast by Elizabeth Hoyt has a hero who's scarred, and again, eyepatch--and he's been hiding up in his big Scottish lair/castle, when the heroine comes to act as his housekeeper with her two kids in tow. What he doesn't know is that she's on the run from her kids' father, as she was his mistress and he was horrible. The hero does a lot of "I'M A MONSTER" stuff but he also bends her over his desk and fucks her soooo.

To a lesser extent, Hoyt's The Raven Prince may also give you this vibe. The hero is scarred, but this time from smallpox--he's still very dramatic about it. (In many ways, this book is Jane Eyre but with fucking and without a kid.) The heroine is his secretary, and they get into this tension-filled situation.

[haywire-cebus]

Eight Weeks

We Could Have Been Anywhere 9/9

Four breathes in deep; Time’s world is so similar to his own. If he squints, he can make out the rolling pastures that mimic his Hyrule Field. He knows, deep down, that they are basically the same, just separated by a few centuries of time. Long enough for everything to be unfamiliar, but close enough that he recognizes the rocky mountains in the distance, and the thick foggy forests to the south; they have different names, sure, and the castle has been rebuilt in a new place, but the land is the same. It’s the same for all of them, even Wind, whose islands are the very tops of the mountains of their worlds. 

It’s just nice to be somewhere a little more… recognizable.

The knowledge that a little more walking and they’ll be at Lon Lon Ranch, where comfortable beds and safety lay waiting also helps put a pep in everyone's step.

It’s been… a while since they’ve gotten a good rest. The last time they could breathe was in Twilight’s Ordon Village, and even that came at the cost of a tiring battle, and only lasted a few days before news of monsters to the west sent them on their way.

Four can’t deny he’s a little wary, still expecting something to jump out at them once more, but with the way the old man is near-jogging ahead, he forces himself to push those feelings aside. Sometimes, Hylia gives them rest. 

This will hopefully be another little vacation. He snorts at his own thoughts.

The sound of hoofs clopping across the ground behind them grabs his attention. Time turns as well, and the man is full-on grinning once an unobstructed view of the wagon makes an appearance.

Four mimics the grin when he reads the clattering sign dangling off the side.

Lon Lon Ranch - Best Milk This Side of Hyrule and Beyond. Talon waves from the front of the wagon, and pulls the horses to a stop. Time bounds over already, hello’s falling easily at his father-in-law.

It takes no time at all for them all to be bundled on the back of the wagon, and Four lets the bumping of the wheels lull him into a nap.

He’ll fix that axle when they arrive- it’s the least he can do.

 Hyrule breathes in deep, following the sweet scent of fairies nearby. They’re a ways off from the fenced-in edges of the ranch, but he’s not worried. Wild is beside him, they have their swords at their sides (well, Hyrule has his sword. Wild has his slate, but it has hundreds of weapons in it, so it counts). 

They’re being safe.

They’re getting lost, sure, but they’re being safe. Wild promised he was paying attention to where they were going.

So they’re following the magic trail Hyrule feels slipping out of his fingers at every second, just barely able to to catch onto it again. They’re quiet as they walk. Hyrule always enjoys that about his and Wild’s excursions. Sometimes they both chatter away, but more often than not, they just like being around someone with no expectations.

The woods around them are rich with bugs and birds and the dirt smells clean. The fairy trail has picked up a little, and Hyrule doesn’t need to focus as intently on it for a minute.

Wild picks up on this, and speaks. “Can I just. Uh, can I. Talk?”

Hyrule squints over at him. Wild is halfway over a fallen log- one that Hyrule easily crawled under. Wild likes taking the hard way. 

“Sure? Is something wrong?”

“Not right now- well. Kinda? It’s not something- it’s just. I don’t know. I’m wrong.”

Hyrule stands straight up at that, fairy trail forgotten. Wild stands at the top of the log now, looking off to the side with his face pinched tight like he can pretend Hyrule isn’t there if he looks away hard enough. “You’re not wrong.”

“No, I mean, I’m not me. I don’t know who I used to be before I- before I died. And I hate that I’m not that person because Zelda deserves a hero who remembers her but I don’t- I don’t want to remember more of who I was because I was always so sad in every memory, but I want more memories because Zelda is in so many and I want to be something to her that’s not this random guy with a sword that stumbled his way to Hyrule castle and-”

“Wild, stop.” Hyrule speaks, voice almost stuttering over the words. He has no idea where any of this came from, well, he obviously has some idea. But why him? He’s so bad with this- with people. Wild is so much closer to Twilight. Time would have some wisdom from experience. Four would know what to say because he always knows what to say and Hyrule doesn’t. 

But he’s not going to say nothing when Wild is clearly looking to him for an answer to his struggles.

“You’re not wrong or broken just because you’re not the same as Zelda remembers you, and because you don’t remember her. I mean,” he’s talking faster now, words spilling out before he can really think about what he’s saying. Quantity over quality, maybe something will stick. Maybe something will be right. “Neither of my Zelda’s knew me before my quests, and they seem to like me. And your Zelda, when we met her those few times, seemed to like being around you. I’m not good with those things. I’m used to sensing when people want me to leave their town, but I never got that from her with you. I don’t- you’re not broken, Wild. No more than the rest of us are.”

Wild is looking at him now. He doesn’t know if any of that made any sense, but Wild slides off the log and steps towards him. They stand there for a silent moment, before Wild tugs him into a tight hug, “you’re not broken either.”

He stands there, arms at his sides, for a few seconds. Eventually, he brings them up to return the hug. They stay like that, until an unmistakable chime rings off in the distance. 

The arms drop, and Wild steps away first. He’s smiling, a small thing, but it’s there, “come on, let’s go find those fairies before someone comes looking for us.”

Hyrule follows.

 Four grunts as the sword clashes against his. He turns his body to the left, pushing his foot out and getting into position, letting Legend’s sword slide just a little until-

He presses forwards with his body, flinging his arm to the side and bringing his shield up to block the returning attack and whips his own sword towards Legend’s leg. The blunt side slaps against it hard, and Legend’s responding curse makes it clear it’s going to bruise.

“Come on, Mr. Six Adventures, I’m two hits ahead on you. That's all you got?” Four’s taunt rings through the empty pasture. Legend grunts and takes a few steps back. Four see’s his hand go to his belt, but can’t quite make out what is clutched in his hand. 

“You’re fast, I’ll give you that. But you’re not fast enough.” Legend’s arm flings out, and Four drops into a roll to dodge the-

Nothing. There’s no sound, no magical explosion to disorient himself. He risks a glance over--a silent magical attack can be much more dangerous than a loud one-- and misses Legend’s advance. His sword is sheathed, and Four is quickly tackled by the taller hero.

“You bastard! That’s a dirty trick!” Four kicks against the legs pinning him down, bringing an arm up to slap at Legend’s laughing face.

Two hands pin down his own, before shifting to hold them in one iron grip. Legend’s sword is unsheathed, pointing at his neck, “next time, don’t spar with all weapons as a rule set, maybe you’ll get a little closer to outsmarting me.”

Four grunts as Legend pulls off of him. He sits up, dusting off his back- it’s going to be covered with grass stains and burrs that will suck to get out. He hopes that bruise hurts Legend in the morning. 

“Fine- next round, no weapons, no swords. Fists only.”

“You’re on, shortstack.”

 The kitchen is quiet. This shouldn’t be novel to Time. The ranch is normally quiet, a softness in the air broken only by the sounds of horses and cows outside. But Time isn’t often home lately, and when he is, his brothers are around. Up to something, complaining about another thing, even just snoring.

Outside, he can faintly hear a sparring match go on. Twilight and Warriors are leaving through the front door- wanting to check on the horses, they said. Sky and Wind are dozing off.

There is noise, but it is subdued.

It is peaceful.

Malon is in front of him, humming as she washes the last dish from their lunch. She slapped away all of their offers to help, telling them to rest while they have the chance.

The afternoon sun shines through the open window, a soft breeze fluttering the curtains and her hair.

Time has seen all over his Hyrule, his not-Hyrule, been all over time on multiple occasions.

He can confidently say he’s never seen anything more beautiful than this.

He steps forwards, bringing his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder to peek over. He hasn’t put his armor on since they arrived the day before. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, bare skin pressing into his wife’s arms. 

“I’m glad you’re doing okay,” he murmurs into her neck. It says all he can bring himself to say. Everything he knows he doesn’t have time to say before this brief moment of rest is gone and they’re back on the road, back fighting stronger and stronger monsters, back to where he has such little control over keeping his brothers safe. He loves them. He loves Malon. He feels so small all the time.

Wet hands run over his forearms, “you’re keeping those boys safe. I’m glad you’re keeping yourself safe as well.” She says. It’s all she has time to say in response. 

The dishes set in the sink, some drying off to the side. They’ll lay there a little longer and be all the same for it. For this short moment, he has the sun on his skin and his wife in his arms, her hair tickling his nose as he slowly breathes in and out.

In and out.

He reaches for a plate and feels her hand slap his, and he lets it push his down. She turns in his arms, crossing hers across her chest as he chuckles. “I told you not to help.”

“When have I ever listened to you?”

“All the time! You listen to me all the time because you know I’m right.”

“You’re right.”

She leans into him, folding against him gently. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The floor in the kitchen is old. There’s a deep gouge, carved there when he was first welcomed into the Lon’s home. He carried his sword at his side always then, and Talon had dropped something in the other room, he’d flinched and unsheathed his sword while he was helping get something out of a lower cabinet and- well, it had taken Malon nearly an hour to help him calm down. She was patient all the while. 

In the doorway to the farm, there’s a chunk taken out that leaks in cool air in the winter. Him and Malon had left the door open; it was spring and the air was nice. They’d returned from tending the horses, stepped into the living room, and one of the cows was standing at the base of the stairs, looking up at where Talon was standing, frozen in confusion. It’d taken the three of them to get the cow back outside, and the door frame wasn’t the only casualty of its horns and hooves.

They have only a few knives; last time he and the chain had arrived, Malon ended up teaching Legend and Wild how to throw knives. Half had broken on the side of the house, where there were still deep marks. 

There’s a rug under the table, one Time bought for Malon and Talon as an apology when he’d panicked one night and left without warning. He’d come back three weeks later, tail between his legs and Epona laden with Gerudo textiles, Gordon tools, and Kakariko spices. They welcomed him back easily, though Malon told him to at least say goodbye if he needed to stretch his legs. She had tears in her eyes when she saw him crest the horizon, and Time hasn’t left like that since. 

He rubs her back for a moment. He can see out the window better with the new angle. Legend has his sword at Four’s neck, and the look on Four’s face spells trouble. He reaches forwards and closes the curtains, pushing Malon against the counter as he does so. She grins up at him, “you have something to say?”

He grins back down, “nothing at all.” He reaches for a bowl, just out of her line of sight.

When she pushes him away from the counter, he goes easily, laughing all the while.

 The horses are happy to see them.

They let Warriors pet them, let Twilight slip them an apple or two, and don't flinch as they move past a blind spot.

They’re good horses.

The barn is quiet, the stable’s hinges well maintained, so even moving between them makes only a little sound.

Warriors pets a chestnut mare, cooing the embarrassing things you only say to an animal under his breath. He hopes Twilight can’t hear, that he’s been lying about maintaining some of his advanced hearing while in his hylian form. From his growing smirk, he’s been honest.

Warriors steps away from the horse, moving to the wall now, looking over the bridle options. Twilight lets him pick for the two of them, making his way over to look outside. The ranch has a wide open field in the center, with posts and a tiny string of fencing across it to practice jumping. 

Assuming Twilight has the same idea as him, he grabs two saddles and begins to tack up the sweet mare he was petting and a hefty stallion for Twilight. 

When he is finished, he passes the reins over and leads the mare outside. Twilight follows, and the stallion goes easily. Malon and Time were excellent at raising horses- all sure-footed and trusting. 

“So, you keep saying you’re good at riding.” Twilight calls as he hops up the saddle. 

Warriors climbs on his own mare, hoping his awkward adjustments aren’t too noticeable- it’s been awhile since he’s ridden. Not long enough to not be good, but enough for his movements to be much less fluid and instinctual than Twilight’s.

He really hopes Twilight didn’t see.

Looking out at the pasture, Warriors shoots Twilight a grin. “Want to make a bet?”

Twi snorts, “what is it with soldiers and betting?”

He shrugs in return and nudges his horse forwards, “passes the time. And makes things interesting.”

“What’s the bet?”

“Fifty rupees to whoever can jump the most posts in a minute?” 

Twilight spurs his horse into a gallop, laughing, “you’re on.”

 “Sky, there is no way I haven’t taught you Hornswoggle.” Wind mutters as he shuffles his cards.

In response, Sky rubs at his eyes, trying to blink himself into wakefulness. “I don’t think you have, you only taught us- uh, what was it called? Spot-something.”

“Black Spot is a perfectly respectful game, but it’s got nothing on Hornswoggle. One round of it can last hours- Tetra told me it once took her and the crew three days to declare a victor. Though, they had to take breaks to take care of the ship and stuff.” Wind begins setting cards out, separating them into innocuous piles. He reaches into his pocket, and scrunches his face before groaning. “Fuck, I left the chips and stones in my bag. I’ll be right back.”

He’s off before Sky can stop him, off towards one of the spare rooms Malon has loaned to them while they stay. 

Sky fights the urge to lay back down, knowing that’s all it will take to fall back into the warmth of the nap. The door in the kitchen opens, and he hears the tell-tale sound of a grumbling Legend. Four must have won their sparring match, then.

The two stop in the kitchen, opening cabinets and generally making noise. Sky keeps his eyes open, trying to get their noise to wake him all the way up. They make their way into the living room, and Four takes one look at the random piles of cards and says, “oh, are you playing Hornswoggle? Can I join?”

Wind takes that moment to reenter, grinning, “yeah! We haven’t started yet, I’ll deal you in. Legend, you want to play as well?” 

Legend shrugs and takes a bite of bread- that was probably the clattering around in the kitchen then- and sits on the couch, ruffling Wind’s hair as he goes, “you’ll have to re-explain the rules. It’s been a while since you taught me.”

“Don’t worry, it’s Sky’s first time, so maybe you won’t lose as badly.” Wind snips out as he begins setting piles of the game chips and stones out- they’re all different colors, reds blues yellows greens- Sky is beginning to think he’s in over his head.

Wind claps his hands, “okay, so now that everything is set up, I can explain the rules. The game is pretty simple-”

The door opens again, Wars and Twi moving through the kitchen to interrupt Wind as they step into the room. Twilight has fresh grass stains on his knees and a disgruntled expression. 

They take in the sight before them, and Twilight groans, “I am not playing this after last time.”

Wind gasps, “but you almost won!”

“It was more painful than my adventure, Wind.” 

Warriors just grins, “if you haven’t started, I would love to join. This is Hornswoggle, right?”

Wind nods and collects the cards and other game pieces, beginning the setup process again.

Sky just lays back into the couch and presses his palms into his closed eyes. “How does everyone know this game except me?”

Warriors ruffles his hair and dodges his returning swat before taking a seat on the ground next to Wind, “you probably fell asleep the night Wind taught us a bunch of card games. Do you remember me explaining my version of poker?” 

It sounds familiar, but not enough to recount any rules. “Maybe?”

Legend laughs, “yeah, you were probably out by then. We played late into the night.”

Sky wants to defend his honor (even if he probably was asleep, it’s the principle of the matter. Especially when everyone is safe and comfortable- that’s when the real bickering starts), but Twilight speaks up, “are Wild and Hyrule still out exploring?”

Everyone looks around, as if the two of them were in the room unnoticed, and Sky says, “I haven’t seen them since they left this morning.”

“They’re probably lost.” Legend’s tone is annoyed, but the pinch to his eyebrows gives away his concern. They can handle themselves, but the worry is still there. They aren’t immune to accidentally starting some little side quest, and Sky does not want a repeat of three weeks ago, when the rest of them had to go chasing after them as they tried to complete a fetch-quest for a storefront owner. 

It was a long day.

“I’ll go find them. Wild wanted to help Malon with dinner tonight, anyways.” 

Twilight is out the door before Warriors can finish his comment on Twi’s dog-senses helping him in his search. 

 The strangest part of transforming into a wolf is that he always wishes he had his other form’s senses when he is in the other. When he’s human, he wishes he has the smell and hearing he gets when he transforms. The way he can sneak through a forest with ease. When he’s in wolf form, he wishes his vision was better, that people didn’t cower at first sight of him. Even now, after months of the others knowing about Wolfie, some of his brothers flinch if he sneaks up on them. 

There is something to be said, however, about being deep in the thickest part of the woods and able to move soundlessly. 

Sneaking up on Wild and Hyrule like this is just icing on the cake. 

They’re sitting next to a small stream, with some fairies fluttering around. 

He can only see their backs, and while his color-vision is all wrong, his sense of smell makes it very clear they are covered in berry juice. There is the unmistakable smell of sugar as well, which clears up why it seemed like the stable was low. 

Padding forwards, his ears twitch as Wild recounts to the fairy in his hands his adventure in the berry bush nearby. He huffs, a loud sound in the relative quiet of the forest, and the fairies scatter.

Hyrule and Wild both jump, spinning around to face him. Hyrule has a dagger pointed at him, while Wild’s hands are at his side, ready to grab the slate.

Upon seeing him, Wild relaxes, “Wolfie, come on. You scared us.”

He huffs again, and the relaxed shoulders tense right back up, “are we in trouble? It hasn’t been that long.” Wild looks up, squinting through the branches at the sky.

Hyrule follows his gaze, tucking his knife back into his boot. “You were struggling with that bush for a while.”

“Was I?” The question is directed at Hyrule, and Twilight finds himself getting bored. He steps towards Wild and gently takes his hand in his maw, pulling him away from the stream. Wild follows easily; he did this often when Wild first woke up, guiding him how his instincts told him to while he was forced to remain in his wolf form. He is still grateful Wild’s master sword turned him back, and brought his shadow crystal back to him.

Hyrule pads softly behind them, and Twilight decides to ignore the sound of him trying to sneakily eat the sugar cubes behind his back. He drops Wild’s hand once he’s sure they’re following, and leads them back to the ranch.

 Legend adjusts his position on the pillow he is sitting on, staring down at his hand. It’s hard to say if victory is secured for him right now, he’s not familiar enough with the game and Wind looks both very smug and very wary of Four. 

The growing pile of colorful stones in front of Four makes Legend target Four on his next turn, able to take some of the stones. He picks out three of the red ones and two of the yellow ones. Wind huffs and glares at him; his turn is after Warriors, so hopefully he won’t remember to target him by then with this new lead.

Four, however, is mad. He’s cursing at Legend now, eyes flashing a distinct blue. 

Legend snorts, “no wonder you’re losing, letting Blue be in charge right now. Where’s Vio, too scared he’s going to lose to me that they’ve already given up?” 

Four leaps over the corner of the table separating them, held back by Sky’s hands. His eyes flash between purple and blue, and Legend continues to laugh.

A door down the hallways creaks open, and everyone gets very quiet as Time and Malon enter. Four sits down quickly, eyes shifting into a bashful red as he quickly apologizes, “sorry, Miss Malon for being loud.” 

Knowing Four’s secret has been a game-changer in understanding Four. However, even knowing how sincere Red can be, Legend has to wonder if he’s playing up his kindness at times to win people over. After all, Red is only one part of Four, and all of Four is conniving. 

Malon, however, takes it in stride and laughs, “now, I’ve told you all not to call me miss. I’m not that old,” she nudges Time, and makes her way to an open spot on the floor, Time following at her side. 

The two of them sit and Time speaks up, “Malon is interested in the game, from what I was able to remember when she asked what had you all so heated out here.”

“I’m going to kick all of your asses,” she says with a smile. “How do you play?”

Wind starts shouting about Time being a hypocrite, because he doesn’t correct Malon’s language. Legend just places his cards face down and leans back, resting his head on the couch behind him. It will take a while to explain the rules and deal the two of them in (people can join mid game, but only in even numbers), and he takes the moment to drink everything in.

His moment of rest doesn’t last long, however. Wind is barely halfway through the rules before Malon lets out a soft “ohh,” she glances around the table and squints at the stones and poker-like chips piled up. “This is basically Windrow of Bushel, right?” 

She looks up at Time who laughs, “I think you’re right. No wonder I hated the game last time we played.”

Malon laughs, “he’s awful at Windrow of Bushel. I’m amazing at it. Let's go.”

The door in the kitchen opens right as she says that, and Legend can’t stop his head from whipping towards the sound. He wasn’t nervous about how long Hyrule and Wild were gone, but he certainly wasn’t happy about it. As the two enter the room, covered in… hopefully berry juice and followed by Wolfie, his shoulders relax. For no reason, of course.

Wild perks up as soon as he sees the table and squeezes in next to Sky, leaving room for Wolfie to flop down beside him. Twi faces Four however, who quickly shows him his cards. 

Wind huffs and begins to deal Wild in, looking up at Hyrule, “I assume you’re playing, otherwise Wild can’t join.” 

Hyrule takes in the table, memories of the last time the group played this clearly flashing across his face. Legend snorts, “come on,” he pats the spot next to him on the floor, pushing Warriors to the side and forcing him to scoot next to him so they can make room for Hyrule. “I’ll help you.”

Wind looks up from the piles he’s sorting, “no cheating!” 

Lifting a snitching finger, Hyrule points at where Wolfie is nudging a card in Four’s hand. “Tell that to those two.” Four quickly puts his cards down, hands going up in the universal “I’m innocent” pose. As if Four was innocent of anything, ever.

Hyrule takes his seat next to Legend, and he’s still chilled from the outside temperature. The sun is beginning to get low, and it is getting to the colder months. He’s warming up quickly, the lack of space around the table forcing him to be pressed against Legend’s arm.

He wonders at that, in the moment before the game picks back up. Months ago- or however long ago it was when this stupid journey started- Legend would have pushed Hyrule away. Hylia, he never would have told Hyrule to sit next to him. He wouldn’t have allowed himself to become so close to any of them, these people he now calls his brothers. 

The game continues on, starting with Hyrule’s turn, as he is the newest player. When Hyrule targets him immediately, Legend lets out an indignant shout, but he can’t fight the smile pulling at his mouth. 

Even if he loses the game horribly, he’s okay with that. He’s having fun. The cards are solid in his hands, and the stones are warm from being passed around hand-to-hand so frequently. The living room is filled with laughter and shouting, and everything is real.

He is here, his brothers are at his side, and he is awake.

 Time lets himself zone out of the game. It’s late into the night, and Wild has to nudge Sky awake each time it’s his turn to play. 

His brothers are taking the game as seriously as any of their missions, and his wife is at his side, grinning.

He feels happy, and safe.

For the second time in his life, Link sends a prayer up to Hylia. 

Thank you, for these little rests. Thank you for my family. 

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2023 :: Day 30

Prompt :: Amity Characters :: Nomin tal Kheeriin, R'ayzel Mhazu (belongs to @blossomblade) Word Count :: 866

FFXIV Write 2023 Master List

"I'll be staying behind in Ishgard. My duty here is not yet done," had been Ralne's response to Nomin when contacted over the linkpearl. Since Ralne had recovered from her own wounds, she returned to Ishgard, where she had been entrusted by Aymeric with overseeing change within the Temple Knights. With her time among the Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss, Ralne had been skilled enough to do things Lucia had sometimes done at Aymeric’s side.

"I couldn't possibly, Nomin… Now that I've returned here to Sharlayan from the Rising Stones, I have so much that I must document for myself and future generations! We were a major part of history and the shape of it, Nomin! I couldn't possibly go with you -- even if I'd love to… Oh! But Raha might want to go! I'll just ask him for all of the details after!" And that had been the excitable, yet somewhat disappointing answer from Lorha when it concerned the map that Estinien had bought.

It was not as if Lorha had not brought up some good points -- she had ever been a scholar of Sharlayan, much like many of the other Scions. She always found love and passion when it came to learning about the histories of places, so hearing her turn down the idea of finding these ruins beneath the Bounty had been somewhat of a shock.

As for R’ayzel…

"No go on their ends, eh?" R'ayzel asked once they had been seated at a table in Mehryde's Meyhane. She looked at Nomin’s slumped form over the table, an amused smirk present on her lips. Out of everyone from Nomin’s beginnings of adventuring in Eorzea, only R’ayzel had answered the call -- which had been in person given that she had stayed in Thavnair in order to simply sample the local cuisine and sights after the Scions had disbanded. She had nothing better to do -- so she claimed. So here she sat, ready and raring to go.

“Didn’t sound like it…” Nomin replied in an almost defeated manner. Pushing herself back up with a small sigh, Nomin looked over at R'ayzel. "I guess I could actually go and ask G'raha or Y'shtola… I do have reason to return to Sharlayan, even if only for a small time. I can ask G’raha and Y’shtola if they would have interest in-person.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“Only if you want.”

“I can’t imagine you not wanting some friends tagging along,” R’ayzel grinned. “After the whole disbandment business, we all went separate ways for the most part, eh? I can’t say Estinien’s been the best company since I’ve lingered around Thavnair -- what with him helping Vrtra’s Radiant Host. Not that I much prefer going out of my way to meet with him. I’m surprised he even had time to roam the markets.”

A small smile crept onto Nomin’s face.

“I appreciate the company, certainly,” Nomin said. “I actually kind of hope more things like this come up in time. The company and camaraderie between everyone else…I think I would miss it if we were really to go our separate ways and not go out on excursions like the one ahead of us.”

“Quite the admission all things considered,” R’ayzel chuckled.

“Yea, yea…” Nomin rolled her eyes with an amused scoff. “But at least I’ve gone back to the Steppe and mended those bridges… I’m really glad I did, too. It…it was still so amazing to have seen so many from the Steppe band together and fight a common enemy like they did.”

R’ayzel’s expression softened at Nomin’s words. “It shall certainly be interesting to see if the amity between the Steppe tribes will last from what I’ve heard from you and seen for myself.”

Nomin’s brow rose momentarily as she chuckled lightly. "I'm hoping that it lasts…but culture and tradition might keep the drive for tribal conflict strong."

Mihleel had come by, fresh made raptor tandoori steaming on plates ready to eat in her possession. She greeted the two amicably before placing their orders down along with some naan. Both Nomin and R'ayzel watched after her before they started on their meals, still speaking on their thoughts and idle musings.

"Still, though…the adventure up to this point has been filled with so many unexpected turns," Nomin recollected. "I'm just…I'm glad things have mostly turned out for the best at the end of everything. It's hard to believe sometimes -- so much of it is surreal, even now."

"You're telling me!" R'ayzel chortled, taking a bite of her tandoori. "T' fink we'h all jus' been coastin' frew, pih'kin up allies an'--" she swallowed, "--and all kinds of different bits of trouble along the way."

"Pfft…" Nomin blew a small raspberry, taking a bite of her food. She chewed and swallowed, thinking how, even if they had all changed and grown throughout their journey, there were still some aspects there that remained with them. Like R'ayzel's poor table manners.

Honestly, Nomin found herself so grateful that she could sit there at the table with R’ayzel so at ease, excited for a new adventure. Just like she had when she had first met with Lorha in Gridania nearly six summers ago.

[apocketfullofstones]

The Mandalorian s3 e4 Review

I don't know how, but the show got even worse. I made a list of everything I had a problem with while watching the newest episode and put it all together into a cohesive essay for you guys. (This is a long one btw)

Spoiler Alert!!!

So chapter 20 was basically filler, but can I just point out exactly how stupid the plot of the episode is.

First, when Paz's kid initially gets taken by big bird we are told that the Mandalorians were already fully aware of the creature that was flying around (because they mentioned that others had been taken) but, even knowing that they were vulnerable to attack, they didn't bother setting up sentries or keeping a keen eye on the kids? Or how about just finding a safer spot to train since that beach has been attacked on two separate occasions now, both incidents having plenty of close brushes with death. But, no. They just stand around and let their precious little foundlings be carried off by a danger that should have been brutally executed after the very first attack. No wonder they're almost extinct, they're so fucking stupid.

Then, Bo-Katan says she followed the creature back to it's nest and then she just... came back to the covert? Like, why didn't she take care of it then, while she was there? But whatever, what do I know.

She and the Armorer round up a team and the way that they go about planning the attack irks me. The reason why they didn't just assume that the kid was already dead and just plan the entire excursion around getting rid of the pest now that they knew where it's dwelling was is beyond me. I find that, if they would've changed the stupidly optimistic rescue mission to a revenge plot, it would've been much more believable and interesting because then we'd get to see what they do to anyone or anything who hurts their foundlings.

And then, if they really wanted to, the writers could introduce the fact that the kid is still alive as a kind of surprise or something instead of his survival just being expected. Besides, having the Mandalorians just assume that the kid is still alive is dumb and unrealistic because the writing had already set up the episode with the narrative that the creature kills every Mandalorian it gets it's claws into.

So then the team takes Bo-Katan's ship and get as close to the base of the mountain as they can before walking the rest of the way in order to avoid losing the element of surprise. They get there by nightfall and then they actually SET UP CAMP. I am honestly floored. They chose to wait a whole 12 hours (at the very least) before going into the nest, and now it's just insane that any of the Mandalorians could possibly think -after over 20 fucking hours- that the kid is still alive.

Din sees a heat signature in the nest, but conveniently doesn't mention that the blob is way too big to be the kid -since the three chicks revealed to be in the nest are fucking huge and that would translate to their heat signature size- and Paz recklessly climbs in while yelling for the boy. Wow. We went from Din and his people being established as thriving, tactical badasses in the first two seasons to all Mandalorians becoming useless, floundering idiots.

The writers really went and ruined an entire fucking race in just one 30 minute episode. Now that's impressive.

The babies freak out and the creature shows up again and spits up the kid which it had apparently swallowed (okay, how the hell did this kid survive being in its stomach for god knows how long? And how is he even conscious?). Meaning that the creature had flown back to its nest, did nothing?, swallowed the kid whole at one point and left again, then conveniently came back right as the Mandalorians get there. What? That timeline makes absolutely zero sense.

Then a chase happens and Din ends up saving the child and killing the creature by proxy when he sends it careening into the water and it gets eaten. But when they return, somehow Bo-Katan is the one to get all the glory? Even though her plan went to shit beacuse they got impatient and sloppy and they were forced to improvise? What? How? I get that the show is trying to set her up as a character that the audience should root for, but does it have to come at the expense of downplaying what other characters have done?

Din obviously made the heroic save, there were other witnesses among the team (and it was right there on the screen) so why didn't anyone set the facts straight? And besides, anyone who's done even an ounce of research on Bo-Katan knows that she's a trash human being with questionable intentions at best. So no, I will not be rooting for your shitty ass character with no redeemable qualities.

Also, I was actally surprised to find that I was genuinely disappointed in Din and his questionable parenting this episode because he was so shitty to Grogu. He actually forced Grogu (yes forced since it wasn't like Grogu could speak up for himself and refuse) into a fight -despite how small and inexperienced he is- with a kid like six times his size (that also outweighed him by a good 70 lbs). Thankfully, they only dueled using paintballs but wtf Din, the kid's so tiny that a small projectile hitting him in the chest winded him.

And Din was so neglectful. We see it when, after the foundling was snatched up, he immediately left the beach to go after the creature instead of going to Grogu to make sure the kid didn't get trampled in chaos (you don't understand, he's just so fucking small) or just in case there was more than one in the area (cause he didn't know much about the creature at that point). It's been established in previous seasons that Grogu's wellbeing is Din's number one priority, so much so that he'd break his creed and remove his helmet in front of -not only strangers- but the enemy as well, without any hesitation. So you understand why I was frustrated when it seemed like Din's initial instinct was to go after Paz's kid without even bothering to secure Grogu's safety first.

Then when Bo-Katan returns with the location of the creature's nest he goes with the team in order to retrieve the kid, leaving Grogu with a bunch of strangers that have - up to this point- basically just shown how incompetent they are. Like, in the opening of the episode, various Mandalorians and foundlings were just shooting their guns into the breeze as "training" when they should've been aiming at targets.

But the main problem I have with this season is the lack of an overarching plot. There is absolutely no established drive for why the characters are doing what they do. Like, at first I assumed that the entire season would be dedicated to Din going to Mandalore, the finale closing out with an impactful, emotional moment as he goes to the desolate planet to bathe in the living waters and maybe even say the adoption rights to officially name Grogu as his son. But no, he already redeems himself in like episode 2. Well then is Bo-Katan going to be an omnious enemy lurking in the background of the story? A looming threat that she could, at any moment, challenge him to a duel for the darksaber since they left off on such bad terms? Nope, wrong again. Then it has to be about Din accepting the role of Mand'alor and deciding to use the fact that he wields the artifact that gives him the right to rule in order to round up what's left of his people in a quest to re-inhabit Mandalore, build their numbers back up to their former glory, and preserve their culture? Of course not.

Then what the hell are we doing? If you don't immediately establish a clear directive for the story, then the audience has nothing to get invested in and nobody to root for. Oh, Din rejoined his convert, cool. But I wanna know why we should care. What does it do for Din? Are there any repercussions? What is he risking? What does he gain by re-attaining the favor of his covert? And all of this isn't even touched on, what could've been a very meaningful moment is instead brushed off as yet another side quest and completed by the second episode.

We don't get to see Din struggle. We don't see the emotional aftermath of him being essentially cast out from the covert (the only family he's ever known other than Grogu) or watch him slowly realize that being a Mandalorian is more than just keeping his face covered or even confront the fact that the "old ways" that his covert practice are archaic and dehumanizing. There's absolutely no character development, so there's no reward when Din completes his mission, leaving the whole "redemption" arc (if you can even call it that) feeling hollow and lifeless.

[man-in-crisis999]

Questioning Friendship (Full Article)

FRIENDSHIP IN MIDLIFE? 

I’ve started to think about the term ‘friendship’. If you are a man circumferencing middle age in the UK what does friendship actually mean to you? Men and women approach friendship in different ways, us men have misunderstood what friendship actually means.

  Remembering back to my teenage years I had much closer friends. Before the times of regular pub dwelling, friends and I would meet often, play football, talk about girls, music, movies, computer games, fashion, popularity, sex and other limitless conversation topics. The conversation would inevitably lead to prospective talks on losing one's virginity to girls that were far beyond our attraction remit. Our bonds were much stronger in youth, we still teased each other and laughed at each other's shortcomings but that wasn’t the foundation of our friendships. If any of my friends were in trouble I would always have their back and defend them, in return they would have mine.

My experience in adulthood has been somewhat different. When alcohol and pubs entered the fray my male friendships started to change and deteriorate. No longer did we go to the movies or have outdoor excursions together, we didn’t camp or go fishing, we didn’t paddleboard or holiday together. Instead we developed a weekly meeting in the pub. These weekly public house meetings quickly grew into an array of group slander banter for a cheap laugh over a booze up. General conversation had left the building. And I was taking part and not really noticing how my friendships were changing. 

I have always been quite a deep thinker which probably arises from the music, art and movies I am influenced by. As I matured as a man I began to understand the shallowness of the weekly pub meet. This meet was simply an excuse to go out and drink alcohol, to get away from the missus and enjoy that ‘Male Banter’. Now don’t misunderstand me, I like a good laugh just as much as the next person but at some point the banter (I detest this word) has to stop. Our relationships became less about friendship and more about convenience. We never phoned each other, we never met up for coffee or a chat, we never spoke much outside of the pub. I looked at my friends and eventually could only see empty people. I had absolutely no connection with them whatsoever, I didn’t even like them anymore. 

It was only when I met my ex-partner did I start to enjoy another person's company again. We developed that bond that I was so desperate for. Subsequently we met other couples, shared dinners and house parties. We’d host Eurovision nights, family evenings and talk with our new friends about almost everything. I was happy. I firmly believe that happiness comes from good relationships with others. We are not designed to be alone. Which is why I felt so alone in my 20’s even though I had many many so called ‘friends’. 

Inevitably in modern day society my romantic relationship faltered and my partner and I separated. The friends that we had made together I had to let go of. I tried to stay in touch with them but it phased out and I was back to the weekly pub meetup. This time it was even worse and I could hardly even stand listening to the crap they came out with. They would try the banter and teasing with me but I’d lost the capacity for it and just laughed it off whilst swallowing the vomit from my stomach. Why was I here again with these people? I had nothing else. 

At this point I was approaching my 40th birthday. I had no real friends, no children and no partner. I was at a low point. I could see why so many men struggle after relationship breakdowns. Sometimes we are literally left with nothing. I am sure this is a huge contributing factor for the rise in male suicides we see across the country because I have been there, and have had thoughts about that at the time. I had lost my partner who I’d built my life around, lost all the friends we had together, lost the family bonds we had built. I was living alone. The weekly pub meet was never going to be enough for me and I quickly stopped and phased out those people from my life. I had to rebuild everything. During this time I had to be very strong and rely on my immediate family for support. For that I am so grateful. 

As a middle aged man, making new male friends is extremely difficult. People usually, by this age, have made their family and friends and are comfortable in the life they have.

 Fortunately I have found good friendships and have made one or two close friends. Those friendships are real and we regularly meet up for all sorts of different activities. The new friends I have now have all felt the way I was feeling after their own separation or divorce; completely alone. We now realise our mistake of not having built our own foundations/friendships to rely on. We understand what friendship is and how important it is. What we have to realise is that us men; are extremely vulnerable to loneliness. Imagine a man in his 50’s. He’s going through a divorce and has two children with his wife. His wife gains majority custody of the children and the man has to move out of the family home. He has to move somewhere new entirely. His life has been literally ripped from underneath his feet. He has to start again from scratch in his 50’s. His wife would usually keep the friends she has and the ones thay have made together and the man is left with absolutely nothing. How do you think he feels in his new life? Where are HIS friends? These are the building blocks of depression leading to suicide and men need to start supporting each other and being there for one and other like we did in our youth.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Shopping Trips

Once again, ill-advised trip to Peckham for sundries. Didn’t help that the bus stop near my house was closed. Still, I needed some bits and pieces that I can’t get in this area on the weekend, and yesterday was bus strike, so...

Two separate pharmacies got a visit. One of the chain pharmacies in the area is cheaper than the other, but the cheaper one doesn’t have a pharmacy counter, so I couldn’t get mallet-meds there. So to the cheaper one for cold meds (I have a cold and it is doing my sinuses a misery), face wash, and something to deal with the insect bites that seem to have cropped up on my right middle finger. It was crowded, and people were not paying attention to how they were blocking aisles, and it was kind of miserable. The other pharmacy for mallet-meds was worse; the queue was awful and they only had one guy working the checkout, so ... yeah. Still, at least I got everything I needed.

Then, local grocery store. I’ve been looking up easy fudge recipes - ones that don’t require constant stirring and a candy thermometer - and picked out a couple for making over the next few days. This mostly because I figure I would be in zero shape to do the regular fudge-making when I got home from today’s excursion. Thing is, first thing I found when walking into big grocery store was ... you know those hugely oversized fleecy hoodies that are basically like wearing a fleece blanket? I’ve wanted one since the weather got overly cold but all the ones I were seeing were mega-expensive. But right at the front of the shop was a rack of particularly warm sweaters and ... some of those hugely oversized fleecy hoodies that are basically like wearing a fleece blanket. At a reasonable price. Fine, the quality isn’t going to be as good, but needs must, y’know?

(Note: it says something about the situation about heating bills in this country when shops known for selling cheap essentials are putting heavy sweaters and fleecy-blanket hoodies right up front. Not particularly a good something, either.)

Anyway, shopping really only involved the fleecy-blanket hoodie, two different kinds of chocolate, some espresso powder, and strawberry preserves, which I will turn into sauce for the making of strawberry fudge. Which made a fairly interesting bundle to take to the checkout. (I would have done the self-checkout but clothing item, wanted to ensure the security tag was taken off.) Thankfully I found a till with minimal queue, and amusingly, when I looked at the lady at the till ... she bore a nametag with the same name that turns up on my official paperwork. Y’know, the one my parentals use, which isn’t generally the one I use these days. Still, rough-looking very busy day, not much heating in the supermarket, I figured it might be nice to flag up that we share a given name, skipping over the fact that I don’t generally use it much. She was very amused by that, so it was a nice transaction for both of us, and that mood seemed to have carried over to her interaction with the next customer, so go, me!

...And then on my way out, someone not looking where they were going bashed past me and kicked my cane out from under me in the process. I managed to keep my balance, though that was painful, and the guy kind of looked over but with a very annoyed look and no apology whatsoever. The world may not be entirely made of jackass, but the jackasses are really disruptive.

Finally made it home, and now there are a bunch of kids stomping around in the corridor while I have a massive sinus headache. But I am in the warm fleecy-blanket hoodie and two pairs of socks, so that’s helpful. I also have some really good sherpa fleece slipper socks coming soon, as a sort of a Yule present, since while my shark slippers are cute, the soles are crap and have twisted in really uncomfortable ways. Still, fleecy slipper socks will make all things better when they get here.

I just wish the kids would stop...

[martinkennedyguitarist]

Tour Diary; Sixties Gold Tour 2022 Part 10

Day 30, 24.11.22; St. Andrews - Day Off

A day off in St. Andrew started with a lovely brunch in the main house with the family of the people who own the cottage we’re staying in. Ches’ wife Krissy arrived, and their daughter who studies in the town.

Chilled afternoon (more football obvs) then off out for dinner in the centre. It felt like a proper end of tour meal; lots of laughing, lots of wine, great food and so many stories. It really has been a great tour.

We got back to the cottage and had a few more drinks before bed; seems to be a pattern emerging!

Day 31, 25.11.22; Glasgow

Quite the busy day; left St. Andrews after an excellent bit of brunch courtesy of Krissy Hawkes, then travelled up the road to Glasgow.

First stop was Blitzkrieg records in the Barras where we did an acoustic set for Record Store Day and the release of Ches’ remixed single on vinyl. Great little crowd and really fun to do; enjoyed it very much!

From there we went to the concert hall, unloaded the gear and got to have a look at the stage. Todays show had a video screen so we got to watch the video of Chip that was recorded before the tour along with a load of classic Tremeloes footage. Very special to be watching that on stage in an empty hall.

As England were playing, we went to find somewhere they could see it. There was something very surreal about watching England play in Glasgow!

Back to the venue and played to a sold out crowd. They brought all the bands out on stage for the final number which was fantastic; probably the last time we’ll all be together like that.

It really is coming to an end now but still 3 shows to go!

Day 32, 26.11.22; Carlisle

Started the day with a nice Scottish brunch then went in to Glasgow for a bit of shopping; apparently Christmas is on the way? We actually managed quite a good haul between us; good Black Friday deals!

As we were playing in a different country, we decide we best head off. Pretty strong winds crossing the border but made it safely to Carlisle, unloaded the gear then back to the hotel. After checking in, went to the pub next door for something to eat then a couple of hours to relax before heading back for the show.

A packed crowd tonight; really responsive and into the show. Felt brilliant on stage and Silence was one of the best. Luckily Tony from Herman’s Hermits caught it on video.

Back for our final nightcap at the hotel; we all our separate ways after the final show so it was good to talk about what an amazing tour it’s been. Hopefully not for the last time.

Back in my hometown tomorrow for the final 2 shows.

Day 33, 27.11.22; Edinburgh

Not too early a start to the day; checked out of the hotel and stopped off to get some gifts for the crew. Made our way to Edinburgh; always a special thing being back in my hometown.

Had a brief excursion across the road from the venue to get the final gifts and have a bit of a look around the memorabilia shop then back for the interval of the first show. I had quite a lot of family attending so went out to the bar to catch up with them briefly.

Matinee was busy and very responsive; we added in the audio of Chip from the video used in Glasgow and it worked really well; having him introduce the final song was great. Really emotional and exciting penultimate performance.

Inbetween shows we went for dinner with my family which was fun and excellent food; was touched to have so many of them there.

Back for the last performance via the pub; Ches managed to go over on his ankle on the way so he was icing that whilst in the bar!

Tried to see as many of the guys as we could to say goodbye before taking our final backstage shot; in our pants with flowers in our teeth. The funniest was when Barry from the Hermits walked in on us and didn’t know what was going on!

Took the stage for the final time; took a shot of whiskey on stage and had a group hug when we were done. A really emotional and fitting end to what has been an amazing tour.

We were all staying in different places so as each one of us were dropped off it highlighted it really was the end.

I’m so grateful and thankful to have had such an amazing time with the absolute best people; here’s to the next time.

[jbachmann22]

fin del mundo // 6.12

Finding something ironic--whether situational, verbal, or dramatic – is oftentimes something we’re taught to find comedic, due to its very existence mocking ours. I, for one, hate irony, because I feel the universe’s humor is demeaning, cruel, and honestly not really funny. I despise being the butt of the joke, even if my suffering is exemplified by the imaginary audience laughs coming from the stars above.

This week was no different, my feet seemingly dragging behind me as I explored both Verona and Venice with my roommates, a four-day excursion that took the energy out of me. Between my interactions with a man back home whose emotions I couldn’t quite decipher, the growling of my stomach blending with the noises of the crowds, and the ache of agitation growing stronger with each step I took, I really thought I was going to snap. Was this my “I hate Italy” moment that Teresa, my professor, warned us about? Was this the end of my Italian fantasy; the world I had conjured up out of romantic ideologies of living abroad? I was sure it was not possible for me, someone whose dreams were outlined in the buildings towering above me and the carved out faces of the statues that cast shadows upon my being. Yet there I was, tired, miserable, and missing the home town that I once believed I could never truly ache for ever again.

My group was clearly strung out, between the financial worries we all shared simultaneously yet separately and the brutal lashings from the sun rays over us. Everyone was annoyed, a bit snippy, and in need of a pick-me-up. The tension was so thick, any blade would shatter if I even attempted to splice it. So I didn’t. One of my group members, luckily, picked up on these feelings, too, and suggested we stop at a gelato place we had seen earlier in the day. I sighed a huge yet silent breath of relief, offering to lead the way back through the winding, endless streets of Verona to our destination. The girls had been eyeing the signature gelato cups this shop specialized in earlier, layered creations that varied in flavors and names. Most notably among the menu was the Coppa Giuletta and Coppa Romeo, fitting for us being in Verona, the city of romance. (Irony #1, because my love life is a joke. The stars are laughing at me right now) The full cup of decadent gelato looked to be a bit much for me, so I browsed in the glass case to find a flavor to get in a simple waffle cone. My eyes scanned the plethora of unique flavors, getting lost in the shine of ice crystals, when I stumble upon a flavor called “Fin del Mundo”. End of the world. I chuckled. (Irony #2. Fitting.)

The look of the swirled flavors was convincing enough to get me to purchase it, because fuck did it feel like the end of a lot of things. The end of this exhausting excursion, the end of the ever-thickening tension, the end of my heartache over this guy on the other side of the globe. The shop was crowded, my elbows confined to my sides and my crossbody bag suffocating me. After getting my simplistic cone before everyone else, I slither back outside with a shout of my future location to the friends behind me. Once back in the sunshine, it feels less intense now, the chaos of the street. I appreciate the feeling of the sun my skin. As I begin to eat this gelato, slowly but with fervor, I realize this may be the best gelato flavor I have ever had.

The flavors are a mix of chocolate, hazelnut, caramel, and vanilla, like the four horsemen of the apocalypse joining together to end my world of suffering. It’s creamy and smooth, its integrity holding together more than other gelatos I’ve had, which I appreciated given the rampant feeling of 90 degrees that I was convinced was seeping into my skull. The cream gave away to my tongue, the flavors calming yet electrifying. It gave me so much peace, to exist in that alleyway that was--for the first time that day--just mine. My thoughts were alone and my body in isolation but I wasn’t lonely, and my introverted self was basking in being small. I could fit into the crevice of these ancient buildings, simply watching the people pass and wondering what stories they could tell me, which ones I could write and which I would scrap. By time I was reunited with my group--despite the love that swells in my chest when I’m with them— I felt the time went by too quickly. Fleeting, as all things seem to be here. I was halfway finished with my cone by time they had all received their cups, but we walked to the plaza to sit at the fountain anyways. The setting sun reflected off the water in such a beautiful way, and I did actually feel like it was the Fin del Mundo

Not in a tragic way, of course. All worlds must come to an end to make way for new life, new empires, new beginnings. It was time for me to begin again, and this time I’d make sure it was more extraordinary than the last.