#Cadenza I am so sorry for what your about to go through

[irldragonart]

oh the temptation to make a playlist cause I'm sad again but I know the moment I do people are gonna get concerned

[gaybae1021]

Contemplation

Prev

[assume I also wrote an impactful argument between Garroth and Laurance and Laurance’s conversation with Vincent before Laurance finally comes back to Phoenix Drop for the night.]

*getting ready for bed*

G- We’re gonna be okay.

L- Huh?

G- Us. You and me and Aph. Today was…just a bad day. For all of us, I think. A-and once we’ve slept on it, we’ll figure it out.

L- Sure…you’re probably right…

G- …You know I love you right? Whatever happened when I was gone, that won’t change.

L- I…I know. I love you too…Do you want some tea?

G: Yeah, that’s sounds great.

*later in the night*

It made him sick to even think about. How could he even consider leaving? Aph was his best friend, his beacon of hope when everything was falling apart. And Garroth, Garroth was the love his life! Garroth had supported him through some of his darkest moments, been the one partner where Laurance could be himself. Not to mention his family, who had just gotten him back after ten years. Garroth and Aph had both just lost someone close to them. Now, more than anything, they needed to be able to rely on him, and on each other. And here he was, awake in bed, about to ruin it all.

He could stay. Snuff out the lamp and go to bed. Garroth wouldn’t know a thing, he’d just chalk it up to a particularly deep sleep. He could talk to Aph in the morning, tell her he hadn’t meant to blame her. Maybe they could find a compromise.

But Vincent was right. How long until his self control wasn’t enough? How long until he hurt someone close to him? Leaving now would hurt them, but if it meant keeping them safe from a worse pain, he’d do it in an instant.

He traced the engravings on the ring, like he had done most nights when Garroth wasn’t there. He’d think about how unfair it was. Of course Garroth’s proposal would get ruined by O’Khasis scheming. But he’d also have hope. Hope that Garroth would come back and things could go back to normal. That they could get engaged, have a wedding, maybe even kids.

Laurance felt his chest tighten, knowing now how much of a naive fantasy that was.

He carefully got out of bed and got dressed.

He considered leaving nothing. It would be easier for everyone to move on then. But if he didn’t, Garroth and Aph would just rationalize that he had been kidnapped or mind-controlled and needed their help. So he wrote something down as best as he could.

Hayden and Cadenza, your the only family Ive ever known. You gave me a home and a community. I wouldnt be the person I am today without you.

Aphra, Im sorry for what I said. You risked so much to help me when you barely even knew me. Ill never repay that kindness. You carry your duties so gracefully, sometimes it’s easy for me to forget the pressure you’re under. Your life is what you choose to do with it. Maybe when the girls get older you can tell them some stories about me?

Garroth,

He paused. There was too much to say, and yet none of it felt right. His hand shaking, he only managed two short sentences.

thank you, for everything. Please don’t let this hold you back.

I love you all.

Laurance

He set the ring on top of the note. Grabbing the oil lamp, he walked out the door, leaving the room dark.

[unmeisenshi]

-SEVERAL WEEKS AFTER THE FIGHT-

"Zappa... I-" Isaak started, but they were interrupted by the deer God holding a hoof up.

"You... Took a spoken oath. A word, when you became the God of Life. Not only to uphold your duties as a God, but to never purposefully put yourself in danger. During this latest crisis... You threw yourself into danger. And put the natural order of the world into peril." Arceus looked down at Isaak. "What say you?"

"Zappa... I only had the safety of the world in mind when I did go to fight Val. I did what I thought was right." Isaak looked up at the God. "What's the harm in fighting to protect the lives of the world?"

Arceus slammed a hoof down. "The 'harm' of fighting is putting your life on the line unnecessarily. Had you died during this, the Tree would have become unstable." The God sighed. "Not only that, you had become infected, and your controlled body entered the Tree. Some souls were lost because they were used as weapons. You were saved not only by Cadenza, but by Val granting the unanimous wish of the souls to stop you."

Isaak's ears drooped, and they looked away. After some moments of silence, they spoke up. "I... Understand. I am aware that I was called here for a punishment of some kind. I'll... I'll take whatever you deem necessary."

Arceus continued to look down. "With what happened, and for the lives and souls you put at risk, I would normally be harsher with my punishment." The God closed their eyes, and sighed. "But... Val opened my eyes to my... Harsh way of handling these things." Arceus opened their eyes once again. "I hereby strip you of your Godhood. You are to find a suitable replacement, where you will transfer your powers to them, and then required to enter the Tree, where your soul will become one with it."

Isaak listened intently, and nodded silently. "Okay... I'm... I'm sorry..."

Arceus sighed once more. "It is okay. I know you were only wanting to do the correct thing at the moment. But the spoken oath between us Gods must be upheld." Arceus stood taller. "If you need help in finding someone as your replacement, I will assist you as much as I can."

The Delphox stood. "Thank you... Zappa... I'll... I'll take my leave."

The God nodded. "Understood. Thank you for your service, both as a rescuer, and as the God of Life."

-

Phoebe sat in a medical bed, Cadenza at her side. Phoebe's forearms were replaced with prosthetics, grafted into her nerves at the elbow. She flexed her new hands a few times. "Gods... This feels weird."

"I'd imagine... Taking after your father." Cadenza chuckled.

"Yeah..." The pair lapsed into silence, before Phoebe continued. "Listen, Cadenza... I'm sorry... About what I said. I didn't mean it... And I shouldn't have said it at all."

The Zeraora smiled, and lightly hugged Phoebe. "It's okay. And I'm sorry, too. I know you were trying to do the right thing, and I shouldn't have flipped out at you."

Phoebe returned the hug, and smiled back. "Thanks." She ran her new hands through the Zeraora's fur, and found herself staring at it.

Said Zeraora would chuckle. "You, uh... You doing alright there?"

Phoebe would quickly stop what she was doing. "Uh... Yeah. It's just... Your fur is... Really pretty." For once, the Lycanroc was glad she had a skull mask on her head, as it covered her increasing blush.

Cadenza wasn't so lucky, as her face turned very red, and she had no way to hide it. "Th-Thanks... It... Looks a lot like the color of your eyes."

The two remained silent for a few more moments before they both began to giggle. Cadenza looked at the clock after a few moments, her ears drooping. "Visiting hours are almost up..."

Phoebe's ears drooped as well. "Aww... Well, okay... Have a good night."

"You too, Pheebs." Cadenza gave a small wave, and exited the hospital and headed back home.

[captainsolare]

Concert

Fluffvember Day 7: Concert - Leopold Vermillion (f! reader) 

Summary: You're a classical violinist and tonight is your big debut at the Castle Town concert hall. Your long-time friend Leopold is in the audience, and he begins to see you in a whole new light after watching you achieve your biggest dream

Word Count: 1,825 

A/N: I’m probably a little biased because I am a classical violinist, but this was by far my favorite one to write so far this month! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The Max Bruch Violin Concerto no. 1 partly inspired this so if you would like to, listen to the first movement. 

masterlist 

----- 

You stood in the atrium of the concert hall, patrons, mostly upper crust and royalty, milling about and drinking before the event began. "Ugh Y/N, I don't know how you can stand going to these events. Everything is so stuffy, even the clothing." Your friend Leopold complained, pulling the collar of his dress shirt away from his neck. You rolled your eyes, at him lightly punching him in the arm, "Going to these events, is kind of my job you know. Plus, orchestra music isn't stuffy, you're just lame and have no taste." 

Leo was about to object but before he could do so a bell was rung and you had to dash off. "Sorry! That's my cue to go change, I'll see you after the concert okay?" You said apologetically, planting a chaste goodbye kiss on his cheek before disappearing into the crowd. The kiss was meant as a friendly gesture, nothing more, the two of you had grown up quite close after all, but nonetheless Leo was left standing there dumbstruck, hand lightly touching the place your lips had been a moment before. 

He gathered himself and entered the concert hall, heading for the Vermillion family box; he was a little nervous he had to admit, he was the sole Vermillion sibling here tonight and so a lot of eyes were on him. Fuegoleon was away on an important business matter and who knows where Mereoleona was, she usually couldn't be bothered to come to events like this, they were far too constricting for her wild nature. 

Even though Leo found these events stuffy, like most of his royal duties, he came tonight without much complaint because tonight would be the first time he would get to see you perform a concerto with an orchestra as large as this one. You had picked up the violin at an early age, and had been traveling the country playing at concert halls all over, but tonight would be your big debut on the Castle Town stage and Leo was excited. Not because he particularly enjoyed orchestral music like this, but because it was something you enjoyed.  Growing up, he had always admired the way your eyes sparkled as you talked about your dreams of someday playing on this stage, and here you were achieving the dream you had worked so hard for. 

The first piece was a long drawn out number that had him nearly falling asleep, Mimosa, his cousin, had to elbow him several times to keep him from snoring. He supposed he should have felt a bit sheepish, but you weren't onstage so he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. During intermission Mimosa turned to him excitedly, "Y/N is on next, isn't that so exciting?" He nodded, "Yeah! This is her big dream!" 

Intermission seemed to be over in a flash, the lights dimming and he waited with bated breath as the spotlight lit up the space you'd walk through shortly. When you appeared Leo felt his breath hitch, you were in a stunning turquoise dress, sparkling in the light that illuminated the stage. "Wow." Mimosa whispered, awestruck. He could only nod in agreement, the dress suited you perfectly, the perfect battle armor to conquer the stage tonight. 

When you'd told him about this concert a few weeks ago, it had taken everything in him not to launch himself across the table and wrap you up in a bear hug. Well, almost everything, despite him trying not to, he did it anyway, leaving you both grinning ear to ear and laughing with excitement.

The audience clapped and you shook hands with the conductor and the concertmaster then took up your post near the front of the stage. Leo remembered you mentioning that you were nervous about playing from memory, so he silently cheered you on, hoping you could hear him in your heart. 

As the timpani began playing, your eyes searched the audience, your hands were sweaty and your heart was pounding, you couldn't see the audience very well because of the spotlights but you knew there was a familiar head of red hair out in the crowd and that gave you comfort. The flutes and woodwinds came in next and you prepared to come in with your cadenza. 

From the second your first note reached his ears, to the second your last chord echoed through the hall Leo simply found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. Your notes were spellbinding, taking his breath away and telling a story with just sound, it was a language unlike any he had heard before. He had always admired you, your strength of character, your sense of humor, your honesty, brutal at times but that's definitely when he needed to hear it the most; but tonight, something tugged at his heartstrings and was rooting in his brain, and suddenly he saw you in a whole new light. 

When the concerto ended you were a panting mess, any trace of nervousness had evaporated as you reached the end, a beaming smile appeared on your face as you bowed, the roar of applause filling your ears. From somewhere in the crowd you heard a distinct whistle and you had to contain your laughter, that was definitely Leo. I guess he liked it then? That's fantastic!  You probably wouldn't admit this to anyone, but when you got up on this stage tonight you didn't care about all the opinions of the various noble folk and royalty that had attended, if you were being honest the most important, and perhaps the only opinion that mattered to you was Leopold's. 

You made your way to the atrium because you had to accept your congratulations from the audience members in person, it was simply good practice. Several people congratulated you, others noted that you played well even though you were not royalty, you took each comment with grace and a smile, praying that you'd be able to go home soon and celebrate as you wished to; perhaps with a long soak in the bath to ease your aching muscles.

 Leo and Mimosa appeared in the atrium, eyes scanning the room for a sign of you; Mimosa couldn't help but be amused by the way you both perked up as you caught sight of one another. Ahh, young love. She mused, then giggled to herself, who am I kidding? I'm young too. 

Leo made a beeline for you as soon as your current conversation ended and grabbed your hands with excitement. "Oh Y/N, that was so amazing, I could just kiss you right now!" He said, practically buzzing with energy. You deadpanned and he was about to pull away, but rather than pulling away as well you said, "Kiss me then." It was almost a challenge, and Leo backed down from it, suddenly hyper-aware of all the people watching you; he lost his nerve and decided to change the subject. 

"Do you--- do you need someone to come with you? To help carry your things?" He asked, nervous about even this small interaction for some reason. Mentally he kicked himself, usually, conversation was so easy with you, but now he was just a bumbling mess. Your face fell into a smile, "That would be lovely Leo." You led the way to the green room and greeted the other performers, thanking them for a job well done. As you packed your things, Leo couldn't help but notice the slight frown that twisted your features. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly. When you nodded he dropped the subject, opting instead to carry your things as he had promised. 

The atrium was empty when you emerged from the green room, and you found yourself in awkward silence with Leo. Secretly, you were disappointed that he hadn't taken you up on your challenge earlier and you didn't know how to feel about it. Do I really have feelings for him? Leo's thoughts seemed to be on the same track as yours as you exited the building into the night air.

 "Did you mean it?" "Mean what?" You asked, turning to face him; in an attempt to not misconstrue things you weren't going to answer unless he asked you exactly what was on his mind. A blush graced Leo's features and his heart was pounding in his head, "Did you actually want me to kiss you back there?" 

You tilted your head, trying to sort through your emotions so you could give him a straight answer. "I think so. I'm not really sure, I just, I said that without thinking and I'm not sure of what exactly I'm feeling right now." Leo gulped, trying to gather up the courage for his next question, "Do you… do you still want me to?" 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded, eyes not leaving your friend for a second as he carefully set your things on the ground next to him. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and awkwardly grabbed your arms as he leaned in, the kiss was short and sweet, but it left you with an unsatisfied feeling and solidified in your mind that you did, in fact, want to kiss him. In fact, you wanted to kiss his stupid face again and again. 

Leo looked away awkwardly, wanting to kiss you again but not sure how to ask. Luckily he didn't have to, as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him in closer to you. "Do you want me to?" You asked breathlessly, you were so close you could feel each other's breaths on your lips. When he nodded you didn't hesitate, slamming your lips into his. 

Mimosa appeared from out of the concert hall, a mixture of wanting to roll her eyes and cheer seeping into her expression. "Took you guys long enough." She said, hands on her hips and looking away; she was happy for you both but the last thing she wanted to watch was your makeout session. 

The two of you jumped and pulled apart quickly at her sudden interjection. "What do you mean, took us long enough?" You asked, a little sheepish at the implication that she had known your feelings long before you had. "Don't worry about it. Want to go get some ice cream or something to go celebrate your big night?" You and Leo exchanged a glance, "Absolutely!" Mimosa led the way to the nearby ice cream shop, you and Leo trailing a little ways behind. 

"Was tonight exactly how you dreamed it would be?" He asked as you walked hand in hand. You shook your head and smiled at him, glancing at your intertwined hands, "Nope, it was even better." 

"Hurry up or I'll eat without you!" Mimosa yelled, interrupting your moment for a second time that night. You both chuckled and sped up to meet her at the door, filled with the feeling of a new chapter beginning. 

[blade-king-luze]

30 Followers!!

OOC: Wow wait for a moment ... 30 followers? AAH Sorry, moments like these give me happy moments kj;asldfkh QQ

Even if the numbers are small, 30 actually means a lot especially for this character. I have never thought I would reach this many for Luze. He’s SO underrated and literally not well known! And the amount of followers I get for him just makes me a bit gushy. I know, weird ... But I do appreciate it! <3 Thank you all so much for the Asks, too! I never thought I would receive so many!  I will put a border down below just because I also want to say something more to you guys if you don’t mind. But for those who just wanted to see a few words,  I can’t express my gratitiude to you all still active, especially in the Uraboku Community!

I will do my upmost ability to bring you more Luze and some of Luka content!

Notes to Navigate my Page:  Hello, newcomers! 

I just want to leave a note here just in case people are lost or don’t know where to even look. Next to his icon image, there is a Navigation tool. 

Luze Crosszeria and Gale Spider (Mun) Hey it’s me and Luze Crosszeria! If you want to read more about Luze, here is his page along with my Mun page. Now you know who is behind this blog.

Fortress Gallery (Art by Mun), #Gale Spider As you can tell, the title says it all. This is all the art I have done about Luze only. So feel free to check it out! 

Undocumented Files, #Unheard Words This section is all the stories/fanfiction I typed that involve around Luze Crosszeria or Other’s perspectives that involve Luze. There are also little messages like this one as well. Some characters are present to make his stories more compelling and shows how I think he would react to different settings and events depending on who he is with or what has happen. It makes me bring out his personality more and I still hope that I can convey it properly through these stories!  Terminology for Luze can be seen here

Aesthetics, #In the Mind of the King A fun little section that revolves around looking what’s inside Luze’s mind from what he has seen, or what his thoughts are like. Some may be cherishable to him, some may be traumatic from his experience. Whatever it may be, feel free to look through from his past, present sightings, thoughts, or possessions. 

Fragments, #Fragments of the Past This section involves his actual appearance in both the Anime and Manga.  Kind of a dead section considering I have found most images or GIFs that consists of Luze. There are some I made to bring out more of his appearance. I might just compile more images if I can from what they have. All rights clearly belong to the creators of Uraboku/Betrayal Knows My Name.

Letters from Others, #Answered Letters A page dedicated to the Asks I received from Anons or other bloggers. There are some Character Memes located here too. I am legit surprised from the amount of Asks I got from you all though. I would have thought I would just do little by little, once in a blue moon, but it’s a good amount nonetheless! Thank you all so much for letting me at least bring him out more QQ.  Feel free to drop any Asks or Comments (or written letters in this case) to him!

Hashtags:

Honestly, this layout took me awhile to get used to. I am not so knowledgeable nor creative with Tumblr at all and still learning as I go!  If you want to look for specific hashtags, click on the ellipsis right above the post.  There are specific Hashtags that follow the links above, or other characters if you want to look at that corresponds with Luze. I will add more if there are more characters.

#Forsaken Twin = Luka Crosszeria #Dearest Leader = Reiga Giou (Kanata Wakamiya) #Precious Light = Yuki Giou (The Light) #Zweilt Guardians (TBA) = The Zweilts #Little Companion = Sodom #Lord of All = Lucifer  #Reiga’s Affiliation = Cadenza, Elegy

#Otherworldly Beings = Crossovers

I wanted to say that I am glad that I had the opportunity to open this blog for him just for the fun of it. But it’s becoming something on the side that I also enjoy doing once in awhile every time I hop on Tumblr.

I used to be into FFXIV content but that crave got waaay too over the top for me as I see everyone I played with kind of is ... Over-the-top-hyped, especially on Twitter. It honestly killed my mood to the point where I had to step away from the “Craziness” by a large margin and enjoy it my own way.  And from Twitter, mind you.

But it wasn’t until Luze Crosszeria came across. He made me realized, I could do my own thing. I don’t need to be caught up with everyone.  Just go on your own pace. Do what you love, and don’t follow the trend but your own different path. Dare to be different rather than be the same.

I felt pressured to be caught up with everyone in FFXIV because I had raid and many artists did so much crossovers with their own characters with other trending games coming out. Honestly, I did that for awhile. But whenever I tried to, I just never feel any opportunity to finish or start it. It’s just something about drawing FFXIV characters that get to me. I don’t know what it is, but I would only draw my Au Ra, Krowell Raggs because he was already based off of another character, Ayanami from 07 Ghost. Maybe I am not original enough.

Maybe I am just a sucker for other existing characters that look compelling or have so many relatable aspects towards my life situations. If they don’t have that much background information, it’s always fun to find hints or other canon/non canon things about them. Maybe even go deeper onto how they will react or progress through situations. It began with Ayanami from 07 Ghost, where I would do so much fanart of him because of that relation and his story was tragic even though it wasn’t strongly brought out. But you can tell from his emotions, how he reacts to other people, and how he became to be. I was conflicted of doing FFXIV and 07 Ghost art at the same time. However, as I said, Luze was introduced in my imaginations/stories and he completely removed my thoughts of raiding, being caught up, and backing away from something I really never put my mind into. 

And I am very grateful for him persuading me to. Even though this seems like an internal thought thing, and he may be a fictional character, but I always look back to where I first discovered him and think, “Man. Luze was the one who started it all: Stop raiding to have my own downtime. Draw what you want and NEVER feel forced to. Focus on your own interests and play other games that you love rather than where everyone is at times.” Trust me on the last bit. I still need to get through Othercide.

Anyway,  I know I have said this many times but I don’t know what else to do to express my gratitude.  Thank you so very much for following this blog!  It truly means a lot that I am able to bring this little known character to life. Would I use different web formats to bring him out more? Who knows! Still considering if I should relocate my stories to different writing sites!

In the mean time, I will try my best to keep up Luze here for you all.  And for those who are Luka fans, I will also try my best to let that happen! Love you all! And remember, to love each other! <3

[the-melting-world]

Devil in Jersey City 🍋

Khleo x Cadenza

~ In which a secretive barhand provides a service for a raven-haired magician…

This fic was fueled by “Devil in Jersey City” by Coheed & Cambria

The Khledenza saga continues! This is a follow up to “Present Tense” | Khleo’s pronouns for this fic: she / they | Cadenza belongs to @arcanecadenza

cw: biting, lemony content ahead 🍋 (Note: there’s about 90% plot and 10% acidity in this particular fic.) 

~ 2.6k words

***

Khleo’s coworkers were giving her hell and she could not care less.

“Absolutely defunct this one,” said Gabe, who was mopping the floor. “Keeps polishing the same damn glass over and over.”

Khleo ignored him, but Samira came to her rescue anyway. “Quit it. You know Khlee gets like this whenever they’re crushing on one of the patrons.”

Basil, the best mixologist on staff, piped up from the far end of the counter. “Nuh-uh. It’s never been this bad. Or else she would have punched Gabe’s lights out by now.”

While Khleo’s coworkers continued to chatter amongst themselves, her mind was somewhere else completely.

Hands tied above her head. Bathed in absolute darkness. 

The last time Khleo was with Cadenza, she was completely at the raven-haired magician’s mercy. And it was…

Sublime.

Khleo surprised the other barhands when she suddenly sucked in a deep breath. Somewhere in the background, Samira’s sweet concern reached her. “Khlee, are you doing all right?”

“They’re fine. Just forgot to breathe again. That’s been happening a lot today.”

Khleo wanted to do something for Cadenza. But what? What could the magician possibly want?

< Not want. Need. >

Khleo shook her head and set down the glass.

~ How am I supposed to find out what she needs, Hefe? That’s personal. ~

“So I’m real curious, Khlee.” It was Gabe again. “Who is it this time?”

Apparently the conversation of Khleo’s new flame was still going strong.

Khleo finally spoke up. “Her name is Cadenza.” Once again, the three other bartenders fixed her with perplexed looks. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living. Did you have a nice time in La-La Land?”

Khleo ignored Gabe’s jab. She grunted as she hopped over the counter. “I’m going to see Cadenza right now, so someone needs to cover for me.

Samira’s hand shot into the air. “Oh, pick me! I’ll never turn down the chance to deceive the boss in the name of love.”

Khleo smiled. “Thanks, Mira. I won’t be long.”

“Take as much time as you need,” Basil called with a wave. 

Gabe snickered, “Yes, please do. Clearly you won’t be useful around here until you go do whatever you have to with this–”

Khleo threw him a warning look.

Gabe paused to roll his eyes. “This Cadenza.”

***

Khleo used the mental link she shared with Hefe to make sure that she didn’t get lost on her way to Cadenza’s shop. When the raven-haired magician opened the door, she didn’t expect the barhand to be standing there, leaning up against the doorframe and fixing her with that dark, penetrating gaze.

“Khleo,” Cadenza greeted, searching for what to say next. But the barhand beat her to it.

“You can’t sleep.”

Cadenza blinked. “Wha–”

Gentle, but assertive, Khleo helped herself inside the shop and down the corridor. 

“Right? You can’t sleep so you go walking in the streets at night. That’s how you wound up at my bar.”

Cadenza faltered as she closed the door and rushed after the barhand. “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything? You come here unannounced, don’t even properly greet me–”

Khleo started making her way up the stairs.

“And now you’re what, just going up to my room?”

Khleo paused in her ascent. “And last time we were together,” she muttered more so to herself than to Cadenza, “You mentioned having nightmares.”

Cadenza couldn’t help bristling a little at the offhanded way Khleo spoke about their time together. Cadenza herself would have been lying if she said that she hadn’t been thinking about that night and every tender moment it held. 

But here Khleo was trundling up the stairs of Cadenza’s shop muttering about all that intimacy that was shared between them without much thought or even respect, it felt. 

The magician took a steadying breath and followed the barhand. She raised her voice again when Khleo barged into her room and made her way straight to the window. 

“Khleo, would you slow down and tell me what it is you’re doing? What do you want?”

Cadenza stayed at her door with her arms crossed while Khleo engaged in her strange investigation of the window. She opened it, then shut it before standing back and studying the entire opening. 

“I just wanted to check something.” 

Cadenza pushed her brows together. “That’s not an answer.”

Khleo turned around. Cadenza wasn’t prepared for her to march in her direction, jaw set and eyes looking beyond the magician into the hallway.

“Yeah, I’ll be back later this week.” The barhand swept past Cadenza. “See you, Denz.”

Cadenza didn’t know where she found the nerve, but her hand dashed around Khleo’s arm and she pulled as hard as she could. Khleo, who wasn’t expecting to be handled so roughly, stumbled against the wall. She looked into Cadenza’s face with new eyes now that they were touching and her stubborn train of thought had been broken.

“How dare you,” Cadenza seethed, “even think I would let you back into my home after you just came in here and–”

“Hey, hey,” Khleo surrendered her hands. “I’m sorry. Denz, listen.” She carefully lifted Cadenza’s hand from her bicep and placed it over her heart. The raven-haired magician couldn’t ignore the stretches of softness interrupting the mostly flat surface of her chest. But Khleo didn’t seem to care where Cadenza’s hand had landed. She said, “Last time we were together. What you did for me was…” After a few unsuccessful attempts, Khleo gave up on words. “Look, I want to do something for you. Got it?”

Cadenza let go of a breath that had been weighing uncomfortably on her since Khleo arrived.

“Is that all? You don’t have to–”

She fell silent into Khleo’s kiss. Not that much time had passed since they’d shared one, but Cadenza shivered all the same. She moaned and nipped for more, massaging the hand that was still pressed against the barhand’s chest.

With a broken groan, Khleo pulled back and used her strong arms to guide Cadenza’s hands to her sides.

“You’ve got to just let me do my thing. Alright, Denz?”

Since the use of her hands was currently unavailable, Cadenza leaned in and fitted Khleo’s suspender strap between her teeth. Then she dragged it to the right, making sure to deliberately nuzzle her chin where her hand had been earlier before tugging it off Khleo’s shoulder.

“You could do your thing to me right now if you want.”

Cadenza waited a moment before meeting Khleo’s gaze. The barhand was definitely struggling. She had the corner of her lip tucked between her canines and tracked Cadenza with hungry brown eyes.

“I…” Khleo’s gaze flickered. She shook her head. “I can’t right now. Not until I get this done.”

Cadenza blinked in disbelief as Khleo shrugged her suspender back into place and shifted her attention elsewhere, most likely back to working out this mysterious task. Cadenza walked the barhand to the door. Khleo seemed just as lost in her thoughts when she left as she had when she arrived.

***

The barhand showed up at the musician’s shop three days later with a short wooden ladder, a chunky wheel of rope, and some other tools that Cadenza presumed would aid in installation.

Khleo made it clear that she wasn’t open to discussion or explanation until after she was finished doing what she needed to. Looking at all of the strange equipment, Cadenza already felt like she was about to burst with questions, but she held them in, determined to respect Khleo’s wishes.

By the time they made it to Cadenza’s room, the raven-haired magician was content with lying across her bed and watching Khleo tinker away at the window. Khleo being completely consumed by her task gave Cadenza the freedom to stare as long as she wanted at the barhand’s healthy thighs and defined arms. She allowed herself more fantasies of prying the suspenders off of Khleo’s shoulders and rolling her stockings (lavender ones today) down and past her knees. 

Cadenza hardly noticed that her own hand began to drift down her form when Khleo suddenly thrust open the window and helped herself outside. The barhand grunted as she swung her legs to help with her climb to the roof.

Cadenza left the bed and walked to the opening. “What are you–”

“You’re going to want to stay back for this,” Khleo said, her legs still scrambling to gain enough momentum to haul herself completely up. “I have to do a few tests.”

Cadenza backed up from the window. “What sort of tests?”

The answer was clear a few minutes later with the sound of Khleo’s body rolling over the roof tiles and the sight of her tumbling past the window. Despite how disastrous this looked from Cadenza’s perspective, the barhand knew what she was doing. She always caught herself on the ledge, muttered some indiscenerable private commentary, and then hoisted her body once more to the roof to run another test.

Eventually, Cadenza gave up on standing at the window and watching Khleo topple off the roof repeatedly. The raven-haired magician took up a book, returned to the bed and got lost in her reading.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when Khleo finally approached the bed, interrupting Cadenza’s concentration.

“I’m done. Come have a look.” Khleo didn’t wait for Cadenza to put down the book. She took it upon herself to lift it out of the other’s hands and help her to her feet in one swift motion. Khleo kept her hold on Cadenza’s hand as she led her to her window where the ladder was there waiting for them. 

Khleo walked Cadenza through the steps of opening the window and maneuvering the hooked end of the ladder to the lip of the roof. She propped it in a way so that the other end wouldn’t slide against the floor when pressure was applied. After Khleo made sure Cadenza understood how to correctly position the ladder, she guided her onto it and followed in the rear. 

Cadenza tentatively climbed towards the sharply slanted part of the roof, wondering how they would be able to cross the last stretch of incline when Khleo said, “Grab that rope there.”

Cadenza nearly missed it. The heavy spool lay just within reach, nearly blending in with the russet tiles. Cadenza took it firmly between her hands and used it as an anchor in her climb. She was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to pull herself the rest of the way onto the flatter, more secure shelf.

Spry and sure-footed, Khleo pounced on the shelf after Cadenza and took a seat beside her.

Neither spoke. Or even looked at each other. Cadenza inhaled long, deep and cleansing breaths while Khleo listened to her with a mind that was finally at peace.

When Cadenza’s hand found Khleo’s, the barhand suppressed a sigh at the contrast of fine bones and uneven skin brushing up against her own. Khleo felt her hand being lifted before it was placed palm-side against Cadenza’s cheek. Still looking out at the stacked avenues and clustered rooftops, Khleo felt the pressure of Cadenza leaning into her hand. She also felt something warm and wet, but not much of it. Khleo swept it to the side with her thumb without a thought. Then she curled her fingers around the back of Cadenza’s head and pulled until her lips met the magician’s dark, wild crown.

Together they stayed this way until Cadenza told Khleo that she wanted to go back inside. Only after they had climbed back into the bedroom did Khleo look at Cadenza’s face again. The magician was smiling. More than Khleo had ever seen before, she was sure. 

A smile like that was enough to motivate Khleo to surge forward and playfully tackle Cadenza onto the bed. To Khleo’s delight, the magician was laughing before she hit the pillows. Khleo wasn’t shy in how she secured her arms and legs around her. Nuzzling against the magician’s ear, she said, “Now that I’ve got that taken care of, I just want to hold you.”

Cadenza snickered. “Just hold me? Are you sure that’s all?”

“Hm.” Khleo gave her thighs a thoughtful squeeze and rocked her hips. “Maybe fuck you a little too.”

Cadenza moaned unexpectedly against Khleo’s neck, making the barhand chuckle. 

“But really Denz, I’m tired. So when I say just a little, I mean it.”

Laughter bubbled up in Cadenza’s voice again. “Then you just relax, let me take care of the fucking.” She untangled herself from Khleo and sat up. “If I’m not mistaken, you haven’t had my fingers inside you yet.”

Khleo sat up too. “Sounds like you’re bragging.”

Cadenza met Khleo’s gaze, challenging her with hooded, gold-flecked eyes. “Maybe I am a little.”

Khleo’s gaze turned a little darker as she absently wet her lips. “Maybe you should put your money where your mouth is.”

Cadenza didn’t hesitate to reach for one of the barhand’s suspenders and tug it towards her. 

“Maybe you should come to the edge of the bed, take this off,” she let the suspender go with a light snap, “and shut up so I can take care of you.”

The skin under Khleo’s freckles warmed up very fast at the command. Her smile dropped and for a moment, her expression became unreadable. Cadenza wasn’t sure if she had crossed a line, but she firmly held her gaze through the silence.

Finally, Khleo rolled her eyes and kissed her teeth. “Plucky today, huh?” She started shrugging out of her suspenders. “You better be glad I like you.”

Cadenza’s heart pounded steadily at the passing of the tension combined with Khleo helping herself out of her shorts and moving to the edge of the bed to let her legs dangle off. Cadenza came up so that she was behind her. She wrapped her left arm loosely around Khleo’s waist while resting her other hand on her upper thigh.

“While I’m inside you,” Cadenza whispered, “is it okay for me to bite?”

A wave of satisfaction passed over Cadenza at Khleo’s reaction. Once the barhand got a handle on her words, she leaned her head back against the magician and said, “Go ahead.”

Cadenza brought her hand up to where Khleo was already weeping onto the mattress. To Cadenza’s surprise, Khleo didn’t go completely silent when she worked two fingers inside. The magician closed her eyes as she guided and curled her fingers past slippery, tight inner walls. She thoroughly enjoyed the sounds of her partner’s uneven breaths, louder than they would be otherwise. Khleo chuckled intermittently as if she were being tickled. Though she did her best not to show it, she did in fact squirm. She hummed and whimpered much like a restless housecat. It was all quite entertaining.

Cadenza couldn’t help murmuring, “You’re incredible, Khleo.”

Another breathless chuckle. “Nah. Just incredibly ho-hnnn.” She twisted unexpectedly in response to Cadenza deftly spreading apart her walls only to sneak in another finger.

Panting slightly, Khleo said, “Hey, when are you going to stop teasing me and actually start making me come, huh?”

Cadenza playfully bristled at the jab. “Teasing you, am I?” She didn’t give the barhand a chance to respond. Cadenza picked up her rhythm and made better use of her fingers.

Khleo strained, struggling to form words. Eventually, she managed to say, “Oh – quick! Bite me.”

Cadenza, who had forgotten all about her request from before, eagerly latched onto the muscle above Khleo’s collarbone. The barhand squirmed sharply. She threw their head back with an aggravated groan, pitching higher than her usual raspy tenor.

And that was when Cadenza realized… she played right into Khleo’s trap. Clearly the barhand was already very close to coming and the taunt was just insurance to get there faster.

Later, when Cadenza was sucking Khleo’s cum off her fingers, she said, “You know, you didn’t have to goad me. I would have let you come.”

Khleo was almost done pulling up her shorts. “Right, Denz. Do I look like I was born yesterday?”

[someartistsammy]

Hi here’s a masterpost of Lillian in the og MCD.

This includes when she appears, what episodes, what she says, etc.

Apologies if any of this seems like rambling/ if it’s slightly messy. Looking at the date on the notepad document this was all originally kept in, the date is that of 7/8/19, so a little over a year ago.

First Appearance:

Episode 90 of S1, "Mask in the Trees"

Time Stamp: 12:40

Lillian is hidden in the trees near where Kiki's baby shower is taking place, she's noticed by Garroth who leaves his stance to quickly follow her. He rushes after her through the trees and out the gates of Phoenix drop, She's fast and loses Garroth quickly- but not before they both run towards the forest and into it, Garroth rounds some trees before finding Aphmau and Laurance kissing, to which he turns back around and runs away, after Garroth has left, it's shown that this is not Aphmau and Laurance, but rather an illusion or shape-shifting illusion that Lillian has created, (It's more likely to have been a shape-shifting illusion as this is shown to be what Lillian is good at- altering her appearance). She laughs after morphing back, before the screen fades to black. Aphmau is left to wonder where Garroth disappeared to.

---

Second Appearance/ not a physical appearance:

Episode 91 of S1, "Respect for Irene"

Time Stamp: 1:15

After the murder of Jeffory, Zane is standing at his window before his communication amulet starts going off, we can only hear whispers coming from it, but it's heavily implied that it's Lillian. We can hear Zane say "She's there with her? Katelyn mentioned nothing of this.. hm.." before more whispers come through the amulet. Zane quickly replies with "No, leave it be. This is much better" some more whispers before Zane picks up with "He would be perfect to fill the new role that just opened up." as the scene ends off with Zane laughing.

In this scene it's pretty implied that Lillian was well using her abilities as a spy to look around Phoenix drop- and in this case, realized that Katelyn was staying there with Aphmau, and docked there, without having told Zane. It can also be assumed that the next whispers are asking if Lillian should do anything about it, before Zane's replying to leave it be- and it being better. It can also be inferred that Lillian is next talking about Garroth and how he ran away- probably feeling betrayed- and that is confirmed as we learn in later episodes. Probably asking if she should do something about it- or maybe bring him back to O'Khasis, with this we hear Zane reply about how he would be perfect to fill the new role that had opened up- in this case becoming the ninth Jury of Nine member after he had killed Jeffory not moments before- which had dropped the Jury down to eight members.

---

Third Appearance

Episode 92 of S1, "Gate of Phoenix Drop"

Time Stamp: 22:15

Lillian is waiting on the inside of the gate, she is in her civilian appearance, she seems to be chatting with Cadenza as Aphmau approaches Brian and talks to him while trying to figure out who Lillian is. Brian lets her inside the gate after he questions her multiple times and checks her travel items. He says that she's a very sweet gal and that she's introduced herself as a fortune teller. Text time babey

Lillian: "Oh! A good day to you! I'm sorry I didn't notice you before, Ms. Cadenza here had been talking the world to me, hehe. Um, my name is Lillian. May I ask your name? Aphmau: "Good day Lillian, my name is Aphmau"

Lillian: "Aphmau, what a lovely--- Aphmau!? You mean the LORD of the village!?"

Aphmau: "How do you know that?"

Lillian: "Cadenza here has been talking so much about you! I'm honored to be in the presence of a woman such as yourself... your endeavors have reached the ears of many villages near and far. //She bows to Aphmau//

Aphmau/Jess rambling a bit: "If you're talking about the thing in Brightport, yeah that was a while ago and I guess I have helped other villages too but, Brian tells me your a fortune teller?

Lillian: "Fortune Teller...? Gah! That sounds so... merchant-y, no, no... I am not a "fortune teller" I am a recognized prophet. I've had visions come to me multiple times of which have come true. You can ask many a Lord, I have predicted famines, drought, love... you name it."

Aphmau: "Wow- I-is that a magicks?"

Lillian: "A kind yes, though it's also not in a way... it's a little difficult to explain. I still don't quite understand it myself but here I am! I'm just traveling the world right now, so... if you don't mind Lord Aphmau, may I please request sanctuary in your village? I'm just passing through and I won't be any trouble at all I swear! In fact I plan to help while I'm here, Cadenza is telling me of someone named Garroth and how he's sick, I happen to be a herb specialist as well- I can help make something to nurse him back to health. So, would you have me...?

Aphmau: "//whispering// after all that's happened here.... //audibly// yes, just try to stay out of trouble Lillian, please."

Lillian: "Yes mam'! I sure will! Thank you, thank you so much!"

//Aphmau then turns to look at Cadenza.//

Cadenza: "Aphmau! I was out picking some herbs to try to make a potion I was reading in a book that might make Garroth better when i saw Brian talking to this lovely woman with this BEAUTIFUL outfit. I just had to come say "Hi" to her and she's such a sweetheart! I've asked her to help with Garroth so hopefully we'll have Garroth back by tomorrow! Thank you so much for allowing her to stay here! I'm so worried about Garroth."

The episode ends off with Cadenza leading Lillian into the guard station, followed by Cookie.

---

Fourth & Fifth Appearance

Episode 93 of S1, "At Our Doors"

Time Stamp: 0:00

The episode starts off with Garroth walking/ sneaking out of his ??"room??" in the guard station (maybe bunk is a better word) to grab some breakfast left outside his door before Lillian comes up the ladder and asks "Garroth?"

Garroth: "Uhh.. who are you?"

Lillian: "My name is Lillian and I'm new in town and I'm a medicine specialist, I'm so sorry for intruding on you like this, but Cadenza isn't here and the herb medicine I made for you is ready. Your friends wanted me to help you get better."

Garroth: "I see.. if you're a friend of Cadenza, you are welcomed, but I really just want to be alone."

Lillian: "So what exactly is wrong with you?"

Garroth: "It's really nothing, I'm not actually sick."

Lillian: "So.. you're pretending?"

Garroth: "No I really don't feel well.. well."

Lillian: "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Garroth: "I'm sorry but.. a broken heart isn't something anyone can help me with.."

Lillian: "Sometimes.. talking about it helps."

//there's a large jump in time to the end of the episode//

Time Stamp: 22:22

We see Lillian leave the guard station before going around to the back of it and pulling out the communication amulet before altering her appearance into her masked appearance.

---

Sixth Appearance

Episode 94 of S1, "The Stranger"

Time Stamp: 16:20

Aphmau has just walked into her house, followed by Laurance, the camera then switches to Garroth and Lillian out on the patio of the guard station, the training dummy behind them. Garroth slowly lowers his head followed by Lillian who looks to him lightly before stepping closer to him. Garroth then turns around to look at her and they share a glance but then Garroth turns around and walks into the guard station.

---

Seventh Appearance

Episode 95 of S1, "Call to Arms"

Time Stamp: 16:20

Aphmau is startled awake by Aaron who is at her bedside, he's snuck into her house and woken her up to have her look outside.

Aphmau: "wh.. what are you doing here."

Aaron: "Shh, not a word... I need you to get out of bed and look out the window. Now."

Aphmau stumbles out of her bed confused but looks out to see Lillian walking down the path to Katelyn's boat, looking around to see if anyone has spotted her.

Aphmau: "Wh.. what? That looks like Lillian.."

Aaron: "She's been avoiding the guards all night and acting suspicious... we should follow her."

Aphmau: "Okay.. we can do that. Let's go."

Aphmau and Aaron are in the next scene sneaking down the hill by the docks and hiding in the trees. We're greeted to a cut scene of Katelyn and Lillian staring each other down.

Aphmau: "I don't understand.. why is she?"

//it cuts to the others//

Lillian: "So... tell me Katelyn... what exactly have you been doing here this whole time?"

Katelyn: "I've been standing my guard just like I was commanded to do."

Lillian: "Hm, you're a woman of great power..."

Katelyn: "My thanks, as to you as well Lillian."

Lillian: "Only difference is... I'm a woman of greater power."

//Lillian then grabs out her scythe and holds it up to Katelyn, part of it resting barely inches from her chest while the actual scythe bit rests almost gently against Katelyn's shoulder//

//Aphmau quietly gasps//

Lillian: "Katelyn... Zane mentioned you failed to report that Nicole was here in Phoenix Drop... tell me why is that...?"

Katelyn: "I did not see her. My job was to check up on the Lord of Phoenix Drop. Nicole would have been a good way to win Zane's favor, so if I knew she was here... why would I pass an opportunity like that up?"

Lillian: "Unflinching as ever Katelyn... you members of the Jury of Nine never fail to impress me."

Katelyn: "We don't need to impress a woman like you."

Lillian: "Fine. ...I'll make sure Zane knows you've been wasting time here. Until then Phoenix Drop is under your patrol, my job here is done."

//there's what sounds like a gunshot/ thunder/ the firing of a canon, etc.//

Katelyn: "Lillian"

//It then cuts to a first person pov of Katelyn staring down Lillian and her scythe before Katelyn moves at an insane speed through Lillian as another sound crackles in the distance//

//part of the stairs and the ground where Katelyn has moved to on the hillside has been completely destroyed//

//The next scene is Katelyn standing with her gauntlents out, back to back with Lillian. Lillian has her Scythe resting in front of her while Katelyn has a leg posed back, almost resting it on Lillian.//

//Lillian looks stunned as her arms are lightly spread and she's looking up, as where Katelyn is slightly looking down.//

//Aphmau gasps, again//

Katelyn: "Next time you threaten me. I won't miss."

Lillian: "Heh, heh, heh... duly noted."

//Lillian then runs up what's left of the stairs while Katelyn runs back to her boat//

//Aphmau is panting//

Aphmau: "I don't think.. we should be letting her.. get.. what do you think?"

Aaron: "We need to apprehend Lillian... let's move!"

Aphmau: "Agreed! Let's go!"

//it fades to black and then back as Aphmau and Aaron sprint the direction that Lillian went, they then split directions to search for her. Aphmau heads to the plaza but you can see the camera shaking as it follows Aphmau's movements as she draws her sword, camera movements similar to a figure catching their breath if it was first person pov.//

//The camera then reveals that it's Lillian watching Aphmau, Lillian is hiding in the part of the Plaza that has the most trees and is blending in with the darkness. She then takes her chance after Aphmau wanders away to book it out of there//

---

Eighth Appearance Episode 100 of S1, "The Amulet's Secret" Time Stamp: 18:48

The scene begins with Garroth handing the amulet over to Zane as Aphmau rushes into the clearing in the trees. Lillian is resting slightly behind Zane as Aphmau panics over Garroth handing it over as Zane begins to chuckle.

Zane: "You're too late, Lord Aphmau. Garroth is now a member of the Jury of Nine, he faithfully serves me."

Aphmau: "WHAT!?"

Laurance: "You obviously have him under some spell! Let him go! Now!"

//Laurance and Garroth clash swords//

Garroth: "Zane does not control my actions, he guides me down the right path, my loyalties lie with him now."

Laurance: "Garroth? You have to be kidding me... what happened to you?"

//Zane laughs//

Zane: "Can't you tell, little Laurance? Garroth has become a faithful member of the Jury of Nine, my devoted guard."

Aphmau: "N- NO! YOU'RE LYING."

Zane: "It was so easy to corrupt my poor poor big brother here, after all, the one thing he cared for in his life was suddenly ripped from him, by someone he considered to be his loyal friend. The one person he loved, and the one person he trusted, having a relationship, right behind his back. How pathetic, big brother, I can't believe you ever loved such a back-stabbing woman in the first place, now Lillian here? She's a woman of great loyalty to me, I'm glad she was there to talk to you when you needed someone Garroth, of course, I sent her to check on my beloved brother."

Garroth: "Lillian was able to talk me out of being foolish and trusting Lord Aphmau with my heart, I know better now."

Zane: "Then show them exactly what you are."

//Garroth morphs into his Jury form before taking down Laurance//

//Aphmau is close to sobbing at this point//

Aphmau: "Garroth, Why?"

Zane: "This is the form members of the Jury of Nine take when they unleash their full potential. Can't you feel the darkness radiating from his heart?"

//Katelyn then morphs into her Jury form as well//

Zane: "Look what we have here, another traitor, Garroth, relinquish her of her Jury title, now."

//Garroth then proceeds to do such,, u know,, how u do//

Zane: "You don't deserve this power. I know you, like Jeffory, are not truly loyal to me."

Laurance: "You won't get away with this you coward! Come here and fight me yourself!"

Zane: "I would love to, I truly would, however, with this amulet in my hands, I don't need to waste my time with the likes of you."

//Cut to Zane warping them all into the Irene Dimension as thunder cracks in the background with u know,, the irene dimension music yeehaw//

//cue everyone freaking out for a fair portion of time which was.. understandable//

Time Stamp: 24:52

Zane: "Finally.. it's mine.. Irene's relic.. with this added to my strength I will-"

//The relic vanishes from in front of Zane only to reappear in front of Aphmau and be absorbed into her.//

Aphmau: "Wh- What the!?"

Zane: "Wh- this- this is impossible! You can't be her! No no no no no! I've worked too hard and killed too many useless pawns for this to happen to me now! That relic will be mine even if I have to rip you appart to get it's power!"

//Zane morphs into his Jury form before laughing//

Zane: "Ripping you apart is something I've wanted to do for for so long! It's a shame you have to die, really. We could've been something special together."

Aphmau: "You know that would never happen."

//Lillian and Garroth then rush down from their spots at the top of the stairs next to Zane, with Garroth charging Laurance and Lillian charging Katelyn. both duos clash weapons//

//Zane jumps down from the top in the middle before continuing//

Zane: "What a shame!"

//He then proceeds to charge Aphmau only to clash swords with Aaron//

Zane: "You.."

Aaron: "You won't get out of here this time."

Zane: "Hahaha.. funny, I was about to say that to you as well."

//Cut to Garroth and Laurance//

Laurance: "Garroth! Why are you doing this!?"

Garroth: "Zane is the only who cares for me like a true brother!"

Laurance: "Are you even listening to yourself right now!? He tried to hurt the people you are sworn to protect!"

Garroth: "How can I protect when my heart gets ripped to shreds by the woman I loved, and the so-called brother I trusted!"

Laurance: "Garroth snap out of it! If this is about Aphmau and love, then why!?"

Garroth: "What do you mean why!? You know DAMN well why!"

Laurance: "Garroth, I understand that you love Aphmau, however, you have to be willing to accept the fact she might not return those feelings, can't you see how corrupt this has made you become?"

//Garroth tsks//

Laurance: "Look at me! You are not defined by the person you love, you are Garroth, protector of the innocent, sworn to love and care for those in need. When did the Garroth I know allow himself to be consumed by one person's love, you cannot be jealous of every man she meets forever. You'll just drive her away from you. You have to let go before you can truly be Garroth, a Garroth worthy to protect others!"

//Garroth removes his helmet as Zane strikes Aaron to the ground//

Zane: "hahahaha what a pathetic fool.. I should've killed you along with your entire village the day the amulet cursed you. Now for you.."

Aphmau: "Ugh.. when I get my hands on you Zane.."

Zane: "Don't worry, I'm losing my fiance remember? You promised your hand to me at the wall. This will hurt you more than it hurts me."

//Zane goes to strike down Aphmau before Garroth interrupts, this scene proceeds how we been knew//

//Zoey appears with the portal as Katelyn whirls around, leaving Lillian's dead body on the floor, closing this entire thing and GOD SHE DID NOT GET ENOUGH STORYLINE AND SCREENTIME WHAT THE HELL//

[thelastspeecher]

I can’t think up a title for this thing that I wrote today, but it takes place in the Angiewolf AU.  Specifically, it takes between this ficlet and this ficlet.  It’s the morning after Ford gets back, where he visits Stan and Angie’s house to help explain everything to Dipper and Mabel.  But before he even sees the Mystery Twins, he has to talk to his sister-in-law and his newfound niece.  Don’t worry, he’s excited to see them.  A lot more excited than he was to see Stan.

              Ford stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stood outside Stan and Angie’s house.  It hadn’t changed in appearance since he’d been gone.  It was still spacious and rustic, like a cabin built for a family of basketball players.  Daisies and bluebells in full bloom stood side by side lining the front of the cabin. The Stanleymobile was parked in the driveway, as red as the day Stan had gotten it.

              It was like he was back in time, on the day Stan and Angie had first moved in.  He could practically see Stan, Angie, Fiddleford, and Angie’s family, full of excitement as they brought in boxes and furniture.  Stan challenging Lute on who could carry the most boxes.  Angie waving off Fiddleford’s concerns that she was straining herself by carrying the largest, heaviest furniture.  The six-month-old triplets sitting in the grass, playing with pastel toys under the watchful eye of Angie’s parents.  Ford swallowed, painfully aware of how the happy memories didn’t line up with the last time he had been there.  He made his way to the front door and knocked.

              “Someone’s at the door!  Someone’s at the door!  Someone’s here!” a voice shouted.  Ford frowned, trying to place it.

              Daisy, perhaps?  A muffled voice said something in response.  The door opened.  Ford smiled at the person standing before him.

              “Emily, I presume?” he asked.  Emily beamed broadly at him, her grin stretching from ear to ear.  Last night, in wolf form, he’d mistaken her for Angie.  But in her human form, the characteristics she’d inherited from Stan were more obvious – the large ruddy nose, the square jaw, the stocky figure.

              “That’s me,” Emily chirped.  Ford’s smile became warmer.

              “It’s a pleasure to properly meet you.”

              “Right back at ya.”

              “Short stack, let yer uncle in,” a new voice said.  A voice that Ford recognized.  He looked over.  Angie was standing in the entryway to the nearby kitchen, drying her hands on a gingham towel.  She grinned at him.  It was the same smile spread across Emily’s face.  “Long time no see, Stanford Pines.”

              “Yes, it has been a while,” Ford said, adjusting his glasses.  He tried to banish the mental image of the last time he’d seen Angie.

              Angie pale and unconscious on the floor, burns from silver spread across her body.  The triplets, whom she had managed to lock in their room when his possessed body arrived, shouting at the top of their lungs.  Stan physically throwing him out of the house, looking as feral as Angie on a full moon.

              “…Stanford?” Angie asked.  Ford blinked, surfacing from the memory.  Angie’s blue eyes were full of concern.

              I don’t deserve concern from her. Not after what happened thirty years ago.  She could have died.

              “Yes, I am.  I’m just, um,” Ford stammered.  Angie let out a small chuckle.

              “A sci-fi makeover hasn’t changed ya a bit.  Come on into the kitchen and I’ll feed ya.  I’m assumin’ ya haven’t eaten breakfast yet?”

              “That would be an accurate assumption to make.”

              “Figured.”  Angie strolled back into the kitchen.  Emily raced after her.  “Hold yer horses, pup.  The sausage is cookin’.”  Ford followed his niece and sister-in-law.  He looked around the kitchen with interest.  Among the mass of magnets covering the fridge was a wolf-themed calendar.  Several events were scribbled in red ink.  Many of the generic pictures of food that had decorated the walls thirty years ago had been replaced by pictures of Stan and Angie’s vast family.  The kitchen table was covered with yarn, glitter, and chewed on pens.

              “Project of yours?” Ford asked, picking up a skein of bright yellow yarn. Angie looked over.

              “No, that’s Mabel’s.  So’s the glitter.”

              “You haven’t bothered to clean up?”

              “Mabel’s mess is an organized mess.  Everything’s in its spot,” Angie said.  “The last time I cleaned up her supplies, she turned the house upside down ‘cause cleanin’ disrupted her system.  Made even worse of a mess.”

              “Ah.”  Ford carefully nudged a few sparkly pieces of yarn aside and sat at the table.  He clasped his hands.  “So, Fiddleford tells me you and Stan added to your family since I last saw you.”

              “Yes.  In a rather major way.”  Angie nodded at Emily, who was rummaging through the fridge.  “Emily’s the oldest of quadruplets.”

              “Quadruplets?” Ford said, aghast.  He shook his head.  “You have seven total children.”

              “Yep.”

              “You and Stan raised seven children.”

              “Mm-hmm.”

              “You.  And Stan.”

              “If yer tryin’ to imply that they were all wild and difficult, yer correct. I mean, the combination of myself and Stan is a handful alone.  Add onto that the lycanthropy and the fact that they were multiple births…”  Angie let out a bark of laughter.  “I’m honestly surprised the house is still standin’.”  Ford chuckled.

              “…Do you have any pictures?” he asked.  Angie grinned.

              “What do ya take me for?”

----- 

              Ford laughed as he turned a page in the photo album Angie had grabbed for him.

              “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs?” he asked.  Angie shook her head, hiding a smile.  

              “Look, when you’ve got seven kids, ya don’t have that many options fer fam’ly Halloween costumes.”

              “These are wonderful.”  Ford looked at Angie.  “Thank you.”

              “…Fer what?”

              “Not kicking me out of the house the second you smelled my arrival.”

              “I heard ya ‘fore I smelled ya,” Angie said.  She turned another page in the photo album.  “But if I’m bein’ honest, Stan was the one who talked me down.”

              “Stan?”

              “Yes.  The day that you…”  Angie cleared her throat.  “I was still sick and hurt, and if I recall correctly, my words were ‘good riddance’.”

              “…Oh.”

              “Stan, though, he reminded me that what happened wasn’t under yer own volition, and you’d never do anything to purposefully hurt people you care about.” Angie shrugged.  “And I do feel like, even if we aren’t related by blood, we do have a bit of a connection.  We’re both scientists, after all.”

              “Stan was the one who talked you down,” Ford said quietly.  He rubbed his face.  “Why did he do that?”

              “Yer his brother.  He cares about you.”

              “I don’t know if I believe that.”

              “Oh, Lord.”  Angie steepled her fingers.  “What happened last night between you two?”

              “What do you-”

              “Stan came home furious about somethin’.  He wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

              “We fought.”

              “You fought?  Why?”

              “Because of the immense risks he took to bring me back after he pushed me through the portal in the first place!” Ford shouted.  Angie pursed her lips.  “And I heard the boy – Dipper – say that he got bitten by a werewolf, too.  I don’t know how Stan is involved, but I know it’s his fault in some way.”

              “Stanford.”

              “That’s his MO, Angie, and you know it.  Bad things happen around him.”

              “Does this have to do with the science fair incident?”

              “No.  I’ve moved past that.”

              “I don’t think you have.”

              “Angie, please,” Ford said.  He took a breath.  “I don’t want to talk about Stan.  I want to talk about your kids and Shermie’s grandkids.”

              “But-”

              “I mean it.”

              “Fine.”  Angie held her hands up.  “I’ll drop it.  And when Stan gets up, the chips ‘ll fall where they may.”

              “Thank you.”  Ford turned his attention back to the photo album.  “What did you say Cadenza does?”

              “She’s a lawyer.”

              “A lawyer?  Wow.  I assume she inherited Stan’s silver tongue.”

              “Mm-hmm.”

              “I’d like to meet her.  I’d like to meet all of the quadruplets.  And I’d like to see the triplets again.”

              “Sorry, but most all of the pups didn’t stick around in Gravity Falls. The only ones here right now are Emily and Molly.”

              “Aka the best ones,” Emily piped up.  “Caleb’s not even a werewolf anymore.”

              “He’s not?”

              “Nope.”

              “Huh.  Given how proud you all are of being werewolves, I would not have expected any of you to use the lycanthropy cure.”

              “Caleb’s always been a bit ‘meh’ about the werewolf thing, and being allergic to silver was making it difficult for his job,” Emily said.  “So he gave it up.”

              “What’s his job?”

              “He’s a pastry chef,” Angie replied.  “He lives in Piedmont like Mabel and Dipper.”

              “A pastry chef.”

              “Mm-hmm.”

              “Where is everyone else?”

              “Most of ‘em aren’t close enough to visit easily,” Angie said.  “Danny’s in Washington, D.C.  She works fer the Pentagon.”

              “Really?  With Stan for a father, how did she pass the background check?” Ford mumbled.  Angie frowned.

              “If I can’t talk ‘bout Stan, you can’t talk ‘bout him, either.”

              “Very well,” Ford sighed.  “What about the rest of your pups?”

              “Daisy’s back in Gumption on the fam’ly farm, doin’ testin’ on the crops. She’s a geneticist, so she’s tryin’ to improve the yield.  Emmett’s in dance school in San Diego – he studies ballet.  And Cadenza runs her practice from Portland.”

              “What about Molly?”

              “She’s bounced around doin’ botanical research, but right now she’s back in Gravity Falls, like I said.  She’ll be stoppin’ by this mornin’.”

              “She doesn’t live with you?”

              “…She’s in her thirties.  She has her own place.”

              “Oh.  Right.” Ford swallowed.  “She’s in her thirties.”

              “It’s got to be strange fer you,” Angie said sympathetically.  “She wasn’t even in kindergarten when you…left.  Now she’s all grown.”

              “Yes.”  Ford sighed softly.  “I’ve missed quite a bit.  Fiddleford even has a grown son.”  Emily, who was looking for something in one of the cupboards, froze.  She closed the cupboard door and stared at Ford with wide eyes.

              “Oh my god,” she whispered.  Angie stood up from the table.  “Oh my god! Ma, that’s-”

              “Emily, come with me to wake up yer father,” Angie said in a tight voice.

              “But Ma, Tate’s-”

              “Shh!”  Angie shot Ford an awkward grin.  “Go ahead and help yourself to some breakfast.  If Dipper and Mabel come down, tell Dipper he’s not allowed to have any pancakes.”  Ford nodded.

              “Because he’s been bitten, he’ll need plenty of protein.”

              “Exactly.”  Angie ushered Emily out of the kitchen.  Ford looked over at the counter.  Bacon, eggs, sausage, and pancakes were piled high on platters.  He smiled.

              That’s another thing that hasn’t changed.  Angie’s insistence on feeding everyone.  His stomach growled.  It’s been thirty years since I’ve had her amazing cooking.  Before he could get up to make a plate, footsteps rushed from the second floor. The two children he had met last night, Mabel and Dipper, ran into the kitchen.  They made a beeline for the food.

              “Dipper, no pancakes,” Ford said quickly.  Mabel and Dipper froze.  They slowly turned to face him.  Mabel squished her face excitedly.

              “Great-Uncle Ford!  What are you doing here?” she asked.

              “I came over to help Stan and Angie explain everything.”

              “Everything?” Dipper gasped.  He grabbed a notepad and pencil from inside his vest.  “Like, everything?”

              “Um, everything regarding the werewolf situation,” Ford said hesitantly.  Dipper’s eyes widened.

              “Awesome!”

              “Why can’t Dipper have pancakes?” Mabel asked.

              “Pups need protein,” a voice grunted.  Ford let out a small sigh.  He looked at the person who had just entered.

              “Stanley,” he said shortly.  Stan glared at him.

              “Ford,” Stan ground out.  He looked back at Dipper.  “Dipper, you got turned yesterday.  Getting turned isn’t a joke.  You need a lot of protein when you’re changing species, and you’re gonna be a pup on top of it.  Werewolf pups have to eat a lot of protein ‘cause they’re still growing.”

              “I’ll only have one pancake then,” Dipper said.  Stan glowered.

              “No.  No pancakes. Only protein for breakfast.”

              “But-”

              “No buts, kid,” Stan rumbled.  Angie walked into the kitchen.  “Ang, keep an eye on Dipper.  Don’t let him have any pancakes.”

              “Of course, darlin’.”

              “Thanks.”  Stan looked at Ford.  “Sixer. We should talk.”

              “…Yes,” Ford said.  “We should.”

[jimgim-blog]

Striving

As always, I begin with an apology. It doesn’t matter who or when. “Sorry, but--” is how I always begin any dialogue, whether it’s with my best friends who I haven’t called in over 2 months or with me, because everybody has to figure out which version of himself he wants to side with.

First, prose. Paul Kalanithi in “When Breath Becomes Air” sparked again, my love for literature. Perhaps unfounded, based on the fact that I’ve tried to read “Crime and Punishment” over five times, but still, a love that remains. His prose can only be described as leaping off the pages. It’s music. Especially towards the later chapters, when the “urgency of racing against time” is evident. He really poured his life out in the face of certain death. Although the vocabulary, syntax, structure and fluidity of his sentences elude my Reddit-level capacity to really appreciate them, I can tell its potential, similar to a tone-deaf drunkard happily sounding out half-flat drum beats because he can attest to the feeling the music produces.

There’s a list of quotes that I bookmarked but two that carry importance.

You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving - pg. 115

Lucy and I both felt that life wasn’t about avoiding suffering...Darwin and Nietzsche agreed on one thing: the defining characteristic of the organism is striving - pg. 143

During COVID-19, one prominent lesson I’ve learned is that life hangs in a precarious balance between suffering and pleasure and that our job is to find out where that tipping point is for us. If you’re good at reading people, you can see where their limit is and can carefully guide them there (that’s what a good manager does). It came at a point when I was watching an episode of The Top Gear with a glass of beer. I thought it well-deserved since I had just finished a coding project that took way too long of a time. But by the time I had finished it, it was 2 AM. And I just felt this tremendous wave of sadness. It’s as if I had crossed the point a tad too much and the yin-and-yang of my personal universe was whipping me back into shape.

But, I argued back. Didn’t I deserve it? Isn’t the whole point of crunching numbers to relax afterwards? I mean, who actually likes writing out reports to projects that have no real value? (The premise that engineering at the Master-level study program has no real value, I probably should confront at some point, preferably before I delve into a career). Isn’t life all about the reward?

Besides the rush of dopamine which evolution has carefully produced to enable the continuation of the human species, I’m starting to realize the answer to the question lies in my upbringing. The Christian life to any person with a basic knowledge of the Bible is a life of delayed gratification. Confess now and you can go to heaven. Resist the temptation and you shall receive reward in heaven. Well, that’s incorrect. The Bible reveals the Christian life as one lived with Christ, in Christ and out of Christ. It’s a life of loving Christ, having Christ love you more than you can possibly imagine, and simply telling that to anybody else you know. But, to realize that--and even the more, live that out--requires maturity. 

It helps that I went to a Bible seminary, but there are stages to a Christian life. In the initial stages, you find out what it means to deal with outward things like sins, the world, unrighteousness--things that most people can easily identify as those evil in the eyes of a Christian. But, at some point, you read Romans carefully and discover that God never expected you to perfect your resolve to never sin again. In fact, that was never His intention at all. His intention is that you would get to know Him more. To love Him more. To care about Him. The end game is when you realize that there’s really nothing more that pleases Him than Him giving Himself to you, and you allowing that.

There’s many obstacles like, your thoughts about what God is doing, who God is, or why God made things the way they are, but the point of the Christian life is to let those things go so that you would know Him.

That’s why the Bible doesn’t have any explicit answers to the problems of world poverty, hunger, unfair suffering and general illogical and incomprehensible ways that each individual life turns out; that’s not His focus. Neither does He actually owe it to you to solve all those things.

And here comes the point. Suffering is a part of human life because Adam fell. Christians suffer (arguably more than the unbeliever because of the fact that now he’s aware of not just one person, but several persons who lives within him--Satan, God and himself) and it’s just a part of life. Whoever came up with the idea that the good Christian goes to heaven has probably given Christianity a lot of thought. Philosophically, it's a satisfactory explanation for the impossible lives certain Christian biographies attest to. Politically, it’s a great tool for crowd control (Caesar Augustus). But it fails to hide the meaninglessness of it all that cloaks its happy ending. And look at the consequences! It’s become categorically almost taboo for a Catholic priest to be convicted of child molestation or some other gross sin for which he would be by the Catholic addendum to the Bible, responsible for help purging at the confession altar. The walls of Sardis and Thyatira echo with words of twisted teachings. How frustrated God must be that we’re just not getting it!

I think I’ve arrived at the cusp of understanding it. Not the point of it all, but why it’s meaningful to live in the faith. And what part suffering has in all of it. Because it’s not dissimilar to what I consider a life worth living outside of the bounds of Christian law. It’s exactly what Dr. Kalanithi wrote. Striving. That’s the whole point. Or, in layman terms, the pursuit of happiness.

When I watched Will Smith explain it to his kid (oh please, that scene was basically made for him and his actual kid) that nobody should strip his dreams away, I could resonate as an immigrant because that’s what my parents embodied in their ever-sacrificing life for me. They never said it, but I could tell. And striving was simply a part of it. They never questioned why they should strive because it was ingrained into their bones as they did everything they could to survive in the teenage stages of the miracle on the Han. But me, I have the pleasure of enjoying the fruits of their labor, never having to worry about having enough to eat. Instead, I have to re-discover why I should strive at all to find a meaning in life that they never had to question (presumably. I never asked them). But, it’s finally start to click: the pursuit is the happiness.

Like donkeys, we need the carrot at the end of the stick. I generally agree with the capitalist notion that humans need incentive to progress (or to work, for that matter). North Korean defectors have the hardest time integrating into South Korea because working is purely a status from 9 to 5, not a gateway into a better life. And look where North Korea is today; isolated, whining and throwing a tantrum every couple of months so people would notice them. So, we desperately need the idea of perfection. We admire those who have seemingly achieved it. We cling to the ideals and lift them up because it incentivizes us. “A perfect life exists and I’m going to get after it.” And, that’s really what the economy thrives on. Without grandeur ideals of a large house by the lakeside with a collection of supercars in the garage, Wall Street would collapse. Sure, some are more driven by the fact that their childhood was deprived of any sense of normalcy. I can’t say anything to that. But, the point is that normalcy is the ideal of “perfection”.

But if you see any interview of the person who’s “done it all”--I recommend for all the Asians, Johnny Kim (it hurts because my name is so similar)-- you never get the sense that they are exuberant beyond measure. Least of all, there is rarely a sense of absolute pride that they’re done it the way they wanted to and that was the end of it. The common thread is sacrifice and a bit of luck. The more they gave for their goals, the less they had time to think about if they’re happy at the moment. It’s in that precise moment of the present, when no thought of anxiety over the status of their happy-barometer is looming, that they’re actually, happy.

Perfection doesn’t exist. But if you don’t strive for it, there’s hardly any meaning at all. A perfect Christian life isn’t a life without suffering. It’s a life with, in and through Christ. But it’s unattainable, impossible. And maybe that’s the whole point. 

p.s. There’s another dimension to the concept of “striving” in the Bible. It’s usually in a negative light because the entire medium through which we can live the normal Christian life is through faith and striving, on the contrary, implies work of our own merit. Here, striving is meant in a positive way, in the sense of pressing forward, of devoting serious energy into a matter that is near to the heart. Instead of a perfectionist foolishly striving for a goal that to him is naively reachable, I think of Luganksy playing Rachmaninoff Concert No. 2 in a recording that undoubtedly is one of the greatest performances of his life but riddled with miss-hits and asynchronous crescendo into the cadenza. It captures the beauty of irony; that only imperfection can bring solace to the troubled soul, keeping it afloat amidst the chaos of life. There is no perfect anything, but striving for it, whatever it may be or to whom the conceived idea belongs, is undoubtedly the greatest blessing to life.

[riverstonesims]

ALL THE QUESTIONS FOR GIU. (And no I'm not sorry for making this demand ;))

BB, I am not surprised by this! I’m so excited to just talk about this sweet lil’ baby of mine. LOOK AT HIS FACE.

Everything under the cut (as it’s quite long).

Basics:

How/why was your character named? 

Giu was named after Giuseppe Verdi, an Italian opera composer (and Cadenza’s favourite).

If they have a nickname, how did it originate? 

Giu. When Giu was learning to talk, he found saying his name hard so Giu was the alternative and it’s stuck ever since!

How many languages can they speak? (and why) 

English is his main language though he can understand a little bit of Italian.

What is the extent of their education? 

He’s about to start his final year at high school (but is planning on going to university!).

Where do they live? 

Twinbrook.

How close are they to their family? 

He’s close with both his mums, but more so with Cadenza than Lyanna. He used to be close with his sister Caterina but they’ve been fighting for the last 2.5 years.

Do they have pets? 

They have a family cat called Bella.

Physical:

What does your character look like? 

He’s about 5′7″ with brown hair and purple eyes (yes you read that right; he inherited them from Lyanna!). He’s medium build but is taller than Elise.

If they have scars/tattoos, what is the origin? 

He’s got a scar above his right knee from when he had a bicycle accident; Elise thought it would be a good idea to cycle from the tallest hill in Twinbrook and Giu - naturally - went along with it... but he didn’t break and ended up cutting his leg badly.

What is their most physically distinguishing characteristic? 

His eyes.

How similar do they look compared to their family members? 

He’s a good mix though looks a bit more like Lyanna out of his parents.

Are all the characters different physically? 

Yes. Cadenza is more curvy compared to Lyanna who is more slender. I don’t know what Caterina is going to age up as, though.

Psychology:

What is their motive?

Motive in life? To be a published author.

What is something about them that can surprise me (the writer)? 

His sad and moody expressions as a teen - SO GOOD. 

On what occasion does this character lie?

Well... when he’s with someone he should be with. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What is their greatest regret?

His broken relationship with his sister Caterina.

What is their greatest fear?

Being a failure and letting everyone he cares about down.

What is their worst vice? 

He’s really too pure but I guess one thing would be his love of puns and the fact that he springs them out when no one is expecting them.

What is a talent they would like to have? 

He wishes he was musical so he could play the piano but he hasn’t got an ounce of musicality in him.

Did they have a happy childhood? (why/why not?) 

Yes and no. Throughout his childhood he was bullied by Iris Cunningham, and it continues to this day.

What was the best thing that ever happened to them?

 Winning the Bridgeport Daily Creative Writing Competition! 

What is their worst tic/habit? 

Fidgeting with his beanie. He does it especially when he’s nervous.

Who is the person they love the most? 

OH GOD. WELL. I don’t know if I can answer that. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Who is the person who they hate the most? 

IRIS CUNNINGHAM.

What is the state of their house? Clean? Messy? Run down? Perfect and stately? 

Clean as Cadenza is a neat freak. 

Are they superstitious? Why/why not? 

No he isn’t. He doesn’t believe in all that. 

How easy are they to get along with? 

Very easy. He is a smol bean and is super friendly. I’d be friends with him.

Other:

How is this character different than all the other characters? 

I’ve put a lot more effort into developing his character, his backstory, his flaws and his strengths as well as what I’d like to happen with/to him. It all happened out of the blue and very organically.

What would happen if your character had more information about the plot you’ve created? 

He’d probably be very upset with me and never talk to me again. IT’S GOING TO BE OKAY GIU, I... PROMISE??

What would happen if your character had less information about the plot you’ve created? 

I guess... there’d be more room for extra drama and plot!

What has brought this character to this point in time?

Random plot thoughts, interesting screenshots and my inability to stop writing.

What is motivating your character in the plot so far? And do you expect this to change? 

Getting into university to do an Arts double degree in Creative Writing and History. I’m not expecting it to change, I’m just expecting relationships to change... huehue.

How happy is your character with the way things are going? 

At the moment, yes. He’s just worried he won’t get into university.

How has your character changed throughout the novel? Or, how do you plan on it changing? 

He’s going to go through some tough life lessons and realisations.

How are the goals changing for your character? 

I’m not really sure at this point in time!

Why is the story happening to this character and not someone else? 

He’s my heir and I just love him so much. 

How can I make my character more likeable/unlikable, depending on the reaction I want? 

Y’all’ll just have to wait for what’s to come!

Thank you so much for asking Rae! I LOVED answering these questions. ❤Original post can be found here.

[mcd-kingkiller]

Chapter 5

"New Life, New Look"

"Is she dead?" A young boy's voice questioned.

"I'm not sure but I'm getting mom." Another voice sighed as I heard footsteps walk away. 

"Hey! Wait!" The first voice called after the second. 

I pushed myself up slowly, groaning. 

"Oh Irene! It's alive!" The boy screamed as I rolled onto my back. I hissed in pain as I was putting weight on my lashings.  The sun was shining in my face. It felt warm and welcoming. 

I shielded my face from the light and stared at the boy. He was wearing a blue striped shirt and gray shorts. His pale blue eyes stared back through his blonde hair. They were full of fear but had an inkling of curiosity.

A woman in a purple shirt came running up with the boy with the second voice, I could only assume. An armored man with blonde hair and bright blue eyes trotted in front of them, pulled the blue shirted boy behind him. 

The man drew his sword. 

"Lady Aphmau, stay back! This is the fiend who nearly drowned Lumi and gave Dante a black eye!" The man cautioned the woman and her two boys, "Quickly, take Levin and Malachi home."

"Garroth wait." The woman put her hand on the man's shoulder. "She looks hurt. Maybe we should hear her side."

Garroth paused, staring at her then nodded, taking the boys to a house on a hill. 

The lady reached her hand out to me.

"You look like you need some help…" she smiled softly. 

I cautiously took her hand, "Where am I? Why are you helping a complete stranger?"

"Because it's what good people do…" she helped me up. 

She looked me up and down before laughing a bit. 

"What?" I raised an eyebrow. 

"C’mon lets get you some clean clothes." Lady Aphmau smiled at me. 

"A-Alright…" My face burned slightly rosy at my cheeks. I remembered my manners,  "Th-Thank you,  ma'am!"

People weren't so nice back home. After all it was survival of the fittest. If you fell behind in life that was on you. No one could afford to fall behind, especially when an O'khassian could knock on your door to tell you to leave your home or worse. 

She stared at me for a moment before laughing and leading me into the settlement below the hill. I had a fair share of stares and scowls from a few sent my way. I watched my bare feet pitter-patter against the cobblestone road in response. 

"So why did you punch my guard, Dante?" The lady hummed. 

I jerked my gaze up to meet hers, a shocked expression on my face that mellowed out to an embarrassed expression. "He spooked me, I suppose. " I sighed. 

She laughed,  "So you're instinct was to punch him?!" The statement was followed by a round of laughter. 

"Sorry…" I apologized. 

"We're here!~" she ignored my apology.

I looked up to see a yellow shop front with window flower boxes full of vibrant white lilies.  Behind the glass pane of the displays were mannequins dressed in fashionable clothing. The sign over the door had a dress carved into it. 

"Come on in. " Aphmau led me inside. 

We were met with a duo talking at a counter. One was a girl with vibrant orange hair, blue eyes and a beautiful green dress, the other was a man with dirty blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and was clad in armor. The man’s hand rested on his sword’s hilt when they both turned to see me.

"Lady Aphmau, you realize-" The guard started. 

The Lady held her hand up, stopping the guard's words before following up with, "It was a misunderstanding, Laurence."

"A misunderstanding?!" He shouted, "She tried to drown Lumi!"

"She actually saved me from drowning, idiot." I glared at him. 

"Wait. So it's like that game of messenger?" Cadenza started at me. 

"Of what?" I raised an eyebrow. 

"Y’know where everyone lines up and passes a message to each other and finds out how badly messed up it gets." Cadenza explained. 

"Oh." I sighed. She was talking about telephone. This settlement must really be out in the boonies. 

Aphmau cleared her throat, "Cadenza could we get her some clothes that aren't totally messed up?"

"Oh! Of course! I'll get her a beautiful dress-" Cadenza smiled. 

"No dress!" I burst out, "-uh...I apologize just...I don't think It'd suit me, you see…" I stared at the ground. Dresses were stupid and womanizing. They made you weak and frilly. Also, heavens forbid the wind picks up. My cheeks grew rosy at the thought of my dress getting kicked up by the wind. 

"How about a blouse? I may have something-"

"Do you have a scrap or bargain bin?" I spoke up. 

Cadenza looked at Aphmau who returned a confused look. By now Laurence was looking like he was thinking of heading for the door. 

"Yeaaah?… it's over there?" She pointed to a bin in the back corner of the store. 

I walked over picking through the cut up fabric and articles of clothing. I hummed a marching cadence to keep from zoning out. 

I picked up a gray hooded shirt with cut sleeves and a pair of badly torn up brown canvas-y pants that was littered with patches.

"Are you sure you want those? I have better quality items." Cadenza looked worried.

"Yeah. I'm sure. These will do nicely." I smiled as I brushed my brown hair from my face.

"Want me to tie your hair back?" Aphmau smiled.

"Huh?" I glanced up at her. "Oh. Uh. Yes please, thank you?" 

"Go change and I'll do it for you." Aphmau hummed.

"Right…" I looked around. Cadenza motioned towards a closet with a curtain for a door. I entered the closet, pulling the curtain closed behind me as I changed into my new clothes.

As I pulled my prison shirt off, I caught a glimpse of the scars forming on my back. They stung dully as they were healing still but I had already grown used to it. I frowned at the scar on my collar bone. A large star shaped scar had formed around where I was shot. I never had time to remove the bullet. Hopefully it was just an energy shot. My black sports bra was torn a bit, but I still had it. Thankfully the prison guards let me keep it and my underwear.

I slipped into the hoodie and pants, marveling at how comfortable they felt.

I stepped outside the changing room.

Cadenza frowned.

"You still need shoes." She sighed.

"How about these?" Aphmau held up a pair of black fabric shoes with white dyed soles and a white circular patch on the side. They looked suspiciously like hightops.

"Lady Aphmau! Those were the shoes you commissioned!" Cadenza protested as the Lady gave me the shoes.

"It's fine. I have shoes as is." Aphmau hummed politely. 

I bowed my head, "Thank you!"

"Not a problem!" Aphmau smiled.

[lumiereswig]

can i please have a crack-shippy fic where everybody is in love with the wrong people.

OMG. OMG. THIS PERSON. THIS PERSON GETS IT. Fuck yes you may have your fic and all my money besides

Lumiere’s legs ache, but it’s a fantastic ache—the ache of being out in summer, hiking through the woods, air on his face when for just a second there he thought he’d never have a face again. He breathes, deeply, almost too deeply—and oh, his muscles hurt.

“You might have thought not to wear heels,” teases Plumette, gently, just behind him.

“Cherie, you yourself are wearing heels,” says Lumiere. She laughs and raises her skirts so he can see them. Truly scandalous! And oh so pretty. Their laughter can be heard through the forest as he chases her off the path.

Behind them by a few yards, Cogsworth sighs and raises his eyes to the heavens. Lovers in summer, eh? He cannot remember ever having been this way himself: annoying, grasping for physical attention, all flirt and kiss and nonsense, utter nonsense. He groans and puffs and leans against a tree.

“They all do it, Mr. Cogsworth,” says Mrs. Potts, walking just behind him. “Let them have their fun. Summer was made for lovers such as them.”

“And normal people such as us?” says Cogsworth. “What of us? You have Mr. Potts, I have…..hmph, I have Clothilde. Summer should belong to us, too.”

Mrs. Potts smiles. Far down the path—lagging far behind the older members of the party—Cadenza and Garderobe cling to each other, arm in arm, taking their time and hiking only in between the kisses and hugs. Cogsworth groans again and keeps on walking.

“Mon ami! Cogsworth! Down here!”

The party follow the sound of Lumiere’s voice, off the beaten trail and down into a hollow. Cogsworth waves as he sees his friend and Plumette practically dancing in front of a fallen tree.

“Don’t you see?” yells Plumette. “It’s a tree-house! Someone has made a home beneath the tree!”

It’s true: the upturned roots of the tree form the roof of a home, a charming one strewed with blankets and baskets of herbs. Just outside the shelter stands a cauldron, bubbling over flame; this last intrigues Lumiere very much, who stands over it with a spoon.

“You must come try this at once,” he insists. “Marjoram! I haven’t tasted it in years. Ooh, and something else as well—” He sips from the cauldron and concentrates. Plumette, beside him, laughs and eats as well.

“Lumiere! We are trespassing, we cannot just help ourselves to someone’s dinner—”

“Relax, mon ami,” and Lumiere cuts Cogsworth off by forcing a spoonful to his lips. “When our enchanting host returns, we will share our picnic with him. The master will be along with it shortly, no? Cadenza—you are a man of taste—taste marjoram and see what you think.”

While the musicians smile and sup, Mrs. Potts feels an ache deep within her. This is no muscle spasm—though she certainly had enough of those while hiking this deep into the woods—no, this is unease. She looks into the hovel of the tree, and sees roses pinned against the roots, and an owl perched upon a chair; magic, she thinks, magic, and her stomach turns over.

“I had no idea!” Adam and Belle have found the rest of the party; Mrs. Potts turns and hurries toward her prince, who is wrestling with a large picnic basket. “I’ve never been this far into the woods. Who do you think lives here?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Belle’s eyebrows raise. She’s intrigued by this hidden house in the wood, made from roots and bound with roses. “I figured you knew everything about your estate.”

“Darling, the only thing I know about the estate is that I love it and you. What’s that you’re eating, Lumiere?”

“Marjoram! And hearts-ease, I think. Most unusual. Never tasted it in a soup before—master, try it, truly délicieux—”

Adam eats while Belle looks at the hovel. Her eyes flit over it, turning it upside down, calculating out which story-book she knows it from.

This place is known to me, she thinks. I’ve never been here before, and neither has Adam—but I know it, I know it.

Behind her, Mrs. Potts copies Adam and eats from the cauldron, a worried look on her face.

Roses—and herbs—and a tree in the woods— “Hold on,” calls Belle, “my father told me about this. Isn’t this where the Enchantress lives?”

Silence from her friends. And then a BANG.

Belle whips around in time to see the cauldron belching yellow smoke. There is a hiss of scent—herbs and magic and magic and herbs—and seven bodies hit the ground.

There. It had taken her a while, but Belle had managed. The first thing she had done was to get them away from the hovel; a little ways away now, they lay in a glen, the bodies of Adam and the staff pulled where she could get them. No one dead, thank goodness; but all unconscious, and—phew, thinks Belle—heavier than she would have guessed.

She takes a moment to admire her handiwork. Plumette, Cadenza, and Mrs. Potts all are safely stowed beneath a weeping willow, their heads supported by roots and veiled with branches. Madame de Garderobe she has managed to pull beside a log. Lumiere and Cogsworth—heavy, you’d think they were still made of metal—she couldn’t get very far, so they lay just beyond, side by side, not far from where they fell. Adam she props onto a stump beside her—and I cannot wait, thinks Belle, to tease him for the number of times I’ve had to carry his body through this wood.

It was disturbing to have them all unconscious, though. Oh well; she’d done capably—I always do capably, thinks Belle—and now she just had to wait for them to wake up.

Adam moans beside her, and Belle smiles and nudges him. “Come on, wake up, Adam,” she says. “I know you’re strong enough to.”

He moans again. Sissy, thinks Belle, he’s going to pretend he can’t so I’ll help him. Just to tease, she escapes his groggy reach and saunters off toward the willow. He’ll follow me in a second, and then he can help me, and then we can decide what to do with Cadenza and—

Oh.

When Belle propped the staff up against the willow moments ago, Plumette, Cadenza, and Mrs. Potts had all been quite unconscious. Not so now. Plumette still slept, but—and here Belle’s mind flipped over in her head—Cadenza and Mrs. Potts were up and snogging.

“Uhh—pardon me?”

Cadenza’s hands are locked onto Mrs. Potts’ face; that good lady’s arms are thrown across his shoulders in the most casual, intimate way imaginable. There is definitely some tongue happening. Belle’s mind does a cartwheel and tries to find its bearings.

“Uh—Mrs. Potts? Maestro?” All right, all right, maybe they were having an affair all this time, somehow, that they kept concealed from everybody, including their spouses…spouses who they are both utterly devoted to and would never, ever stray from, yes, definitely, good going, Belle. “What are you doing?”

“Just a little tea and music,” coos Maestro Cadenza. Mrs. Potts giggles—giggles—and lodges her foot halfway up Cadenza’s thigh. Belle’s ears burn and her eyes wish they could fall out of her head.

“Okay,” says Belle. “Okay. I am too clever for this. Did you—are you—I mean of course it’s none of my business but—”

“Darling,” say Adam, just behind her, and Belle breathes and whips around to see her love coming through the bower of the weeping willow branches.

“Adam! Thank goodness you’re here, I—” But his eyes aren’t looking at her, and he is walking right past her, and he is kneeling beside the slowly waking Plumette.

Okay. Okay then. He is just concerned about the maid. That is good and kind and very Adam-like. Belle follows him.

“Mon amour,” breathes Plumette, staring up at Adam.

“Oh, no, sorry, you’ve got the wrong tall, overdressed white man,” says Belle. “Lumiere will be along in just a moment, I’m sure—”

“I have never beheld anything so beautiful as you,” says Adam, staring at Plumette’s face. “How could I have lived and not seen you?”

“Mon amour,” says Plumette again, and uses Adam’s cravat to yank his lips to hers.

Oooookay. Belle needs to take a break. She exits the willow—Mrs. Potts’ giggle of “tea for two!” unfortunately not escaping her burning ears—and stands outside to take stock.

Adam, she thinks, would never, ever do this. Not my Adam, not ever, and slowly Belle’s faith picks itself back up and pushes her brain back to working. Mrs. Potts, Cadenza—they would never do that, either. And neither would Plumette.  Magic, then: magic, clearly, to cause this madness.

She glances at the log where Garderobe is—thank goodness, she remain asleep. She glances at the meadow where she left Lumiere and Cogsworth. It sits empty.

She tracks their heavy footprints to the bank of a brook. The meadow dips down and she cannot see them, but she knows that they are there, together and alone.

Fearless, she thinks. Be fearless. And walks down to the bank.

“You old fool!” flusters Cogsworth, yelling at Lumiere. “Poppycock, utter poppycock! Balderdash.”

“You jester,” says Lumiere, “all talk and no action, as usual.”

“Lumiere? Cogsworth? Everything all right? Nothing….different?”

“Same old madness,” grumbles Cogsworth. “This idiot thinks he can beat me in a competition!”

“Mon beau,” says Lumiere, “you know how competitive I get when the stakes are high.”

Thank goodness, they’re just the same. Belle breathes in, out. In, out.

“You’re not winning any kissing contest,” says Cogsworth, “not on my watch.”

“You are playing with so much fire,” says Lumiere, and leaps into a kiss.

Out, out, out, out. Belle cannot catch breath. The kiss keeps going.

Okay, Belle, you’re clever. Come on.

“Gentlemen, uh? I can see you’re into this, but could we do this some other time?”

“Oh, it’s not ‘we,’ you’re not invited,” says Cogsworth. “It’s just us.”

Lumiere, Belle sees, is the master of multitasking: he is somehow taking off Cogsworth’s coat for him while maintaining an exquisite French kiss. Incredible.

“Ok, fine, keep—keep doing that,” and Belle’s mind flinches back to the sight of Adam returning Plumette’s kisses but no, no, “just—um—I think there might have been something in what you ate.  Lumiere, what were you saying was in that cauldron?”

Even in the most ecstatic passion Lumiere has a soft spot for food. “Hearts-ease,” he says, his teeth half buried in Cogsworth’s cravat. “Most unusual. Never seen hearts-ease in cooking before—”

Cogsworth is a walking botany textbook even as he takes Lumiere’s shirt off. “Mostly used for medicinal purposes, not culinary. ‘Meh’ taste. Related to the pansy—”

“Pansy? Those are in one of Adam’s favorite plays—Hamlet,” says Belle. “‘There’s pansies, that’s for thoughts.’ Ophelia says it.”

Cogsworth does not respond. He is sidetracked by something distracting Lumiere is doing at his neck.

“Everyone is having such strange thoughts,” says Belle, “Cadenza with Mrs. Potts, Plumette kissing my Adam. All these strange thoughts, if only I could have more of—oh! SHAKESPEARE!”

“What on earth is she on about,” mumbles Cogsworth.

“If I follow her chain of thought, mon petit choux, I believe Cadenza is kissing Beatrice, the Master is kissing Plumette, and Belle wishes to be kissing Monsieur Shakespeare.”

“That does not explain why you are not currently kissing me.”

“Good point. At this rate, I am fit to lose the contest,” and Lumiere turns back to kissing.

Belle is talking out loud now. “Of course! It’s in a A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Shakespeare calls it ‘love-in-idleness’ there, but it’s the same flower, the same pansy! And in the play, it makes people fall in love with whoever they see first!”

“Do you remember what the first thing I saw once I turned human was?” murmurs Cogsworth.

“Me, obviously. It’s always me. Amazing foreshadowing,” and Lumiere rolls back on top of the major domo.

“So if there was hearts-ease in that cauldron, when it blew up in everyone’s faces, everyone near it would be affected. And then I laid Cadenza by Mrs. Potts—and Adam would have seen me but he saw Plumette first—and then I laid you two blunderers aside over here—”

“Brava! Brava! Brilliant reasoning,” says a beautiful voice just behind her, and Belle turns to see Madame de Garderobe, looking straight at her.

“Madame,” gulps Belle, and then it’s too late and she’s being swallowed by a kiss.

Garderobe’s perfume is intoxicating, and Belle lingers for a moment. Wowza. Hot damn. If she can kiss like this all the time, Cadenza is a lucky man. Wait a minute—

Belle pulls away, trips over the men, regains her balance, gasping. “You have a husband.”

“We do not take monogamy so seriously in Italy,” says Garderobe.

This is insane. “Yes! Just, um,” Belle skirts the embrace, “I need to gather some flowers.”

“Un mazzolino di fiori? For me? Cara, you are so sweet to think of me so!”

“…right. Why don’t I go get some roses this way, and you go get some for me that way?”

“It breaks my heart to leave you,” says Madame de Garderobe, and for a minute Belle can see why the courts of Europe threw diamonds and gems at this woman’s feet. But Garderobe turns away, and sets to picking flowers, and Belle sprints back to the Enchantress’s hovel.

Her hands fly through the bundles of roses and marjoram. Surely what she needs is in here somewhere. Please, oh please, let it not all have been in the cauldron—

Agathe places small white blooms into Belle’s hands.

She has been so used to romance for the last hour that it takes her a moment to see that Agathe is not here to swear eternal devotion or fall at her feet or pull out her hair. Once she knows:

“What the hell are you doing with this stuff?”

“It’s for another story, later on,” says Agathe. “I did not think to see your party coming so close.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s moved way beyond close and definitely into intimate,” says Belle.

“I will help them sleep,” says Agathe.

“Darn it,” says Belle, “I was really looking forward to knocking them all out with a saucepan.”

“Leave that for the hero of another story,” says the Enchantress, and waves her hands.

Belle lugs each person back to the glen, and takes out the small white blooms of hearts-ease to brush on each person’s eyes. I’ve always wanted to play Puck, she thinks, as she puts Plumette beside Lumiere, their faces almost touching. Shakespeare would be proud, I’m solving this just as he did. She fetches out the portrait of Mr. Potts from Mrs. Potts’ handbag, and sets it just before her face, so it will be the first thing she sees as she wakes with the hearts-ease on her eyes. The musicians she tucks together beneath the willow, and Cogsworth she leaves by himself, throwing water on his face and hoping the Enchantress will cover the rest. Adam’s head she gently, gently, rests in her lap. All is quiet as they sleep.

“If we shadows have offended,” says Belle, and she thinks of lovers in midsummer, lovers in the forest and lovers in her dreams, and she strokes Adam’s hair and speaks from memory.

“If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended,That you have but slumber’d hereWhile these visions did appear.And this weak and idle theme,No more yielding but a dream….Give me your hands, if we be friends—”

“I hope we are a good deal more than friends,” says Adam, from her lap, and his blue eyes are bright upon her face. “And I hope that’s not Midsummer you’re reciting from. You know I hate how unrealistic it is.”

“Says the man whose favorite play is about a Danish king terrified of live theatre,” says Belle.

“Says the woman who read it aloud and emphasized all the good parts,” says Adam, and reaches up to kiss her.

Around the glen, the others wake up. Garderobe and Cadenza kiss and touch, no memory remaining of the last hour of their lives; Mrs. Potts stretches, tsk-tsking at the grass stains on her dress. Lumiere and Plumette appear from around a tree, laughing, each orbiting the other, catching kisses. Cogsworth asks if anybody has seen his coat.

And I, thought Belle, restore amends.

[aquitainequeen]

A feast’s sprung from nowhere. Enough to feed all of them, and any villagers who dared stay after the fight. Just appeared in one of the main courtyards. Cogsworth thinks “Probably another curse,” and they each must take him by an elbow and pull him along.

It quickly turns into Lumiere almost holding up her off the floor while towing their, their friend. Her legs are being very silly at present.

She can understand Cogsworth. All the trouble that one rose caused, never mind a whole banquet! it’s just that he’s wrong. She thinks but does not say, it’s possibly the Enchantress’s - not her apology. It’s a gift, a farewell present. If she’s rude about it, and if she is it’s certainly only in her own head: maybe it’s a sneaky bribe. Leave them thinking better of her, with their joy and mouths and fingers and thumbs and full bellies and little to do, for just today.

She’s had time to notice a distinct lack of dust, which makes her even happier. Some of the others have come back talking about fully stocked larders, sparkling windows and perfect gardens and fresh sheets on the beds! Not just the Prince’s bed either, probably all of them. And again, the feast none of them had to worry about preparing or arranging. It’s one last bit of magic, maybe. A goodbye as time starts up again. One glorious day between being servants and back to being servants. Being quite free.

Thereare  porcelain plates so they can take as much as they want and come away. There’s no order, no procession and placement of courses, nothing to be placed and taken away again. The Prince doesn’t even stay for them to watch him eat, he’s sitting in one of the alcoves with Lady Belle, nothing but talking and holding her hands, kissing her palms in full sight of everyone as thought he’d like to eat them instead.

She piles her plate for Lumiere more than herself, she could hardly eat a thing. She’d much rather to go off with him like the Prince and Lady Belle have done, or Garderobe and Cadenza who charged in for champagne and clattered back out at once. Even like Mrs. Potts and Chip with Monsieur Jean, barely letting go of each other for a heart beat. Not even a blink. But Madame Cogsworth is still very much here and Cogsworth would very much prefer that she wasn’t, or that he wasn’t, and Lumiere doesn’t want to leave him alone and she doesn’t either, truly, so.

They all end up near one of the fountains. She perches on the rim while Lumiere sprawls and Cogsworth sits, trembling with not touching his wife. She almost quits her seat for the shade because the sunlight is so hot and growing hotter in her hair, on the backs of her hands.

Lumiere’s fingers are learning slowly, to his great embarrassment: “I am most ashamed,” he says as he tries to get the wig straight. Madame Cogsworth only nods.

She pins the wig back into place for him. Pats it into some dignity again. He can catch and stroke about her face or hold a spoon (if it’s wedged tight enough between his thumb and the rest) but a knife’s that little bit much him for now.

She comes down from her perch and settles herself nearly on his lap to feed him. She tells him to let her do it: “I will do it. I want to do it.” She holds leaves of salad for him, orange slices, a boiled egg and then another when he says how he’s missed them. He kisses her fingertips; his lips are too soft and loving to let her get more than a touch of his teeth and tongue.

Cogsworth is doing his best not to look as he divides up some bread (and chicken) with his wife. Well, she’s sorry for that, but not sorry enough that she won’t keep feeding Lumiere scraps of food fit for a prince. (Or only fit for their Prince; make of that what you will.) And in any case, they aren’t scraps from someone noble’s meal but ones that she’s making herself, tearing up the beef for him, soft enough that there’s no call for a knife. The village woman from another time and world can stare all she wants. He’s her man and he’s earned the best, he was strong and carried them for so long, it’s her turn.

He wakes up a bit from the pleasure to stop her rending the meat any further. “You’ll burn your fingers,” he says. Before he realises.

That is so funny! She wraps her arms round his neck, tugs so his back meets and squashes her breasts, nose first into his wig by mistake before she can find his forehead to kiss it. Cogsworth’s risen and loudly declares he’s going for a walk; “Will you join me, Madame,” which manages to be enough of whatever she’s looking for that of course Madame will.

And she really must find some way of thanking her friend - when she’s not saying, close to Lumiere’s ear (can she smell smoke from his wig again) her fingers and most of all their tips are very much unharmed, how sweet you are to worry about them, no need for concern, while she works a finger through his neck cloth's folds to reach his skin.

[undercovermcdfan]

title: seven minutes

prompt: seven minutes in heaven, college au

a/n: I’m screaming. This is a good prompt. Lmfao. Based off this ask @crybabytime gotten a week or so ago?

warning(s): kisses, fluff and travis is done w/ vylad tbqh

.

.

.

.

If he had to describe himself, it would be careful.

He didn’t have the aloofness of Zane or the charisma of Garroth, a weird in between both and to some, this was a boring option but to Vylad, it was safe. He preferred being safe.

“Well, the next game is about to start, so join us,” Laurance grinned, pointing a thumb at the circle gathering, “You been so lonely over here—even Katelyn’s joining us.”

Vylad paused, looking from the group back to Laurance as his heart quietly fluttered; as perceptive as Laurance always claimed to be, his obliviousness always wanted to make Vylad want to chuckle. Downing his cup of soda, he nodded and replied with a shrug, “I guess I could.”

He never was an adventurous teen in high school—nor an adventurous adult. Party games often seemed the sort of fun that invited heavy drinking, odd rules and funny memories to recount in the morning through recorded videos and posted pictures to regret in the morning. And if anybody else offered him to join, he would’ve naturally turned them down because party games weren’t his things.

But Laurance wasn’t anybody in Vylad’s book.

He settled beside Laurance, who smiled before launching into explaining their next game: seven minutes in heaven.

Naturally, this caused mixed reactions; some cheered, some rolled their eyes, and some took a swig of their drink, whining how they much rather Truth or Dare or Special Shots. Laurance silenced them with a hand wave. “Anyways, since I finally convinced Vylad to join us, I think he should have first honors.”

Vylad steeled his nerves from flinching as everybody’s gazes suddenly turned to him and he gave a nonchalant shrug with a quiet, “Sure.”

The bottle spun, and only did he realize how long were seven minutes would, did the bottle tip pointed at the one person spending those minutes with would be especially slow.

Laurance clapped his hands, getting up to his feet before offering a hand to Vylad, who now felt immensely shy, took. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Kawaii-chan’s eyes light up before turning to Aphmau; she must’ve seen his distressed look and by the gleeful smile she wore, taking joy in his suffering.

Oh, it’s dark too? Vylad thought, watching the door close and on the other side, Lucinda said “Starting the timer now!”  in a sing-song voice. He pressed his back against one side, Laurance sat across the other and soon silence settling in between them as the third.

A moment passes.

Then two.

Then three.

“So…” Laurance begun, Vylad could hear the struggle in his voice, wanting to break this silence.

It took another moment before he spoke again. “How’s photography? I saw you won that contest the university hosted—congrats, ha-ha.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you still keeping up with French? I was planning on taking it this semester but it ended up conflicting with my major, so I had to drop it.”

“It’s fine. Professor Nadia teaches this semester too.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

Even in the darkness, Vylad suddenly felt as if he was fifteen again and couldn’t muster the strength to look in other’s direction. The conversation was stiffed and stilt, he knew it was—but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know the science behind it and ten minutes ago, he could hold small talk and not having his tongue tied like this, but now being near, alone with him, and Vylad was robbed all ability to speak properly.

Maybe I should just kiss him and get this out of my system. The thought startled him but… it wasn’t a bad one. At least, if he kissed Laurance, it would get one thing out of the way even though the crush properly rooted itself deeply now. Just a small one. Nothing too serious. I’ll back off if he doesn’t like it.

“A minute left!”

Now or never.

Vylad took in a deep breath. “Um,” he started, and he could feel other’s gaze upon him, “Sorry. This is my first time… doing something like this.”

“Huh? No, nah, don’t worry about it,” Laurance piped up, “You always been the quiet sort, so it isn’t a big deal. I’m sorry if this all is a little uncomfortable for you.”

“It isn’t,” Vylad shifted a little, sitting up now, “I was just a little nervous.”

There’s a pause. “…Why are you nervous?”

“Because what usually goes on in games like these,” he’s on his knees now, it’s not a long distance to cross in this small closest; he places a hand on Laurance’s knee, and he could make out the outline of his face, his hair, “Kissing. Other stuff. I was hoping…”

“Vylad?” Laurance softly questioned.

Laurance didn’t stop him. Whether stunned or something else, Vylad took his chance as the others outside started to count down. And frankly, he could confirm two things: 1) he spent a year and half pining after Laurance, and he can cross this off as one of his fantasies because yes Laurance’s lips are as nice as they look; 2) is it healthy for a heart to race this fast?

A hand rest on the small of his back and Vylad felt him kiss back, other hand gripping his hoodie while Vylad’s pushes back his bangs, cradling his face. The kiss deepens, but only for a moment because the door rattles, the knob turning.

The collected gasp of Lucinda and others, as six pairs of eyes focus on them. Laurance looked at him dazed while he glanced at the grinning or surprised faces—well this wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for. He quickly untangled himself from Laurance, awkwardly stepping out of the closest with his head low.

He mumbled something about forgetting an assignment due. He remembered Lucinda calling out that it’s a Saturday, followed by “Wa- Wait, Vylad.”

.

.

.

.

Of course, Travis didn’t let him live with his embarrassment. The moment he stepped in that morning after crashing at Katelyn’s, he looked Vylad up and down, a cat-like grin forming on his face.

“Dude.”

“Don’t.”

“Duuuude.” Vylad wanted to groan, to toss his pillow at the white-haired roommate and tell him to leave his presence. But Vylad didn’t and Travis took up beside him, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“So, you and Laurance— ““There isn’t.” “Oh, yes there is; have you checked your messages? Laurance been trying contact, we all were.” Travis laughed, “I had to convince him not to run after you when you left.”

Vylad looked up from his cereal. “I… see…”

“You should talk to him.”

“And why?”

Travis paused, looking incredulous as he grabbed and puts Vylad’s late breakfast on the coffee table. “Because Laurance, the only guy you ever been into so far while on university, wants to see you again. Because you kissed him last night and he wants to properly talk about said kiss. Because he literally had a break down over what you wanting to kiss him, since… you know…”

Vylad stared blankly at him.

“Are you really that dense?”

“I feel like if I answer that, either way you’re going to tell me I am.”

Travis whispered, “You really don’t… know…”  

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Vylad reached for his phone, wincing at the number of messages left—voicemails, texts, dms, from various people. He opened his voicemails first, one from Travis, one from Laurance, and two from Kawaii-chan.

“Oh boy,” Travis laughed, “Oh boy, oh boy.”

Vylad glanced at him suspiciously, clicking on Laurance’s.

“Hey. Um. Hey, this is Laurance.” There’s a pause, a shaky sigh and Vylad frowned. “Everybody’s telling me I should give you some space and I should. But, uh, I wanted to tell you I liked the kiss? Is that weird to say?” Travis coughed, biting back his laugh. Vylad shot him a glare. “I like you. Like for a while, since that French project we did together. Just wanted you to know. Call me back whenever. Or don’t, if you don’t want to? I don’t know. Um. Bye.”

Vylad paused. He stared at the phone in his hand, clicking out of the voice messages.

“I think I need to make a phone call.”

Travis grabbed the remote, rolling his eyes, “He’s at Lucinda and Cadenza’s place.”

“I’m going to Cadenza’s then.”

“See you, dude,” Travis grabbed the cereal box, and through his mouthful, said, “You can thank me later.”

[the-everqueen]

Things to know:

1) Alex and Eliza have been dating for a few months.

2) Masterclass is a weekly occurrence and no one besides Alex wants to comment on performances. No one besides Alex wants to be there.

3) This turned out longer than i expected and i am Sorry.

Alexander is unlike anyone Eliza has ever dated.

Sometimes she isn't sure whether that's a good or bad thing.

Case in point: Eliza is sitting in for Washington’s studio masterclass. For the past two weeks she and Alexander have hardly spent time together - kisses stolen on the way to class, fragments of conversations while he practices - and despite his long, rambling texts detailing the ways he finds her perfect and his feelings about Bach, she’s found herself missing him. His presence, his manic energy, his tactile need to have his hands on her always.

She knows he’s busy. She is, too, with opera preparations and finals coming fast. But she couldn’t help pouting earlier this morning, as he pulled away from a kiss to go tutor one of the kids in the survey.

“Come to masterclass,” he told her. “Then you’ll see me.”

So here she is, in Morris Hall, between her boyfriend and Tench Tilghman (of all people!), listening to James McHenry perform a Chopin nocturne. Not an ideal date, to be sure. For one thing, Alexander is not touching her, instead perched on the edge of his seat, fixing James with a death glare. For another, Dr. Washington keeps glancing in their direction and she feels like an outsider, because she is. Alexander said it would be fine if she came, but now she wonders if he asked in the first place. Then again, Washington seemed almost relieved - or at least, he gave one of his half-smiles - when he saw her, so maybe it is fine.

McHenry stumbles over a passage, and Alex makes an irritated noise.

James isn’t bad. Eliza took lessons when she was little, though it mostly gave her a predilection towards pianists, rather than any useful skills. But she can hear talent, and McHenry’s playing holds a sincerity that would be beautiful if his hands weren’t visibly shaking.

Having Alexander in his peripheral vision probably doesn’t help.

McHenry finishes the piece. He swipes at his forehead before giving a meek bow and scurrying back to his seat. The studio offers polite applause - or not polite, in Alexander’s case, as he slow claps, still frowning.

Washington sighs. “Any feedback?”

Alexander’s hand goes up, though he doesn’t bother to be given permission before he starts talking. “So it’s obvious you’re going for the parallels between Chopin’s style and Bellini arias, but are you really gonna ignore the pianistic elements in this piece? Because those phrases are longer than any vocalist could sustain, and when you break off in the middle of them, we lose all sense of direction. Where are you going? What’s the bigger picture? Also, yeah, it’s an aria, melody is important, but that doesn’t mean you can leave out the harmony altogether. Bring out those bass notes, we want to feel that dip to the lower register every time the left hand pattern repeats.” He hums the melody, drops his voice lower to indicate the downbeats, fingers miming the gestures in mid-air. “It’s the pulse... the melody is timeless, extending past the bar lines, but every measure the bass brings us back. Grounding, that’s the word.”

McHenry’s mouth twists like he is trying not to cry.

Alexander clearly has more comments, but Eliza puts a hand on his leg and he pauses.

“Thank you, Hamilton,” Washington interjects, seizing the opportunity. “I’m sure James will take your criticisms to heart. Anyone else?”

The others give their input: modest compliments and vague suggestions. Every word has Alex twitching with impatience, and Eliza absently traces the seam of his jeans with her fingers until he stills. While Washington is distracted, going on about strong versus weak fingers, Alexander turns toward her and raises an eyebrow. “Your place tonight?” he mouths.

She smiles.

“Hamilton?” Washington is looking at him. “Since we’re on the subject of Chopin, why don’t you play the Polonaise?”

“Hm?” He comes to attention. “Oh, sure.”

This is the Alexander everyone knows: restless, casual arrogance, his chin thrust forward, eyes sparking for a fight. He gives them, the audience, a wicked smile - tomcat, indeed - and takes his seat.

Deep breath. And begin.

This is the Alexander she knows.

He touches the keys like he touches her: tender, deliberate. His right hand climbs through the registers for the opening cadenza, and he watches it, gaze lost to somewhere else, lips softly parted. He lingers on the top note, drops back down - again and again, the line rises only to fall, and each time it becomes more desperate, reaching, until he launches into the fantasy theme and all his wanting is fisted inside it.

When the polonaise rhythm enters, it is pure forward momentum, the melody soaring above. No one should be able to sustain this wanting, but Alexander does, and by the time he crashes into the triumphant ending - loud octaves and fast triplets - he’s sweating, drawn taut as a wire. The final chord is release, a sudden exhale like he finally remembered how to breathe.

He stays there for a moment, bent over the keys and shaking. Then, abruptly, he stands and returns to his seat.

The studio is speechless. Horrified or impressed or maybe both.  

Washington makes them discuss his performance anyway, analyze all his interpretive choices. Alex is too agitated to pick an argument. Unlike most people, he doesn't get tired after performances: his leg bounces, and his eyes skitter over whoever’s talking, not really seeing them.  

Eliza rests her head on his shoulder, and he leans into the touch.

Later that night, they’re spooning on her couch, Alexander murmuring edits and innuendo into her ear while she fixes her paper for von Steuben’s class. She pauses, thinking of a synonym for happiness. “You were incredible. In masterclass.”

“I’m good in other places, too,” he teases, pinching her hip. She laughs.

“I thought you had a paper to write.”

“It can wait another hour. Not due till Friday. Besides, you’re more important.”

She blushes, thinks very hard about synonyms. “What do you think about, when you’re onstage?”

He presses kisses along her jaw. “Depends on the piece. Sometimes nothing.”

“What did you think about when you played the Chopin?”

He goes still.

She twists around to see his face. “Don’t say me, I was there.”

“No, I - I told you.” He swallows, not looking at her. “It’s me.”

She frowns. “You think about yourself?”

“It’s probably stupid, but I was listening to recordings for ideas and they all sounded - I wanted to do something different. And I started thinking about Chopin having consumption and the opening cadenza - how it’s this endless moment but it goes nowhere - and who starts a piece like that? With the sound dying out? It starts with death. And - all of that - it reminded me of my mom, when we were - we got sick. And she died. That’s what made me start playing piano, really playing, because I survived and I needed it to mean something. But yeah. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. It started with death.”

He clears his throat. Continues to not look at her, his body tense under hers. “Anyway. I don’t think about that every time I perform it, but that was… the feeling behind it, I guess. I think Chopin understood that, being sick and the wanting.”

“Oh, Alexander.” Eliza’s heart is aching, but she reaches up to give him a kiss. “Thank you. For trusting me with that. I know it must be hard to talk about.”

“Yeah.” He relaxes, and she knows her reaction was the right one. He nods towards her laptop, at her blinking cursor and unfinished sentence. “The word you’re looking for is bliss.”

[creativityworks-s6]

Shy Guy Music Lover at Native Sessions

A self-reflective story of an awkward introvert’s personal growth.

By Aisosa Ugiagbe.

Cool musical tech from Native Instruments. Maybe i’ll be able to buy some one day...

As of writing this post, it will have been my forth day on the creativity works genius training course. In these 4 days, my life has already been impacted in quite a few (positive) ways. I'll just talk about one of them.

An old picture of me expressing my love for grime back in 2011 lol.

I've always been a music lover for as long as I can remember. But specifically, my love for Grime music started way back in 2005. It was a hype new sound for me that was a nice change from listening to US hiphop all the time. It was music that was more relatable and homely due to the fact that it was Brits making it. In 2011, I even decided to get even more involved with it and I started to produce music myself (you can listen to my stuff here). By partaking in the genre and culture, I was able to further appreciate the genre. There's something about the energetic, vibrant and extremely versatile sounds that the grime music genre brings to the table that makes me so enraptured when I listen to it. I really appreciate grime and the people that have helped shape it into what it is today. So when Media Trust gave me and my colleagues the chance to  go to an event held by Native Instruments (a company that make premier-class music production hardware and software), where famous, top-tier artists within the grime genre were going to do a talk on the creative process of making music,  I new that I had to take it. The Top-tier artists that were going to be present were:

Swifta Beater - a top-class producer that has made countless bangers such as Jme's "Man Don't Care", Kano's "3 Wheel-Ups", and Lethal Bizzle's "London"

P Money - a legendary MC from South London, known for his fierce flows, powerful punchlines and ability to lyrically clash (and beat) other high-level Artists, and

Sir Spyro - a legendary Producer and DJ who is known for his tough mixes and hard beats

For people who aren't into Grime, those names don't really mean anything. But for Grime fans, an event where you could possibly learn from these people is an event you must go to.

So go I did.

Front view of the Barbican

The event was being held at the barbican centre, a place I've never been to before. It was big! So we got there and we were supposed to be network for a bit before the talks started. Networking. Networking essentially means to make small talk with people you've never met before and make them aware of your existence. All whilst not having spaghetti fall out of your pockets.

I am an introvert. Socializing is an activity that drains my energy and at times gives me anxiety. I'd rather stick to myself in most situations if I have the option. So for me to have to talk to other people (strangers at that), is one of the scariest things imaginable. It doesn't mean I can't talk to people, or that I'm bad at it,  it just means there has to be a catalyst for these things to happen.

Luckily, people came up to me to network, and I was able to get through the session.

The auditorium is that way.

Then it was time for the talk with Swifta Beater and two other UK producers. Steel Banglez, Swifta Beater and Cadenza, 3 big UK music producers were doing a talk about their musical process.

From Left to right: Tony Nwachukwu, Steel Banglez, Cadenza and Swifta Beater.

I, being a big fan of Grime, was excited to see what Swifta had to say. He spoke about his musical journey, and how he goes about making instrumentals. Overall, it was quite insightful, but I was unable to ask him any questions because we ran out of time. But as the talk ended he was loitering around for a bit as people were talking to him. I muttered out loud "M...maybe I should go up there and talk to him... Nah, never mind"....And out of nowhere this random girl spoke to me. exclaimed at me, actually. "what are you waiting for, go talk to him!!" I was bewildered. This girl was talking to me. I didn't even know her. I went into ultra-shy mode. I replied with excuses: "nah, I'm good", "I don't want to bother him" , "I'm shy" Those excuses didn't work with her. She was not having it. "That's bull, just go, you want to talk to him. You'll be sorry if you don't!" This back and forth of her trying to aggresively encourage me, and me trying to politley resist continued for 40 seconds. After her pep talk, I decided to throw myself in the deep end and just go for it. I said something along the lines of

"Oh man, I've gotta do this!" And so I went over to him and spoke. I stammered a little (I actually have a bad stammering from time to time. Anxiety makes it worse and more frequent), but I was generally able to hold a good conversation with him. I even got brave enough to mention that I also make music and asked if he'd consider giving me a listen... The dude said yes.

Me and Swifta!

I was ecstatic, and still am. And it only happened because a random girl I've never ever met in my life gave me the kick I needed. What a catalyst. I went back to thank her for her encouragement and we spoke some more and she gave me even more to think about. I've come to the realization that I may have been selling myself dangerously short for the sake of "not wanting to be a pushy/obnoxious person with no sense of self-awareness" and I've been overthinking things for no real reason. But yeah. After we spoke I had to leave because It was getting late and I had an early start tomorrow. But as I was leaving, P MONEY, ONE OF MY FAVORITE GRIME MCs, WALKED PAST ME IN THE HALL. I called his name quietly, but he didn't hear. I was going to leave it at that, but the life lessons of the mysterious girl kicked in. "just do it". So I did. I power walked to him tapped him on the shoulder and greeted him and was able to talk to him for a bit! I was even able to tell him how much I got gassed (slang for excited to those not privy to such words) to my favorite lyric on his song "what did he say?" when I was but a young teenager listening to radio late at night, ensuring that I'd sleep in class the next day (which got a bit of a laugh out of him). Mind you, my anxiety was messing my mouth up and I stammered a bit. But I did it. I did it.

Me and King P Money himself! The camera was shaky because my hands were too!

And as a bonus, I MET FLOWDAN FROM ROLL DEEP TOO and was able to briefly say hi to him as he was in a rush. All 3 of those events. Because I was able to move out of my comfort zone. The main lesson I gained from my time at the Native Sessions event was:

Good things may happen if you leave your comfort zone. Don't let your mind paralyze you from doing what might be best for you.

Thank you Media Trust (and mystery girl), for helping to make a seemingly unobtainable dream possible.