#He has an astonishing side profile

[nobigneil]

[lingeriae]

"because you're my wife."

the voice is aggressive and harsh, which isn't unexpected because of the person it comes from, but the words have you feeling warm even with the possessiveness and aggression that comes off of it, it still has you face heating up and your eyes averting from his ruby red ones that seem to see right through you.

sukuna's fist is clenched and his body is tense as he stands in front of you, unknown and unwanted emotions flowing throughout his body, his heart beating rapidly and loudly in his ears—he wonders if he's having a heart attack at the moment. his swallows as he takes in your beautiful side-profile, light hitting your sun kissed skin just right, his fingers itch with the need to grip unto you. to take you.

his throat feels tight.

your stubborn, reckless—smart but reckless. it gets on his nerves, the way you don't seem to care about anything, not even yourself. your defiant, especially against him. don't follow rules, and go by what you think is right, and no one, not even him, can get in the way of what you think is right. and it's funny, you're just a mere human, a bothersome woman. sukuna could take your life easily, he has no doubt you would put up a fight, but he could kill you.

that was the plan all along, marry a member of the zenin clan, get the information needed, then kill them.

but things had changed, a lot of things changed since he met you. you made sukuna...feel things. you were different from all the members of that shitty clan, with your hair that rose towards the sun, always looking neat with the little curly coils and always feeling soft to the touch, you didn't cease to amaze sukuna with the little way you styled it and with the way you cared it so delicately.

your fierce glare that rarely left sukuna's gaze, never backing down even when he gave you the most deadliest of looks that had anyone else cowering, those same eyes that allow him to see how vunerable you are when you let him have his way with you and show him how you truly felt at times. those plumpy soft lips, full and round, they felt like heaven against his own when they overlapped. your sweet fucking voice, always finding something to cuss him out about, always saying his name in more ways than once. shit don't let him start on your fucking body.

you made sukuna feel things, give him this warm and nice feeling inside and it makes him sick. everything would go according to plan if you didn't make sukuna fall for you—if you weren’t so you. that's why he can't kill you,

and that's why he's so fucking upset.

with your arms crossed over your chest, you unintentionally make the male infront of you glance down at your supple breast that sits temptingly against your bra, you suck your teeth in annoyance still refusing to look at him. "i was your wife before, and it wasn't a problem." before, before he fell for you. before he got infactuated with you.

his jaw tightens and he grabs your chin, forcing you to stare into his eyes. "i said what i said, you'e not doing that shit. you're gonna get fucking killed."

you drag your hand from his grip as if you were burned, returning his equally intense gaze and ignoring the way your panties seem to cling unto you. drenched with annoyingly arousal. "don't talk to me like im a fucking child, ryomen."

sukuna’s head tilted in brief wonder and amusement, astonished that you would spit his last name out with such venom, knowing he could kill you in a second. knowing that not only was it his name but yours.

he lets out a bitter chuckle, "stop fucking acting like it."

it's a silent battle between you and him after that. both of you silently daring the other to look away as you continued to glare at each other—a silent battle between husband and wife. a war between two faith-fucked lovers.

sukuna huffs out a breath, shaking his head wildly before cradling your delicate and god-like face in his palm—akin to some form of desperation.

“what is it going to take? to prevent you from doing this to-to stop you from going on this fucking suicide mission?!” his voice almost cracks.

sukuna ryomen’s voice almost cracks.

your hand is so little in contrast to his. it has committed less cruelty and faced less harsh treatment compared to his, yet you place your hands over his and caress them with such gentleness. such tenderness and love.

and sukuna’s heart cracks at the words that left your lips, inhaling sharply as if he had been stabbed in the chest.

“there’s nothing you can do, you can’t stop me from doing this. nothing you do or say will change my mind and that’s final.”

the king of curses forgets how to breathe.

[2hightocare]

COFFEE!

“I think I'm past obsessed at this point, there has to be another word in the dictionary that tops obsessed.”

Synopsis: in which a hopeless romantic falls in love with the man of her dreams…

Pairings: boyfriend!jeongguk x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship.. non idol au

Warnings: literally the most sappy thing I could have possibly written, was listening to ‘coffee’ by miguel while writing, they’re such a gentle love, reader is a book worm, Jungkook likes drawing (doodling) plus points when his drawings are about oc, mentions of their first time having sex, usage of book quotes (read nltm, had to use the mia and sebastian line for my own sanity) <3333333

authors note: this is so simple but my book worm hopeless romantic needed this.. wrote this while high so nothing new 🤍

They say falling in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world.

You couldn’t explain the immediate sensation, the feeling that spreads throughout your chest as if you were a black-and-white picture that suddenly starts to fill with vibrant colors anytime his eyes lock with yours.

It was astonishing how the universe works—the idea that you are destined for someone ever since you are born, and that all the hardships along the way shape you into the person you need to be to meet them.

Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears as you watched him laugh from across the room, an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans covering his lean, muscular figure—one you’d memorized to the tiniest detail. You knew every freckle and scar. His head was thrown back, arms crossed, as he paid attention to whatever the guy in front of him was saying.

You scrunched your nose, using your index finger to push your glasses up as you studied your boyfriend from afar. You weren’t sure whether to call it pathetic or endearing, the way you noticed every little crease on his forehead and the way he toyed with his bottom lip absentmindedly. You even took note of his long eyelashes, and nearly died of jealousy every time you counted them when he slept beside you.

It was gut-wrenching to imagine anyone else feeling about him the way you did. The thought alone made you want to puke in the nearest trash can.

You were lovesick for this man, and you could already feel the heat rising to your cheeks whenever you looked at him or heard his laugh. Not only did you want to scream and freak out over every little thing he did, but he also had you daydreaming constantly. You found yourself thinking of silly song lyrics that resonated with how you felt about him. Staring at his side profile, you finally understood the meaning behind Suki Waterhouse’s lyrics: “Oh, my good looking boy,” echoed in your mind.

Before you could form another lyric or recall a favorite book quote to describe your feelings, his eyes found yours. A small smile tugged at his lips as his gaze scanned your expressions, reading you as if you were an open book. You smiled, tilting your head to the side, trying to hide the makeshift fireworks going off in your tummy.

His gaze softened, and it made your breath waver. You had never understood the meaning of “his gaze softened” in books, but now, you understood every syllable of those words after experiencing it firsthand.

You honestly couldn’t think of a single thing you didn’t love about him. You loved everything about him, even the parts he claimed were too “broken” or “damaged” to be loved.

A few seconds passed before he finally said his goodbyes and began making his way back to you. Your eyes followed every step, catching the grin he wore.

“I don’t know, I pretty much think you’re obsessed with me,” your boyfriend teased, his straight teeth on full display as he stopped in front of you, looking down at you on the couch.

“In your dreams.” You laughed, craning your neck to look up at him.

Instead of getting mad, he let out a low chuckle, leaning down with both arms on either side of the couch, caging you in.

“Every night, baby.” He whispered softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips before moving to your cheek, delivering another soft kiss. You sighed in contentment as his lips ghosted over your skin, the pet name making your head feel dizzy.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before standing up straight again, looking down at you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you looked up at him through your lashes. He was already smiling, and you didn’t even need to ask “what?”—you already knew. Anyone in their right mind could tell how obsessed you were with him, and it was no surprise to him either.

As you both walked out of the bookstore, carrying a bag full of psychological and romance books (and, of course, the box of transparent sticky notes Jungkook got for you to annotate your books without writing on the actual pages), it was clear this was one of his favorite things to do. In his free time, when he wasn’t working or with you, he loved opening one of your books and reading your thoughts scribbled in the margins. Half of his camera roll was pictures of you, but the other half was just pictures of your annotations, scribbles, and drawings.

It was as if he was inside your mind, reading every thought, and he loved it.

He could still recall the first book he opened that sent his heart racing, like a teenage boy with a crush.

“I couldn’t see him, but his laugh was unmistakable. I could close my eyes and be in so many places with that laugh. That laugh was the cohesive thread, the little recurring melody that showed up in so many scenes of my life, like Mia and Sebastian’s theme in La La Land. Always there, playing in the background.”

Those words were highlighted in the prettiest shade of pink, with two small hearts drawn beside them. But it was your handwriting at the bottom that got him: “The feeling I’ve been trying to put into words about how I feel every time I look at him has just been done for me, oh my.” He remembered feeling his heart stop for a second. And when it started again, it was for you—his heart was for you and only you.

That wasn’t all. It had become one of your shared love languages. Jungkook started buying books he thought you’d like. He even asked your little sister what your favorite highlighters were so he could buy them for both of you.

Your heart did somersaults when you opened a book on his bedside table and saw a drawing—a pair of eyes in black ink, long lashes making them look bigger and more innocent. Your breath hitched as you noticed the small freckle just below the eyebrow, realizing it was you.

It didn’t help the overwhelming sensation of adoration when you saw his handwriting in the margins.

“You remembered?” she said softly.

“I remember every second of us.”

The text was underlined, and in small letters, he had written, “Gosh, she made me fall so hard that I’m reading sappy words and thinking ���us’ out loud. #sendhelp,” with a frowning emoji next to the hashtag. Before you knew it, you were on page one, reading every single line and note he had left.

Also, the multiple drawings on the pages where there was extra space had your heart thumping hard in your chest. There were so many drawings— each one tied to you or him. It was impossible to describe every feeling surging through your chest, every emotion racing in your bloodstream, as your fingertips traced the drawing of you.

This time, it was an image of you on your back, lying on a bed. Only part of your side profile was visible, with your hair spilling across the bed, covering most of your back. At first, you didn't want to assume it was you he'd drawn-being self-centered wasn't your style. But it was impossible to deny it when he'd sketched every freckle, even the small half-moon tattoo on your shoulder blade, matching the real one inked on your skin.

You smiled at the memory but snapped back to the present as your boyfriend instinctively switched you to the other side of the sidewalk when you two turned toward Target. You held tight to his index finger as he squeezed between people, leading you behind him with a soft "excuse me" to anyone in the way.

Automatically, you found yourself smiling as you picked up your pace to match his longer strides. He pulled you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist, his hand resting over your belly—a little lower than usual, sending butterflies flitting wildly in your stomach. You suppressed a shiver as he gently guided you to the side, allowing an older couple to pass by.

"Us when we're eighty, baby," Jungkook leaned down and whispered into your ear, making you playfully roll your eyes at him. His smile only widened at your reaction.

"Won't be us if you keep watching Young Sheldon without me," you pouted, giving him a playful glare, which only made him smile more.

"Why are you smiling?" you asked, maybe even whining a little as you walked into the store and heard the employee greet you both.

"Because you're so beautiful, and my brain goes in circles when I stare at you," he shrugged casually, giving your waist a small squeeze before untangling his arm to grab a cart.

You tried so hard not to melt, holding onto his bicep as he leaned forward on the cart, making him closer to your height.

"Don't know it you're down, but l've been wanting to learn how to crochet," you said as you glanced around the aisles. Your boyfriend immediately started nodding excitedly.

"Baby, oh my god. I'm so down. We need to make those big-ass blankets," he rambled, looking at your face for a reaction, like a puppy with its ears perked up and tail wagging.

"I think that's knitting, baby," you corrected him, smiling as his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

"Wait, are those two not the same thing?" His dimple deepened as he bit his lower lip, stopping in front of the craft aisle.

"I actually have no clue," you admitted with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "But I know you can crochet a blanket because you once told me about those pattern blocks you saw on your explore page.”

Jungkook's gaze softened as he made eye contact with you, his pupils dilated with so much adoration that it made your heart swell.

"And I remember because I searched them on TikTok to see what you were talking about. I saw people connecting them into blankets. Also, I remember you pretending to sleep so you didn't have to scratch my back anymore-before my one minute was up. You swear you're slick, but I know when you're really asleep," he said with a grin, teasingly biting your cheek as you tried not to smile.

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" you teased, and he chuckled, ghosting his lips over yours.

"Because every time you fall asleep, you make this little sound, and then slowly, you start snoring," he laughed, watching your cheeks turn a shade of red before burying his laughing face in the crook of your neck.

To be loved is to be seen.

That phrase had never felt more accurate. No one else had ever seen you the way Jungkook did. He knew you so well, down to the tiniest details that sometimes even surprised you.

Your eyes practically turned into hearts as Jungkook kissed your neck innocently before turning his attention to the yarns.

This was the kind of love you had always dreamed of

-better than the movies or books. Nothing could top the overwhelming feelings of gratitude, love, and appreciation that coursed through your body whenever you looked at him. Your brain practically played the instrumental of "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey whenever you spent time with him.

It was as if even a natural disaster couldn't faze you

-so long as you could experience it with him.

The connection between you two was beyond what you ever imagined existed in real life. It felt like something out of a fairy tale. From the moment you locked eyes with him across the room, you both knew there was no turning back.

After checking out and getting to Jungkook's car, he opened the door for you, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before putting the bags in the back.

Once he climbed into the driver's seat, his hand instinctively found its place on your thigh after starting the car. His thumb rubbed your bare skin, sending sparks flying through your body. It was such a natural gesture for him, but the butterflies never ceased. You bit your lip, trying not to whine when his hand moved closer to your inner thigh.

As he softly sang along to "Creep" by Radiohead, it was just another thing you'd become morally obsessed with-his voice. You had always known he could sing, but everything changed the night you were first intimate.

It was as if your entire perspective on love and sex shifted. Simply calling it "sex" seemed absurd now, because it was so much more. Everything felt heightened, more intense, making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

"F-fuck, baby..." he whimpered into your ear, his hips moving slowly into yours, leaving your mouth hanging open.

His little groans and moans made you dizzy, like notes of a lullaby. The feeling of skin against skin was the most addicting sensation, made even more special by the way he always checked in on you.

"Shhh, I'm sorry. Am I being too rough, baby?" His voice was strained as his hips halted, his breath heavy as he moved your hair to kiss your neck.

He resumed slowly, making your legs shake and grip the sheets, and you couldn't help but moan, asking for more. His chuckle against your skin was the same one you’d hear when he rested his head on your stomach, expecting you to scratch his back or read to him.

"You're sweaty," you pouted at him, both of you basking in the afterglow.

"I know. Do you still want me?" He smiled, mimicking your expression before pulling the covers over both your naked bodies and pulling you in as close as possible.

"Yes, I'll forever want you," you replied, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, savoring the warmth he radiated.

As sleepiness began to overtake you, you felt his fingertips tracing letters and shapes on your hip.

Just before drifting off, he began singing again. It was like entering another universe where only you and he existed

"I want you to notice," he sang softly, "when I'm not around."

"So fucking special... I wish I was special." He pressed a kiss to your temple, the sound of his voice and your matching heartbeats lulling you both to sleep.

You snapped back to reality when the car stopped at a red light.

"Is it bad that I always hope to get red lights so I can kiss you?" he asked, flashing a grin that had you laughing.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his as his eyes fluttered shut, his finger lifting your chin gently.

"Not bad, but a little weird. You want to spend so much time with me," you teased, pulling back to your seat. "Some might even think you're pretty obsessed."

"I'm past obsessed at this point. There's got to be another word that tops it," he admitted, stealing another kiss just before the light turned green.

As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but wish there was another word, stronger than "love," to describe how you felt about him.

[thephantomsdream]

Simon "Ghost" Riley that likes to be pampered, to be taken care of and let me tell you, he's just so not used to it. He's never had anyone to really treat him anything close to good.

In all honesty, he genuinely thought it was fine, being alone. He's a solitary creature, as life taught him to be, and deep down he convinced himself it was best. It didn't matter if there was a small, minuscule, pained tug at his heart every time he thought about it.

What he didn't expect was to be whipped immediately, one glance into your eyes and he was a goner. It went against his reasoning, this instinct of his to have you, battling everything he's been trying to avoid at all costs. But that one glance, that small smile you gave him, and he just knew. And months of tedious yet slow opening up and trying not only for you, but for himself, Simon was yours somehow. Baffling as it was, he now had someone to go home to. A sweet angel that in no time he plans to up and move into that bare house he has and take care of. Only thing is, the man did not expect to be taken care of himself, as if he forgot that was an option.

The first few times you two dated, officially, as he had to clarify this wasn't what kids these days mean by "hanging out" or "talking to" or whatever the fuck Johnny and Kyle were babbling to him about their dating lives (it's dating or not, Simon likes things clear), the man was surprised by how sweet yet determined you were. "Can I hold your hand?" You asked him a little flustered, and this big boy almost stuttered. He found himself nodding while gulping before taking your hand in his, internally beating himself up for acting like such a... boy? Having a silly crush on a lovely sweetheart that made him nervous by just exiting around him.

God, it felt fantastic when he finally got to kiss you. Simon thought it was gonna be just a kiss, big fucking deal (he was trying to cope, his hands were sweaty but whatever, big deal), but the way you sighed and melted into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck made him shudder. It ignited something in him and his heart tugged again, this time not painful but hopeful.

It was the way you touched his scarred face that really astonished him, especially the first night you spent in his house. Whatever movie you babbled about the last date, vampires or whatever, was now playing on his flat screen on the new profile he created for you on whatever streaming service Simon just bought just to watch it. Another tiny bit of you in his life, it seemed. Movie was fucking awful, truly, fucking dumb teenagers and vampires, but whatever, your boyfriend (bloody fucking hell it felt fantastic and scary to think that he's now yours officially) was determined to watch it even if he snorted and made fun of it every three seconds, yet having you giggle by his side made his cold heart warm up as it beat a thousand times per second. Once again, he found himself about to mock something jokingly when he turned to you, finding your beautiful eyes already on him, expression warm and relaxed.

"Come here." At that moment, Simon Riley realized he'd follow anything you'd order him, as his body moved without any thoughts, just closer to you. Like a stray dog that's learning what a home is, something he's never really had, and when your lips touched his cheek while caressing the other, the world slowed down.

Having you move closer to him, placing a leg over his, smiling at him sweetly while gently kissing the scar near his lower lip, all he could do was stare dumbly as his face felt on fire. Little did he know that his pale cheeks reddened so adorably that you started to giggle. God, he fucking loved that sound.

"Lay on me, c'mon." You ordered gently again, grabbing his calloused hands to tug him onto you as you laid down on your back. Simon knew he looked like an idiot in awe, very much aware he's always had a staring problem. But as he crawled gently over you, expecting you to push him off after abruptly changing your mind, all he could do was to look down into your cleavage and stare like a muppet. " 'S aight?" Being all he asked before hearing a nice hum, approval for him to lay on you.

That day, Simon learned what heaven is. Your fingers into his hair, slowly, gently playing with his dirty blond locks, his face in your soft tits, your voice oh-so clear as he pressed his ear into your torso, the slow rumble almost putting him to sleep while his eyes were focused on the silly movie. His arms were wrapped around you while he just laid down between your legs. His dumb jokes still delivered as he muffled them out lazily, getting you to laugh and make him smirk as you(r tits) jiggled under him, and his reward, because you're a fucking angel, of course, was a sweet kiss on his temple every single time. The man could be turning into a clown by the end of the night as long as you kissed him so tenderly.

You spoiled him too. How dare you, really? Bringing him sweets, asking him what he wants to eat, adjusting your schedule to fit his (man's off duty, he can camp outside your house and come in whenever you want him to, if you'd be willing, like a good obedient dog), just making him feel wanted. It was odd. And new. And addicting.

You cared. You cared for him. And in his wonky yet honest way, he cared too. Always making sure that you know he's somehow thinking of you. He wanted to try. He wanted to make sure you'll stick around. The military has taught this man a lot of things, and apart from his head-strong conviction that he indeed can do anything if he puts his mind to it, another was how to not fuck up something good, all through the hundreds of stories from many other soldiers about failed relationships. He knows all the perspectives, all the failures, all the erros and all the aftermaths, so he learned to listen and not blame, to pay attention, to be there even if he was half a world away. Simon is determined to keep you around, coming back to you battered, wounded, traumatized, exhausted, and is greeted with his angel, all ready to pick him up, wrap him in a warm blanket and fuss over his ass. He'd roll his eyes at you, but his emerging smile said it all.

His heart now tugs when he's about to pick his luggage, a duffle bag filled with essentials and nothing more. A week earlier than expected too, relief washing over his body like never before, knowing you're at home waiting for good news. And he's heading that way too, determined, unrelenting, head first, no thoughts. He's going home to you.

Home to warm, delicious food, instead of stale and plain. Home to sweet laughter and love, instead of orders barked and indifference. Home to his, your comfortable bed, arms and legs wrapped around each other, the plump delicious curves of your body pressed against his hardened one. Home to gentle, home to calm, home to soft, home to himself, home to everything. Home to his heart, that is tugging him closer and closer, where he left it with you.

I'm just gonna dump this here and leave. Not proofread because we're old and lazy here.

[nouearth]

the boy next door.

pairing. alan ritchson x male reader headcanon.

summary. with his profile brewing in hollywood, projects are consistently lining up for alan, and the last thing he needs is a new roommate getting in the way of his stress. unless, reader finds himself becoming alan's personal stress-ball?

content warning. camboy!au, camboy!reader, top!alan, bottom!reader, food!play (cucumber as dildo), muscle worship, size difference, spitting, oral (r!giving on dildo), dirty talk, verbal, masturbation, alan and reader are roommates.

moving in.

roommate!alan who surprises you with his massive stature when he greets you on move-in day.

it was jaw-dropping. well, almost so. you were luckily aware enough to catch the slack of your jaw from relaxing any further. any second longer, and you would've been hypnotized into submission by the man's brawn physicality; massive chest, bulging arms, and thick fingers—traits you would find yourself drooling about.

"hey, uh... (m/n), right? is that how you say your last name?" "spot on! and... alan. man, your name already sounds like a celebrity, i'm jealous." "haha, hopefully the casting directors feel the same way."

roommate!alan who helps you with your luggages without a single request from your end.

aside from being eye-candy, alan utilized his muscles for the greater good and brought your belongings from the trunk of your car, to the front of your door in a matter of minutes. even when you pleaded him not to, he went on ahead while urging you to take a rest after the long drive across the city.

you complained, though half-heartedly because your ass was sore from driving all day. his massive arms were a distraction as the veins surged through every muscle of fiber like lightning.

"you really didn't need to do all of that—" "hey, you're saving me from shelling out an extra thousand by being my roommate. plus, you seem... normal? that's the least i could do." "normal? pft, i don't know about that. but i will say, your kind gestures have put you on my 'no-kill' list." "let's backpedal a bit. is it too late to kick you out?"

roommate!alan who has already taken a liking towards you in the few hours you two have spent together to unpack.

saying that people 'stared' at alan would be underplaying what they've actually done. it was a daily occurrence to catch people gawking at his stature. whether it was with astonishment, intimidation, lust, or hostility, all eyes were on him, collective eyes and gasps piecing together how a man could look the way he does. some whispered 'steroids', others envied his dedication.

as uncomfortable as it could be at times, he liked the attention knowing he'd be the subject of one's conversation to another friend.

with you, it was no different. he'd caught you several times staring at his arms from across the room. or maybe it was his shoulders? how they perfectly filled his shirt out from seam to seam? either way, you were enchanted, especially when he'd nonchalantly flex his muscles every now and then in hopes he'd catch your eye.

and he could say the same about himself when he'd catch you bent over, ass raised high while you dug inside of your boxes to unpack the remaining decor you had brought with you.

until that moment, he never noticed how much smaller you were compared to his, the top of your head barely meeting his chin if he was to line you up. how much of a desire had awakened to have you in his arms, just to see how you perfectly fit into his body.

getting to know each other.

roommate!alan who has already learned of your habits, likes and dislikes, and hobbies within a few weeks of you moving in.

it was the small stuff that you found yourself gushing over. you two almost always had dinner together on the couch. condiments on the side for you, ketchup over his fries for him.

whether it was homemade or takeout, the best memories being made between the two of you were simply eating in front of the tv and watching alan's roles despite his reluctance.

you would cheer whenever he appeared on the screen, the camera somehow making him seem smaller than he appeared to be in real life. it was impressive, and once again, you found yourself drawn to the sheer size of muscles beside you.

throbbing, even at the simplest touch, as he gave your shoulders squeeze amidst passing by you to collect your plate.

"have to head to bed early. got an audition in the morning." "awesome! was this the one you were telling me about earlier?""yep. i worked with the director once, so fingers crossed?"

roommate!alan who can read your body language early on, and senses that you're hiding something from him.

it was that one question that either turned you into stone, or a babbling buffoon as you would try to avoid the subject.

your occupation.

he didn't know much other than the fact that you worked from home, which was why your bedroom was so intricately set up like a tech start-up.

four different types of cameras, a gaming chair, several monitors for one pc; it was intricate and honestly, alan didn't really understand it.

"so, you don't have to say yes or no, but..." "hm..?""are you a youtuber? like, one of those tech guys who reviews new phones and stuff?""something like that, i guess?" "is it mentally draining?" "more so... physically?"

roommate!alan who asks about your day after coming home from a shoot.

you looked exhausted, drained, wrecked—images of you that he never thought would rile him up. yet, as you groggily came out of your room with flushed skin, and a thirst that needed to be quenched, alan was equally parched just watching you recover your breath in between gulps of water.

cluttered state of mind.

roommate!alan who merely offers you a look of annoyance when you greet him after he arrives home.

you've recognized that look by now, and all you could simply provide was his dinner plate, and a sympathetic pat on the back.

"listen, i know a friend and he has a mutual that can help you—" "not in the mood right now, (m/n).""just trying to help, alan."

roommate!alan who ends the night early, leaving you on the couch with his plate left untouched.

it was awkward, to simply put it. the show you put on happened to be the one he was auditioning for, and then ultimately flunked because he forgot his script. from the corner of your eye, you could see his jaw tightening, straining, fork scraping against the ceramic plate as he pushed the fried rice in a corner, and then eastward, because that corner was empty.

though, is it wrong to say that you found it hot? if only there was a less forward and awkward way of saying, 'hey, i'd love to take your mind off of things right now. let me suck you off.'

secret unlocked.

stressed!alan who spends half-an-hour in the shower contemplating whether this career was worth it.

countless of potential roles never making it pass the call-back stage; he was growing exhausted from it. driving from city to city, filling his car with gas that would amount to nothing in the end. he could only stretch his royalties out for so much longer, and—

no, he wasn't a quitter. the last time he felt like this, the next audition was a success. if predictions are right, he'd consider this madness a sign of luck, at least for the meantime.

stressed!alan who needs something to take out his frustration on.

maybe he should head to the gym? no, he already showered. and it was already getting too late for his liking to drive back and forth at this time, even if he wasn't tired.

at the corner of his eye, his laptop glinted with a sparkle.

some good porn would fix him.

stressed!alan who has one hand down his sweats, and the other calmly scrolling through his favorite cam site.

his lips grew chapped, licking them from time to time as he watched the page load without the decency to sugar-coat its offerings. his sight was immediately assaulted with moving thumbnails of women, and men under the spell of their own lust. some squirmed from the uncontrollable feeling of being filled, while others preferred talking to their patrons, touching themselves to the pixelated smut sent through the chat.

stressed!alan who has you on his mind despite the options to choose from, and he squeezes his large balls in his hand.

the cursor maneuvered respectfully around one performer’s breasts and another’s erection in its journey to the filter list. the drop-down menu pulled open and alan checked off the men within his age range. 

with a quick load, the website refreshed with a new assortment of performers, and his cock began to sprout at the moving thumbnails. his hand immediately began to feed his growing bulge with gentle squeezes and rubs as he scrolled what seemed to be endless cycle of camboys.

the sudden warmth of his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin. alan removed each article within seconds, yet the flush of his skin remained, ached as it yearned for the physical touch of the seductive men beckoning him.

stressed!alan who felt the world had stopped. the heat frozen in his cheeks, his hands equally mirroring as he hovered over a familiar face. strained, orbs dilated and wandering, and holy shit—so fucking inviting.

it was you.

stressed!alan who watches your stream for a few minutes to decipher if it was truly you before shamelessly stroking his cock after he confirms that it was.

sweat dribbled over your neck and body in diverging streams. your legs were raised on their own accord, thick thighs shaking from the muscles working overdrive to keep you still and perfectly centered before your webcam.

stressed!alan who couldn't believe what he was seeing. it all made sense now, why you were so reluctant to tell what you truly did.

you were a fucking whore. a whore for the internet for everyone to goon to, to cum to. he can imagine it now, how much pleasure you'd given these men as he watched you fuck yourself with a cucumber.

and he was one of them. alan's large cock was manhandled by his hand, stroking sloppily with an ample amount of lube squeezed over the flesh of throbbing muscle.

all those memories of you looking so wrecked came fluttering in. you looked wrecked because you were fucking wrecked.

by a fucking cucumber.

and alan has never been so envious of a vegetable despite eating them on a daily.

you were plunging your tight hole with a long cucumber, slickly lubed from the condom over the girth of the green plant. with every push of your wrist, your legs caved into the pressure to set themselves down, but every time the crown of the plant pressed into your prostate, you were reminded of the viewers who had been donating, their pop-up messages urging you to keep them up 'like a good boy.'

stressed!alan who jerks himself off to the rhythm of your wrist.

every time you sank the thick cucumber inside of you, alan paced himself to match your tempo, plunging himself into his closed fist, mimicking your refusing hole by opening his fingers one-by-one, until he had fully breached through.

stressed!alan who mutters to himself, who mutters words that you couldn't hear because you were busy pleasuring yourself for hundreds of men watching you.

"fuck yeah, take that dick..." "too big for you?""fuck, we'll make it fit."

stressed!alan who imagines himself fucking into you.

he knew his cock was big. he'd been told countless of times, by men and women, and lots of time, they would quit a few minutes in because it was just too much.

but you, he was certain that you were able to take him. because—fuck—alan was bigger than that cucumber you were fucking yourself open with. it needed a glorious amount of lube, like what you had displayed before him, dripping heavily from your abused cavity, but luckily, you had experience in handling big sizes, right?

you'd take him, like the 'good boy' the users were spamming in the chatbox. you'd take him with your eyes forced shut from him stretching you out. from alan's impatience and reluctance to wait for you to adjust to him, because he's fucking furious at you.

why didn't you tell him sooner? why were you hiding this from him? how could you be so selfish and leave him blue-balled whenever you'd come out in those shorts of yours? teasing him with the smallest glimpse of your inner thighs?

if he could ever lay his hands on you, he'd show no mercy. fucking your ass doggy-style till your cheeks clapped. plunging you with his cock as you spread your legs open for him. locking your throat with his arm while he's under you, your back pressed to his chest, rendering you trapped within his embrace. you'd take his cock in every position, in every state, whether you'd like it or not, because you were a good, fucking, boy.

stressed!alan who spits on his cock because you began simultaneously filling your mouth up with a dildo.

spit. god, there was so much spit coming out of your mouth. you loved pushing yourself to the limit, alan could see it. the light leaving your eyes whenever you pushed the dildo a little too far to the back of your throat. that could be his cock, if you let him.

he imagined how warm your mouth would be. how perfectly shaped it's made for his thick, meaty cock. he had the perfect curve to make it a struggle to swallow him down, but like he noticed, you loved a challenge, didn't you?

alan's cock was plump, and beaten red in his hand. noises similar to the sound of you sucking off the dildo were made with his hand, his spit and lube sloshing together in a lewd symphony that could be heard from your room if you'd learn to shut up.

"choke on it, gag on that fucking dick..." "fuck yeah, spit on it.""good fucking boy."

stressed!alan who's nearing his climax from watching you tease the camera with your hole.

you repeated countless of profanities after every plunge of the cucumber flushing deep inside of you. you made sure to buy the girthiest one; they loved seeing your asshole gape at the end of the stream. twisting your wrist, you could feel the subtle ridges of the cucumber, violating your guts with its nature, and it was all-so glorious. the size, the texture, the viewers, the sound of donations coming in, the ‘thank you’ messages after for making them come; you were a true star within this community and it evidently showed when you finally hit your donation goal for the night.

alan fucked his fist, nearly coming to the sight of your gaping hole when you yanked the cucumber out of you like a sword-wielding knight ready to slay a dragon.

it was beautiful, watching you desperately hold onto the physical being of the cucumber, but all there was to it in the end was the memory of its girth. your hole was perfectly molded it, clenching and pursing, blowing fluttering kisses to the camera, to alan.

and if it was up to him, he'd ram his cock into you by now, not letting a second to spare in fucking you until your muscles felt like jelly, because fuck, you were so enticing like this. head lolled back, mouth open with your tongue hanging out as if you had a dripping cock to catch its cum above you.

the sound of donations kept chiming in, and alan knew he wasn't alone in this enchantment.

one more hit to your prostate, and you came undone in seconds. thick spurts of cum shot at your chest from your current position, then at your face when you raised your hips a little higher and pumped your cock with a ravishing fist. the sound of donations rang like a police siren. if you were being profiled for a crime, it was because you couldn’t hold in your cum any longer like one user had begged for you to.

stressed!alan who perfectly aligns his orgasm with yours and blows multiple loads on the screen on his laptop. his moans came out in hushed stutters, countering your choked whimpers that would then break out into begs for cum.

"fuck, fuck, fuck. i need your cum, i need it. give me all of it, fuck. all over my body. in my ass. on my face. i need that load."

his cum came out in thick, pulsating ropes, flying forward to land on the image of you resuming to fuck yourself to your audience's collective orgasm. this time, at a closer view, as you centered the camera to fill the stream with a screenful of ass and a gaping hole. it was your fans' favorite part of the stream, the chat exploding in several fire emojis and astonishment as you showed your pretty insides blooming for thick, endless spunk.

it was hypnotizing, almost as if you were really there before him.

with one hand, alan brought his laptop in between his legs, and smeared his own cum over the blooming resolution of his screen. feigning a breeding, he slides his cock over his cum, over his laptop screen, while you moaned in the background, begging lewdly for cum, to be filled, to be bred, to be dripping, to be fucked, and alan doesn't know what came over him, but another load automatically came out of him like some kind of spell.

"h-holy shit...""fuck, yeah... give me that load, all your load... are my fans breeding me right now?"

alan painted you until you were practically hidden beneath the layers of his orgasm. translucent white blurred the screen, but he could still make out your silhouette. sitting now, exhausted, wrecked, evidently too tired to be bothered to clean up the mess you made on your body.

and just like that, his head felt lighter. all of his worries had left with every dump of load over your pixelated hole, and yours as well, as you leaned back to catch your breath with your eyes closed. his breathing matched the pace of yours, together, collectively, and all he could do was shortly laugh at the situation before him.

roommate!alan who greets you in the morning with a strange smirk as you made yourself breakfast.

"i can see why your job is physically draining now." "hm?" you yawned. "what are you talking—"

roommate!alan who pulls out a cucumber from the fridge, and cuts it into thin slices for his morning smoothie.

"i-i can explain—""you can make it up to me tonight."

he popped a slice into his mouth after.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[imaginedanvrs]

almost doesn't mean never

masterlist

summary: wanda maximoff x reader. '3 times we almost kissed, 1 time we did' trope

warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of angst

word count: 3.6k

You didn’t comment when Wanda repeatedly took fries out of your bag instead of her own, too enthralled in the story she was telling to notice what she was doing. At one point, she even took a sip from your milkshake and you weren’t sure if that was accidentally or on purpose because she had a habit of continuously trying your food whenever you had any. You would always offer to get her her own portion but she would frantically decline only to take several more sips or bites. You never minded. 

  “-and the moment we got back Vis already had dinner made for me,” she told you fondly, missing how your smile dropped as promptly as the anchor in your stomach. 

  “I suppose that was the least he could do,” you said lightly, struggling to hide your disdain for the robot. You would think that after a year of hearing your best friend tell you all about how amazing her boyfriend was that you would get the hang of pretending to like him, or better yet, stop being in love with her. It was never that easy. 

  “It’s not that simple for him,” Wanda defended with a soft chuckle that even the angels in heaven would have a hard time rivalling. “He has no taste buds,” she said simply. “Your cooking is far superior,” she told you, peering out at the car park and giving you the chance to admire her side profile. 

  The casual compliment gave you a surge of pride no matter how many times you had heard it before. It felt good to know you had something to offer the Sokovian that Vision couldn’t match, more so when it was something so important to her. You often replayed the memory of the night she was missing Pietro and dropped by your apartment unannounced to find you practising her favourite dish from her home country. It had been hard tracking down all of the ingredients you needed and it was your fourth time doing so when Wanda got to taste it, insisting you had perfected it. You hadn’t believed her until she started crying. 

  “I could have made something for you tonight,” you pointed out before taking a bite of your burger before Wanda decided to start on that too. 

  “I just needed grease,” she admitted, peering around the deserted McDonald’s car park. You were parked in the far corner and probably looked super dodgy to any strangers that spotted your car lurking in the blind spot, but Wanda liked to people-watch from the comfort of your car that she spent so much time in. She said that your car was comfier than hers. 

  “You need a holiday,” you corrected. 

  “We should take a roadtrip,” she said at once. You immediately loved the idea. 

  “Where do you want to go?” You asked, willing to take her to wherever came to mind. 

  “Anywhere,” she admitted, resting her head back to gaze at you with excitement. “I miss spending time with you,” she told you, not having a single clue how much of your days were taken up by you missing her. You didn’t see each other as much as you used to and even when you did get to hang out it wasn’t for as long as you wished. That was partly how you had developed the ritual of going to fast food car parks for your meals, it was convenient in case Wanda was suddenly pulled away. Her job required her to have one foot in her work life at all times. 

  “Me too,” you said. It was far safer to underplay your feelings.

  The Sokovian shifted to the edge of her seat and took her hand comfortably in yours as she often did. You watched as she twirled her fingers around yours, feeling the warmth of the astonishing magic that lay beneath the surface. Her strength was incredible, everyone knew that, but it was the gentleness she coated it with that you had always been in awe of. 

  “Will this roadtrip be just us?” You asked even though you both knew it wasn’t going to happen. 

  “Of course,” she muttered, letting her fingertips dance across your palm. “Just us and the road,” she laid on with a smile. That smile made you feel things no platonic best friend should. That smile made you love her. With the way it reached her eyes when it was directed at you, it was too tempting not to pretend like her heart didn’t carry that same devotion to you, that her eyes hadn’t glanced down to your lips as she became just as lost in that fantasy as you. The electricity that charged the small space only existed in your world, because for her, it was saved for him. 

  The chiming of her ringtone snapped you both out of your separate thoughts and disconnected your hands just as swiftly. You didn’t have to glance over at her phone to know who it was and you shouldn’t have felt a sting when she opted to answer instead of calling him back later. 

  “Hey, Vis,” she said, voice so tender and yet still striking a blow. 

  You hated that toaster so much.

*

The slight murmur of Wanda reciting the lines of the character’s held your attention far greater than the original could ever hope to. She knew every episode of the sitcom by heart and you were pretty sure you were coming close to being able to say the same. She had been quiet that night, caught up in her own head about the events of her latest mission, so hearing her voice at all was a relief. 

  She had her head resting comfortably on your shoulder so you felt a soft vibration with every mutter of words. You smiled, not daring to move which was easy when she stunned you with her next words. 

  “I want to quit my job.”

  “Oh?” You said casually to her statement you fully supported. You knew she had an incredible role in saving countless lives multiple times a week, but you also weren’t blind to the fact that your best friend didn’t enjoy her job. Unimaginable danger aside, no matter what she did, the public criticised her endlessly and did nothing to ease the gnawing feelings she had that she was a threat to her team and the people she helped. She had come so far in controlling her abilities, but she was only human. 

  “I won’t,” she said. “I just wish I could.”

  “Why don’t you?” You enquired after a pause. Wanda sighed, lifting herself off of your shoulder and bringing her knees up to her chest. 

  “This place keeps me in check,” she admitted. You hated how she talked about herself. 

  “You’re not an animal or a criminal, Wanda. And this team has no possession over you. They can’t keep you here, no one can.” Except someone did. Vision was the only reason Wanda really remained on the team. He had convinced her to. But really, as long as he was an Avenger, Wanda would be too. Yet another reason for your disdain for him. 

  “Yeah,” she sighed, clearly not believing you.

  “Wanda,” you prompted. She looked at you. “It’s your life. You can do whatever you want with it.” She still didn’t seem convinced. “If you want to run away, I can cause a distraction,” you told her, finally earning a smile from the brunette. 

  “I can count on you for anything,” Wanda said simply because it was the one thing she had never doubted. She had doubted her safety as a child. She had doubted Ultron’s intentions. She had doubted her team’s trust in her. She had doubted Vision’s loyalty. But she never doubted you. 

  “Always,” you assured without a beat. “I’ve got your back.” You wished that could have been enough for the brunette to decide that it was you she would run away with, but it was clear that if Wanda ever did opt to flee, she would take him with her and leave you behind. 

  “That might put you in danger one day,” she said sadly, letting her anxieties cloud her judgement. 

  “I don’t care.” You really didn’t. How could you? 

  She smiled at you softly and pulled your forwards slightly to kiss your forehead. She didn’t linger but her lips left a deeper imprint than she would ever know. You had always wondered what her lips would feel like against your skin and it was even better than you had dared dream. 

  When she pulled away and left a minute gap between you, there was a split second where you thought she was about to bring her lips to your own. But that moment passed when Vision casually faded through Wanda’s bedroom wall. She had told him countless times not to do that and you had to use all of your willpower not to scream at him to get out. 

  “My apologies, I didn’t know you had company,” he said but made no effort to turn around. “Good evening, y/n.”

  “Vision,” you replied without looking his way. 

  “You’ve got to knock, Vis,” Wanda chuckled as you subtly placed a couple more inches between you. 

  “Should I come back?” He enquired.

  No. Just keep floating off and never turn back.

  “Yeah,” Wanda smiled warmly at him past you.

  “That’s okay, I should probably head off anyway,” you excused. You had nothing planned and no work the following day so there was no legitimate reason for you to go. But if you stayed you would have just felt like they were both waiting for you to leave. 

  “Really?” You missed her surprise and touch of hurt at your sudden shift, watching on as you stood up from the bed to grab your jacket. 

  “I’ve got some errands to run tomorrow.” Lie. “And it’s getting late.” Not really. 

  “Okay, but I’ll still see you tomorrow, right?” The hopeful edge in her voice was going to stick with you for a while and you knew you were going to be replaying and over analysing it constantly that night. You had a way of hurting yourself with your optimism more than Wanda hurt you with reality. 

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you grinned back at her with sudden ease. You were only getting coffee, but there really was very little that would stop you going. 

 “See you then,” you called as left, purposefully ignoring her mechanical boyfriend. 

*

As far as maid of honours went, you probably weren’t the best. 

  You didn’t carry the enthusiasm that any of the guests at the wedding did and it proved difficult to maintain your fake smile the entire day. You really were happy for her, your best friend was finally getting married to the love of her life, cementing your role as something far less significant. You just didn’t get it, he wasn’t even human. 

  The ceremony was nothing short of gorgeous. It was a small reception, Wanda had been adamant that she wanted to keep it intimate despite Tony trying to throw more and more money at the event and add more guests. But it was Wanda’s day, it was her choice. 

  You had never seen the Sokovian look so happy in her life, or so beautiful. You supposed the two went hand in hand, her joy had always been so warming and infectious that it was impossible not to see the perfection in it. Everything was finally coming together for her, while your world fell apart. 

  You didn’t acknowledge Natasha when she sat down next to you. As much as it pained you to watch, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the tender slow dance the bride and groom swayed along to. She looked like a Disney Princess, her dress wrapped around her with an elegance you were in awe of. 

  “I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” Natasha told you. You still didn’t look away. 

  “I couldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding,” you muttered, barely audible over the gentle music around you.   

  “Still, it can't be easy when you’re in love with her,” the Russian stated. You noticeably stiffened but didn’t bother to deny the fact. Your heart raced at the confirmation that your feelings weren’t a total secret, but you still knew Natasha well enough to be sure she wouldn’t tell anyone else. “No one else knows,” she assured. “Including Wanda.”

  “Maybe this will be what finally makes me move on,” you wished aloud. Natasha didn’t respond, following your gaze to where the dance had come to an end. Most of the guests were beginning to disperse and you planned to do the same soon, you had already stayed longer than you had thought you could be able to. 

  “Carol’s into you.” You were aware of that, just as you were aware the usually confident Captain was working up the courage to ask you out. It would be good for you if you said yes. Carol was great…

  “One lesbian crushing on another that’s in love with her best friend, you guys are hopeless,” Natasha quipped and you gave her your first genuine smile of the evening. 

  “I know, I know,” you admitted, holding your hands up and chuckling with the redhead. “I should go, see you around, Romanoff.” Natasha waved you off and watched you go with an edge of pity that she knew you would hate. As you reached the door, the redhead noticed Wanda frown in your direction and started after you, swaying in her slightly intoxicated state. 

  “Y/n,” she called once you were outside and finally alone. You spun around, feeling a pang of guilt that you had been caught leaving her wedding without saying goodbye. 

  “Hey, sorry. You looked busy and I…” you hadn’t thought of an excuse and you didn’t have the energy to lie to her anyway. “You’re married,” you stated with a shaky exhale that Wanda wouldn’t have missed if she hadn’t had a bottle of champagne to herself. 

  “I am!” She beamed and suddenly threw her arms around you. You hugged her back with a hesitation you had never given her before, uncomfortable and pained by the feeling of her wedding dress beneath her fingertips. You had swallowed your tears all day, but actually feeling how real it all was threatened to be too much. You just wanted to run home and cry into your pillow. 

  “I just,” she sighed heavily with bubbling excitement. “I’m so fucking happy right now,” she giggled and finally pulled away. “I love him so much and…” she seemed at a loss for words. You were too. 

  “I’m really happy for you, Wands,” you told her, ignoring how your throat felt like it was swelling to the size of a balloon. She grinned and hugged you again, holding you flush against her. 

  “Thanks, y/n. I can't wait for it to be your wedding day.” Her words were as rough as a sucker punch to the gut. Would you even ever have one? Surely. Right? 

  She barely pulled away to kiss your cheek, letting the alcohol do as it pleased and numb the feeling of your hands twitching around her waist at the act. “I hope he treats you well,” you whispered. Wanda smiled and rubbed your cheek affectionately with her thumb, as though she was about to use it to pull you closer once more. You would never know if she would or not, because you stepped away. 

  “Goodnight, Wanda,” you smiled, catching one last glance at the ring around her finger that glimmered under the fairy lights strung above you. They were your final reminder that your best friend was getting her happy ever after, because everything had fallen into place. 

  The moment your back was turned, tears streamed freely down your broken features.

*

You reread the offer letter for perhaps the seventh time that hour, determined to find some fault with it that you had missed before. Regrettably, you found nothing. It was the perfect promotion. Better pay, better hours, better benefits. There was an apartment available just a short walk from the office and from what you had seen from the online viewing, you couldn’t get a better deal on such an ideal place to live. There wasn’t a single flaw that was reason enough for you to turn it down, except for the fact it was on the other side of the country. 

  It wasn't that big a deal. People moved away all the time, it was a natural part of advancing with your life. It just meant that you would have to leave your friends behind, that you would have to leave her behind. Again, that wasn’t really a bad thing. Maybe distance was the only thing that was finally going to put an end to your insistent feelings for Wanda, who had been happily married for nearly a year. It could finally cease your reluctant ‘what ifs’.

  “I knew you would be here,” she called a second before you heard the car door slam shut. You pocketed your phone and glanced behind you. 

  Wanda strolled up the cliff side towards you as the wind gently caressed her hair, though it didn’t seem to ease the concern written over her features. “You didn’t answer my texts,” she said as she joined you on the hood of your car and overlooked the vast ocean stretched out beyond the drop just metres ahead of you. 

  You knew what she was implying, you always answered her texts so she immediately suspected something was wrong. “Girl troubles?” She asked. You scoffed, Carol (sweet as she was) was the least of your concerns. You had only seen each other a handful of times and it felt more like you were hooking up than establishing something with a deeper potential. 

  “Not exactly,” you told her. 

  “Then what’s up?” She asked, nudging your shoulder lightly. 

  “I got a job offer,” you shrugged. Wanda’s eyes widened and she began to grin. Her excitement was infectious.

  “That’s what you’re moping about?”

  “It’s in California,” you said at once. Wanda’s smile wavered, but she refused to let it visibly disappear when it didn’t change the fact that you had a significant opportunity ahead of you. 

  “Wow,” was all she could say. “Have you talked to Carol about it?” She asked even though you both knew it didn’t make the least bit of difference to the Captain what part of the country you were in. You could be on the other side of the world and she would still visit you as frequently as she did. It was clear that the Sokovian couldn’t think of anything else to ask, but it still irked you that it was Carol’s opinion she enquired about. 

  “No, we don’t talk about that stuff,” you dismissed. 

  “Really? It’s a big deal.” You could see her frowning in your peripheral and it was no secret that Wanda had been trying to get you and the blonde to be something you couldn’t. 

  “It won’t make a difference to how we hook up,” you huffed, growing agitated at your best friend’s blindness to where your interests truly lied. 

  “I thought you two were getting closer,” she said slowly, noting your shift. 

 “Carol and I aren’t going to become anything more, Wanda,” you told her firmly, but she insisted on pushing you further.

  “Why?” It was as if she wanted to see you snap and finally admit-

  “Because she’s not you!” You exclaimed, feeling a sudden rush come over you as you let all of the lies you had been held back by all those years to finally dissipate. Wanda stared at you, stunned. 

 “How long?” The question was almost carried away by the breeze.

  “Years,” you admitted, no point down playing the truth. It wouldn’t make it any easier. 

  “Y/n-” she started but you recognised her voice and you knew what was coming. 

  “Don’t. Please don’t,” you begged, tears brewing in your eyes as you realised this could be your long awaited breaking point in your friendship. It was inevitable. It had been since the first day you met the brunette. 

  You took in each other’s drastically different emotions, confirming the alternate cross roads you were about to take. But if that was to be the case, you wanted to have at least one small victory to take away. You cupped Wanda’s cheek as she had done to you so many times before, never understanding the burn you had felt at her touch at the time. She understood it then though, because the softness of your hand protected her from the winds that were picking up and made it all the more tempting to follow your lead as you closed the gap between you. 

  Sometimes in romance novels, they say that the first kiss was better than either of the characters had dreamt of, but that wasn’t the case with your kiss with Wanda. Sure, her lips fit perfectly against your own and yes, the faint taste of strawberry could have made you light headed with a giddy glee. But your kiss was filled with remorse and regret. There was a striking pain to the way your lips moved together and an overwhelming sense of anguish that neither of you would be able to rid yourselves of for quite some time. 

  Worst of all, that kiss was your unspoken goodbye.

  “I’m sorry, I just wanted the chance to feel as lucky as he does,” you told her as you pulled away entirely. Wanda didn’t respond, you didn’t expect her to. She had already given you more than you ever thought possible. So you got off of the hood of your car and Wanda willed herself to do the same, standing back solemnly as you got in the vehicle she would never join you in again. She couldn’t bring herself to watch you drive, nor could you glance back at your best friend in your mirror.

My fault for falling in love with a straight girl.

[ssahotchnerr]

Can I request a fic based on these thought ❤️Aaron would 100% be the kind of dad that would spend all night building a barbie house or dolls house and would also very willingly sit and play barbie’s with his daughters.

well worth it

YOU'RE SO RIGHT THAT'S TOO CUTE cw; girl dad!aaron, bau!fem!reader, fluff <3

growing impatient and nearly beginning to doze off without him, you exited your bedroom in search of aaron. you've waited all day to be cozied up with him, and you simply couldn't wait any longer.

you've been comfortably waiting for over an hour; having gone through your full night routine, getting into bed, reading a few chapters of your current read. aaron even came in to change into his pajamas at one point, but trailed out again.

"hey you," you peeked your head into the living room, finding aaron laying stomach-down on the plush carpet. "you coming to bed? it's getting late."

"in a minute." aaron mumbled gently in response, his voice vaguely muffled into whatever it was he had in front of him. "as soon as i finish up here."

you ventured further into the room in curiosity, the closer proximity allowing you to see your daughter's new dollhouse set before him.

your nose crinkled lightly in amusement, a small smile forming on your face. and as if aaron could sense it - he peered up at you, a matching smile on his own lips as he saw your tickled expression, his brown eyes aglow.

"i promised i would have it ready in the morning." aaron admitted with a soft chuckle as he sat up, you scrambling down on the carpet to join him. "it's done, there's just so many damn stickers that have to be in certain spots." he grabbed the instruction pamphlet, studying it for a moment. "wallpaper for every room, that was a pain. things like a bath rug for the bathroom. even some go on the furniture - they're tiny, tiny stickers..."

as he trailed on and on, listing all the details, you fell quiet the more you followed along to his words, your eyes analyzing his face in slight astonishment.

"what?" aaron laughed breathlessly again, his eyebrows furrowing quizzically as he tossed the pamphlet aside, the paper creating a fluttering sound as it fell. he grasped onto the sticker sheet once more, his lips drawing into a frustrated line as he struggled to peel one off - his large hands all to blame.

"it still surprises me out of nowhere sometimes, despite how much time has passed." you shook your head slightly in content, swiping the sheet from his hands. you easily removed the sticker, handing it to him. "you're listing off the necessities for a dollhouse. for our daughter. there was a time where the most i heard you talk was while giving a profile, and just, here we are now. i dunno, does that make sense?"

"completely." aaron agreed as his smile retook form on his face, placing the sticker where it belonged. "happens to me every day. how lucky i am to have you. never thought i'd be dad to another, yet alone a girl dad at that."

"it suits you." you grinned, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "want some help? anything to get you to bed sooner."

aaron looked at the instructions again, a soft hum leaving his mouth as he thought. "again, it's pretty much finished foundation wise. but if you wanna start setting the furniture inside, be my guest darling."

side by side, the two of you worked together, rather giddily at that. quiet quips, playful comments how your own home could use these and whatnot (aaron groaned at your suggestion of wallpaper). warm but soft laughter, to prevent waking up jack and your little girl. you continued to help aaron peel the stickers as needed, and he, the notorious stickler, double checked you were putting items in the correct places 'according to the instructions'. you both knew once your daughter had her hands on her dollhouse, would nothing remain where it belonged, but that didn't stop him from teasing you; "did you put it in the-" "aaron, yes!"

finally, once in bed with aaron at your backside this time, one of his arms draped securely around your waist, you fell asleep with the heartwarming thought that your daughter's very first request in the morning - after her initial excitement - would be for aaron to play dolls with her. and of course, would he comply (just for a bit, and as long as she finished breakfast first). five minutes would surely turn into ten, fifteen, twenty depending on how early she awoke.

such brought up the potential risk of aaron being late to work, but if it allowed just a few more smiles to come from baby girl, it was well worth it.

[elizabethsnuts]

Mini Genius

Spencer Reid x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer go see the team at Quantico, you wanted to show everyone how similar you were to you dad.

———

Spencer carefully adjusted your tiny beige cardigan, making sure it sat perfectly on your small shoulders. You looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, you absolutely loved dressing up like your daddy. Your hair was neatly styled, and you wore a small bow that matched the colour of Spencer’s tie. You were getting ready to go see the team at Quantico, you loved going to see all your aunties and uncles.

Spencer helped you put your white socks and little Mary Janes on, getting you out the door of the house. He carefully strapped you into your car seat, checking the harness twice to ensure it was secure. You giggled in delight as you watched your daddy’s focused expression. "Ready to go see the team, sweetheart?" Spencer asked with a smile.

You nodded enthusiastically and smiled brightly. “We gonna see, Auntie JJ, Auntie Emily, Auntie Penelope! An’ Uncle Derek! An’ an’ an’ Uncle Hotch!”

Spencer chuckled as you listed off the team with your little high-pitched voice, you really did adore the team. “Yep, we’re going to see everyone!”

———

Spencer walked into the elevator, you securely on his hip, your tiny feet swinging and wiggling as you eagerly waited for the elevator to go up. Your outfit really was a miniature version of Spencer’s, you wore a tiny vest over a button-up shirt, complete with little slacks, your tiny Mary Janes and of course your cardigan that sat over the vest and button-up shirt. It was clear that you idolized your father, mimicking his style down to the last detail. You had it down to a T.

When the two of you reached the bullpen, the team was already there, immersed in their work. JJ was the first to notice you. Her face lit up with a bright smile as she stood up and walked over.

JJ took you from Spencer’s arms and hugged you. "Look who's here!" she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. You squealed with delight as you saw familiar faces, waving excitedly to everyone.

"Well, if it isn't the littlest profiler!" Derek called out, standing up from his desk with a broad smile. "And she's dressed just like you, pretty boy!" He approached the three of you and he couldn’t help but tease Spencer. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Reid, did you forget to check your mini-me's wardrobe this morning?" he teased, earning a chuckle from the others.

Spencer chuckled and looked at you. “What? There’s nothing wrong with her outfit. She likes it!”

You nodded and smiled. “Daddy looks nice.” You stated simply.

"That he does," JJ chuckled, stroking your hair. "But I think you definitely pull it off more."

Morgan bent down and ruffled your hair. "So, Y/N, do you also have the smarts like your dad?"

Your eyes lit up, and you nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh! Daddy says I remember lots of things."

Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Spencer. "She's already showing off, huh? Just like you."

Spencer shrugged, a proud smile on his face. "It runs in the family."

"Alright, then," Morgan said, turning back to you. "What can you remember?"

You quickly pulled out a small, colourful book from your backpack. "Daddy took me to the aquarium, an’ I learned all about fishies!"

"Oh yeah?" Morgan's interest was piqued. "What did you learn?"

You opened the book and pointed to a picture of a clownfish. "This is a clownfish. They live in warm waters an’ like to hide in sea anemones. The daddy clownfish takes care of the babies."

"Wow, that's impressive!" Morgan said, genuinely astonished. "You remembered all that?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "An’ this," you flipped the page, "is a hammerhead shark. They can see really well because their eyes are on the sides of their heads. They like to eat stingrays."

Morgan looked up at Spencer, “Okay, pretty boy, I see you’ve made a carbon copy of yourself."

Spencer smiled proudly. "She has an eidetic memory, just like me. She remembers everything we read about at the aquarium."

JJ smiled at you as you flipped through your sea animal book. "I take it you had fun at the aquarium?"

You nodded vigorously, continuing to flip through the pages. "Yes, yes, yes, Aunty JJ! I saw lots an’ lots of fishies. An’ I remembered all their names!"

"Tell Aunty JJ about the octopus," Spencer encouraged you.

Your eyes lit up, and you turned to JJ. "An octopus can change colours to hide from predators. They have three hearts an’ blue blood!"

"Three hearts and blue blood?" JJ repeated, clearly impressed. "That's amazing, Y/N. You're so smart!"

You smiled shyly at the compliment. “Thank you! You know that boy seahorses carry the babies? An’ that starfish can grow their arms back!” You said excitedly with a smile. “Daddy reads bedtime fish stories lots and lots!”

JJ chuckled at your excitement and hugged you closer. “I think that all your sea animal facts are super super cool! I think that when you see Henry next he’d love to hear all about it!”

You giggled and nodded, clapping your hands together in your toddler-like excitement. “Daddy we go see Henry soon? With Aunty JJ!”

Spencer chuckled and nodded, taking you back into his arms. “Sure we can! We’ll organise a day for it, don’t worry.”

———

As the afternoon turned into evening, Spencer gathered up your things, ready to head home. The team gathered around to say their goodbyes, each one giving you a hug or a high-five.

"Come back soon, okay?" Garcia said while she hugged you and gave you double high-fives. “We love having you here, N/N."

You hugged her tightly, your little arms wrapped around her. "I love you, Auntie Penelope."

Spencer took your hand once more, and you waved goodbye to the team. As you walked down the hall, you looked up at your father. "Daddy, can we see more fishies tomorrow?"

Spencer smiled down at you. "We can do anything you want, sweetheart."

You grinned, satisfied with that answer. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, Y/N," Spencer replied, lifting you up into his arms for a hug. He knew that no matter where life took him, as long as you had each other, everything would be alright.

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 11: Intertwined

Word Count: 26,955

Read on AO3

Previous/Next

Chapter Summary: "Sacred Dance Day has arrived! A starry-eyed Amalia finds herself amidst all the decorations and preparations for such a momentuous occasion, both excited and worried for what the future might hold for her and her standing with the Eliatropes. Will she be able to find the perfect way to contribute? And what about Yugo? Is it possible that this year's celebration has a special meaning for him as well? And what could it be?"

At the very beginning, there was nothing. Scientists and religious leaders alike have long theorised there was only darkness, void and lifeless. A darkness so all-encompassing it couldn’t be described. It would be senseless, after all. What was the point of speaking about the vast coldness, the neverending silence, or the seeping hopelessness if none of those concepts even existed yet?

But then, nobody knows exactly when, something nothing short of miraculous happened. 

Nobody knows or will likely ever know how it happened or where they came from, but the two very first souls came into existence. Both of them beings of great power and the source of the two quintessential energies of what would later become the known universe. Both of them the other’s complete opposite in every regard. 

One of them was feminine in nature. She encompassed concepts that would later become known as ‘love’ and ‘space’, with the astonishing ability to travel to any plane through portals. Her bright, turquoise hues represented life and creation, a clear symbol of her motherly nature. She was the Great Goddess Eliatrope, the source of all wakfu in the universe, of all life and mobility. 

The other was masculine in nature. With his ethereal and evasive, yet reptilian, form, the first dragon was born. The powerful magenta of his form bore the power of destruction and stability. He was the Great Dragon, the source of all Stasis in the universe, the origin of death itself. 

Wakfu and Stasis. The two primordial energies in the universe; two sides of the same coin. The eternal balance between life and death, of endings and new beginnings alike. 

Perhaps it was because they were the only two souls in existence, or maybe it was that that old saying about how ‘opposites attract’ is indeed as old as time, or in this case, even older, but Eliatrope and the Dragon fell in love. 

With not much to do during a time when nothing was everything and everything was nothing, the two beings found themselves drawn to each other. And so, they began to dance. The more they danced, the more they loved each other, until they became intertwined, both their forms woven into one, forever sealing their fate as life and death would become inseparable from that point onwards. What death did, life couldn’t undo, and wherever death visited, life would flourish anew. 

It was from that dance and the unshakable balance it created that the Krosmoz was born. Where there used to be nothing but darkness, now were millions upon millions of shining stars, illuminating the endless vastness of space. Solid celestial bodies would become planets, patiently waiting for their time to harbour life. And the first ever souls, those that would eventually become the twelve gods and that would eventually spawn countless more, were first created.

The eternal balance between life and death had been established, and with it, its cycle could finally begin. 

“And that is why we celebrate Sacred Dance Day.” Yugo finished his retelling, leaning over the railing in Amalia’s balcony with the doll by his side. 

He couldn’t help to preen himself under her admiring gaze, shining like the stars above. Although he couldn’t take all the credit of mesmerising her to himself—the ambience had really helped. With the stellar mantle hovering overhead from where they stood at her balcony, the light coming from her room illuminating their profiles, it felt as though they had been there, witnessing the very birth of the Krosmoz. 

“Amazing…” Amalia breathed. Her full attention was on Yugo, her head resting in her palm as she listened to his tale. “I don’t think Twelvians have anything quite like it. Maybe Huppermages, but they care more about the Krosmic Balance itself than its creation…” She trailed off, her nose scrunched up in thought. 

The Eliatrope just chuckled softly and gave a helpless shrug. 

“Well, unlike the Twelvians, we Eliatropes and our dragons actually worship the Great Goddess and the Great Dragon. It’s only natural we would take certain things more seriously than them and vice versa.” As if to emphasise his point, he opened a small portal, no bigger than the palm of his hand. 

“Touché.” It was Amalia’s turn to shrug. “When did you say the celebration will take place?” 

“A week from now.” 

She blinked as realisation dawned on her. “It’s that why the entire village is decorated?” 

She’d been meaning to ask for a while now, having first taken notice of the festive ambiance one day when she was headed to the forest located at the outskirts of town, where Glip’s training took place. Between her lessons, tending to her garden, and other distractions, she never had the chance to ask. 

A wry smile made its way to her lips when he began to sheepishly rub the back of his head in that way that was so characteristically him.   

“Yes, sorry for not telling you sooner.” Her smile dimmed a little when he winced. “I meant to do it earlier, but… life got in the way.”

The doll refrained from pointing out how they had actually been spending a lot of time together lately. For some reason, there seemed to have been a shift in Yugo’s demeanour, and the rest of the Council of Six’s, too, for that matter. Everyone appeared to be more… vigilant, more alert, if that was even possible. With Yugo and Adamaï choosing to spend most of their free time with her—which, while always a welcomed thing, stoked her suspicions—, and even the guards being more attentive of what she did than ever. 

But seeing as such an important celebration was just around the corner, she shrugged it off as them simply being on edge trying to make sure everything went off without a hitch. She tried to ignore the small pang of guilt she felt when she realised her presence had probably derailed their usual plans quite a bit. 

Instead, she simply leaned closer to Yugo and put a comforting hand on top of his, and softly said, “It’s alright. Thank you for telling me. Thinking back, I should have known, seeing as I am already familiar with this piece of your history and culture.”

Even as he drew lazy circles on her skin with his thumb, his eyebrows still shot up in surprise, “You do?”

Another shrug. “From Glip and Baltazar’s classes.” In retrospect, she was a little disappointed with herself for not connecting the dots sooner. Shaking those thoughts away, she sent her friend a coy look. “So, tell me. How do you celebrate Sacred Dance Day, exactly?”

The king was only taken aback for a few seconds before he let out a puff of air that soon morphed into quiet laughter. Holding the doll’s hand in his until they were dangling from the balcony—and secretly relishing when her mesmerised eyes followed the movement and the sweetest blush lit up her cheeks—, he started, mirth shining in his eyes:

“It’s always the same, to be honest. Although that doesn't make it any less special.” He was quick to point out. 

The doll nodded. “Of course not.”

“Of course not.” His smile widened a little. “As you’ve already seen, it’s tradition to decorate our homes with silks, sheer and edged in gold, and charms carved in stone in the shape of a portal. Now that I think about it, we still have to decorate the palace—I’ll talk to Nora about it.” He added, as if thinking aloud. Then, catching himself, he went on with his explanation. “But that’s only the beginning, and it’s something we actually do before Sacred Dance Day actually arrives.

“On that day, families will spend the morning together, celebrating what life has given them. But it’s in the evening when the fun really starts.” He smiled devilishly at her, his pearly whites peeking through his lips in a way that sent butterflies to her stomach. Why, the doll didn’t know. But she did know she liked it when Yugo made her feel like that. “That’s when we all gather together around the temple, in the middle of the main square. I officially inaugurate the festivities with a little speech, and the fun begins. 

“There’s games set out for young and old alike, music fills the air, and everyone mingles and enjoys themselves. Following that, we all share a hearty dinner filled with laughter, relishing in the ironic intimacy of a full-blown party. And then, the real magic happens.”

His wording had the desired effect. Amalia’s eyes were shining with anticipation. “What do you do?”

“It’s Mina and Phaeris’ turn to lead the ceremonial aspect of the festivity.” He revealed, his tone almost conspiratorial. “They deliver this wonderful, heartfelt speech in honour of the Great Goddess and thank everyone for their offerings. And then, they lead everyone in our annual reproduction of the first Sacred Dance.”

The doll positively lit up, a dazzling smile splitting her face in two. “You guys dance! Oh, that sounds so fun! I haven’t danced since the banquet at Bonta.” 

Shyly looking away, Amalia allowed herself to get lost in the memories for a few instants. It really had been long since she last danced. Not only with Yugo—the thought making her heart ache with longing—, but herself. She remembered quite fondly those times where her father would lead a dance with her and her sisters. Those moments always filled her with a sense of peace like she hadn’t felt in a while. 

It was funny, now that she thought about it. She hadn’t realised how much she missed it until Yugo brought it up. 

Her gaze snapped back at the king in surprise when he rushed out to clarify. “Erm, well… Yes and no.” His heart dropped to his stomach when timid disappointment flashed across her face. 

“You don’t dance?”

“No, no! Of course not!” He blurted, only to throw his head back in frustration when his unfortunate wording only disheartened Amalia further. 

He rubbed his hands down his face, exasperated with himself. Ever since he realised his feelings for Amalia, he felt clumsier than ever. He took one deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, trying to compose himself. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t explain myself properly.” He told the doll, who hung onto his every word. “What I meant to say is we do dance, only that’s actually how the night ends. Let’s just say it’s only part of our way of honouring the Great Goddess and the Great Dragon.”

“Oh. I see…” Amalia said tentatively. Her spirits lifted at the idea of getting to dance after all, the corner of her lips twitched upwards into a small smile. “Then what’s the whole picture?”

“‘The whole picture’?” Yugo repeated, tilting his head in confusion. 

“Yes, you know, if dancing’s only part of it, how do you honour Eliatrope and the Great Dragon?”

“Oh, right.” He cleared his throat and nudged her playfully. “This is actually the pièce de résistance of the whole event, Amalia, you’re going to love it.”

Giggling at his theatrics, she simply gestured with one hand for him to get on with it already. 

He chuckled. “Right. Well, as I said, Mina and Phaeris lead the whole ceremony. So once they’re done giving their speech, they lead us all to raise our hands in the air and will our wakfu to manifest.”

“Wait,” The doll interrupted him, blinking rapidly. “That’s it? You guys just create portals?”

“I never said that.” The Eliatrope chastised her lightly, booping her nose a few times to get his point across. They both averted their eyes bashfully when his actions fully registered in their minds. 

Amalia, who kept threading her fingers through her evergreen hair nervously, was the first to break the silence, “So, if you guys don’t create portals, what do you do?”

That seemed to bring Yugo back to reality, who jolted in place. He cleared his throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant, “W-what we do is we project our energy unto the night sky, and with Mina and Phaeris’ help, those wisps of wakfu are shaped into a representation of Eliatrope and the Great Dragon as they dance together.”

“Oh.” Was all Amalia could say. Because, what can you even say to that?

“And then we dance under them.” Yugo finished, already anticipating she’d want to know about that little detail in specific. 

“Good.” She nodded so resolutely that Yugo couldn’t help but snort. “Dancing is what distinguishes good parties from mediocre ones.”

“You really love to dance, don’t you?” He smirked. 

She smirked right back, though hers held a touch of mystery. “It's a Sadida thing.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Please, do.”

They managed to hold their laughter in for all of two seconds. The quiet of the night was broken by their breaking down in hysterics, with Amalia playfully shoving Yugo away when he started making faces just to make her laugh harder. All tactics that worked flawlessly, much to her chagrin. Eventually, they quieted down, although their cheeks still flushed from mirth and they were holding onto their aching stomachs. 

As his uproarious cackles faded into chuckles, Yugo wiped a tear off his eye. “You’ll have to tell me what’s so important about dancing one day.”

Hiding her giggles behind her hand, Amalia returned his affectionate gaze with a mischievous one of her own. “Maybe one day you’ll find out by yourself.”

The grin he answered with was so tender she could feel herself melt. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

The doll’s breath hitched in her throat, and she scrambled to tear her gaze away from his, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she willed her heartbeat to go back to normal. Hard as she tried, she just couldn’t understand what happened to her whenever Yugo was involved. Her mouth would dry, her heart would start thumping wildly in her ribcage like an untamed Dragoturkey, she would be both incredibly comfortable and bashful in his presence, and she was constantly flushing like an idiot. 

At first she thought that was normal between friends. Yugo was quite literally the first person she interacted with outside of Inglorium, where she would spend most of her time with her father and sisters, anyway. She assumed all those butterflies in her stomach were the usual elation from making a new friend, someone to spend your time with and to cherish. 

But the more people she met, the more she began to doubt her theory. 

Even though it was true she still spent most of her free time with Yugo, she had also been branching out to other people in the span of the last few months. People she felt comfortable with and, if not friends, she believed she could at least call acquaintances. People, who, regardless of the appropriate terminology to refer to them by, welcomed her with open arms. 

Adamaï, Baltazar, Glip (eventually), the children, Chibi, Grougaloragran, Kérubim and Atcham, Alibert and Ruel… Nora was difficult to define: Amalia had the feeling the pink-eyed Eliatrope held no grudges against her, but she was bound by her loyalty to her brother, who very much hated her. All that led the doll to think of her relationship with Nora as bittersweet, even if it was no fault of hers.

She shook those thoughts away. She refused to let Efrim damper her good mood yet again. Especially when she still had much to figure out.

The truth was, she enjoyed their company, and she wanted to believe the feeling was mutual between them. And yet, despite their supposed friendship, she certainly didn’t feel the same way about any of them as she felt about Yugo. 

To say the questions left her flummoxed would be an understatement. Why was Yugo so different from everybody else? Why was it that only he could lift her spirits up when she was lost in despair, at the same time as the idea of losing him felt like a knife in her heart? Would this have anything to do with what her father said about suitors and brides—?

“A little tofu told me you had a hand in the creation of the Magnolias.” Yugo’s voice cut through her pondering like a knife. Suddenly, she didn’t remember what she’d be wondering about in the first place. 

Blinking blankly as she regained her bearings, all Amalia could offer was a weak, “Huh?”

“Chibi and Grougal.” He clarified. “They told me all about the Magnolias.” He smirked, leaning his head against his knuckles as he scooted a little closer to her side. “Gotta say, I’m not all that surprised. It definitely has your mark.”

Feeling shy under his praiseful look, Amalia tried to play it off by turning her back to the balcony, her hands resting at both sides of her on the railing. “Yeah, well. After we almost died in a work-induced fire, I’d say anything that doesn’t involve being burnt to a crisp is a vast improvement, don’t you think?”

Yugo’s eyes widened like saucers, his very being trembling in alarm. 

“Come again?” He choked out. 

But Amalia didn’t elaborate. “But really, it was a joint effort.” She waved the mere notion off dismissively. “After Chibi and Grougal explained how the Wik-Fi Network worked and their issues with finding replacements for their usual materials here, all I really did was provide them with the means necessary to achieve their goal. I’m sure they would have managed just fine even without me.”

It was clear Amalia wasn’t going to assuage his fears concerning the very real possibility that she was almost burned alive, so he chose to stow his questions for later. He’d have a word with Chibi and Grougal on proper safety measures and on finally adding some darned windows and sprinkler system to their workshop later. For now, he contented himself with squeezing the doll’s hand in his, his heart fluttering at the adorable squeak of surprise she let out at the contact. 

“Nevertheless, it was a success.” He told her softly. “I know for a fact they were struggling with it, and thanks to you, my people can finally communicate just like they did back home. It’s a small taste of familiarity in a whole new world, but a needed one nonetheless.”

There! There right there was the source of her turmoil! 

Oh, how in Sadida’s name was she supposed to make peace with the mysterious yet exhilarating way Yugo made her feel, if he kept making her little Ogrine heart race with just a few sweet words?! 

It was downright torturous at this point. An agonisingly sweet torture. 

Her mouth feeling like cotton (something she usually only experienced in her rag doll form), it was a miracle when she finally managed to change the topic. “So…um…” She coughed awkwardly. “Uh, anything else that you’d like to tell me about Sacred Dance Day?”

Mimicking her position, his back now to the railing as well, Yugo just shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really, no. That’s everything important.”

She had just given a noncommittal nod when he rushed out to add, “No, wait. Sorry. Now that I think about it, do you think you could help us decorate the palace? My siblings and I have had our hands full lately and couldn’t do it until now.”

She beamed at him. “Sure thing!” Then, she let out a wistful sigh. “Anything to get to experience Sacred Dance Day, even if it’s only a little and from my room.”

The king raised a confused eyebrow. “What are you talking about? Amalia, you’re invited to the celebration. You know that, right?”

With a small gasp, her whole demeanour lit up like the stars above them. “Really?!”

His own expression softened. “Yes, really.” He surprised even himself when his body moved on its own accord and closed the distance between them just so, enough so their faces were one breath away from each other as he whispered, “That is, if you want to.”

Amalia didn’t even have to think about her answer. Thank Sadida, because with Yugo at such close proximity she wouldn’t have been able to form a single coherent thought even if she wanted to. “Of course I’d love to go.”

And then, right before they could close the distance between them completely, a jolt went through both of them, causing them to all but jump away from each other, their cheeks on fire and hearts hammering in their chests. Whatever moment they had was now lost. 

“G-great!” The Eliatrope said, his voice cracking embarrassedly. “T-then, I’ll… I’ll see you there!”

“You bet!” Amalia squeaked, wishing a carnivorous plant would swallow her whole when she realised she had just used finger-guns with Yugo, like some awkward loser with no social skills. 

The king was saved from further embarrassing himself when he remembered something important. 

“Oh, just one last thing.”

“Hm?”

“Since this is actually quite an important day for us, it’s tradition that we all dress to the nines for the occasion. And since you’ll be participating too, I guess that includes you.”

“I see… I suppose, then, that I can’t exactly wear my adventuring outfit to the ceremony.” Amalia guessed.

“Considering my sisters would kill me if I let you wear nothing short of regal to the festivities, I’m afraid that no, you cannot.”

Her nose scrunched up in thought for a moment as she held her chin between her thumb and index finger. “I suppose I could always come up with something else.” She splayed her hands in surrender, though her stance was resolute. “I’m sorry, Yugo, but I categorically refuse to wear the same dress as my arrival or the banquet at Bonta for something as important as Sacred Dance Day. It’s a matter of principle.” She asserted, arms crossed over her chest, indicating she wouldn’t budge on the matter. 

“Never crossed my mind.” He said instead, honestly taking her by surprise. “I was actually thinking along the lines of sending the royal tailor to your chambers sometime this week so he can sew a new, custom-made outfit for you from scratch.”

The Divine Doll’s reaction was instantaneous. No sooner had the words left the Eliatrope King’s mouth, did she begin to squeal excitedly and to thank him profusely. As she prattled on and on about all the ideas she already had for her dress—because it had to be a dress, she wouldn’t take no for an answer—and that she wanted to discuss with the tailor as soon as he arrived, Yugo was rendered helpless in her presence. 

As Amalia excitedly shared her plans with him, all he could do was stare adoringly down at her and privately think about his own reasons for looking forward to Sacred Dance Day. 

..........................................................................................................................

Amalia couldn’t help but find it ironic how, despite being the daughter of a literal god, that is to say, an object of profound, spiritual admiration with festivities revolving around the very notion of worshipping him, she actually knew very little about what honouring a god entailed. 

Mainly, she had been completely blindsided to find out part of celebrating Sacred Dance Day was a mandatory holiday period where businesses would either close early, or take the day off entirely. Same with Glip and Baltazar’s classes. Apparently, it was tradition to relax and spend the week preceding the festivity with one’s family, even when that meant putting a temporary stop to the cultivation of knowledge and physical training. 

The very next day after the holiday was also free, since the Eliatropes would be too tired from partying to be productive. 

And that is why Amalia suddenly found herself with little to do. With her afternoons now free from having to train (although Glip had strongly encouraged his students to work on what they’d learned the very last class before their little vacation period), the Divine Doll found herself with a lot of time in her hands. Time she mostly dedicated to her garden, but there was only so much she could do before Qilby and Shinonomé could finally pay her that one visit where they were supposed to share what kind of plants their clinic needed from her. 

Normally, she would have taken advantage of her nearly empty schedule to spend more time with Yugo, and hopefully figure out what that feeling she experienced around him was at last; but he and the rest of the Council were busy preparing for their roles to play in the upcoming celebration. 

According to the palace staff, while the king and Adamaï were busy overseeing everything, Mina and Phaeris barely left the temple. They would depart at the break of dawn, and return well after sunset, when the sky was pitch black except for the moon and stars illuminating the night. 

While a part of the doll told her that was the Ochre Twins’ responsibility and they knew what they were doing, she still couldn’t help but fear for their health. She just hoped they ate and slept well enough. 

All in all, despite her undeniable excitement over getting to witness what Sacred Dance Day was like firsthand, Amalia would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bored from the lack of activity. 

Hence why, despite her reservations, she jumped at the chance to help Nora decorate the palace when she came knocking on the door that afternoon and told her Yugo had asked her to go look for her. To be honest, she had almost forgotten about that. 

And that was how she found herself carrying boxes filled with delicate fabrics and ornate decorations all around the palace. Her arms ached from the weight, but it was better than tracing the murals on her wall for the umpteenth time. At this point she was probably capable of drawing those paintings herself with her eyes closed…

The two women’s efforts were currently focused on decorating the large, majestic columns lining up the main hall that led to the throne room. Amalia couldn’t help but be grateful that Chibi and Grougal’s common sense hadn't been abandoned for this wing of the building and they didn’t forget to add windows. That way, she could just summon her vines from outside for help. That made everything so much easier. 

She was perched on a ramble, its ends wrapped snugly around her form like a harness, as it guided her along the height of the column she was currently working on, draping the fabrics and hanging the stone-made ornaments along the polished marble. Another pair of thinner, more manoeuvrable vines acted as a second pair of arms, rummaging through the boxes on the floor in search of more materials to hand over to her whenever her current stash ran out. 

Nora completed the same task through the use of her square-shaped portals. But when the pink-wearing Eliatrope had offered to do the same for Amalia, the doll had politely but adamantly refused. At her swift yet resolute response, Nora couldn’t help but feel grateful for the mask covering her face—she wouldn’t have been able to hide her amused grin otherwise. 

Thank goodness she hadn’t offered to carry the doll around as she floated in the air! She had a feeling that would have ended up doing Amalia in for good. And something told her Yugo wouldn’t take it kindly if she upset the Divine Doll, especially not after the shocking discovery he and Ad made. 

Securing the knot joining two different pieces of silk together, Nora’s light mood darkened slightly as the reminder sobered her up. She sneaked a glance towards Amalia, taking in the way her tongue stuck out cutely as she directed all her focus on hanging one of the stone portals. 

It was both astonishing and relieving to see how she remained unaware of the going-ons around her, especially when she seemed to be at the centre of it all. 

Once their king and his dragon twin had found out about their mysterious intruder, they wasted no time calling an emergency council meeting and warning their siblings of the possible danger in their midst. They didn’t even flinch before the Council’s scandalised reactions upon finding out their—or rather, her— target had been Amalia. Even as Efrim set out to exteriorise his disapproval of the Divine Doll as per usual, it was Adamaï who promptly shut down his attempts, pointedly reminding him their top priority right now was ensuring her safety and with it, that of their people’s.

For his part, Yugo didn’t waste a second in organising everyone so Amalia would be watched over at all times. Whoever was in charge of patrolling each week would keep an eye out on her chambers in particular, and the rest of the Council was to find a way to remain close to her. For the most part, it didn’t pose a problem for anyone, since whenever Yugo himself wasn’t there by the Sadida Doll’s side, her training sessions with Glip and Baltazar meant they had it covered. But now that classes were out due to the upcoming holiday, they had to get creative. 

Asking Amalia to help out with the preparations for Sacred Dance Day was an idea equal parts ingenious and subtle, Nora admitted to herself. That way, Amalia remained blissfully unaware of the potential danger she was in, at the same time as it allowed for whoever was in charge of guarding her to remain close without their behaviour coming off as suspicious or unusual.

Bright pink eyes blinked rapidly as the doll’s sweet voice broke her out of her thoughts, “So, I’ve been meaning to ask… Why fabrics?”

“I beg your pardon?” Nora raised an eyebrow, uncomprehending. 

From where she was, held securely by her vine, Amalia held up the piece of silk in her hands, “Why do you use fabrics to decorate for Sacred Dance Day? I can understand the ornaments, since they’re clearly modelled after your portals, but this…?” She trailed off meaningfully. 

Eyes widening slightly in understanding, Nora nodded. “It’s in honour of Eliatrope.”

It was Amalia’s turn to blink, confused. “But isn’t that what the portal decorations are for?”

The pink-eyed Eliatrope couldn’t help but laugh lightly at her earnest confusion. “They represent different things.” She said simply. Pointing her open palm at the box on the floor near her, she summoned a small portal, a piece of silk and a stone ornament landing neatly into her outstretched palm. “The portal represents the Great Goddess’ power, her gift to us; whereas the silk handkerchiefs represent the goddess herself.”

The doll’s inquisitive eyes darted back and forth between the objects in her companion’s hands and her placid smile, her mind scrambling to understand what she was trying to say, until… “Okay, I give up. How does a handkerchief represent a goddess?”

“Don’t masks represent your father?” Nora shot back knowingly, only for Amalia’s swift counter to cause her smirk to drop from her face. 

“My father always wears a mask. It’s practically his trademark. And with good reason, too—anyone who stares at Sadida’s bare face suffers a fate worse than death.”

There was a moment where all the Eliatrope woman could do was openly gape, either at the revelation or the nonchalant fashion in which the doll uttered it, she wasn’t sure. In the end, all she could say was, “I suppose you learn something new every day…”

“So…” Amalia trailed off meaningfully. 

Nora, recovering from her previous shock, raised an eyebrow, “So?”

“So…” The doll repeated pointedly. “How do silk handkerchiefs represent your mother?”

The other girl just chuckled. “Our mother is different from the other gods in a lot of ways. For starters, she lacks a humanoid body.”

Even though a part of Amalia couldn’t help but wonder how in the World of Twelve Nora knew that when she was pretty sure she had never met the twelve gods, she opted to stow that away for later and asked, “Then what does she look like?” 

Her face scrunched up in confusion when Nora pulled a face of her own, making a so-so gesture with her hand. 

“To be completely honest, like a porcelain doll’s face with a giant, bright blue wig.” She nodded solemnly when it was the Sadida Doll’s turn to pull a face. “Yeah, I know.”

“But I thought a god’s followers were supposed to take after them in terms of powers and appearance? You certainly inherited her powers, but you guys look… Well, like that,” she pointed meaningfully to all of Nora, “while she looks like, well, like you said…” She finished lamely, looking down while fidgeting with her hands. 

The Eliatrope just smirked coyly. “That coming from the doll whose father always wears a mask while his followers are essentially green-haired, dark-skinned humans.” She was quick to point out. 

Amalia splayed her hands in surrender. “True, true. There’s no denying you have a point there. But Sadida men do have their faces covered by their manes, and we are essentially tree people, my father’s domain. By contrast, you don’t even have blue hair, that’s the Feca.”

“Touché.” Then, seemingly processing her words, she tilted her head, unsure. “What’s up with that? Isn’t their goddess a brunette?”

The doll shrugged. “Beats me.”

There was a moment where an awkward silence fell over them, neither of them knowing what to say or how to continue with their bizarre conversation. At least, until Amalia broke the quiet:

“...if it’s any consolation, Xelor’s face is on his chest. When he moves his pectorals, his eyes blink.”

“Ew.” Nora oh-so-eloquently replied. She absent-mindedly thought back to the Xelor royals and aristocrats they met at Bonta. Even with their bodies covered in armour and enough bandages that her first instinct was to wonder what kind of horrible accident they had been in, from the look of things, that was still nothing compared to their patron god’s eldritch qualities. 

“I know.” Not sure if that little titbit of gossip had been of help or only made things worse, the doll just pushed through, hoping to have her curiosity sated so they could both finally move on from the awkward conversation. 

“So!” She and Nora both winced, having been a tad louder than she intended. She tried again at a more acceptable volume. “So you use silk to represent the Great Goddess’ more…ethereal form?” She offered. 

“In a way.” Nora said, thankful for the much needed change of topic. She turned her focus back to the piece of fabric in her hands, her fingers delicately running along its surface, the material making a rustling noise under her fingertips. “As you can imagine, Eliatrope’s unique physical appearance sets her apart from the rest of the gods.”

Even though the doll’s inner thoughts commented dryly on the fact that she was probably hairier than even Ecaflip, on the outside she was smart enough to muse, “I suppose that’s true, yes.”

“Unlike the twelve gods, who all have at least one pair of arms and a physical body, the goddess Eliatrope has neither—her vast mantle of hair stands in for both.” Taking advantage of Amalia’s momentary state of shock—and mentally lamenting she couldn’t see the look on her face, with her wide eyes and gaping mouth—, the pink-eyed council member continued. “That’s what the silken handkerchiefs are supposed to represent; her hair.” Floating closer to a still bewildered Amalia, she traced the fabric with her fingers as she explained, “See? That’s why it’s a rich shade of turquoise with golden edges, because that’s how our mother looks.” Then, softly, so softly the doll wouldn’t have heard her if she hadn’t been paying attention, she added, “It’s a small comfort during these trying times; a way to say she is still with us.”

Brown eyes softening, empathising with the meaning behind the tradition, though not without a small pang of longing as she thought about her own divine father, Amalia called after Nora as she went back to decorate her side of the hall. “Has it been long since you last saw your mother?”

While she posed her question hoping for Nora to speak fondly of their mother and assure her she was always looking over them, Amalia couldn’t shake this cynical feeling at the back of her head, gnawing at her with the possibility of the Great Goddess Eliatrope being as neglectful to her children as Kérubim, Atcham, and Harebourg accused their parents of being. A sinking feeling rooted itself in her heart when the Eliatrope’s words failed to assuage her fears.

“Since shortly before the war with the Mechasms.” She admitted, her voice distant as she once again lost herself in a sea of painful memories that threatened to drag her down below and drown her. Chancing a glance towards the doll, she winced at her disheartened expression and braced herself for the uncomfortable questions she would have to shut down. She really wasn’t in the mood to think about the war right now. 

Only to be pleasantly surprised when all the doll asked instead was, “Do you miss her?” 

The question still hurt, as it unintentionally opened old wounds that had yet to heal, but it was still far more manageable. 

“I do. We all do, really.” She sighed, and for a moment it appeared as if she alone carried the entire weight of the world on her tiny shoulders. “She was our mother, and we all loved her deeply, almost as much as she loved us. Though I will admit we in particular shared a special bond with her, one unlike any of our siblings’.”

“Oh, you were closer to her than the rest of your siblings?”

“Yes, but even our bond was nothing compared to her and Efrim’s.”

As soon as the name rolled off her tongue, the two of them stiffened up, the air around them becoming charged with unspoken tension. 

Pink eyes frantic at her slip of the tongue, Nora turned to face Amalia, her gaze searching hers, and she cursed herself when she found her rooted to her spot, completely frozen yet her whitened knuckles showing she was holding onto her rambles for dear life. The Eliatrope girl could feel the knot forming at the pit of her stomach at the sight of the doll’s bark-like complexion blanching, gaining an almost deathly parlour. 

Who could blame her? Her dragon twin had become off-limits as a topic of conversation between them ever since their last encounter. 

Rushing to her side, Nora reached out to the Divine Doll but never made contact with her skin, her hand hanging almost uselessly in the air as she tried to apologise. “Amalia, I… I’m so sorry. I…I mean… Forget I said anything. I just…”

As if awoken from a dream, Amalia began to blink rapidly, slowly but surely regaining her bearings. Even though she still looked mildly surprised when she took notice of the pink-clad Eliatrope’s close proximity, jolting slightly in her makeshift seat, her shock melted into understanding at the sight of her. 

Taking pity on the poor girl’s frazzled state, knowing full well it was due to feeling guilty over accidentally putting her on edge, the Sadida Doll offered her a small but kind smile as she gently lowered her outstretched hand. 

“Nora, I’m fine. Don’t beat yourself up about this.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s my own fault for being so sensitive when it comes to… your twin.”

“But—.”

“Not ‘buts’.” She told her kindly but sternly, sending her a look. “Besides, I should really stop being so on edge around him, lest we risk Yugo catching wind that something is definitely wrong between us.”

While she tried to imbue her voice with some humour, it rang hollow even to her ears, causing her to wince and to avert her gaze. While she absentmindedly rubbed her arm for comfort, accidentally dishevelling one of her wristbands, Nora remained afloat, biting down on her lip behind her magenta mask and fidgeting with her fingers nervously, almost too afraid to ask. 

At last, she mustered up the courage to voice the difficult question right at the tip of her tongue, begging for release. “Speaking of Yugo… Does he, you know, know?”

Amalia’s voice was distant yet unwavering. “No. He doesn’t know.” Nora flinched when she set her searching brown eyes on her. “Isn’t that what we agreed on? That we couldn’t tell Yugo what happened so as to not worry him when he’s already so busy?”

It was Nora’s turn to break eye contact, feeling uncomfortable in her own skin for some reason. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Once again, silence settled between them, heavy and oppressing as it weighed heavily over both women. Their minds elsewhere, Amalia was completely taken aback when she suddenly registered the lack of light coming from the windows. Frowning in confusion, she turned her head in search of the sun casting its rays down on them, only to start when all she saw instead was the faint glow of the moonlight and far away stars. 

They must have been working on this area of the palace longer than they realised. 

Hovering behind her, Nora must have reached the same conclusion. Her heavy sigh drew the doll’s attention back to her, only to see her uselessly trying to tuck a strand of pinkish white hair behind her covered ear right before she stretched, making her bones pop!, and turned around. She watched her go even as she called out to her over her cloaked shoulder, “We should really hurry up and finish this hall already.”

Despite the emotions brewing inside her, inside both of them, Amalia acquiesced. She guided her verdant helping hands in their task of finding and handing her more decorations, but the faint light of the moon wasn’t helping. Even when her sight had finally adjusted to the darkness, she still had to squint her eyes as she tried to tie the knots connecting the pieces of silk, or when she searched for the nails she could hang her stone portals from. 

Noticing Amalia’s struggle—most likely due to her constant grunts of effort and frustration—, Nora peered over at her from over her shoulder. For a moment, she stared questioningly at the doll and the trouble she seemed to be having all of a sudden, not really comprehending, until one last glance over the hall helped her realise the relative darkness they were working in surely had something to do with it. 

Perhaps out of the two of them it was Efrim who possessed night vision, but one didn’t get to carry out as many successful night patrols as Nora had under her metaphorical belt if they couldn’t manage themselves in the dark. That was why she hadn’t even taken notice of the fact that the torches lining up the walls had yet to be lit up since it was still early for the guards’ night shift. 

Shaking her head fondly at the struggling doll, she chose to take pity on her and be merciful for once. “Amalia, do you want me to light up the sconces so you can see?”

“That’s alrig—.” Amalia began to say, only to cut herself off and do a double-take when her companion’s choice of words began to sink in. “Wait, how come you don’t have a problem with it?”

She could only gape as the Eliatrope shrugged. “I’m used to working in the dark.” 

“Care to elaborate on that?” Amalia deadpanned, bemused. 

A special kind of outrage rooted itself into her heart when all Nora did in response to that was smirk. 

“Nope.” She said, popping the ‘p’.

Still gaping and feeling personally affronted for some reason, Amalia huffed and, arms crossed over her chest, she turned back around. “Fine. Whatever. See if I care.” Much to her chagrin, her face heated up with indignation when she heard Nora snickering behind her.

As much as Nora would have loved to laugh at Amalia’s haughty little number—if it were up to her, she would have been going at it for hours—, she knew they had a job to finish. Although she supposed there was no real rush, seeing that as long as Amalia had someone near watching over her, she was still technically fulfilling her mission of keeping her safe. 

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to sober up a little. “Amalia, are you sure you don’t want me to light up a fire or something?” She actually flinched at the unamused glare the doll sent her over her shoulder. 

“After your brothers and I almost died in one the other day?” She deadpanned dryly. “No, thank you.” Wincing at the reminder, Nora was about to apologise when Amalia, a mischievous grin on her face, cut her off. “Besides, I got this covered.”

“Huh?”

Face scrunched up in confusion even behind her mask, the pink-eyed Eliatrope could only look on as the Divine Doll splayed one hand palms-up. Before she could question her on what she was doing in the first place, a small bud made out of leaves materialised on her mahogany palm. As it opened, revealing a small, floating orb of light, Nora’s astonishment was such that she actually lowered her mask as she stared at the sphere in awe. Her bright magenta eyes followed it in wonder when it left its creator’s hand and began to float all around the space until making its way back to Amalia, who directed it to hover above her and light up her way. 

Amalia’s pride and joy at the sight of her latest development managing to render her companion speechless was somewhat doused when the Eliatrope woman blurted out, “What does light have to do with plants?!” Pointing at the luminous sphere in bewilderment, her pink eyes darted back and forth between the Sadida Doll and her… Whatever it was. Her mouth agape. “How did you even do that?!”

Huffing with a roll of her eyes at her reaction, having hoped to bask in the glory of the moment for a little while longer, it was the doll’s turn to smirk smugly. Despite everything, she had to admit she enjoyed knowing something Nora didn’t for once. 

“As a matter of fact, plants and light have a lot to do with each other.” Amalia pointed out matter-of-factly. “Remember? Most plants practice photosynthesis, the natural process of changing sunlight into chemical energy—you know, food.” She snickered to herself, almost as if she’d just remembered a funny joke. “If you think about it, there are few things that are more connected to each other than plants and light.”

“Yeah, but that still doesn’t explain how you got a plant to blossom into your personal flashlight!” Nora shot back, growing a little miffed at the doll’s condescending attitude just because she wasn’t intrinsically connected to plant-life.

But Amalia just raised a finger up. “I was getting there.” She chided her playfully, earning herself a raspberry that, after a small, offended gasp, she returned quite fervently. “As I was saying,” she made sure to draw out the words to emphasise her point, ignoring her companion’s groans, “there actually are several plants and fungi capable of emitting light. As it happens, a prime, available example would be the bulbshrooms in my room.”

Nora blinked. She had honestly forgotten about those. 

“Is that one of the plants capable of emitting light?” She inquired, the initial shock and aggravation in her tone replaced by genuine curiosity. 

Amalia’s smile was so bright it almost put her plant to shame. “Not exactly. It’s something I’ve been working on.” She beckoned the orb closer to her and showed it to Nora, who had closed the distance between them and was hovering in mid-air. “Normal bioluminescent plants do just that, give off light. This little guy right here could be used for so much more! I just need to keep working on it.”

“Really?” Nora raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Well, if everything goes well, they could also give off heat, almost like a mini sun.” She explained. “That way, I could grow plants that only grow in warm climates even during the cold season.”

The pink-clad girl hated herself for having to burst her bubble. 

“...you do know we live on a tropical island, right?” She pointed out. “We don’t exactly have cold seasons.”

But much to her surprise, the doll just shrugged nonchalantly. “I know.” Then, she flashed her a knowing look. “But not everyone lives on a tropical island, right? I figured you could establish a solid trade with the Twelvians if you offered them the chance to grow produce all year round in exchange for their alliance or whatever you need.”

Nora was so taken aback by her logic, by the way the young, naïve, inexperienced Divine Doll somehow managed to be three steps ahead, that she didn’t hear her question. 

Blinking rapidly, she asked her to repeat herself almost absentmindedly. 

“What do you think? Do you like it?” Amalia repeated her question. There was so much hope and anticipation in her brown gaze that the Eliatrope knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if her king had seen it, he would have keeled over. She’d be lying to herself if she said she couldn’t relate to the feeling, to be honest…

Luckily for her, this time she could afford to be as honest as she wanted. “It’s wonderful, Amalia. Like a small Sadida star.”

Yugo’s heart would have stopped at the way she beamed under the praise. Hers sure did.

After that, the two agreed that it was high time they really focused back on their task and completed it once and for all. So, turning back to their respective pillars, the two women went back to decorating, Amalia’s little star lighting up the hall and making things easier for them. Even if Nora wouldn’t admit it was actually more helpful than her own, trained sight.

They had been working in silence for a while, making steady progress, when Nora sensed it. A rather pronounced shift in Amalia’s wakfu and the air between them. The light-hearted atmosphere had turned heavy and stifling, and she already knew what the doll was going to say before she even opened her mouth. 

“Nora,” she started, and the Eliatrope braced herself. “Do you really think it’s best to leave Yugo in the dark regarding what happened with Efrim?”

Steeling herself, she repeated the same reasoning she gave her when it all happened. “Yes, Amalia. Trust me. My brother already has a lot on his plate, the last thing he needs is to worry about his little brother.”

“I know, it’s just…” A pregnant pause. Even if she didn’t turn around, Nora was listening intently. “I just don’t feel comfortable hiding things from him, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t be. You’ll see, all Efrim needs is a little time to get over himself and get used to you. Before you know it, he’ll be fully accepting of you and it’ll be like that little incident between you two never happened.” She tried to imbue her voice with as much reassurance and confidence as she could, her own concerns calming down when the Divine Doll finally relented, muttering how she was probably right. 

This time, the pang of guilt she felt over her own selfishness hurt a little less.

.........................................................................................................................

There were many upsides to having her own garden. The chance to truly test her limits and explore her Sadida magic to its full potential was the most obvious one. Even if she maintained she wanted to grow her plants the traditional way and give them time to blossom on their own unless it was absolutely necessary to speed up the process, Amalia still got to experiment with them a little. 

First were her Sadida dolls, all of them acting nearly independently from her despite being bound to their mistress. Those little rag dolls were the best assistants a Sadida could ever ask for! While some of them remained near her to lend a raggedy hand as she worked on her latest project, many others busied themselves around the garden, tending to its various needs—controlling irrigation, working the ground for new seeds, measuring each plant got the necessary sunlight and the ground’s pH levels, fertilising the crops…

She had yet to work out the final kinks on her explosive dolls, but since it wasn’t a priority, Amalia wasn’t worried. 

Another reason to be thankful for her garden was that she felt like she could really make a difference with it. While her training with Glip and Baltazar was her way of helping herself, her garden opened countless possibilities for the Eliatropes. Thanks to her instinctive knowledge of nature and her innate green thumb, Amalia didn’t just know what to grow to meet their needs, but she was also capable of anticipating them before she was even informed there was a need for anything at all.

And right now, they needed medicinal herbs and plants they could extract healing substances from. All she had to do was wait for Qilby and Shinonomé to pay her their long-awaited visit and inform her of what exactly she had to grow. As deep as Amalia’s connection to plants was, she had to admit she wasn’t confident enough to act on her own and impose her gut feeling on them. Rather, she preferred to trust their judgement, as the Crimson Twins were their people’s medics and, judging from what Shinonomé told her all those weeks ago, their knowledge on medicine would rival even the most powerful and experienced of Eniripsas. 

Perks of living thousands of years and remembering every single lifetime, she supposed. Although she could never shake the feeling that there was something more going on beneath the surface. The graveness in the dragoness’ voice as she shared their story etched onto the lines of her long, elegant face kept flashing through the doll’s mind.

Shaking those memories away, for it would be of no help to dwell on them now, Amalia focused back on the task at hand. She let out a blissful sigh as she relished the feeling of her hands coming into contact with the soft grass. That gentle coolness as the blades caressed her skin. Already they had so much to tell. 

By far, the best thing about having her own garden was the fact that it allowed her to connect with nature on a much more personal level, easing her Sadida instincts as they finally answered plant-life’s call, listening intently to its soft, yet lively, voice. 

As much as she’d come to like Oma Island and its many wonders, nothing could beat the feeling of becoming one with Sadida’s treasures. What good was it to know the language of the trees if you could never hear them because you were too far apart? Even as she stood on her balcony, her body leaning forward precariously to the point where she constantly risked falling down, all that managed to make its way to her were soft murmurs. There simply was no comparison with the symphony of voices reaching her now. 

While a Sadida’s link to nature couldn’t be broken even by death itself, staying away from the greenery was still unnatural. Sadida knew it best—the best way to keep your feet on the ground was to go barefoot so you’d be able to feel its many wonders. 

Oh, how had she missed the ever-present embrace of plant-life in her daily life! It was such a stark contrast going from being surrounded by otherworldly plants and trees in her father’s dimension, to being enclosed in stone walls here at the Eliatrope palace. Even her adventures with Yugo were but an appetiser. Something meant to make her work up an appetite as she waited for the main course. 

But now, her meal was finally served, and all her needs were finally sated. 

That was when she felt it, that familiar pulse going through her that never failed to disorient her at the same time as it grounded her. 

A small gasp escaped her lips, not because she was genuinely surprised—she had been waiting for the next time it would pounce—, but because, even then, she could never predict when the pull would manifest itself again. 

Yet, there it was. As usual, she could sense the energy radiating from it was fainter than what it should actually be, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still powerful, all-encompassing, beckoning. The pull circled all over her form like a snake, coming to rest over her heart, only she wasn’t afraid. Whatever it was, something deep inside her told Amalia she should never fear it. So, she didn’t fear it. 

Instead, she followed it. 

Hands still resting against the floor, she focused all her attention on the burst of energy coming from within and expelled it. Suddenly, the pull gained volume, form, morphing from a simple feeling into a thread, something she could follow and trace back. It wasn’t enough so she could have a clear reading on its origin, but it was more than she had had in months. 

Taking one last deep breath to steel herself, Amalia chose to follow its lead. 

She was immediately mesmerised by what she saw through her third eye. That thread, a thin, nearly unsuspecting thing of emerald green, seemed to be connected to everything! Wherever she looked, every root, every flower, every bush and tree and even weed had at least one tendril of the same strand coming out of them and convening at the same cord. That same, all-consuming cord tracing back as far as met the eye. 

Using every ounce of concentration she possessed, she tried following it to its very origin. Perhaps if she quite literally followed the thread, she’d be able to unravel the mystery. 

Her brow furrowed in deep concentration, Amalia followed the filament back to what felt like entire continents, each plant it was connected to telling a completely unique story. She was getting closer, she could feel it with every urgent thumping of her heart. It was as if all she had to do was reach out her hand and—.

“Did we come at a bad time?”

Just like that, like someone had cut the connection with a pair of scissors, the thread was gone. Caught off guard by the sudden change, Amalia snapped her eyes open, letting out a small gasp. Blinking wearily a few times, she turned her head every which way, trying to find her bearings. It took her a little longer than she cared to admit to taking notice of Qilby and Shinonomé looking down at her with varying expressions of intrigue. 

When she finally did, it was like a slap on the face. 

She hastily sprung up to her feet, muttering rushed apologies and sheepish explanations of what she’d been up to and how time seemed to get away from her, all the while she nervously dusted her clothes off. 

When she finally (begrudgingly) understood she wouldn’t be able to look any more presentable than she did already—her pants stained with grass at the knees, dirt underneath her fingernails, beads of sweat pooling under her bangs, and her green ponytail askew and dishevelled—, she tried to clear her throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant instead. 

“Qilby, Shinonomé! It’s great to see you again! What brings you here?” She internally winced the moment the words were out of her mouth, her brain too slow to catch up with her tongue. 

As always, Qilby was kind enough to remind her exactly what brought them there. 

“My, Lady Amalia! We’re here because we had agreed on coming to tell you all about the plants we need you to grow for our clinic. Do Divine Dolls have such bad short-term memory?” He adjusted his glasses smugly as he regarded an uncomfortable Amalia like she was one of his souvenirs, only to let out a yelp of protest when his sister elbowed him softly. 

Without even sparing him a glance, the dragoness smiled down at the doll. “Do forgive my brother, my Lady. You know how he can be; he just loves to tease!”

“Right. Of course…” Amalia muttered, not too convinced but eager to move the conversation along. Perking up again, she gestured for the twins to follow her. “If you please, I’d like to show you the space I have prepared in anticipation of your visit. As soon as you tell me what you need, I can start working on it.”

With quiet agreements and nods of assent, Qilby and Shinonomé followed the Divine Doll to a remote corner of the garden. One look at the ground beneath their feet was enough to know the earth had already been worked on in preparation for the upcoming crops. 

“As you can see, we’ve organised the ground into different sections,” she pointed at each of them. “Each one will hold a specific species you’re in need of. Thanks to this separation, they won’t steal nutrients from each other and harm their development.”

“Quite ingenious, my Lady.” At least, it would be if it weren’t because their people had been doing the same thing for generations. Qilby had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, in fear of his sister delivering another painful elbow to his side. 

To his surprise, the doll just waved his praise off. “Not at all! These are all very common agriculture techniques. Even your farmers use them.”

While her twin was left floundering like a fish, Shinonomé intervened. “That is quite true, Lady Amalia. Thank you for taking it into account.”

She shrugged, smiling, “If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.” This time, both of them were taken off guard by what she said, “Besides, most plants like it better this way. It’s the most fair solution.”

“Right, I forgot she speaks plant.” Qilby noted sarcastically, his dragon twin agreeing through their psychic link. 

“Well!” Qilby clasped his hands loudly to get the doll’s attention, the grin on his face just a tad too big to be genuine. “As fascinating as this all is, my sister and I would truly hate to impose on you for much longer. So if it is alright with you, we have taken the liberty of listing everything we need. We hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no. That’s quite alright, and very thoughtful of you.” She took the piece of paper out of Shinonomé’s proffered hand and skimmed over its contents with a critical eye. Then, she snapped her fingers, summoning a group of Sadida dolls to aid her—making both siblings jump; Qilby clutching his chest— and, without further ado, set out to work.

As Amalia instructed her little helpers to get the seeds and tools they would need and they scurried off to complete their assigned tasks, Qilby and Shinonomé kept trying to sidestep the dolls as they came and went. At one point, the dragoness had to grab one by the tail and, with a stern look and a puff of smoke in warning that made it flinch in fright, set it back on the ground. Qilby had half the mind not to summon a portal and have all the enchanted toys tumble out of its other end. 

They couldn’t afford to look too impatient or purposeful. They had chosen that day specifically to visit the Sadida Doll for a reason, and they weren’t going to let such a perfect chance go to waste. 

None the wiser to the Crimson Twins’ struggles with her dolls, Amalia had once again crouched down on the ground, her hands gently setting the earth apart to plant the seeds she would need. At first she’d been worried she wouldn’t have everything they needed and would have to create those species from scratch—not an impossible task, but one that would require a lot more time and dedication. Fortunately, the worst didn’t come to pass; she had every plant and herb they needed right in her garden. All she had to do was grow them. 

With that problem taken care of, her mind wandered to tackle the next issue. The matter with irrigation. While she had access to plenty of water and she just needed to ask the guards to fetch her some more whenever she was running low, the doll still didn’t feel comfortable relying so much on the Eliatropes for that. 

It was true neither the village nor the castle seemed to suffer any sort of shortage in water, but she still had no idea how they managed. After all, they lived on an island—yes, they had plenty of water around, but it was sea water. It wasn’t exactly low on sodium.  

Maybe Chibi and Grougal had developed some sort of cutting edge filtering system?

With a sigh, she shook her head from those thoughts. It wouldn’t do much to overthink things. What mattered was that she could water her garden. Although, a part of her couldn’t help but wish she were friends with a Cra. She heard from the Matriarch back at Bonta that they sometimes shot rain arrows for the Sadida whenever their crops risked suffering due to a drought. 

“We really hope we aren’t keeping you away from anything too important, Lady Amalia.” Shinonomé told her kindly, coming to stand beside her before crouching down as well. The Divine Doll looked up in surprise when she began to help her with the seeds her dolls kept bringing. 

Once her initial surprise had worn off, she just shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m really glad that you came to me about this.”

“We simply don’t wish to impose.” Qilby interjected, coming to stand behind his sister as he observed the scene. “You must be so busy these days…” 

Amalia ducked her head shyly, an opportunity the Crimson Twins used to exchange smirks while she wasn’t looking. Through their bond, Shinonomé told her brother to wait a little while longer, for the perfect cue. 

Eventually, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the doll just waved it all off. “It’s no problem, really.  I’m sure you are probably busier than me, with preparing for Sacred Dance Day and all…” Unbeknownst to Amalia, the twins’ smirks widened, a sly glint in their eyes as the perfect opportunity presented itself. They quickly schooled their faces back into friendly neutrality when she turned back to face them. “Yet you still took the time to prepare this and come see me. Really, I should be the one thanking you.”

“Well, we did keep you waiting long enough…” The dragoness commented airily, standing up and dusting herself off. 

“So how about we say we’re even?” Qilby offered. His eyes wrinkled from behind his glasses. “Although… It is true Sacred Dance Day tends to take a lot out of us.”

Shinonomé, reading her twin’s cue, continued without missing a beat, “How could it not? It’s such an important holiday, after all!”

“Yeah, Yugo told me all about it the other day.” She giggled excitedly. “I can’t wait to see it for myself!”

Shinonomé, golden eyes glinting, leaned closer to Amalia, her ruby-hued claws grabbing onto her shoulders like a bird of prey. “Oh, did he tell you about how everyone comes together to make the ceremony a success?”

The doll nodded. “Something like that, yes.” Then, after a moment of consideration, “He said you guys recreate your goddess and the Great Dragon’s first dance, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise…” She trailed off meaningfully, letting go of Amalia as she strolled around her garden, pretending to show interest for her plants. “It’s much better to see it with your own two eyes, you know. Though I suppose I should tell you the real beauty of Sacred Dance Day is how it brings all of us together.”

“Really?”

“Why, indeed!” It was Qilby who answered, adjusting his glasses. “At the height of the night, we all come together to recreate one of the most pivotal moments in our entire history! That’s why it’s so important we all work together, because it reminds us that we’re one and the same and brings us closer.”

Amalia felt her heart warm up at the sentiment. She could already picture it all so clearly. Families huddled closer together as they watched the show. Couples, young and old, celebrating by dancing underneath it all. The older generation reminiscing on the good times. Yugo’s presence by her side filling her up with comfort and that weird feeling she didn’t understand but deeply cherished… She could hardly wait. 

Qilby, who had been watching Amalia’s wistful expression for an opening, had to suppress his smirk when he casually, almost too innocently, mused, “And this year promises to be quite intriguing indeed.”

Broken out of her stupor, the doll raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

He just looked at her meaningfully, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And, in a way, it was. 

“Why, because of you, my Lady!” He exclaimed jovially, gesturing at her. “It’s the first time we ever have one of Sadida’s Dolls with us. And since your magic doesn’t work like ours, that means it will also be the first time not all of us get to participate in the recreation.” Wincing with fake sympathy, he crossed his arms and held his head in his palm. “Such a pity. Nothing says ‘togetherness’ like Sacred Dance Day…”

It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water over Amalia. Just like that, all of her previous fantasies had vanished in a puff of smoke. Now, instead of the comforting warmth and electric anticipation she had been feeling these past few days, all that was left was the freezing grip of disappointment cracking open her heart. She had never felt more alien to the Eliatropes as she did in that moment. 

Shinonomé, sensing she was at the verge of her breaking point, schooled her calculating features into a pitying yet empathetic look. Stepping closer to Amalia, she brought a hand to her chest, her voice reassuring at the doll’s side. Eyes glinting like a snake about to swallow her prey whole, she went in for the kill:

“But don’t worry, my dear. Just because you can’t do anything for us on such a special day, it doesn’t mean you’re not part of our community. It just means that we might need more… time to get used to your presence, that’s all.”

That finished doing her in. Her Ogrine heart thudded painfully against her ribs. 

There it was again, that familiar feeling of hopelessness, of uselessness. The same nagging reminder of Efrim’s cruel words as he pinned her against the cold, hard floor and his ice cold eyes bore into her soul. Mocking her and her efforts to fit in. 

“You know nothing!”

“Some demigoddess you are.”

“And to think you have the gall to say you understand.”

She winced at the familiar venom that intoxicated her mind and coursed through her veins, turning her blood ice cold. Biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, she had to suppress the urge to bring her hands to her ears in an attempt to drown it all out. Partly because she was still aware that she had company, and the last thing she wanted was to worry Qilby and Shinonomé. But mostly because she already knew that wouldn’t be enough to quiet the echoes of Efrim’s taunts. 

The Crimson Twins’ words had struck a chord within her, and the chord had snapped. 

They were right, of course they were! Everyone was doing everything in their power to make this year’s Sacred Dance Day truly memorable. Not only would they be celebrating it in their new home—which had yet to fully accept them—for the first time, but they were still recovering from the war with the Mechasms. 

Amalia may have never been involved in a war, but even she understood trying to find joy amidst all the chaos and destruction had to be a specially grueling and challenging task. Something that truly tested the limits of your hope and faith. So celebrating their most sacred holiday now, away from home where it actually meant something? That had to be the very definition of bittersweet. 

She just wished she’d realised all that sooner. 

The doll bit down on her lip even harder as soon as the easily recognisable sting of tears pooling in the corner of her eyes made itself known. It took everything in her power not to cry out of frustration with herself. But she couldn’t cry, not when the Eliatropes had already lost so much and they still remained strong. She couldn’t cry, no matter how chagrined she was for not being able to do anything to soothe their pain and contribute to the ceremony. 

She blinked rapidly, keeping the tears at bay still, when she felt someone tugging at her pants. Looking down in surprise, she smiled faintly at the sight of one of her dolls trying to get her attention, its large, little head tilted in curiosity as she peered up at her. 

“That’s right”, she tried to tell herself. “I’m already doing my best to help them. I help the Council navigate the tangled world of Twelvian politics. My garden and my expertise are entirely at their disposal. I help around the palace whenever it’s needed…”

But a voice that sounded surprisingly like Efrim’s kept whispering at her that ‘It wasn’t enough’, and ‘She certainly wouldn’t be much help during Sacred Dance Day.’

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her teeth gnashing together in aggravation. No, it wasn’t enough. She needed to find something to do for Sacred Dance Day, to show Yugo and his people how much she appreciated everything they’d done for her and how much she respected them, but what?

Her back turned to them as she pondered on what to do, Amalia failed to notice Qilby and Shinonomé sending each other triumphant glances as they observed her fidgeting, relishing in her internal conflict. 

“She makes it so easy to toy with her, I almost feel bad for her.” Qilby smiled at his twin. His glasses glinted maliciously as he adjusted them. “Key word being ‘almost’.”

“She truly is too naïve for her own good.” Shinonomé agreed, her hands clasped before her and her back straight as an arrow. The only thing differing from her regal and composed exterior were the subtle flickers of her tail that betrayed her own self-satisfaction. 

“Well, that just ensures our plans go off without a hitch, doesn’t it?” He looked at his nails, almost bored. 

The dragoness’ expression darkened. “Don’t call victory quite yet, my dear Brother.” She warned, her tone growing serious and stern. “Just because she’s easy to manipulate doesn’t mean the war is already won. You forget Yugo.”

At that, the bespectacled Eliatrope couldn’t find it in himself to care about holding back a derisive scoff, clearly offended. He likewise ignored it when his dragon twin shhed him to be quiet. 

“Please, Sister. You know I could never forget about anything. It’s our burden, remember?” He asked rhetorically, his words laced with a sarcastic sing-songy tone. His ironic smile dropped off his face. “Besides, with his little flower taken care of, Yugo won’t take much convincing to finally leave this dump and reclaim our rightful place amongst the stars.”

His twin hummed thoughtfully, her golden gaze watching him intently. “All I am saying is that we had better not grow too cocky. Overconfidence can cost us everything.”

But her brother just waved her concerns off, causing her to narrow her slitted eyes on him. While she was the only person Qilby actually listened to without any ulterior motive, there were times where even her warnings went unheeded. She honestly feared the kind of trouble he would get up to if she weren’t around to keep him in line. 

“You worry too much, Sister.”

“And you worry too little.” 

He tsked his tongue, not appreciating the interruption. “Nevertheless, the seeds of doubt have already been planted. Amalia is bound to sabotage herself in her conviction that she’s not good enough for our people, let alone Yugo. And Yugo will begin to lose faith in her when he realises his precious doll is keeping things from him.” He traced his finger over the length of one of her horns with purposeful strokes, a self-assured grin plastered over his face yet again. “Trust me. Whatever relationship might be blossoming between our dear King and Sadida’s little girl will be over before it even has a chance to start.

“And the best part of it all?” His smirk turned down-right dark, the shadows falling over his face giving it a sinister quality that sent a shiver down even Shinonomé’s back. “It will die by their own hands. Delightfully ironic, don’t you think?” Even the red-scaled woman had to admit it was kind of creepy how chipper he sounded all of a sudden, but she just shrugged it off. She was used to far bigger discrepancies when it came to her Eliatrope twin. 

However, as her golden eyes settled back on Amalia as she got back to work—her almost robotic actions and nearly blank expression that contrasted greatly with the demons in her gaze a reflection of the whirlwind that probably was her mind—, all Shinonomé could do was hope her brother didn’t forget how most seeds died sooner or later without the appropriate care. 

Her eyes flickering to the position of the sun as it filtered through the windows, and seeing as their job there was done, she found it was finally time to wrap the conversation up. 

“You’ll have to forgive us, Lady Amalia, but we have a meeting to get to.” She began, already turning on her heel and making her way out of the garden. “The Council wishes to discuss possible ways to earn the Twelvians’ trust and, naturally, Qilby and I can’t miss it.”

“Please, do keep us informed of your progress.” The eldest Eliatrope called after her over his shoulder as he followed after his sister. 

And with that, they left her alone with her thoughts and feelings of inadequacy.

....................................................................................................................

It was Adamaï who alerted him that something was wrong. 

At first, Yugo feared whoever had been spying on Amalia had returned—and he told Ad as much—, but his brother was quick to reassure him it wasn’t like that. But it definitely had something to do with Amalia.

“She seems… worried about something.” He began, rubbing the back of his head as he struggled to find the words. “Like there’s something on her mind but she doesn’t know how to deal with it. And have you noticed how fidgety and intense she’s been lately? I don’t know, Lil’ Bro, but something’s off.”

Now that Adamaï mentioned it, he had definitely noticed something strange with the doll’s behaviour. All of a sudden, she was very insistent on doing whatever she could to help with the preparations for the upcoming festivity. She went wherever an extra pair of hands was needed, regardless of if she’d been asked to or not. 

At first he just shrugged it off as her being very excited for Sacred Dance Day, but Ad was right. That level of overzealousness was just odd. He’d better talk to her about it. 

And by ‘he’, he meant ‘they’. 

Of course, Adamaï had tried to protest at first, but the moment his brother pointed out the fact that Amalia could easily brush his concerns off as him overthinking things, so he would need all the back-up he could get, he finally relented. …and he may or may not have played the King Card on him to get him to cooperate. But, hey! Ad had been using the Older Brother Card to get away with a lot of things back when they were kids. It was only fair. 

She had been helping the kitchen staff carry the ingredients the chef would need for the celebratory banquet when they found her. Her head snapped up when he called out to her, a small smile that tugged at his heartstrings spreading over her lips when her brown eyes met his. 

“I’ll be right back, Serviette.” She told the maid kindly, who freed her from her literal burden by opening a portal and dumping the ingredients in it (since they were close enough to the kitchen by then).

Dusting her hands off from any remaining flour or crumbs, she made her way over to the king and his dragon twin and beamed up at them. “Yugo, Ad, hi! I didn’t expect to see guys here.” She tilted her head to the side, her smile now growing tentative as she raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

After much consideration, Yugo came to the conclusion that the best course of action was to rip the band-aid off as soon as possible. 

“We actually want to know if you’re okay.” He blurted out. 

“Smooth…” Adamaï muttered sarcastically as he leaned closer to him. 

He received an elbow to his rib for his troubles. 

Amalia panicked at his question. Still, she managed to maintain a façade of calmness long enough to shoot back, “What do you mean by that? I’m perfectly fine, guys.”

Both brothers wore matching wincing expressions. Yugo sighed heavily when Ad sent him a meaningful look and nodded towards the doll with his head—saying something about how he ‘was only there for moral support’. The king was so busy pinching his nose in frustration at his brother’s lack of actual support that he almost didn’t see a bewildered Amalia begin to take a few steps back. 

“Well…” she drawled out, taking measured steps and pointing behind her with her thumb. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but I should probably get back to work. See you later!” She gave them a friendly wave and was about to make a run for it when Yugo’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. 

“Amalia, wait. Please.” There was so much feeling in his voice it physically hurt her to even think about getting away. So she didn’t. Her cheeks warmed a little when, noticing this, he rewarded her with one of his sweet smiles. 

Her own smile faltered when he started talking about her recent behaviour. She had hoped he wouldn’t notice it, but one sideways look at Adamaï’s nodding form was all she needed to know everything in relation to her would always find its way back to Yugo one way or another. 

The doll felt the unreasonable urge to call the dragon a traitor in her mind, even though they had never agreed on keeping quiet about anything. She fought back the urge to pout; it just made her feel better. 

Unaware of her current train of thought, Yugo chose to finally address the dragon in the room (aside from Adamaï, of course). “We’re just a little concerned, that’s all. And we were wondering if there was anything you wanted to talk about?”

She chose to play dumb. “No, not at all. What makes you think that?”

She didn’t expect Ad to be so blunt. 

“Because you’ve been helping out on the preparations for Sacred Dance Day.” Before she could ask what was wrong with that, he cut her off by raising a claw. “Normally, that’d be fine and dandy—the more, the merrier, as they say! But, don’t you think you’ve been a little too…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words. He doubted she would appreciate being described as ‘manic’ or ‘obsessive’...

“We think you’ve been a little too eager to help.” As always, Yugo came through for his twin, who sent him a grateful nod. 

Amalia sputtered, incredulous. “‘Too eager to help’? How in the Doll Master’s name can someone be ‘too eager to help’?” She air-quoted sarcastically before crossing her arms in a huff. “And how is that a problem?”

“Normally, it wouldn’t be.” Yugo started off diplomatically. He winced when all the doll did was curl in on herself tighter, her walls coming up. That wasn’t good. She was growing defensive and that was the opposite of what they wanted. He had to do something to get her to open up, and soon.

So he did what he did best in times of crisis. He took action. 

He could already feel her defences dissolve when he gently grabbed her by the shoulders, his voice impossibly soft as he tried to coax her into talking to them. Understanding what he was trying to do, it wasn’t long until Ad followed his lead, coming to stand beside Amalia and wrapping his tail around her form comfortingly. 

Still, she was one stubborn doll. “I’m only trying to help.” She insisted. 

“We know, and that’s great! We really appreciate it.” Yugo assured her, Adamaï nodding by her side. “We just think you might be overworking yourself.”

Amalia was about to protest when Adamaï pointed out. “Just yesterday, you were helping Bartoloblé bake some cookies for the party. The second you were done with that and you  heard Marie say she needed help taking some last minute offerings to the temple, you volunteered yourself.”

“That’s not such a big deal.” Amalia retorted. 

“It is when right after going up and down about two hundred steps, you offered to help set up the stands for the games.” Yugo shot back without missing a beat. “You’ve been running around like a headless chicken for three days straight with barely a break! Do you understand why we’d worry?”

His brown gaze bore into hers as he asked her the question, and Amalia could hardly stand it. Eventually, she lowered her head in shame and she began to play with her bangs. The concern reflected in Yugo’s eyes was almost unbearable, more so because it was directed at her and the last thing she ever wanted was to make him worry. 

“Amalia, whatever it is that’s on your mind, you can tell us. You know that, right?” 

There was so much tenderness in his voice she had to muster every ounce of self-control she possessed not to cry. More so when Adamaï leaned closer to her and whispered softly, “We’re here for you.”

The doll considered this. She considered confiding in the Emerald Twins her fears and concerns regarding the upcoming celebration and her role in it—or lack thereof. Was it really okay if she couldn’t participate in the recreation of the First Dance? Was there anything she could do to make up for it? 

She had been trying to amend her shortcomings these past few days, hence why she volunteered herself to help with whatever she could get her hands into. She had baked so many cookies, she feared she had lost her appetite for them forever. Climbing and going down the stairs leading up to the temple while carrying offerings just had to count as cardio and weight-lifting, she had the soreness in her body to prove it. Somehow, she got a splinter from helping out with the stands. How was that even possible?! She was a Sadida Doll, for crying out loud! Trees and the wood they produced were her domain!

And the worst part was that, no matter how much she exerted herself, it never felt like compensation enough. 

Eyes glittering, she looked up at Yugo, mouth already parted to tell him everything, when—

“Yugo won’t always be there to protect you, you know?”

And just like that, her resolve to be honest with Yugo, to burden him with her problems, was gone. 

Yugo and Adamaï knew it was coming before she ever even opened her mouth. One moment, there was a resolute fire in the doll’s eyes, a determination they naïvely believed meant she would finally reveal what was tearing her up inside. And the next, that same fire flickered out of existence. Like it had never been there.

She smiled up at them—a sweet little thing, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, but I really am fine.”

The Emerald Twins could only frown sadly as she got back to her previous task of transporting ingredients. Once she was out of earshot, Adamaï clamped a hand on his twin’s shoulder in an attempt to cheer him up. 

“Don’t worry too much about it, Lil’ Bro. I’m sure she’ll come to you when she’s ready.” His heart squeezed in sympathy for his brother when his dejected gaze remained on the spot the doll had occupied just moments before.

“Then why does it feel that whenever something’s on her mind, I’m the last person she wants to go to for help?” He mused aloud, his hands going to toy mindlessly with what was stored in his cloak pocket.

His eyes following the movement, the white-and-blue dragon tried to instill some positivity into the conversation. “I’m sure all she needs is time. Deep down, she’s only known us for a few months. Before you know it, you two will be like two peas in a pod.”

The corners of the king’s lips turned up slightly, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so. You’re already halfway there.” He smiled back. Then, eying the object in his twin’s hand, he nudged him playfully. “At the very least, I’m sure your little present will help you bridge that gap.”

Now smiling more genuinely, if a little bashfully, as he looked down, Yugo sincerely hoped his brother was right. They’d bridge that gap. Together.

.......................................................................................................................

Any other day, Amalia would be buzzing with excitement at the prospect of getting a fitting session with the palace tailor, Mr. Needlesworth. The idea of getting to discuss fabrics, shapes, styles, and accessories with such a knowledgeable fashion guru usually sent a thrill down her spine. It was kind of ironic, that a Divine Doll, someone who didn’t have much use, let alone opportunities, for shopping would come to enjoy the process of designing and creating an entirely new outfit from scratch so much. But there she was. 

The only real downside was having to remain completely still for hours on end as Mr. Needlesworth sewed the materials together or added the last finishing touches. It was especially gruesome to feel his needles prickling her skin. It reminded her of when she was first created, and there was something odd about remembering your own birth. 

But now that her mind was exhausted from dodging Yugo’s questions and battling with herself over pouring her heart out to him or not? Now that her body was sore from running around for several days trying to help, sometimes without even using her powers?  

The moment she opened the door to the dexterous Eliatrope and welcomed him into her room she already knew she was most likely going to fall asleep standing while he worked on her dress. 

She had already been about to nod off a few times while they were discussing how she wanted her dress to look like. Even in her half-delirious state, she had found it odd that he didn’t insist on adding anything even remotely Eliatrope to the design. Unlike the last time she had to dress up, there was no sign of even their emblem on her person. 

And the worst part was that Mr. Needlesworth wasn’t dumb. On the contrary, he was acutely aware of her subdued attitude and the heaviness of her eyelids. A stark contrast to her usual enthusiastic self. 

More than once, he would question her as politely as possible, “My Lady, are you quite alright? Because if you’re too tired, we could always postpone this to another day. I’ll make sure to reserve some time for you.”

And each and every time she would offer him a weak smile and insist, “Sacred Dance Day is in two days, Mr. Needlesworth; we don’t have much time left. Thank you for your consideration, but I’m perfectly fine.”

The bushy-haired, stout Eliatrope would then regard her with worried icy blue eyes, his compassionate smile small but kind even as the ends of his moustache dropped in sympathy, before focusing back on the task at hand. 

It couldn’t have been more than an hour or two, but to the sleep-deprived doll, it felt like an eternity. 

First, they discussed the kind of outfit she wanted. Amalia barely gave the tailor enough time to present all the possible options before she blurted out she wanted a dress. To his credit, while the doll blushed sheepishly, all Mr. Needlesworth did was chuckle and say, “Of course.”

With that out of the way, they could choose the materials. While the first thing the talented couturier did upon entering was assure the doll that she had the final say in the design of her outfit, Amalia also recognised he was the expert, so she listened intently to all his suggestions and the reasons behind them. Even though the Eliatrope holiday took place in the Twelvian month of Descendre, which marked the beginning of winter and its cold temperatures, the fact that they lived on an island meant they remained largely unaffected by the inclement weather. Meaning it would certainly be too warm for thicker fabrics; instead, he suggested cooler ones like cotton, lynen, satin… In the end, she went for georgette. 

Then, came the colour. 

At first, the Divine Doll wanted to go for a beige and orange ensemble, but Mr. Needlesworth wisely shut that idea down. He explained it wasn’t bad per se, but since she spent most of her time with her adventuring outfit, which combined beige, orange, and white already, she might want to choose something different and ‘spice things up a bit,’ as he said. 

Amalia considered his words, her thumb and index finger holding her chin pensively, and found he made an excellent point. When she asked for his opinion, the tailor suggested she chose green instead, seeing as it matched her hair and created a lovely contrast with her dark skin, as well as the fact that she made quite an impression with her dress for the banquet at Bonta, which also included green. If she was being honest with herself, Amalia had to admit she didn’t really wear green that often, even though it was the colour of life, a symbol of Sadida and his followers. And even though a small part of her cringed at the idea of standing out as an even bigger outsider amongst the Eliatropes, the rest of her resigned herself to her fate. 

What was yet another reminder of her otherness at this point?

With the basics out of the way, it was time for designing the dress itself—by that point, Amalia was fighting the urge to just drop dead with every fiber of her being. Immortality be darned. 

After inspecting some sketches Mr. Needlesworth had been so kind as to bring along with him, the Sadida Doll opted for a floor-length, full circle skirt. Thinking back to what he said about tropical weather, she decided to be a little bold and, instead of a full top, she asked for the dress to be backless, while two pieces of fabric tied around her neck by a chain exposed her collarbone and midsection. Her cheeks grew warm when she realised the garment would only really cover her breasts, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t like the final result. Moreover, Mr. Needlesworth’s moustache moved alongside his approving grin, and he assured her it would be nothing but tasteful. 

Now all that was left was the accessories. To be perfectly honest, the Sadida Doll was at a loss in that regard. She was used to wearing wristbands and anklets as means of accessorising, but given her dress’ overall design, combining the two would clash—her long skirt would hide her anklets from view, and her usual wristbands just didn’t match the general aesthetic. 

Massaging her temple, she had to cover her yawn behind her hand. “I must admit I have no idea what I want…”

“May I offer a suggestion?” Mr. Needlesworth proposed, to which the doll smiled and nodded as energetically as she could muster given her drowsy state. 

“By all means! Your expertise has already helped me so far, I’m sure whatever you had in mind will be wonderful.”

“Oh, I’m not worthy of such high praise coming from you, my Lady.” He said modestly, rubbing underneath his nose shyly. “However, if you permit me…” He took out his previous sketches of the dress and showed them to Amalia again, who peered down at them curiously. Under her intent gaze, he pointed at the chain holding up her top. “If you ask me, I would say more metal adornments might be a great touch. Not only is jewelry incredibly flattering on most women, but it would also help make the incorporation of the original chain all the more seamless.”

Amalia considered this, her eyes glimmering as she pictured it. “What kind of jewelry did you have in mind?”

The couturier shrugged, pleased to see the approval in the doll’s eyes. “Anything, really.” He pointed at the waist of the sketched dress. “I would start by adding a matching belt, and from there it could evolve into armlets, bracelets, maybe even a headband like the one you sometimes wear but with metallic pieces dangling from it…”

The poor man barely had the time to finish listing his ideas off when the doll leaned closer into his personal space, her brown eyes starry and an almost manic grin on her face. “You had me at ‘anything, really’!”

And so, Mr. Needlesworth got to work. As he traced careful lines in search of the perfect outline for the jewelry Amalia would be wearing, the doll wondered aloud if it’d be possible to add a shawl to it. At first, she winced, for she didn’t mean for that to slip out and she was perfectly aware her Bonta dress had one as well, only to do a double take when the tailor shrugged nonchalantly yet again with a simple, “Sure, we could do that.”

Perplexed, she asked if he was sure, and he explained it would be easy enough to make a shawl that would differentiate itself from the previous one. Then, without even looking up from his sketchbook, he began to list all the possibilities available to make it just as unique—it could be a different yet complementary shade of green; instead of being tied around her neck, it could always hang from her arms; they could even incorporate it into her accessories…

The possibilities were endless as far as Mr. Needlesworth was concerned. 

Once he had the general outline of the dress down, the bushy-haired Eliatrope had to excuse himself for a moment as he went back to his atelier and gathered all the materials he would need, from his sewing kit to the actual fabrics from which to make the dress. When he returned, he dismissed the apparent lack of metal as his needing to ask a blacksmith friend of his for a favour, but it shouldn’t be long and, most importantly, Amalia would get her dress just in time. 

(He also wisely chose not to say anything when he witnessed, clear as day, how the sound of the door closing behind him as he returned had startled the Divine Doll awake, almost causing her to fall off from her chair). 

And so, the real torture began. 

Amalia had to fight her tiredness with everything she possessed so as to not fall asleep right then and there as the stout yet talented man worked on her dress. Although the feeling of being pricked with a needle every down and then certainly helped her keep her eyes open. 

Unfortunately, the stillness and quiet didn’t just have the unfortunate side effect of threatening to send her straight to Draconiros’ realm. They also gave her plenty of time to think. And, as of late, her every thought had been dedicated to what she could offer to Sacred Dance Day. 

Preparations were officially over. Every crook and cranny of Oma Island had been decorated with the traditional portals in stone and silken handkerchiefs. The stands for the games and similar activities leading up to the pièce de resistance had been all set up. The chef had already decided on what dishes to serve as well as he already had all the ingredients and kitchen tools needed for them. Mina, Phaeris, and Yugo were all hard at work for their respective roles in the ceremony, but that wasn’t something she could help in, anyway. The temple was nearly overflowing with offerings for the Great Goddess…

Indeed, there didn’t seem to be anything for her to help with anymore. 

And yet, that fact unsettled her more than it calmed her. 

There was just nothing she could do for the Eliatropes on such a special day!  And worst of all, Yugo had noticed something was bothering her—because he always did—, and instead of coming clean about what was on her mind, she just smiled and lied—just like she always did. The guilt had been eating her alive ever since that night, when she finally had some time to think back on the day’s events and realise what she’d done. She already felt horrible for hiding what happened between Efrim and her from him, and now she added this onto her plate. 

The only reason she didn’t smack her forehead was because Mr. Needlesworth would reprimand her from moving too much. 

Oh, why had she let Efrim’s words get to her yet again? Would there ever be a time where they wouldn’t haunt her? 

Too tired to care anymore, she let out a heavy sigh, her gaze downcast as she pondered on whether she should go look for Yugo after her fitting and tell him everything or face the consequences of her own actions. She was too engrossed in her mental debate, she missed when Mr. Needlesworth’s gaze flickered upwards and his brows furrowed into a concerned frown at her despondency. 

“A flower this beautiful shouldn't look this sad so close to Sacred Dance Day.” He thought to himself. Then, with purposeful pricks as he adjusted the fabric around her skin, he set out to cheer her up as best as he could. 

“You know, Lady Amalia, I should probably thank you.” He started off casually, yet sincerely. Perking up at his words, the Divine Doll tried to look down at him, but he merely shushed her and told her not to move. 

Her spine so straight it threatened to snap any moment now, Amalia breathed out, “Thank me for what, Mr. Needlesworth?”

“For letting me make your dress for you.”

“Oh, no. It’s—,” she tried to shake her head, but once again the tailor wouldn’t let her. “It’s me who should be thankful that you’d agree to take the time out of your packed schedule to sew a dress for me. I can only imagine how busy you must be these days.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, my Lady, but I beg to differ.” He looked up from his task long enough to send her a kind smile from underneath his moustache. “You have no idea of the opportunity you have granted me with your request.”

Luckily, she was allowed to raise her eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

He chuckled and threw his arms to his sides, needle and thread still in hand. “Look around you! Do you see any other races besides our own around?”

“Um, no?” 

Did dragons count?

“Exactly.” He nodded solemnly. “This is the first time in my life I get to design for someone who isn’t an Eliatrope. In fact, as a designer—as an artist—, one of the highlights of my job is getting to be as creative as possible and to take my designs to a whole new level. 

“Adding something new and unique to a tried and true style is challenging enough, but getting to create something based on a whole different culture?” He chuckled, his mind going back to all the suits, and capes, and hats, and dresses he’d created over his life; now that he was working for a Divine Doll, he couldn’t help but feel they would always pale in comparison to whatever he came up with for her. “Now that’s what I consider the peak of my career.”

Humming noncommittally, he abandoned his place at the foot of the stool Amalia was standing up on to pick up some scissors to cut the excess of georgette fabric off the skirt. His back was turned to her as he rummaged through his sewing kit for the necessary tools. 

“In my humble opinion, your presence here does us a lot of good.” He admitted, smirking in satisfaction as he took the scissors out of the kit and turned back around to continue with his work. 

The doll’s eyes widened at his words. Deep down, she already knew that. The very reason for her presence in Oma Island was to help Eliatropes and Twelvians alike in their new coexistence, and she remembered how thankful the villagers had been to her for what the banquet at Bonta meant for them. But to hear Mr. Needlesworth say that aloud, completely unprompted, without Yugo around to perhaps make him praise her out of loyalty for their king… It made warmth spread all over Amalia’s chest as grateful tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. 

“You really think so?” She asked, her voice quivering with emotion. 

“Oh, I’m positive.” He insisted, a huge grin on his face. “The fact that you’re a—what was the word again? A Sadida Doll?—,” she nodded, “is just what we needed: a chance to live amongst someone different from us for a change and to be prepared for when we’re finally accepted by this world’s natives.”

Then he moved his hands to work on her top, their movements careful and respectful as he deliberately kept his eyes on her face. 

“It’s a real shame we didn’t take your presence into account when organising the festivities this year, my Lady.” The tailor mused aloud, threading the fabric together with an expert hand. “Sacred Dance Day could have really used a Sadida touch as a symbol for new beginnings…”

Her emerald eyebrows shot to the ceiling. “You really think so?” 

‘A symbol for new beginnings’... She found she quite liked the sound of that, of being able to add her own touch to the celebration. But alas, she had to suppress a resigned sigh and her hands curled into fists involuntarily at her sides. It wasn’t like she was any closer to discovering what she could do to contribute to the celebration when her magic worked so differently from theirs. 

Later, she would attribute what happened to her father looking out for her, because at that point she had been so close to just giving up…

Instead, for some reason, she smiled down at the tailor at her feet and asked out of genuine curiosity. “What’s your favourite part of Sacred Dance Day, Mr. Needlesworth?”

“My favourite part?” He parroted, taken off guard by the question. Humming in thought, he brought a thimble-clad finger to his moustache and began to stroke it best he could. “I’d say it has to be the recreation of our goddess and the Great Dragon’s first dance.”

“I see.” Amalia snickered, not at all surprised by that answer. “Anything in particular you like about it?”

His next answer, however, did succeed at taking her aback. 

“I suppose I just enjoy imagining what it was like, you know?” He let out a wistful sigh, his mind distant as he tried to picture how it all began. “I wonder what those first stars after the Krosmoz was created looked like… So ironic, one of the most beautiful things in creation, and nobody was around to see them.”

It was like a lightning strike. 

The moment the white-haired couturier uttered those words in his reverie, the memory from the other day echoed in her mind, her eyes widening as realisation hit her. 

“A Sadida star…” She murmured, her mind already whirling as the perfect plan materialised right in front of her. 

“Huh?” Mr. Needlesworth tilted his head. 

Just then, however, his confusion turned into shock and even mild alarm when his model suddenly hopped off the stool and, without much of an explanation, but with a hastily uttered apology thrown over her shoulder, she dashed right out of the room with her unfinished dress still on her person, the fabric fluttering behind her. 

Expertly dodging the bewildered palace staff, she made it to her garden, where, after asking Mina and Phaeris for their opinion and receiving their approval, she remained all night as she set her plan in motion. Her previous exhaustion forgotten as the exhilaration of finding the solution to her troubles finally revealed itself to her. 

At some point during the night, Mr. Needlesworth had to knock on her garden’s door to politely demand she hand her dress over to him so he could finish working on it—and to prevent it from getting dirty from being in contact with grass and dirt. Amalia at least had the decency to look embarrassed as she gave in to his more than justified request. 

..........................................................................................................................

The air was bubbling with excitement, the party in full swing all around her. 

Finally, Sacred Dance Day had arrived, and everyone was celebrating at the town square. Located at a far corner, an orchestra played wonderful melodies that accompanied the merriness of the holiday. Women and men alike mingled about, sharing their mornings with their families and reminiscing on previous years. The children’s laughter filled the square as they ran about and played, both with each other and with the many games set up around town. A few of them almost bumped into Amalia as they chased after each other; thankfully, the doll always managed to sidestep them before laughing and gently reminding them to be more careful. 

While Amalia took the chance to have a look around, her grin more genuine than it had been in days thanks to the awe she felt at the sight of the festivities, the real crowd of people formed around the Council of Six. Every single member was surrounded by their own loyal entourage of subjects, who either congratulated them on a job well done in organising everything, or tackled issues pertaining to the area of expertise of each of them. 

The doll couldn't help but smile proudly as the Eliatropes congratulated their king on his opening speech. For his part, Yugo looked beyond sheepish, clearly grateful for the praise, but still feeling a little self-conscious despite his clear experience on the matter. She wasn’t the only one that could be read like an open book—his boyish grin and his near constant rubbing of his neck gave him away. 

Then again, it wasn’t like his subjects were wrong for looking up to him or complimenting him for his speech. Amalia stood a little ways off to his side from her place on the temple, just enough for her to be presented to the village while making sure their leaders remained front and centre, and his words still reached her as if they’d been dedicated solely to her. Try as she might to remain composed and with an elegant smile on her face, it didn’t take long for it to turn watery and for her to blink back the tears threatening to spill. 

It was a very beautiful and impactful speech about the many, many hardships they had endured and how, despite it all, they still lived to celebrate another Sacred Dance Day. Regardless of the pain, and loss, and suffering, they were still standing, and nothing would ever bring their spirits down. By the time the Eliatrope King was done, he didn’t just receive thunderous applause and loud cheering from a kingdom that certainly adored him and who resonated with his message, but even the Divine Doll was clutching at her heart in admiration. 

And with that, the celebration could commence. 

Now that Yugo’s attention was elsewhere—after briefly glancing around to make sure no one was watching her—, Amalia let her gaze travel over the length of him, taking it all in. Even though she hid her disappointment well, she was more than a little chagrined when Mina and Phaeris ushered them outside before she got the time to admire how he looked.

While the rest of Oma Island got to spend the first half of the day with their family and loved ones, the palace was a flurry of activity. The staff ran about from one wing to the next as they tended to their leaders’ needs and demands as a result of their being busy with last minute adjustments to their outfits or the final revisions of what they would need. 

The doll knew for a fact Yugo would be busy revising his speech, as would Mina and Phaeris with theirs and the preparations for the ceremony—she could have sworn she watched them leave the throne room carrying a large chest between the two of them—, what she didn’t know, however, was what everybody else was up to. Knowing she wouldn’t be getting any answers then, she eventually just shrugged it off and focused back on her own last minute check-ups. 

Would it be too vain of her to say those last minute check-ups consisted of looking at her reflection in the mirror from all possible angles? Because, Sweet Sadida, Mr. Needlesworth had done an outstanding job with her dress!

As they had agreed on, her dress consisted of a stunning floor-length skirt and a crossed halter top tied around her neck by a medallion connected to a chain and a pear-like hue, revealing her back. As promised, the look was bold and perfect for the warm weather, yet the design was nothing but tasteful, making sure to expose only what she wanted to be seen. The skirt was cinched around her waist by a matching belt adorned with the same crystals as the medallion keeping her ensemble together. But that wasn’t the only accessory she was wearing that day. 

Amalia wouldn’t have been able to keep herself from whimsically flailing her arms around even if she wanted to. True to his word, Mr. Needlesworth added the shawl she wanted: a delicate, lime-green tulle cloth that emerged from her matching pair of bronze bracelets and armlets on each arm and trailed behind her. She was mesmerised by everything, but her breath was especially taken away when she saw the wonderful headband the immensely talented tailor had designed for her. 

True to his word, it resembled the one she wore when she first arrived at Oma, but it was far more elaborate. The white antlers didn’t stick upwards like Osamodas’ horns, rather they curved inwardly and branched out like an Elante’s, emerging from a flower crown like two imposing trees sticking out of a garden in bloom. Dangling from the antlers were several little silver chains from which hung pendants in all shapes and forms. And to really drive the point home that she was a Sadida, Mr. Needlesworth had gone the extra mile and added leaves all over her dress. 

With her long, chartreuse hair down, she seriously doubted she had ever looked half as beautiful as she did in that moment. She only felt even more pleased with herself, her cheeks colouring and heart skipping a beat, when Yugo’s eyes landed on her right before they had to leave and they widened, his face going crimson. His blush—and her giggles—only intensified when, numbstruck at the sight of her and incapable of tearing his gaze off her lovely form, he collided against the doorframe. 

Amalia had never felt more smug than she did at that moment. She didn’t know why, but she received an ego boost from seeing how much power she seemed to hold over Yugo. It was intoxicating. 

Although she couldn’t deny that her intoxication might have been a result of seeing Yugo in his own suit for the occasion. But alas, before she could properly drink it all in and express her own admiration (which, for some reason, made her mouth go dry), they were told they had better get in the way and she didn’t get another chance…

Until now. 

Now she could feast her eyes on the elaborate ensemble the Eliatrope King wore. Because it was truly worthy of a king. 

Much like she was wearing green, the colour most associated with Sadida, he wore the characteristic turquoise of the Eliatropes, the hue he always wore. Amalia couldn’t help but smirk fondly at the sight of him. One way or another, his wardrobe seemed to consist of nothing but variations of his battle suit, the only real difference being how formal or informal the garments actually were. 

In this case, the doll was reminded of the iconic outfit because his ceremonial robes combined the same vivid turquoise and the darker peacock hue of his suit. Draped all over his body was a light blue tunic with white hems that reached down his ankles yet had large vertical slits for better mobility. Secured around his form and highlighting his athletic build was a matching waist belt, while his glowing tattoos were exposed thanks to the slits of his sheer bishop sleeves. If her eyes trailed downwards, she could see dark blue pants and boots underneath his tunic and through its slits. 

It vaguely reminded her of Chibi’s own body suit. 

And it wasn’t the only thing reminiscent of it, either. Yugo seemed to have taken a page out of his brother’s book and incorporated his hood onto his undershirt, for it was the same peacock colour as his tights, yet it was decorated with exquisite shapes and forms of a lighter hue. 

There was something about seeing Yugo in formal clothing that simply set her heart ablaze. Maybe it was the way it complimented his boyish charm while highlighting his own regality. Or the way his every garment seemed to draw attention to his sculpted physique. Or maybe she just thought Yugo looked handsome in everything he wore. The doll honestly didn’t know, but it wasn’t like she cared that much about it either. She couldn’t suppress a dreamy sigh from escaping her mouth. Whatever it was, Amalia found that she really liked it whenever her friend looked his best. Almost as much as she liked it when he appreciated her good looks. 

Her daydreaming was abruptly stopped when she heard snickering not far away from her. Her cheeks burning, she quickly averted her gaze from the man of the hour, hiding her face behind one hand, and began to look around for her own mysterious watcher. 

She blinked blankly when she made eye-contact with Old Biju, the kindly old man from the jewelry store she met during her first visit to the village. The same man she had yet to visit again to design and purchase one of his exquisite pieces. 

Normally, that wouldn’t be so bad—whether it would be mortifying or not to be caught gawking at the king was a whole different story. The weird thing, however, was the fact that he was grinning from ear to ear underneath his greying beard, followed by him sending her a double thumbs-up and a wink before walking away with his family. 

Her brain still trying to catch up to the unusual interaction, her face the perfect definition of ‘confusion’, Amalia eventually just shook her head to clear her thoughts. Still embarrassed for her little indiscretion, she tried to play it cool by pretending to be as entranced by the rest of the Council’s ensembles for the night. 

A small smile curled at her lips and she snorted softly. It seemed whenever it was time for them to dress up, the Council of Six always followed a theme. 

Everyone was wearing similar outfits to Yugo, only in their respective colours and with very small variations. Qilby wore an actual white ceremonial robe with crimson red embroidery, the same sheer material as his brother’s sleeves was used to display his sternum. Nora wore a bright magenta leotard with matching bishop sleeves and pantalons, her toned limbs in full display. Mina wore a light teal, floor-length dress and the same kind of sleeves as her brother and sister. Chibi was clad in a black and golden, open-chested vest, with light beige pantalons secured by a striped, red and gold sash, and brown boots twirled at the tip—his sleeves were almost the same as Yugo’s. Glip was the only one who didn’t use the same material as his siblings. Instead, he simply wore an olive green tunic not too dissimilar from his usual look. 

And, of course, they all had their heads covered by their hats and hoods. 

Meanwhile, their dragon siblings didn’t really wear any special clothing. They looked like they usually did save for the painted markings trailing all over their bodies. The only exception was Shinonomé, who wore a yellow dress similar to Mina’s, only much shorter, drawing attention to her long, ruby-coloured legs. 

It was truly fascinating how they always found a way to stand out from the rest of their siblings while keeping a common factor that made it evident they were all in this together. 

“Then again,” Amalia mused to herself. “I suppose I have the same thing with my sisters. Even if I don’t really show it…”

Smiling to herself, the doll decided, albeit reluctantly, that it was high time she tried to immerse herself a little more into the ceremony. Everything was beautifully decorated, and there were so many fun things to do, she could hardly wait!

And so, she began to look for ways to entertain herself until it was dinner time. 

She tried some of the games, and was pleasantly surprised to find out she was a natural at scoring a basket at the ‘Travelling Portals’ game. A very fun game that only required you to throw a ball through a blue ring. Although it was a little awkward when the man manning the stand sheepishly offered her a doll as a prize. Luckily, nobody seemed offended when she gave her prize to a little girl staring at it with glittering eyes. Instead, they all cooed as the child hugged her new toy tightly. 

She also got to spend some time with a few of the adults. They asked her about her day and her daily routine, and in turn she showed interest in their lives. Apparently, one of them, Araknya, was the village’s most talented seamstress, and back in the day, it had been her who’d sewn all the silken handkerchiefs they still used as decorations. Another one, Mona, was a passionate artist who tried a little bit of everything—painting, sculpting, carving, metal work… And then, there was Trina, who was an accountant.

Honestly, from what she’d told her about her job, the doll couldn’t help but privately wonder how come there weren’t more accountant Enutrofs. Getting to count money all day long had to be paradise for them!

She also shared some pleasantries with Bartoloblé, who still lamented the fact that his children were growing up too fast for his liking when they ‘ditched’ him to spend time with their friends. But then he offered the Divine Doll some freshly baked bread to snack on while they waited for dinner, and he seemed to get over it. For now. 

Then, when her guard was low, the children all worked together to take her by surprise and bombard her with requests to play with them. Amalia lasted for all of two seconds before they pulled out the big guns and she was forced to admit defeat in the face of countless adorable puppy-wow-wow looks. Before she knew it, she was gleefully dancing in a circle, hand-in-hand, with a group of giggling, singing children. Or summoning her vines to carefully lift them up so everyone would look like insects from where they were. Or even playing with them at the stands, trying to win some more prizes for them—and getting completely demolished when Grougal came strutting by and won every single game without breaking a sweat. 

He had to close her gaping mouth himself once he was done handing out plushies and toys for every kid. In response, she crossed her arms and pouted. “Show-off…”

But what truly made her heart flutter and immediately improved her already wonderful evening was when Yugo would get a few minutes to sneak away from his adoring subjects and check up on her. The first few times he did it, it was small things. Like asking if she was having a good time, to which she would assure him that she most definitely was. Or he would recommend some of his favourite past times, and even go with her and spend some time together whenever his presence wasn’t required elsewhere. And other times, they’d get more time together and they would chat the night away, just like they usually did from her balcony. 

Even though all the while she still felt a pang of guilt for not coming clean over her unease of the last few days, it was nothing compared to the longing that would take over her heart whenever her eyes, treacherous as they were, trailed over to what would become the dancefloor and back at Yugo. Would it be wrong to want him to ask her for a dance? 

There was nothing she wanted more than to dance with him. The last time they did so was back in Bonta, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the feeling of swaying in the Eliatrope King’s arms, where she felt protected, cared for, l—.

Her train of thought was abruptly interrupted by Nora and Efrim announcing dinner was served. The corners of her lips turned upwards a little when Yugo placed a polite hand on the small of her back and led her over to her seat at the table. She was seated next to Mina, who flashed her a knowing smirk behind the rim of her cup that made her skin feel too hot even under the light fabric of her dress. Two other Eliatropes she didn’t recognise but would surely come to know by the end of the night were located at her other side and right in front of her. Even the musicians left their position for the time being to enjoy some food. 

Once everyone was in their place, the royal chef listed off the many mouthwatering dishes he’d prepared for the night. Gobball stew—Amalia, Yugo, and even Adamaï shared mischievous glances; it wasn’t bad in any sense of the word, it just wasn’t as good as Alibert’s—, stir-fried vegetables, grilled Kralamoure—this time, the doll and the king had to do everything in their power not to break down laughing at the way Adamaï blanched even whiter than he already was when presented with the dish—, roasted meats with caramelised onion, soups, bread from Bartoloblé’s bakery, and the most artistically baked desserts Amalia had ever seen in her life. 

As everybody ate and shared stories around the meal, the doll felt pleasantly full. Her heart in particular threatened to burst from joy as the most wonderful feeling of belonging enveloped her. 

And just when she thought the night couldn’t get any better, Mina and Phaeris announced it was finally time. 

Perking up with a huge grin on her face, Amalia mimicked everyone around her and stood from the table. Since they would lead the ceremony from the temple, the Council of Six were the first to make their way towards the sacred building. But not before Yugo reached out for Amalia and gently took her hand in his to make sure she wouldn’t be left behind amidst the crowd and she could be watching alongside them. 

As soon as their leaders had begun making their way over to the temple, their subjects followed. They calmly abandoned their own seats and filed out of the dining area. While the Council climbed the stairs leading to one of the highest floors of the temple, ensuring everyone would be able to see perfectly, the Eliatropes all crowded around the main square. The perfect view of Mina and Phaeris as they took a step forward to address their people. 

As his subjects murmured impatiently from below, Yugo’s eyes were on Amalia, watching her every reaction intently in order to file it away in his mind for eternity. He smiled at the thought of her dazzled face when she finally saw the true magnificence of Sacred Dance Day for the very first time. He knew from experience it would stick with her for years to come. 

His affectionate grin faltered slightly when she caught sight of the engraved chest being passed over to Mina and Phaeris. From the look in her eyes, he could tell she recognised it, but couldn’t imagine how that was even possible. Even though she had been in the throne room before, he had never told her of the secrets the Eliatrope throne held. There was simply no way she could know about the Dofus. 

As if reading his mind, the doll leaned closer to him to whisper, “I saw Mina and Phaeris carrying that out of the throne room earlier today.” Okay, that explained a lot of things. “What’s inside of it?”

Even though her unintentional explanation managed to assuage his worries, the king still understood his people held secrets he couldn’t reveal just yet. Especially when Efrim was around watching them like a hawk. As much as he would have liked to reveal everything to Amalia, he knew he couldn’t. 

“Now, now, Amalia. That would ruin the surprise…” He winked down at her, relishing the way she blushed the softest shade of pink even as she pouted. 

A terse but meaningful grunt from Phaeris was all they needed to know they were about to start, so it’d be best if Amalia retook her previous position and stood back. No matter how much he lamented watching her go, Yugo knew it was the right thing to do. However, he didn’t miss the way she seemed to grin impishly to herself, the mysterious action causing him to raise an eyebrow at her retreating form. 

As always, he could count on his brother to ground him back to reality with a subtle, yet not-so-gentle, flick of his tail against the back of his head. His go-to method to get his Eliatrope twin to look forward and pay attention.

As soon as Amalia had returned to her previous position from Yugo’s opening speech, Mina, as if sensing this, addressed her subjects, her arms extended to her sides welcomely. 

“Dear friends, thank you all so much for joining us in the celebration of Sacred Dance Day once more. Your devotion and faith in our mother, the Great Goddess Eliatrope, is not in vain.” At her words, the people gathered at the feet of the temple lowered their heads in a silent prayer, their hearts with their goddess. Mina’s smile widened at the sight of her people’s loyalty. It only lasted for a minute before her expression turned somber. 

“As our king said before, I know I need not remind you of the many hardships we have endured. In what feels both like seconds and several lifetimes, we lost those we considered our friends, our world, and we were forced to begin a long voyage in search of a new place to call home.” Amalia couldn’t help but wince at her quiet admission, her heart going out to the wonderful nation that had taken her in. “In a way, even now we’re still searching.”

Although she lamented having to admit they still had a long way to go before they could say they belonged in the World of Twelve, Mina’s voice remained clear and unwavering even as bitter tears sprung from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. But the silver-haired priestess carried on, emboldened by her people’s faith in them and her brother’s silent support in the form of the comforting touch of his wing against her back. 

“But today we are here to remind you how hope is not a weakness!” She declared, raising one fist in the air to show her conviction. “And neither is it to trust the Great Goddess. Now more than ever, hope and trust give us strength. The strength needed to face each new dawn with motivation and optimism, knowing we can make each day better than yesterday. Our past may be tinged with loss, but the future belongs to us!”

“And we have our goddess to thank for that!” This time, it was Phaeris who took the floor, his solemn roar reverberating throughout the space. “Even if her presence is not as powerful as it used to be, even if she does not hold the same power in this world as she did in our own, let no one ever doubt that she remains with us. Let no one ever doubt that she is still looking over us.

“For if we are all gathered here today, celebrating life despite our many losses, that is precisely because Eliatrope has led us directly to this moment. Even in her absence, us, her children, will forever be her top priority!”

The teal dragon’s conviction resonated with everyone listening. While his siblings and their subjects all cheered and loudly proclaimed their agreement with what he said, Amalia could only glance upwards. As her gaze remained fixed on the night sky, she couldn’t help but wonder if her father was also watching over her despite the distance. A small smile curled itself on her lips at the sentiment. 

“That is right!” Mina concurred, stepping forward with her hands outstretched towards her kingdom. “Eliatrope has blessed us with the chance to start over. Therefore, let us celebrate her grace and compassion by honouring the event that started it all—her sacred dance with the Great Dragon that gave birth to the Krozmos!”

Amidst all the cheering and clapping, the Ochre Twins exchanged a meaningful look. Gripping each other’s hand tightly, they raised it high above their heads and exclaimed, “For new beginnings!”

“FOR NEW BEGINNINGS!” Everyone chorused immediately after. 

Amalia watched from her position as Mina instructed everyone to follow her lead. Her palms facing outwards, soon enough, they turned wakfu-blue and began to emit a shapeless mass of energy that floated skywards. The doll’s brown eyes widened in awe and she craned her neck when, one by one, her fellow Eliatrope members of the Council copied her actions, their own wakfu coming to join hers high above. 

And yet, that was nothing compared to the veritable spectacle that was seeing every single Eliatrope gathered around—regardless of age, size, or gender—contribute with their own energy. Before long, they were all standing under a cloud of the purest hue of turquoise that lit up the night. 

The only thing that succeeded at getting the Divine Doll to tear her gaze away was the sight of Mina elegantly and measuredly waving her arms around as she commanded the wakfu cloud. It was like watching the waves crash against the shore—beautiful and calming, yet extremely impactful. Amalia could only gasp as she finally realised what the priestess was trying to do. She was moulding their combined wakfu into a more refined shape. One that, only enough, resembled a face with extraordinarily long locks of hair.

Her eyes widened in realisation yet again. “The Eliatrope Goddess!”

It was at that time that Phaeris took action. Effortlessly dragging the mysterious chest in front of him, he bent down and unclasped the lock. When he stood up, he was carrying six colourful eggs the size of boulders in his arms. But if Amalia thought that was strange, it was nothing compared to the shock she felt when he willed them into forming a rotating circle all around him. 

The doll could only watch on, mesmerised, as the Ochre dragon clearly used every last drop of his concentration to keep the eggs under control even as they began to spin faster around his form and glow ominously. At last, he seemed to achieve his goal, for with a draconic roar that sent tremors down to her very core, Phaeris spread his arms and wings wide as a great burst of energy was released from both his body and the eggs. 

And yet, that was nothing compared to the astonishment she experienced when the blue energy the eggs had been operating with suddenly turned purple. Her hairs stood up on end and she instinctively brought her arms around her torso to hug herself at the sudden shift in the atmosphere. She could just feel it. 

But before she could so much as ask about it, the eggs—the Dofus, she realised. Just like the one her sisters and Osamodas’ dragons had created all those years ago—began to move about, purple energy trailing after them. Her eyes remained snapped open in bewilderment, for she feared missing anything if she so much as blinked, as the currents began to mount and spike up. Just as she was about to run for cover, fearing the worst, her concerns proved unfounded when the Dofus turned into a giant, ethereal dragon made out of the very same purple energy they emitted. 

And even that was nothing when the Great Dragon and Eliatrope Goddess’ recreations began to dance, taking her breath away. 

It was like nothing she had ever experienced. Craning her neck so far back a subconscious part of her was sure she would feel it in the morning, Amalia wouldn’t have been able to tear her eyes away to save her life. She followed the two lovers’ every movement, mesmerised, as the Ochre Twins directed them high above. All around her, the delighted murmurs coming from the Eliatropes watching from down below echoed her own sentiment. 

It was truly breathtaking. 

A pleasant warmth spread all over Yugo’s chest when, having discreetly flickered his eyes towards her, he got to see the amazement plastered all over the doll’s face. The Council of Six had witnessed the traditional recreation of the Sacred Dance so many times, he knew exactly what would happen next without having to look. 

First, Mina and Phaeris would wield the wakfu from the Eliatropes and the stasis from the Dofus into taking the form of their parents. Next, they would recreate their first meeting by guiding both constructs to stand (or would it be more accurate to say ‘hover’?) on opposite ends. Slowly, they would draw them both near until they were face to face. Just like Eliatrope and the Great Dragon, upon seeing each other for the first time, the constructs would lunge at each other and form a perfect spiral as they began their mystical dance. Little by little, their ethereal forms would undulate and shoot upwards, purple and blue becoming interwoven for eternity in the form of a whole new universe where life and death were intrinsically linked. 

And although he was sure he would never tire of seeing it, for it never failed to be absolutely beautiful, this time it somehow still paled in comparison to getting to see Amalia see their union for the first time.  

Knowing this was usually the part where his siblings let loose of their hold on the energy constructs and allowed them to move on their own as the commemoratory dance began underneath their light, Yugo felt tempted to take Amalia aside and give her his present then. 

Only for something so unexpected not even Chibi would have been able to predict it to happen. 

As scripted, Mina and Phaeris dropped their hold on the wakfu and stasis clouds at that moment. But then addressing their people like they did was completely unscripted. 

As usually, the first to speak was Mina. “My dear people, normally, this would be the time when we got the actual dancing of the holiday underway.”

“However,” Phaeris continued, dutifully ignoring the confused glances being shared even amongst their siblings. “This time, there is one more surprise waiting for us. But why doesn’t Phaeris allow the person behind it to step forward and share her idea with us?” When he gestured to his side and Amalia stepped forward, shyly waving down at the Eliatropes, there wasn’t a single jaw that didn’t drop at the sight of the Divine Doll seemingly organising something for their special day. 

Yugo and Adamaï’s were certainly only centimetres apart from the floor. 

“Thank you, Mina. Phaeris.” Her nervous heart racing wildly in her ribcage, Amalia discreetly took a deep breath to steel herself as she slid up beside the Ochre Twins. Remembering what they said about projecting her voice, she addressed her audience with as much poise and confidence as she could muster. “I would like to start by thanking you all, from the bottom of my heart, for allowing me to share such a meaningful occasion with you. Truly, I am not worthy of such honour.”  Placing a hand over her chest and lowering her head solemnly, she didn’t miss the way Efrim seemed to agree with her statement, but she didn’t let that deter her. 

She was done letting him get into her head. That, and the soft huff of air that left his maw when one of his siblings nudged him in his side certainly helped. 

“However, I have not come here today to talk about what I am lacking, rather, to share what I can provide for you instead. All I ask in return is that you place your trust in me for a few scarce moments.”

Not waiting for an answer, indistinguishable from all the chatter crowded down below, she looked over her shoulder at the Ochre Twins and offered them a curt nod. 

“Do you have any idea what she’s up to?” Adamaï questioned him. His brother had to admit his stoic façade did a wonderful job at hiding his own bewilderment. 

“No, she didn’t mention everything all day.” Blinking in surprise, Yugo’s gaze flickered over to his silver-haired sister and, her hand behind her back, she opened up a portal. 

His dirty-blond brows shot up to the nonexistent ceiling when it became apparent she had actually created one large portal that stood amidst their mother’s offerings and it then dissolved into innumerable smaller ones all over their audience. Despite his many questions, his mind immediately drew a blank when a portal opened right in front of him and deposited a small, leaf-like package in his hands. 

…did Amalia organise some sort of cabbage exchange, or something?

His head snapped over to Nora. “No way! Is this—?”

“What you have in your hands is my present to you.” Amalia continued, the only one who didn’t have a cabbage-like thing in her hands. Instead, hers were splayed at her sides, her palms up. Not unlike how Mina herself had initiated the ceremony. “This is my way of saying ‘thank you’, for everything. I know it’s nowhere near as impressive as the magnificence of the dance that created the Krosmoz, but someone made me realise that, perhaps, that was exactly what was missing—the Krosmoz.

“Now, if you would all be so kind as to raise what you’ve been given in the air…” She gestured for them to follow her motions, raising the mysterious present high above their heads. Her smile widening at the patches of green greeting her from down below, illuminated from the still moving bursts of blue and purple energy, she knew everything else was up to her. 

Amalia placed her extended palms in front of her and, much like Phaeris had done before her, she began to concentrate all her energy into that indescribable source that connected all of plant-life together. The very same source she felt deep within her core ever since the Leafy Godl himself brought her to life. 

In a way, she was literally pouring everything she had into this, and that alone gave her enough hope to believe it would work. 

At first, she heard it rather than saw it. 

A surprised gasp, soon followed by another, and another. Soon enough, the sounds of curiosity were replaced by joyous laughter, loud hollering and cheering, little kids telling their parents to ‘Look!’, and the excited chatter she had been looking for. A huge weight was lifted off her shoulders.

She could only chuckle when she heard Chibi exclaim, “What does light have to do with plants?!”

“That’s what I said!” That was Nora. 

Despite everything, the Divine Doll still was almost too afraid to look. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally peeked one eye open, and soon it was her turn to grin broadly at the scene in front of her. 

From where she stood, dozens of golden, little dots lit up the town square, but all she could see were the delighted expressions of the Eliatropes as they stared at the glowing orbs in awe. Amalia wouldn’t have been able to wipe the smile off her face even if she wanted to. Her plan was a success! She had contributed something of value to Sacred Dance Day all by herself!

Now, there was only one thing left to do. 

“My dear Eliatropes, I give you…” With a fluid motion of her hand, her plant-based lights took off into the night sky, “the first stars in the Krosmoz!”

From where he stood, watching alongside his husband, Mr. Needlesworth had to wipe a tear off, a huge, touched grin breaking out under his moustache. He and his love leaned into each other at the view, holding each other close. 

While her subjects erupted in even more gasps and cheers, Mina took the chance to draw their attention back to her once again. Her own gaze followed the orb she had previously held as it floated away. 

“I believe I speak in the name of all of us when I say it is us who are grateful for you and everything you have done for us, Lady Amalia.” She placed a warm hand on top of the Sadida Doll’s shoulder, smiling warmly down at her. From the genuine glint in her dark eyes, it was easy to see she meant every word. She turned to her subjects. “And with that, may the dance commence!”

No sooner did the words leave her mouth that the Eliatropes began to celebrate underneath their Great Goddess and the Great Dragon, only this time, countless Sadida stars served as their witnesses. It was incredible how something could go from solemn to immensely festive so quickly. One minute, everyone watched and listened attentively to everything the Council of Six had to say, and the next, people were coupling up, or forming rings, or even going solo to dance the night away. 

Not for the first time that week, Amalia’s heart squeezed in longing as she observed their almost crazed movements. Not only did she miss dancing in the ridges alongside her family as the breeze gently swayed flower petals behind them. But, watching the couples sway softly to the music, she yearned to be able to do the same with Yugo. 

As pleasant as that feeling he elicited was, a deep loneliness enveloped her whenever he wasn’t there with her. Was it normal to miss someone you saw almost every day?

Unbeknownst to her, she wasn’t the only one observing. A little ways off from his siblings as they celebrated and congratulated each other on yet another successful Sacred Dance Day—except Nora, Chibi, Grougal, and even Baltazar; who had teleported themselves to the dancefloor—, Yugo’s eyes were on Amalia, his heart thundering against his ears. 

He had long known she was beyond beautiful. One only needed to ask around for a little bit and it soon became apparent he found her to be bewitching from the very moment he first laid his eyes on her human form. As a matter of fact, with each passing day, he only found her lovelier and lovelier, proof enough of that was the way his brain stopped working as soon as he saw her in her new dress. 

But after what she did today for them… He was convinced she had never looked more beautiful. 

The weight of what he carried around in his breast pocket heavier than ever, the king made up his mind. He had to give it to her now before he lost his nerve. There wouldn’t be a more perfect moment. 

Sliding up to her and clearing his throat, he almost felt bad at the way his unexpected company made her jolt in place. Although it was kind of adorable how it took her a little to regain her bearings and notice his presence. 

“Oh, Yugo! You scared me!” She chided him lightly, slapping him on the arm without any real force behind it. 

“Sorry, Amalia. That wasn’t my intent.”

“It’s alright.” She smiled. “Did you need anything?”

And just like that, his mouth went dry at the moment of truth. 

“Y-yes, actually.” He stammered. He tried to hide his blush behind his fist. “I was wondering if you would come with me? I’d like to talk to you in private.” Was it just him, or did a flicker of hope just die out in her eyes?

“O-oh!” Now it was her turn to stammer. “S-sure, I mean…” She waved her hand lazily. “Lead the way.”

With a nod, Yugo did just that. He tried not to think about her squeak in surprise when he snaked a hand around her waist and pressed her flush to his side. Or how right it felt when her arms came to circle around his torso and to hold on tight when he jumped off the temple and onto a lower, more isolated platform. 

The moment Amalia let go, he immediately missed her warmth. 

The doll looked around in confusion for a minute, before turning back to the king with a raised eyebrow. “So? What did you want to tell me?”

She could only blink blankly at his answer. 

“Remember when I first took you to the village?” Yugo blurted out. 

Okay… That wasn’t what she’d been expecting, but she’d play along for now. “Yes, of course. How couldn’t I? Not only was it a great day, but I’ve been coming back quite often ever since.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why do you ask?”

“Remember when we were about to leave but we stopped for a minute to talk with Mr. Biju?” He prodded. “You know, the jeweller known for his literally one-of-a-kind pieces?”

“How could I forget? I saw him earlier.” She chose not to say anything about his weird behaviour then. But her tone grew wistful. “I have yet to visit him again to commission him something for me…”

At her words, Yugo’s smile softened. “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m kinda glad you didn’t?”

“Huh?” Amalia blinked, more confused than ever. “Really? Why?”

“Because of this.” He said simply. He brought his hand to his breast pocket and took something out of it. Something he placed into Amalia’s open hand. Her eyes flickered back to the lukewarm, sleek object in her hand for a fraction of a second, before her head snapped up back at him in wonder, her mouth slightly agape.

The king shrugged so nonchalantly it just didn’t fit what he’d just admitted to doing for her. “What can I say? I wanted to do something for Sacred Dance Day for you too.”

Still incapable of forming a single coherent thought, Amalia’s astonished gaze returned to the object currently holding her attention. There, laying in her open hand, was a beautiful pendant. While the chain itself was fairly simple, what truly caught her eye was the intricate design of the charm. It somehow managed to be both simple and breathtaking. Glinting in her palm was a golden spiral, but what made it truly memorable was how the outer lines consisted of jagged edges, highly reminiscent of an Eliatrope portal; while the inner ones curled in on themselves into the shape of a leafy vine, like the ones she would summon. 

With a start, she realised it was supposed to represent them and their bond. As she reached that conclusion, words failed her, although she still gave it her best shot. 

“Yugo… I… This is… I-I don't know what to say!” Her voice, though tremulous, was full of emotion. 

“Do you like it?” He asked simply with a smile. If he were being honest with himself, he wasn’t faring much better. 

“I love it. It's… It's beautiful!” She assured him, and he immediately felt ten times lighter. “But, I didn't get you anything…”

“Are you kidding me? You did all of this.” He opened his arms wide and gestured around. “Even though you didn't have to.”

But she shook her head. “It was the least I could do after you all took me in and were so kind to me.” At least, most of them were. “I couldn't possibly do nothing for you on such a special day for you. I—.”

“Amalia, you're a Divine Doll.” He reminded her gently, lifting her chin with his thumb so she would look at him. So she would see the seriousness and sincerity in his eyes. “You didn't even know about Sacred Dance Day until very recently! Nobody would've put it against you if you didn't do something to celebrate with us.”

“Still…”

“Is that why you’ve been so off lately?” The king finally questioned, and the doll had to suppress the urge to gasp when he hit the nail on the head. Instead, she tried averting her gaze again, but the thumb under her chin wouldn’t let her. “Amalia. Please, talk to me. Do you have any idea what knowing that you don’t trust me does to me?”

Her answer was immediate. “But I trust you!” He was probably the person she trusted most on Oma Island. Nay, the entire World of Twelve!

“Then why don’t you ever come to me when you have a problem?” Yugo prodded, hopeful at what seemed to be progress between the two. 

Amalia’s voice was so small he almost didn’t hear her. “Because you’re a king, you’re already dealing with so much, and I… I don’t want to worry you.” She started when he actually snorted. 

Flinching under her disbelieving glare, he tried to wave it off. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just…” He let out yet another chuckle, though a mirthless one. “If the reason you don’t tell me what’s bothering you is because you don’t want me to worry, then I’m sorry to tell you you’re being counterproductive.”

“What do you mean?” The doll tilted her head, the pendants hanging from her headband dangling with the movement. 

“Amalia, if I see you’re worried about something but you don’t tell me what, I’m only going to worry more!”

Oh. When he put it like that, maybe trying to be the strong and silent type that didn’t really open up wasn’t the best solution she could have come up with. 

“Yeah… You might have a point.” She winced, instantly regretting all the secrecy from the past few days. Looking back at Yugo, she let out a rueful sigh. “I’m sorry, Yugo. You’re right, I should have told you how I felt about not being able to collaborate much from the beginning. It would have saved us a lot of trouble….”

“I’m kind of glad you didn’t, actually.” Again, she was looking at him like he’d grown a second head. He could only laugh. “Don’t you see? It was thanks to that that you ended up organising all this!” He pointed at the glowing orbs high above. “It’s the first time we’ve ever deviated from our traditions, and I must say, I think this is our best Sacred Dance Day yet.” He smiled down at her, winking knowingly. “I’d say it’s quite fitting, given the circumstances.”

Knowing exactly what he meant, a soft blush on her cheeks, Amalia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just glad you guys liked it. After everything you’ve done for me, this was the least I could do.”

They were quiet for a little while after that until Yugo broke the silence, his voice kind yet full of meaning. “But seriously, from now on, if you have a problem, don’t hesitate to come to me, okay? I feel much better knowing I can at least offer some support than watching you agonise from the sidelines.”

After a beat, a small smile stretched over the doll’s lips as she glanced back up at him. She was done letting Efrim dictate her life. If he wanted to blame her for all of his misfortunes, so be it. But she wouldn’t let him affect her friendship with Yugo anymore. 

“I promise.” And just then, without a warning, she threw herself at Yugo’s arms, who, despite his initial surprise, automatically held her against his body just as tightly. Her warmth seeping into his body, her emerald hair tickled his nose, her natural floral scent with tinges of sunlight so intoxicating he had to (very reluctantly) place her back down lest he got dizzy. 

Once her feet were on the floor again, he softly asked for her permission to let him help her with her necklace, which she happily granted. Tucking her hair in front of her to facilitate the Eliatrope’s access, she felt a tingle of excitement run down her back as his bare hands grazed her skin while he tried to clasp the chain around her neck. 

When he finally stepped away to see how it looked on her (beyond gorgeous), Amalia picked it up and stared at it intently. However, for some reason, an unreadable expression settled on her face the more she stared at the necklace. Seeming to realise what she was doing, the doll sent her a small yet soulful smile, but that only soothed his worries a little. 

“I still feel a little bad for not getting you a present.” She confessed.

Yugo frowned. He gave her that necklace hoping to convey how much she meant to him and how much he appreciated having her in his life, even if he couldn't say it out loud himself. It tore at his heart to see his gift causing her grief of any kind. All he wanted was to take all her worries away and help her enjoy herself after the absolute wonder she had just performed. 

His eyes flickered away for a moment, drawn by the lights, music, and laughter to their side, and his concerned frown melted into a mischievous grin as an idea came to mind. 

“Do you really want to do something for me?

Amalia blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. She nodded vehemently when the words registered in her mind. “Yes, of course! Anything!”

She raised an eyebrow when all Yugo did in response was chuckle fondly, only to let out a quiet gasp when he held her hand in his and his other one snaked around her waist, bringing her flush against him. Her cheeks burned from the intimate contact. 

Her heart was thumping in her ribcage so loudly, she almost didn't hear him say, “Then come dance with me.”

An ear-splitting grin broke across her face, her brown eyes shining with elation. All night she had been staring longingly at the dancefloor, secretly hoping Yugo would ask her to dance with him. And he just did! Oh, sweet Sadida above, she was so happy she might as well burst. 

Unable to contain her squeal of excitement, Amalia broke the embrace Yugo had her in. Before a confused king could ask her about it, she grabbed him by the wrist and practically dragged him to the dancefloor as she hurriedly climbed down the stairs leading to it. Not like Yugo was complaining. Only when they made their way between the throngs of spinning dancers, did they retake their previous position. 

And so, they danced the night away between festive cheers and elated cries. Every time Yugo spun her away before bringing her back to his side, Amalia couldn't help but giggle, a huge grin splitting her face. And all Yugo could do whenever she came back to her senses and realised her hair must be a mess from all the dancing was stare down adoringly at her, quietly hoping that would be the first Sacred Dance Days of many they’d get to spend like this. 

And all the while, the pendant around Amalia's neck would glint softly under the moonlight and party lights. A clear reflection of the connection between Sadida and Eliatrope the two of them were forging together.  

[happiest-hotch]

i think you did one of there with spencer and it was cute so i was wondering if you'd write one for aaron, a full fic or blurb where Aaron guesses she (his gf) is pregnant before she guesses? thanks in advance

i'm glad you liked it !! it's the type of scene i love writing

Summary: basically as above, but they are married

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Content Warning: pregnancy (obviously)

Word Count: 1.5k

It's a quiet day at the BAU, and you and Aaron are in his office, having lunch together on the rare occasion you're not out on a case, there aren't any urgent consults, and he doesn't have a meeting.

He starts smirking when you complain about there not being enough pickles in your burger.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanor.

He leans back in his chair, his hands clasping behind his head. "I don't know, honey. You've been acting kind of strange lately. Do you think it's possible that you're pregnant?"

You roll your eyes, playfully kicking him under the desk. "Haha, very funny, Aaron. You better watch your mouth." You say jokingly.

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm teasing, but if I'd take a bet on it. Seriously, you've been craving some weird foods lately, and if I was dumber, I'd say you were having some mood swings. Maybe you should take a test, just in case."

You shake your head, laughing at his persistence. "I highly doubt it. You know, with the birth control and all that? And you know it's a bad idea to offer me a bet." It might have been why he did it because you're both insanely competitive.

"Why don't we up the stakes?" He offers, the signature smirk that only you're privileged to lighting up his face.

You grin mischievously at him. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, you know how the team bet on if we were dating?" He asks and you nod. "Let's include them. Only if you're comfortable." He's only joking, and you're so sure he's off the mark.

"A chance to show to prove your profiling skills wrong?" You ask with a giggle. "Derek would kill me if I didn't take it."

"You're on," Aaron says, holding out a hand to shake yours and make it official. "But when I'm right, you owe me."

You chuckle again. "Yeah? What will I owe you?"

He grins, his nose scrunching adorably as he thinks. "I'll get back to you about that."

You notice the team walking back in from lunch. "Let's do it."

Aaron and you walk out onto the landing, and he makes his announcement. "Conference room, everyone."

They look at you both with a high level of concern written on their faces, scurrying like something urgent has happened which, due to the nature of your jobs, is reasonable. "Don't use your Unit Chief voice." You scold, hitting him on the shoulder. "And don't even think about bullying anyone into agreeing with you."

"Deal, but you can't make it seem offensive for them to bet against you." He instructs.

"I won't." He assures you, placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you to the boardroom.

Penelope's jumpy when you two walk in and stand in front of the screen, not doing as well as everyone else to hide her worry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." You tell them all quickly, but it's a message to Aaron as well: that although you're sure he's wrong, it wouldn't be a bad thing.

"Y/n's pregnant," Aaron announces.

You hit him on the shoulder, quickly speaking before everyone jumps up to hug you and offer congratulations. "That's just what he thinks." You say.

Even Spencer had a puzzled look, but Derek verbalizes their thoughts. "What?"

"We're betting," Aaron explains. "I think she's pregnant, she thinks she's not, so like you all bet on whether we were dating or not, we thought you might like to bet on this."

For everyone who has known him longer than you have, it's astonishing to see Aaron so open with his personal life, but you bring the playful side out in him.

The bets are in, more in favor of you, although the doctor of the team bets against you which is a little worrying. Of course, Spencer isn't a medical doctor, but he knows more about pregnancy than even JJ, who has been pregnant.

"So when do we get the results?" Derek wonders.

"Right now?" You offer. "Well as soon as I go get a test."

Aaron shakes his head beside you. "No, no way. I want it to be just us because it's going to be a special moment."

You roll your eyes at him. "Okay, but you're not coming in the bathroom while I pee on a stick." You inform him.

"We'll see." He settles, looking at you fondly before dropping the smile reserved for you when he looks back at the team. "Let's get back to work."

Aaron stops at a drug store on the way home, determined and cemented in his position as he buys three boxes of pregnancy tests.

"I don't have enough pee for all of these." You inform him when you're getting ready for bed that night.

He opens each of the boxes, handing you one of each. "Get your cute butt in there." He directs.

"I'm not taking this for you." You remind him with a smirk. "I'm taking it to prove you wrong."

"So, for me then?" He jokes, chuckling at you.

You're not really sure why you are taking the test. Of course, it's gotten to be a bigger idea with the team's involvement, but now that you're doing it, you're kind of hoping you lose. The excitement engulfing you is a shock, but it's so unlikely that you don't want to give in to the delusion.

"Are you okay?" Aaron taps on the door after you've been in there more than a reasonable amount of time.

You open the door, trying to keep a calm facade, and welcome him in, handing over the capped tests and sitting on the counter.

"You actually want this, don't you?" He profiles within a second.

It's an annoying trait of his when it shows up in your personal life, but sometimes you are glad since you're feeling like you don't have all the words. "It just threw me." You admit. "I didn't realize that I do feel ready until today."

His face drops in an instant, guilt sinking in. "I'm sorry I pushed so hard." He says very apologetically, a hand going to his forehead. "And I got the team involved."

"It's alright." You soothe, taking his hand in yours. "It's not like we can't just make a baby once we know."

Aaron nods, a cheeky smile taking over his face. "I'll give you a baby if that's the prize you want for winning the bet."

"Did you figure out what you want?" You wonder. "If you're right."

He thinks about it for another moment. "Baby or not, I can't think of anything else I need in life." His hand rests on your thigh delicately. "Ready to look?"

You shake your head, the nerves overwhelming you. "Let's not bother. We can go not knowing."

Aaron chuckles, shaking his head. "We both know we can't." He doesn't give you much more of a choice, figuratively tearing the bandaid off as he flips over the test. He's usually so good at keeping his face neutral, having had years of practice, but he doesn't. Not in your tender moment where his eyes go glassy, and he grins broadly. "Mrs. Hotchner, congratulations, you're pregnant."

"Oh, my god." Your hand clamps over your mouth in shock, but you quickly tear it away to take the test from him, needing to see it to believe it. "We're going to have a baby?"

"Yes, we are." He answers.

"I can't believe you realized before I did." You chuckle. Without a doubt, it's going to become a story that frequently gets retold.

Aaron leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His warm hand rests on your lower stomach, and it suddenly feels very real. "I know you that well." He reminds you. "But I will still be collecting my betting money."

You giggle at him. "I would."

It's probably clear to the team when you and Aaron are late for work, the team likely assuming you're at the doctor's office. The team is already waiting in the conference room, Rossi waving you two in.

"So, who won?" JJ wonders, struggling to curb her enthusiasm.

You share a quick smile with your husband that no one can decipher if you're gloating about winning. "Fortunately... Aaron." You inform them.

Penelope grabs you in a hug first, and you're sure she's crying. Then you're passed around the team for more hugs, sharing delighted looks with Aaron between receiving congratulations.

He's the last person to wrap you in a hug, holding you tightly to his chest. "You're so incredible." He whispers to you. "And I was thinking we could get lobster rolls with my prize money for dinner."

You quickly pull back, shaking your head. "That thought makes me feel nauseous."

His mouth drops before he quickly recovers. "Alright, pickles it is."

You're in your own little world with him until Derek gets your attention. "So, when do we get to bet if it's a boy or girl?"

[chiiyuuvv]

brownie 🍪 s. harua

you came for brownies, not a cute boy behind the register

stranger/barista!harua x fem!reader 0.4k listen to the song!!

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

A sigh leaves harua’s lips as his eyes travel from customer to customer without a care, the back of his fists prompting his chin. Life as a barista is boring when you don’t have any orders to make, the colorful pastries already in their secluded rows after the male finished restocking them. It was until the doorbell chimes when harua’s slouched body straightens, his signature smile and greeting leaving his lips without further thought. “Hello! How can I take your.. order..?” his cheerful attitude turns into an astonished tone, countless blinks leaving his eyes for he has never met anyone so.. beautiful. 

It felt like his breath was taken away once he gazed into your eyes, your bonny smile making his heart pound as he gives you a flustered look in return. “Just a simple brownie, please!” your sweet voice called out, silencing the shy boy as he wordlessly nodded in response. Those brief seconds were the perfect time to observe the boy’s side profile, admiring the way his eyes seemed to sparkle as he tapped on his screen to place your order. The way he wetted his lips, the soft pink glistening under the dim lighting. “Gosh, you’re so handsome,” you mumble to yourself in a vacuous tone, before pausing when you notice how the boy’s body stiffens. “I think I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his neck to avoid your eyes. “The brownies..” he stops to let out a nervous chuckle, “they’re $6.99. Is that all you’re getting?” you hum in response, fishing through your purse to find the cash. Once harua receives the money, he places it into the cash register before grabbing a small bag to put your brownies in. He halts his movements to scribble something on the plastic, feeling a bit bold as he hands you your good. “Have a nice day,” he smiles, which increases once you return it.

As you turn your heel, you look down at your package with great wonder, finding black handwriting in the place of where your name was supposed to be located. “You’re beautiful,” it wrote, your eyes glancing back to the owner of the message. Harua was already looking at you, his smile reaching his eyes as the tips of his ears go red, butterflies swarming in his stomach.

︴bonus! happy birthday harua!! prompt creds here

▸ taglist 📬 @starryriize , @cherrycolaberry

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

[audrey-carr1]

The Heiress and the Lady of the House

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: You are a heiress who has no clue what you are doing with your life. You return to your grandmother's home that you inherited, and you happen to find a job at a familiar mansion. Shenanigans ensue. (Sorry I suck at summaries :P)

warnings: fem!reader, some kissing

Everyone stares in shock at the sight of Hetty catching and holding on to me. Quickly adjusting myself to an upright position, I get back to my feet with Hetty's hand momentarily steadying me. We lock eyes for a moment and murmur a quick "thank you" which Hetty acknowledges with a curt nod. I feel her hand slide down the length of my arm before she places it back at her side.

"Hetty is that your ghost power?" Flower asks

"I hope not, I was surely hoping it was banishing people to Hades," Hetty replies brushing imaginary dirt off of her sleeves.

"Still not funny, Hetty," Trevor says.

Hetty smirks to herself. "Well I guess there's only one way to be sure. Samantha!"

"Yes?" Samantha answers hurrying to Hetty's side. Hetty goes to grab the hand of her niece and is dismayed when her hand goes straight through.

"How can that be?" Hetty asks herself before grabbing my hand again. Hetty's hand doesn't fall through as it did with Sam's. I feel my cheeks grow warm at the touch, and I lightly clear my throat.

Everyone is looking in astonishment before Samantha chimes in.

"Well maybe (y/n) can do more than just see and talk to ghosts."

"You mean I can touch them too?"

"Well you can touch Hetty, and there's only one way to find out it's just limited to her," Pete replies holding out his hand.

I outstretch my own and firmly grasp his in a firm handshake. This cause another eruption of gasps.

"Oh my god, she can touch ghosts!" Alberta squeals and graps my free hand. She begins to admire and play with rings on my fingers.

"Oh, this day can't get any freakier!" Trevor exclaims

"What's with all of the, oh my god did another guest die?! Do we have another ghost on the property?"

"No, not dead," I say waving in his direction.

"Sass, this is (y/n). She is our new employee for the B&B who happens to be able to see you all and apparently can touch ghosts as well," Sam replies.

"Did she fall and hit her head?" Sass asks

"Why is everyone asking if I fell and hit my head? Does that happen a lot around here?" I ask Sam

Before she can answer Thor chimes in, "Only if vase on floor. Always watch your step,"

Over the next six months, I found myself right at home at Woodstone B&B, Sam and Jay often comment that I am a natural at running the business and keeping the ghosts entertained even if I often get involved with their shenanigans. While I've been there Sam and Jay have been able to renovate the basement to add more rooms as well as add a private space for all of the basement ghosts. This also allowed for a spare room to open upstairs, Sam and Jay converted it into a bedroom for whenever I worked overnight shifts.

"(y/n), Jay and I would like to ask you a question," Sam says approaching the front desk.

"I promise, I had nothing to do with Trevor creating more dating profiles. He is way more mischievous than he lets on," I quickly say.

"That is not what we were going to ask, but I'll talk to him about that," Sam says, " We were actually wondering how you felt about being left alone at Woodstone for an extended period. With how well we are doing here, we are thinking of expanding the business."

"Oh wow that's great! How long were you thinking of being gone?"

"4 months!" Jay says raising his fists in the air "Road trip!"

"Oh!" You say in surprise, "That it is a long time."

"We only ask because you seem right at home here, and you wouldn't be entirely by yourself since there is the intern that comes by. The restaurant is closed for renovations until we come back so you only have to worry about the B&B," Jay says trying to reassure me.

"I'm honored that you think that I can handle everything, and I think I'm up to the task. What's the worst that could happen?" I say.

"That is what TV people say before something bad happens," Thor says in passing.

"He has a point," Sam says

Now it's my turn to reassure them. "Nothing is going to happen, I have it all under control," I say.

"Great! We leave next week, and I'll be sure to go over all of the logistics that we usually take over before we leave. Now the only thing left is for me to tell everyone else," Sam says.

The day comes for Sam and Jay to leave, and I can't help but feel a little anxious about being left alone with such a responsibility. Thankfully, the first month has gone splendidly without any hiccups. As the first month draws to a close, I have begun to build strong bonds with the ghosts since I practically live with them now. Now Hetty allows me to watch Bodices and Barons with her, and she doesn't mind that she had to restart the series for me to catch up. Though I've been spending a lot of my time with the main 8, I find that I really enjoy my time with Hetty. We go on walks around the grounds. Surprisingly, Hetty tells me of her life growing up, and I relay stories of my own. Though we have grown up in vastly different time periods we are able to find some common ground. I remember when I mentioned a book that I wanted to read that was years out of print, Hetty surprised me by having Sam look for her original copy and allowing me to have it. Sam watched as Hetty smiled to herself as she watched me examine the book in great detail. Hetty tried to ignore that her heart skipped a beat when I gave her an award-winning smile and hugged her in gratitude.

In addition to building bonds, I discovered that I have more to my power than being able to reciprocate touch with the ghosts. I have found out that if I've touched a touching an item, the ghosts can temporarily use it. This new discovery has me spending time learning and singing songs with Alberta at the piano. Thor teaches me how to hunt with spears, and I help Flower catch butterflies in the mornings and fireflies in the evenings. Pete helps me with my archery, and he is amazed to find that I have a natural talent with a bow and arrow. He helps to set up harder obstacles which in turn helps my "hunts" in the woods with Thor. Sass helps me make homemade pizzas, and Trevor convinces me to invest in stocks.

Trevor and I also spend time playing games on the Nintendo Wii. He's trying to convince me to get a PlayStation so we can both play other sport-related games.

Isaac and I enjoy rewatching and quoting Jurassic Park movies. I recently ordered dinosaur figurines and dioramas for us to put together. We have actually just finished putting together the first dinosaur diorama. After we've talked about the next one to start, he retires to bed once he's sure I've safely put the completed one on the shelf. After he leaves, I ask for the "Alexa" to the orchestral version of "So This is Love" while I clean up the living room. I have yet to put the couch back in its usual place as Twister took up much of my free afternoon since no guests were booked for today. As I down the last bit of wine in my glass, I'm are startled by a voice.

"You seem to be quite at home," Hetty says entering the room.

"Oh dear," I say placing a hand on my chest," Sorry I didn't hear you come in. Do you want me to turn on Bodices and Barons for you? Isaac and I are finished for the night."

"No I'm quite alright, thank you" Hetty responds," I quite enjoy the music you're playing. It reminds me of the parties I used to throw and attend. If there's anything I miss, it's the dancing."

"You dance?" I blurt out quickly, " Sorry, that must be the wine talking. I didn't mean for that to come out as a surprise,"

Hetty smiles to herself, "Dancing and painting were my favorite pastimes."

As I set down my wine glass, I make a mental note to acquire paints, brushes, and canvas for Hetty the next time I go to the store.

"I wish I could dance. I mean I have rhythm, but I've learned how to formally," I tell her.

"Would you like me to teach you?" Hetty asks. Hetty isn't sure why she feels like she's holding her breath while waiting for me to answer. I notice her begin to secretly fidget with her hands.

"I would like that very much," I answer brushing my hands on the skirt of my sundress.

Hetty outstretches her hand and I place mu hand in hers.

"Now place your other hand on my shoulder, and I'll place my hand here," Hetty instructs. I feel her hand lightly touch mu lower back.

Soon Hetty and I effortlessly glide across the room in rhythm. Hetty does not miss a beat as the song changes to "Once Upon A Dream". Hetty continues to guide me through familiar steps occasionally adding new ones while Lana Del Rey's voice fills the room.

"I'm going to spin you now, be ready," Hetty warns.

but if i know you I'll know what you do you'll love me at once the way you did once upon a dream ah ah

Hetty and I giggle as she spins me out and pulls me back into her. Never have I found myself feeling so at peace with someone else. Hetty had expected you to be slightly clumsy after the wine, but she is amazed that you've managed to keep your wits about yourself.

"Fantastically done, (y/n). You are not a poor student after all," Hetty teases.

"And you are not a poor teacher either," I tease back. I look up from my feet to meet Hetty's gaze.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

I feel my heart flutter while we hold each other's gaze. I've been this close to Hetty before, but I've never noticed that she smells of bergamot and white tea. If it weren't for the wine, I'd be intoxicated by her scent alone. I feel Hetty pull in a little closer, her thumb stroking the small of my back.

But if I know you, I know what you'll do You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream

Our faces inch closer together, our lips almost touching when we hear Isaac begin to speak.

"(y/n), do you-," He watches Hetty and I quickly break apart "Am I interrupting something?”

Hetty wants so desperately to say yes, but she shakes her head no. She doesn't trust her words to not come out with a hint of irritation.

"Hetty was teaching me to dance," I glance towards Hetty to see her messing with the white collar of her dress. I'm almost certain I saw blush creep on her cheeks, but I blame my vision on the wine.

"I just wanted to ask if you knew how many guests we were expecting this week,"

"I'm not sure off the top of my, but I can for sure tell you in the morning," I tell him. Satisfied with that answer, Isaac bids us both good night and leaves.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll retire as well," Hetty says turning to leave. I quickly grab her hand and she turns her head towards me, her eyes slightly wide in surprise at the gesture.

" Thank you for the dance, Hetty." I rush out unsure of what else to say. I do know that I just want a few more uninterrupted moments with her.

She squeezes my hand before saying, "You are very welcome my dear."

I quickly stand on the tips of my toes to place a kiss on Hetty's cheek. Before I can fully turn away, she spins me into her and kisses me once and then twice. Her hands cup the sides of mu face before pulling me in closer at the waist.

Hetty almost forgetting you're living, is the first to break apart to give you air, and she smirks as she hears you whimper at the loss. Hetty begins to admire her handiwork. How your lips are swollen and wet, and your eyes are still shut in a state of bliss. She reaches up and brushes her thumb across them. She presses one last chaste kiss to my lips.

"Good night, my dear," Hetty purrs in my ear before leaving me in the middle of the room breathless and stunned.

-END of Part 2-

A/N: I have rewritten this part so many times. Sorry for getting your hopes up about a Hetty ghost power! I'm not sure I want to give her one since hers is still unknown. But if I do I need to give her a kick-ass power, so I need time to think. See y'all in part 3!

[gabessquishytum]

Sorry for a non-horny request lol, but I am going crazy with this idea. This is not exactly romantic but it's upto you if you want to make it such.

Warning: major character death

Morpheus de Endless, is a grumpy old man, who has a number of health issues. He also happens to be a best selling author of all time but he does have some controversies surrounding him, most notedly his high profile divorce with a famous artist with whom he had a son but the baby died only a year later. It is said that Mr. De Endless excused himself from his public life after this incident, still that didn’t stop him from suffering a lot under Rodrick Burgess in whose publishing company he worked. Now, at the age of 65, Morpheus de Endless is an isolated man who only lets his doctor visit him once a week.

And then, his family decides that he needs a caretaker. A decision Morpheus absolutely hates because he can take care of himself, but still a care taker is hired. On Monday morning, a young man, probably in his late 20s or early 30s comes to his mansion and takes on all the responsibilities with ease. He is incharge of all the medicines, food (though Morpheus barely eats, taking Morpheus to parks to feed the birds and other things.

Morpheus doesn't like this new man, but he cannot argue with his elder sister about it anymore so he just settles on grumply leaving left over food on his plate or intentionally not having medicines.

Meanwhile, Hob is astonished by this man. It was as if a 10 year old lived in the body of a 60 something man. And Hob was trying really hard to make Mr. De Endless take care of himself, to keep himself alive. Because Hob knew, in fact on the first glance he knew, that Morpheus de Endless didn’t want to live anymore. So he tries his best.

Then one day, he blows up on Mr. De Endless, shouting that the man should at least try to look on the brighter side, to at least maintain a schedule instead of killing his body slowly everyday. And Morpheus understands miraculously. He doesn't like it, but to just make Hob’s job easier he improves his habits a bit. From here, things start getting easier, Morpheus genuinely enjoyes his trip to the park with Hob and even those conversations in the silence of the night in the comfort of his home office where Hob tells him about a family he had lost long ago and in return Morpheus tells him about his son, whom he dearly misses.

Now, here, either we can go for happy ending, or a bitter-sweet one. Personally I am all for some bitter-sweet cake so here we go: one morning, Morpheus wakes up and steals Hob’s bicycle. He has a camera with him which he used a lot in his youth and he uses it now after years to capture the beauty of modern London. He had not explored London like this in 20 years and his heart is full for the first time after losing his child. He also uses a pay phone to call his younger brother who lives in a separate country and they have a heartfelt conversation.

Then he returns home at evening only to be reprimanded by Hob and his elder sister for disappearing like that but Morpheus honestly doesn't mind. When the next morning Hob checks up on him he finds Morpheus dead in his bed. Of course a whole day of cycling for a man with heart conditions is bad news. But he did leave a letter behind for Hob, thanking him for making his last days better than ever.

Ah, thank you for sharing this with me!! It's such a sweet story. I really do love the idea of Hob being this positive spark in Morpheus’s life. He's retreated in on himself, grown used to being alone and become a little resentful of a world that doesn't seem to want him. Then Hob comes in with his stories, his gentle routine and his all around youthfulness. Morpheus finds it annoying: Hob is loud, careless, a little selfish. But then one day Hob has him sit down and flick through his old photos. And Morpheus recollects that he was also once loud, careless and selfish when he was young. He starts cutting Hob some slack, and Hob in turn also becomes more patient. He learns not to be frustrated by Morpheus’s moods, to be kind instead. They find things in common instead of bickering. Sometimes Hob stays the night with Morpheus and they talk about everything, or just fall asleep together. There's love between them now, and it really doesn't matter what kind of love. They both needed it.

Poor Hob. Losing Morpheus is so unexpected, because he was sure that despite his frailty he would live a little longer. He could have had 20 years. Hob sits with the birds and just cries and cries because he loves Morpheus so much and they barely even had a year together.

But he has the camera, and that evidence of Morpheus’s last day. Pictures of strangers and buildings and pigeons. They all mean so much and they're bursting with love. Hob will hang onto those. And he's not sure if and when, but one day he'll hold Morpheus’s hand again, and they'll look at the pictures together.

[24hrsoda]

I suppose this is a Ra's headcanon in a way! I also see Ra's as super tall!

He's a grumbler. People ask what he said, and he'll just wide-eyed those people.

I always saw him as a good man who went over the moral deep-end because of time. Like the whole 'I'd never want to live forever' sentiments don't exist for him. He's already had to have loved and lost endlessly. He's watched the world go through so many era, inventions. And he's seen all the death and corruption. And it's naturally easier to remember the bad than the good.

He has a BOOMING laugh! If you can manage to get him to laugh, he will rattle the room! Ra's laugh rubbed off a little onto Bruce back when. Scared poor Alfred half to death!

Ra's is a foodie! He loves a good cooked meal from a genuinely good cook! He loves all the way food has evolved over time, the different flavor profiles, and oh, don't get him started on 'way back when, there was no such thing as a 'shelf stable milk.' Milk is dairy, it must be kept cold! Talia, I am telling you, shelf stable milk is revolutionary! Tell me, daughter, has the purchasing of refrigerator milk skewed lower than-'

Dork!!! This guy, much like Bruce, is a dork/lovingly. Time makes you learn a looot if things. And Ra's is astonished by inventions, unfortunately he uses them also to try to better the world by horrible means, but he will also nerd out over learning about them. 'Talia, daughter, I have the best idea for our cause! This-! Hoho, this is a radio that allows someone to hear you from the other side! It's-!' 'A mobile phone? Yes, I am aware. Good lu-' 'No more telegraphing other bases, Morse code, messengers dying on the way. I just pick this up, extend the antenna, and-'

Always fabulous~! He has a GREAT fashion sense! Look at those locks! This man knows how to work that 1000's hair! Several centuries of fashion will lead you down the runway!

This got SO LONG, I apologize! [*Fades through the wall*]

~JasonTodd'sGhost 👻

You have fed me so well.

[xxmarcxline]

001 - THE GETAWAY CAR - “enchanted!”

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

ENCHANTED MASTERLIST!

By no means do I support R*wling’s biased views! This profile is meant to be a safe space promoting escapism <3

TW: none ( although, please feel free to message me if you believe i missed some!! )

THE WEASLEYS’ FLYING CAR LET OUT A distant honk that broke the quiet of the woodland night. It drew your gaze off the several critters that chittered in annoyance as you set your sights on the sudden brightness from the other side of your window.

For two months—two months too long, Harry Potter had given you and everyone else no sign of life. He had yet to reply to any of the mountains of letters you, Ron, and Hermione had sent over the eight weeks that had passed.

That day at King’s Cross Station, he had asked everyone to keep in touch over the summer, that everyone (he not-so-subtly turned specifically to you, Hermione and Ron affirmed upon exchanging a silent gaze) remember to send their owls and exchange letters about everything and nothing at all. And that had been exactly what you did—that was the case for three of you, at least.

At first, golden boy’s silence had been, what you believed, was but a delay of Hedwig’s travel. Godric knows that poor owl would lack nutrition in a madhouse like the Dursleys. But as weeks, and eventually, months went by, all three of you had grown all the more concerned, eventually evoking this ingenious escapade.

“You have got to be joking!” you breathed, jaw slack in awe as you tugged your window open. “Please tell me at least one of you has a clue about what you’re doing. . .”

The redheads simply grinned, exchanging a humorous look between them, as though a joke had been told and you were the only one who lacked its context. Ron was leaning out of the back window of the old turquoise blue car, which was parked in midair.

“Stupid question,” he scoffed in amusement. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t, now would we?” His tone was almost incredulous as you stared at the three brothers, eyes blown wide and locks going a shade of bright blue and lilac.

The near-silent squeaks from the top of your head drew everyone’s attention to the little bowtruckle that had climbed from its original place on your shoulder. “Oh, ‘ello Bowie!”

The said creature only chittered angrily. Unlike your puffskein and that troublesome owl, Hermes, Bowie hadn’t been as pleased with the thought of sharing you. Having been present from when you were but a babe wrapped in blankets and to this day, stood in a sweater and trousers before the open windowsill, he has grown in your company and become an extension of you; leaving your side for Hogwarts had not been a choice, as he snuck into your pockets, just as he had every time you left the cottage.

“I was under the impression that we’d be flying there—”

“Exactly what we’re doing—” The twin sat in the driver’s seat (you believed it to be Fred) interjected dumbly.

“I meant on our brooms, you idiots!”

To that, they exchanged a baffled glance. To think they wondered how you’d known about their illegal flying contraption.

“Never you mind,” Ron shook his head, “Now come on! We’re burning moonlight!”

You only gazed at them for a moment more. It was an astonishing, and admittedly impressive sight. Without a thought of self-preservation, you climbed aboard the flying contraption, not a care in the world for the ground that promised great risk fifteen feet below you.

As the car took off and you glanced to where your father stood, waving you goodbye, you couldn’t help but fear that this would be the last you would see such a sight. While you trusted your friends deeply, you hadn’t a clue if your life was truly all that safe in their fumbling hands.

“You wouldn’t happen to have some form of insurance, would you?” you gazed at Ron’s elder twin brothers, who grinned at you from over their shoulders. “And what the bloody hell is that supposed to be, little Miss Mood Ring?”

To that, you could only sigh, gazing down with pursed lips as Bowie moved to hide within your sweater’s pocket.

This was going to be a particularly long night.

Time passed rather quickly for the four Gryffindors, blanketed from Muggle eyes by the car’s invisibility feature.

Meanwhile, at number four, Privet Drive, Harry Potter dreamed he was on show, in a zoo, with a card reading ‘UNDERAGE WIZARD’ attached to his cage. People goggled through the bars at him as he lay, starving and weak, on a bed of straw. He saw Dobby, the house elf from earlier in the crowd, and shouted out, asking for help, but Dobby called, “Harry Potter is safer there, sir!” and vanished. Then, he saw you, effortlessly pretty with your bowtruckle atop your head as always, gliding through the crowd unbothered, clueless of his struggle. He wanted to call out to you, beg for you to save him, when the Dursleys appeared and Dudley rattled the bars of the cage, mocking his pleas.

“Stop it,” Harry muttered as the rattling pounded in his sore head. “Leave me alone. . . cut it out. . . Please. . .” your name spilled his lips as he muttered in his sleep.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on his window. And someone—rather, a pair of familiar faces were giggling through the bars at him: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone alongside the very face he had subconsciously conjured and yearned to see again.

Ron Weasley and [Y/N] Black-Lupin were outside Harry’s window.

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@mythicalmo @jjsblueberry @edmundstxrch

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[avesmonster]

let's talk about KEPLER i have a theory that he got the eccentric half of his personality from jacobi. because he acts totally different depending on who he's talking to. first of all:

the way cutter says this implies that kepler never jokes around with them. he's like "YOU'VE got to be kidding cause that's nothing like kepler at all" even though we've all heard kepler tell that fuckign pig joke and also just about everything else he says in s3

and we know he's scared of cutter (this is when the sol manifests out of nothign)

and that he's ALWAYS been scared of cutter. throwback to kansas

so it makes sense he wouldn't be all silly goofy around Scary Man Number One (he also doesn't seem to be very unafraid of pryce. not even rachel is unafraid of pryce but that's a different topic). so he's only silly when he's COMFORTABLE...... and that said i'll circle back around to this later

first thing with jacobi i wanna point out is that he was the one who taught kepler questions only. which seems to be the best thing that has ever happened to kepler why is he so enthused about this game

and then at the end of no complaints

this really makes it sound like jacobi pranks kepler all the time but it's totally unthinkable that Kepler would ever prank him back. Jacobi is so astonished by this (and idk what the Duck Thing was but. whatever it is it apparently wasn't a prank)

anyway it would make sense that jacobi plays around at work a lot because. his profile literally says he does

and kepler seems to highly value this trait of jacobi's. first by enjoying his sarcasm and then when he tells eiffel that jacobi is a smart man for telling eiffel to lighten up

and all the way up to dirty work, kepler is his usual silly and irritating self. even when he's taken captive and down a hand, he keeps joking around. and playing twenty questions with people. and overall being a smug little jackass

until... dirty work happens. and something shifts in kepler. something MAJOR because once jacobi turns on him, his whole demeanor and brain chemistry changes in under 24 hours

he's completely serious after this. he has a few bantery lines but otherwise, he's all business, and he's SCARED, and he's not interested in joking around with anyone anymore. he's stuck pretending to be on cutter's side and that means he has to act NORMAL--apparently his "normal" doesn't include being a silly little man

and like,, he honest to god didn't think jacobi was upset with him. which is a whole other thing i could talk about but for the purposes of this argument, it really is the Exact Moment that he realizes he lost jacobi's support that his personality makes the shift. when he still THOUGHT jacobi was on his side, even after getting his ass kicked by everyone on the station and bob, after being completely humiliated he STILL acts smug and unserious. like i cannot overstate the shift that happens in this man during dirty work i really can't

so going back to kansas. which is the only scene we have of him before he met jacobi. he was very rigid, nervous, and angry. and that's ALL he was. also

he's just a man who wants to be taken seriously. apparently

which,, the life he built came at a pretty ridiculously steep cost. so yeah, i guess he WOULD want to be taken seriously. it's not like he has anything else

he's an empty shell. he's a manipulator, too--he knows how imitate people around him to make them comfortable. He emulates Cutter to the point of making his job his whole personality. It's not out of the question that he would pick up some personality traits from jacobi, the man who's been glued to his side for six years. especially when he's around jacobi and he's having fun. jacobi likes having fun!! so kepler can do that too!! he can imitate people and be just like a real boy!!

going back to no complaints once more, kepler is all business that whole time. other than when he gets really excited about questions only. and of course when it was revealed it was all a prank--even then he didn't do any kind of big reveal, he just?? "Yes I Pranked You" RIGID. happy though :) and that was only one year into knowing each other. he likes the games jacobi taught him and he liked playing that prank and he liked planning a,, frankly EXCESSIVE first anniversary party with his subordinate but i digress, he's still kinda flat in no complaints but it seems like he's having a bit of a shift?? he's having fun with jacobi. he doesn't have fun with anyone else--not really, not when jacobi isn't somewhere in the same building and on his side

and since jacobi has a whole philosophy about "work shouldn't be separate from play," it's implied that he plays pranks on kepler, and implied that he's always getting into trouble--idk, to me it really feels like kepler absorbed some of jacobi's personality over the years. for funsies <3

thanks for coming to my kepler talk he's all i ever think about