#I love using bright colors especially in dark scenery

[gentlekami]

神に反逆する. .

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Omg, we need a emma d'arcy x fem reader! Pleaseee!!!

Let me help you here

Emma D'arcy x fem!reader

warning : fluff, flirting, comfort, nicknames, no use of Y/n, i really hope emma is not too ooc, i hope all pronouns are right

Summary : The latest season of House of the Dragon is about to start and final filming is underway. Emma as the Queen Rhaenyra finds themself in a quiet scene with a fellow actor and the two need some help from each other getting dressed…professionally of course.

info : normally i don't write for actors but i feel comfortable with it so i hope you like it anon and emma looks like the queen herself too. have fun reading ;)

ps : I love the gif not only a queen but Ewan in the background so sweet

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The acting group needed for the scene had already gathered at the slightly unfinished set. The lights over there were sometimes bright, sometimes dark, with a wide variety of flares and lanterns, some lit with real flames, of course, and some with no real light.

The sets, as you all knew, served mainly as backgrounds for the actors and for the special effects specialists as the big screen which, in addition to the scenery and the actors and props, brought them all to life, giving them that fantasy look.

The large set the hall of Dragonstone went almost to the ceiling thick walls some with steel thickness some finely crafted with foam served as a set. It was really impressive to see how they did it all thought the young actress and let her gaze wander only briefly knowing that the camera was still on her co-worker Matt who was discussing the war plans as Daemon as he had learned.

Especially in the final edit when they had all watched the greasy series together, it was really nice to be back. The camera on the table moved around it again from Matt to her as Daemon looked at the Nachirhct's delivery. ,,Be assured the sea route is supported by Lord Manderly. This also goes out to your ships Lord Corlys your safety is our concern" she said her sentence as scripted letting her eyes wander over the sea route and nodded to Matt and Steve in their roles as Daemond and Corlys who also gave her a nod and thanks before the camera panned back.

It was a few lines she had played a newsbringer a high lady from the lake house as she had done a little research on the internet and even read a little blood and fire. A really good book.

But then she knew her cue when it became quiet at the table and the guards could be heard announcing in loud voices on the set that a queen was arriving. Instead of the short hair, Emma's head was adorned with a long, light-colored wig, which made their face slightly pale, but the expression Simply incredible she thought and looked at the older one who Matt then placed next to her around the table.

There was silence as everyone looked at the Queen, who looked at the card with a broken look of hatred and after another shaky breath gave a determined ,,I will…Aemond Targaryen" everyone lingered like that for a moment before there was a loud ,,Cut!" and a clap was heard and everyone fell out of their roles. Immediately there was talk and laughter, and everyone was curious to see what the scene would look like, ,,What a cute curtsy my lady," she heard Emma say as they came over to her and mimicked the movement, making them both smile.

,,So much training," the younger one mumbled, pretending to strain before D'arcy took the younger one's arm and pulled her along, ,,Nice to see you having fun and everyone going so well," the taller one began, giving her an assuring look.

It was only a small role and she had been in a few smaller TV series here and there, but it was still something completely different, it was really exciting to be around movie legends and such good actors.

A possibility she really appreciated…and maybe she appreciated Emma even more. The English actor was really impressive, even though they only played a few roles, but the expression, the voice and just everything about D'arcy was engaging and so captivating.

,,Everyone take a break, later we might do a post-production but until then you can get out of your costumes!" they heard the head of the costume department say and most of the actors went straight to the dressing rooms and Emma to the caravans.

This time, however, the younger one, who was only a supporting role, was about to say goodbye when the older one took her hand again and pulled her along. ,,I promised you I'd have a Negroni Sbagliato with you, come on, sweetie," they said and before she knew it they were actually in the actor's cozy caravan. Yes, they had made that promise after they realized on the first day they had met that they had not only gone back to the same acting school but had also run into each other more often than they wanted to.

From auditions, to plays and in real life it was almost romance ripe. ,,So with Orange without?" they asked, still standing at the small bar in their full outfits, which made the younger ones smile, ,,As the Queen takes him, so do I," she demanded with a look that went over the actor's body. The dress and the coat and the hair it was so impressive to see how versatile Emma could be.

But she had noticed the younger girl's stare, not just the little smirk on her lips, but when she turned to her and put the drink in her hand, their fingers deliberately touched and Emma let them touch. There seemed to be something between the two of them.

She had often invited Emma to her small but pleasant apartment and they had spent the evenings doing all sorts of things. In return, Emma sometimes invited her to extraordinary restaurants or something, it was like a friendship, even if some of the looks went deeper.

The two of them talked for a while about the costumes and the stunts with the "dragons", how exhausting and yet beautiful it was. She had watched D'acry do some of the flying toes and it looked incredible. ,,I'm glad to see you're enjoying it so much…you see I knew it would do you good not to give up now that we're here together," Emma winked and stood up after taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage before turning around and standing with their back to the younger one.

,,I can get the wig off by myself, but would you mind taking off the dress?" the actor asked and the younger girl jumped at the sight of a slightly rapid heartbeat, slightly sweaty palms and suddenly the alcohol was pounding much harder than usual. ,,Gladly for you-I mean, of course I'll help," she mumbled, stammering, and slowly began to help the taller girl out of her jacket, the smell of Chinoto Dark's citrusy, smoky scent enveloping her now that it had settled on her skin.

She liked the scent strong and yet slightly sweet because of the hint of lemon it was really something nice. ,,All good sweetie?" came the voice of the older one who turned slightly and looked at the younger one who was still holding the jacket in her hand ,,Yes-yes all good" she shrugged and felt the warmth on her cheeks.

Pull yourself together, you're not a schoolgirl anymore, she admonished herself and put the coat away before tying the dress, but she heard the slight smirk and Emma's words, ,,Don't be nervous, you're just undressing the queen," Emma joked, giving her a wink. A wink that only made the younger girl's heart beat faster.

Maybe it was Emma's intention, maybe it was the actor's style, or maybe it was just for fun. Who knew, but as her fingers tightened on the laces, the taller actress held still and let her friend do her thing, stepping out of the dress before reaching for a robe.

The back was nicely defined by the light muscles, not just for acting, the underwear a quick glance and her cheeks almost got hotter. ,,You were a grateful help, sweetie," Emma said, standing in front of the younger girl, they towered over her with their height in addition to the boots.

Her wispy dark blonde hair was slightly tousled and she had to resist tousling it and greenish eyes were looking at her. But then suddenly D'acry reached for her hand and brought it to her lips, placed a grateful kiss on it and seemed about to continue. The moment deepened and the younger girl clung to the fabric of the robe, fearful of falling over in devotion, when a ringing from her cell phone threw her off balance.

,,Fuck," she muttered with a determined look and Emma just smiled again. She picked it up, ,,I'm um what-yes of course-yes I'm on my way," she mumbled as the voice of the debriefing leader at the other end called for her to go over the script again when a few changes were made.

Sighing, she gathered her things and had forgotten all about the actor when Emma held her lightly again, ,,I'll wait here honey," Emma winked and gave one last kiss on the hand before she let the younger actor out of the caravan with an embarrassed look, knowing that something was finally going to happen, just a dance of the actors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Backstage Story Translation - Sakyo Furuichi SSR - Today’s Star: Nine - Part 3

nine is from stranger on the way to paradise! you can read a translation of its event story on yaycupcake ( + the page for the play itself)

Izumi: (It all starts in the laboratory’s culture fluids.)

Izumi: (In the pitch black darkness, amidst the sounds of water, people talking and other difficult to discern sounds can be heard.)

Nine (Sakyo): “Why do I know… what this sound is…”

???: << Nine… Nine… >>

Nine: “A woman…?”

Nine: “Even though I don’t know this voice, it’s nostalgic and gentle…”

Izumi: (As he tries to hold onto the voice that keeps him from awakening, Nine is forcibly pulled from his slumber.)

[Nine’s eyes open]

Nine: “Ugh… It’s bright.”

Nine: “Are these… plants…?”

Dom (Banri): “They’re fake.”

Nine: “Fake?”

Dom: “They’re replicas based on ancient documentation.”

Dom: “Quite the lookers, aren’t they? One day you— your body, that is— will bring that beautiful greenery back to life.”

-

Izumi: (Nine spends day in and day out being experimented on. That day, the experiments were long and arduous, and he let out a sigh…)

Nine: “*sigh*…”

Nine: “All I’ve done today was fail. I don’t know what success they’re looking for. I’m just repeating the same failure. Yesterday, today, tomorrow too.”

Nine: “I’ve gotten used to both this pain and the suffering.”

Nine: “Even my emotions that didn’t exist in the first place have died.”

Nine: “The world outside the windows remains barren, with no greenery to be found. This scenery hasn’t changed for a long time now.”

Nine: “The only thing outside is this view of sand and rocks that stretches out as far as my eyes can see.”

[Flashback starts]

Nine: “Haah, haah…”

Dom: “A failure after all, huh.”

Dom: “I thought you’d be able to save us.”

Nine: “——”

[Flashback ends]

Nine: “If I had known the world was in such a state, I’d have never woken up.”

Nine: “A world in such a state isn’t even worth saving—”

-

Izumi: (In the pitch black darkness, Nine despairs as he realizes he has once again woken up in this world.)

Researcher A: “Ohh! A success.”

Researcher B: “This came from Nine’s genes.”

Dom: “Ten… No, she’s Zero.”

[Nine’s eyes open]

Izumi: (Upon hearing those words, Nine lifts his heavy eyelids.)

Izumi: (A red-haired girl sleeps in one of the other capsules…)

Zero (Taichi): “…”

Nine: “Ze… ro…?”

Dom: “You can tell? Well, I guess that makes sense.”

Dom: “Your genes were used to create her, so she’s like your daughter in a way.”

Nine: “Zero, Zero.”

Zero: “…”

Nine: “…”

Nine: “I don’t know about being father and child.”

Nine: “But I wonder… What color are her eyes? What does her voice sound like?”

Nine: “I want to look into her eyes. I want to hear her voice.”

Nine: “But please, please… Don’t wake up just yet.”

Nine: “Zero. My sweet daughter that was born to save this world. You don’t have to know about it just yet.”

Nine: “… Sweet dreams, Zero.”

-

Sakyo: …

Izumi: …

Izumi: (Sakyo-san has been silent ever since we started watching the video, but he seems satisfied with the result.)

Izumi: … It’s a lovely story.

Izumi: Nine doesn’t know anything at first, but as he begins to understand the world and his mission, his expressions change.

Izumi: I especially liked your acting when Nine was talking to Zero, you really managed to express the complexity of both his adoration and despair.

Sakyo: I thought that was the most important part of the play.

Sakyo: I came up with an acting plan based on what Nanao had told me about focusing on the parts of the role I find most important.

Izumi: What were those parts, Sakyo-san?

Sakyo: That’d be the part where Nine realizes he too is a lone human.

Sakyo: Why would he get caught up in an explosion to protect Zero at the end of the story, when he worked so damn hard to fulfill the mission he was born to carry out?

Sakyo: I thought that this might have been because he acknowledged that Zero is his daughter.

Sakyo: I thought that only by being placed in the shoes of a father would Nine realize that, even though he is a created being, he’s a “human”.

Sakyo: I’m sure the reason why he protected Zero was because he loved her, and because he acted the way a human would.

Sakyo: That’s how I interpreted it, at least.

Izumi: (I can’t believe he thought about it so much… Sakyo-san really is amazing.)

Izumi: (But the reason he’s able to act this out must be because… Sakyo-san himself knows what that love is.)

Izumi: Sakyo-san, could I ask you to tell me more about that?

Sakyo: Heh… Can’t say no to that.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

[goldenbat]

Some of my favorite UPGs I have for Lucifer:

1. He has white wings, as a form of protection, he covers me with his wings quite often

2. Whenever he vaguely showed himself to me, he didn’t wear any clothing, but just a robe around his waist

3. He put a candle crown on my head, he generally often shows me candles during meditation, or general flames

4. he showed me swans through meditation once, so this is an association too, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around why exactly yet tho

5. He is a very radiant, bright ball of light with rays of light shining out of him, sort of

6. Color associations I’ve had with him are anything golden, especially clouds & dark blue sort of light,, also a bit of purple, depends on the image or scenery

7. He is the morning star, so obviously stars are something I associate with him, but he has also shown me himself represented as a bright, golden-like star some times

8. He often shows his presence through rainbow shining lights; like the pictures I’ve taken.

9. He has a very good sense of humour & loves when I make TikTok’s that revolve around him, especially if they’re funny

10. his wings have different colors depending on what he uses them for; he has white for protection & when he’s like embracing me with them; black as they usually are; & golden in a state of unification

11. his hair is curly and dark but it has a sort of red brown color which also depends, sometimes it’s more red; sometimes more brown

12. The animal that resembles him the most are goats (black,,, sometimes white too)

13. his season is definitely spring & his month is so definitely March

[stillness138]

Since there won't be any more expansions (and i'm a chronic procrastinator), i updated my personal top 10 Gwent card arts into a top 20, including the few sets that came since then and shuffling things around a bit.

It's a long one, hence the cut.

Personal top 20 Gwent card arts:

20: Bone Talisman by Bogna Gawrońska It's still the most festive looking thing i like. My beloved blue-and-bright red fidget spinner. I really can't explain my weird attachment to it any other way; i generally tend to like the item arts, maybe it's the collector brain, maybe it's because after Homecoming and most of the expansion sets since later 2019 onwards, these base set trinket adjacent arts became more prominent to me among a lot of new, more dramatic and bleak character and scenery art.

19: Ceremonial Dagger by Katarzyna Bekus The entire set of strategem arts from Merchants of Ofir is honestly packed, but the dagger is the one i found myself putting in my in-game profile the most. Maybe it's the item hoarder brain again, maybe it's the color scheme i find relatable if that makes sense, most likely it's the premium helping a bunch to make that choice too. The background weirdly fascinates me. Does it have anything to do with The Spiral? I have never attempted to really assign any logical meaning to the strategem arts, they're clearly more symbolic than anything, but it still makes you wonder.

18: Ard Gaeth by Katarzyna Bekus Somewhat related, here's another piece of wonky multiverse lore. And once again, it's the color that first grabs attention; the contrast of teal and this dusty red. Then one starts realizing the implied size and scope, the birds help with that, apart from being a cute composition detail. The shattery effect makes it look volatile, unstable, dangerous. Ominous. Which ultimately makes it fit with the rest of the Wild Hunt archetype in more than just lore.

17: Coup de Grâce by Lorenzo Mastroianni There are two wolves in me, one loves bright colors, the other actually enjoys a lot of the bleaker scenes. Although to be fair, Lorenzo Mastroianni is a big contributor to that. And it's no wonder, when he casually drops stuff like this. It's almost symbolic, lot less than strategems but certainly more than other, straightforward "war sucks" Gwent art. How do you visually represent something sad in a way that makes it hard to look away not just because of the tragedy but because of the beauty put into making that image? You ask Lorenzo Mastroianni, the modern classical artist, to do it.

16: Viper Witcher by Valeriy Vegera I once described Valeriy's art as "where Lorenzo uses a tight color palette, he uses every pencil in the case". This one is perhaps not as obvious an example, the whole piece has a very unified atmosphere especially from afar, but still, there are so many colors especially in textiles and skin. They're harder to register sometimes but it's how Valeriy does texture and shading. And somehow, he bridges the bleak and the colorful world too. Admittedly, this card also had to be here because mr. Viper is my son, and the voicelines are done by an actor with the nicest, smoothest bass i've heard since Peter Steele.

15: Naglfar's Crew by Anton Nazarenko I was surprised by how much i ended up liking this one. It's the implications, i think; enchanted to laboriously upkeep this monster of a ship, this 'and if you see it emerge from a breach in the sky, you know you're fucked' symbol of death and decay. It's dark in a way i find compelling, i guess.

14: Serpent Trap by Marta Dettlaff Back to the bright ones, i liked this art ever since i discovered it as Nature's Gift in post-Midwinter beta. The card saw play in Scoia'tael spell decks, and to me it became linked to Francesca Findabair for their shared spectral snake thing. But that all aside, the art is just so pretty. Vibrant, yet not oversaturated. And like the item arts, needed to balance out the cool and badass and the dramatic and tragic. Looking at it now, another point comes to mind; it's still grounded? The way Gwent art at large is grounded compared to other card games. Like it's not trying so hard (both this piece and the game's art in general). That's refreshing.

13: Chort by Bartłomiej Gaweł It reminds me of the first game's main menu. The Witcher 1 main menu is, to me, one of the most accurate representations of this universe, its atmosphere. Even if the "you kill cows, you get ambushed by the fucking baphomet" is a meme game mechanic, something about it is...witchery. Superstition, folk legends, and ultimately, monsters. Or that's my takeaway, anyway. But the Chort art, beside being on the more rare side in-game, has always weirdly drawn me in.

12. Oneiromancy by Lorenzo Mastroianni This was the Novigrad expansion key art before they turned it into a card, and i sure am glad they did. Lorenzo can get a bit weird, as a treat, someone said. Are they Condwiramurs and Corinne? Possibly! But i'll abstain from the schizo theories now. It's a gorgeous, well composed and executed surrealist piece. Inception if it had strong palpable atmosphere.

Denis Villeneuve > Christopher Nolan. but Lorenzo beats both

11: Funeral Boat by, you guessed it, Lorenzo Mastroianni One final yippee for the last card set. And my god it's beautiful. Tight composition can get surprisingly hard to coordinate and make decisions for, but this is so well-balanced. The left end of the boat is closer to the frame, but right side has the most noticeable color, the character's face, and of course the bird to even it out. As if to defend the title i gave him earlier, Lorenzo references Isle of the Dead in a way that, even if symbolic, fits into the universe perfectly. Someone stop me before i start rambling about similar concepts in different mythologies.

10: Dana Méadbh (now the token spawned by Call of Harmony) by Anna Podedworna The most famous Gwent artist enters the list. With a piece made around two, when you think about it very bold choices. The goddess of nature and life, glowing with inhuman light in a black and barren forest. Obscured by thin, bare tree trunks. But to make her emerge and stand out, that was necessary. And it's working wonders. A lot of the Scoia'tael faction is obviously green, all kinds of green, but even a simple choice like making it pop out of black makes the card art stand out among others.

9: Circle of Life by Oleksandr Kozachenko It has everything i usually look for in Gwent art; nature, color, atmosphere. A certain tranquility, perhaps. A little bit of story - the orange badge is the Kerack coat of arms. It's that environmental storytelling thing gamers keep talking about, complementing the character and faction drama of the rest of its card set.

There's a slightly changed, extended version, too, and somehow it's even better.

8: Gezras of Leyda by Bogdan Rezunenko As much as i tend to dunk on Bogdan for having played Blasphemous once and making it his entire personality, Gezras is easily the best school founder card art of the set. Once again, the choice to have these prominent arts on the more symbolic side paid off, and the result is a stalking nocturnal animal out for revenge, backed by a giant image of what simultaneously did him irrepairable harm and gave him the means to defend himself. The premium doesn't disappoint either.

7: Rioghan the Undying by Daniel Valaisis To nobody's surprise, the atmosphere, once again, got me hooked. I love the cold color, the dramatic flow, the big imposing silhouette of a ship in the background. Poor boy is the picture of misery. It's pure melancholy (something not that common in the Skellige faction by the way, which is a point in favor of Funeral Boat too), that i, of course, am inevitably drawn to.

he's just like me fr...

6: Witches' Sabbath by Michal Lisowski Did i craft this card already or not? The realist's complaint towards near-greyscale card art. I share this sentiment, if only for the comedy of it, but with a few notable exceptions, and this piece is the main one. The Robert Eggers comparisons were made already i'm sure, but it really is a take on the last good Witcher 3 quest with a dramatic, more dreamy, or you could say cinematic quality ramped up to 11. Gone is the fanservice present in the game and the unnecessarily grotesque depictions of fatness of other parts of this card set, and what remains is a beautiful, ominous callback to folklore and classical art.

5: Tinboy by Valeriy Vegera This is a baroque painting. The drama. Tinboy doesn't take that scarf off, ever. And here this poor soul is, their last will to live dragging it off him. On purpose? On accident? Probably both. The pattern marking Tinboy as a gang member staining with blood of a victim, something something symbolism. All in Valeriy's signature 'which pencil should i pick up next' style. Underrated piece.

4: Lara Dorren by Toni Muntean They finally got our girl. And once again, despite heartbreak, it's gorgeous. Soft, sweet colors with a necessary hint of melancholy (the lighting suggests it's sunset?), and a pure, painted quality without the need for texture assets. A scene like this is better left a comparatively simple and laid back tribute. Beyond the technicalities, i also really, really applaud Toni for the outfit design. This is the Aen Elle princess, dressed well but for the weather. And the fact her mostly blue clothes with yellow sleeves mirror Cregennan's yellow jerkin with blue details, and her red brooch above the heart might, beside contrasting with the blue, very well reflect his fatal wounds... well. As much as death on card art isn't always done the best, Lara is represented together with that which mattered to her the most. Despite being categorized among the Wild Hunt, she remains herself.

3: Lydia van Bredervoort by Igor Klymenko The joy i felt when this was the art of Lydia they managed to get into the game. It's easily one of the best contest pieces and on par with the best Gwent has to offer - it has mood, and that ever present air of groundedness, realism, and in that, unfortunate tragedy. But similarly to Lara, it shows Lydia being her own person; doing what she loved and was good at without sight of Vilgefortz despite her being known as his ever loyal assistant. Likewise, it doesn't sensantionalize her condition, but references it in a subtle, tasteful, and even clever way. I also love her dress and the overall color palette. Igor understood.

2: Eldain by Anna Podedworna Couldn't help it, this asshole has me in chokehold and he's enjoying it. In my defense, this piece highlights everything Anna is known for, because she's damn good at it. Incredibly sharp main subject of the piece contrasted against a blurry background, which allows for insane details like the strings extending from the top of the lute. To add more fun to it, Eldain isn't even in the absolute foreground, but the piece is still composed smart, so he remains the main focus. His silly red collar on mostly green helps. On top of all that, the art tells a little story, something Anna often does too, and in this case it delightfully sums Eldain up. It's also the best premium in the game.

look at his little red ears from sitting against the sun aww

Honorable mention: Lake Guardian by Anton Nazarenko Like the following #1, this card has sentimental value to me as my second card reveal and artwork i made my best emote of. It was a perfect match, bird gals and all. It's a Sirin, bringing in a more obscure but not unwelcome mythology reference to the universe. And I love her vibrant, marble-like eyes.

1: Dol Blathanna Sentry by Lorenzo Mastroianni ...remains my favourite card art since that fateful day sometime in January 2018. I was just discovering what there was to know about Witcher, downloading Gwent in the first place out of need for more content as i was slowly reading through the first book. Gwent has done a lot to explore and build on this universe, and it has helped me contextualize a lot of things early on. I remember scrolling through the deckbuilder, seeing this art, and being struck by its mood, this aura of secret and wonder. "Oh, so this is what Dol Blathanna looks like..." It's quintessential older Lorenzo. Very much admitted brush work, fog, tight color palette. The little specks of blue in flowers and face paint work just right. Maybe it's a reference to Arthurian myth and Avalon, maybe to Greek myth and Hades, or maybe, as is often the case and was the case later (or earlier in this list), both. It spoke to me and my sense of wonder back then. It speaks to me when i search for comfort now.

now, time to tear Karol Bem to shreds in the top 20 least favourites xd

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Story Theory: Detail v. Description

So yes, it varies worldwide and by different contexts.

I first posted this on Nanowrimo, which then got used on Writing Excuses by Brandon Sanderson. So I think it's fair to steal it back. As I said, I LOVE extended analogies and at the time no one was making a distinction and a lot of people don't.

Up front: Neither are evil. They are both tools in the toolbox, and how you use them is important. Yes, it varies by context, country, etc. So yes, there are judgment calls.

Definitions

Description is a long introductory paragraph which might carry an emotion, but often doesn't really have the character in it.

Detail is integrated bits of stick-out information.

Analogy

If you have a car, you don't need to know exactly how the carburetor works, what the model of the engine is, what color the exhaust pipe is. But you might want to know that it is red and has flame decals, especially, say if it's a mystery and that's a KEY bit of information to crack the case. If you describe the car, then you're getting every last bit about the make model, the carburetor, etc. That's a description.

But if you're getting the detail, then that's the flame decals.

Theories on how to apply these tools and when to cut.

Description is usually used for slow action, taking a breath, discovery, to slow action down, and generally to set up scenery. Sometimes it's used to set up a character that's new to the narrating character. The key here is that the character must be new to the narrating character, not to the reader.

You cut it when it's the opposite. You want to speed up the action. You don't want to take a breath. It's all action, morality, or conflict. And you aren't setting up scenery/scenery is not key yet.

Detail is a quick in and out of something that is DIFFERENT or STICKS OUT.

Hey, your friend is wearing is bright green sweater, you're going to notice that.

Why cut it all out?

The person has a sensory disability. (I'd urge you to up the other information the character does have in this case)

The person isn't very self aware of anything.

The character narrating isn't very observant, or only observant in certain situations (ADHD and hyper focus can be played with this way)

The character is super self-absorbed

Likewise, if the character is observant, very self-aware, very tuned into others, then these things should increase, BUT when you pick it out, make sure it has purpose. Like the little bit of cereal on his collar and baby food on his shirt pocket tells you he's struggling with his baby.

Examples

Description:

MRS. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies’ eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde’s Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde’s door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof. --Anne of Green Gables, opening line.

This also characterizes Mrs. Lynde.

Detail:

And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three on the afternoon of a busy day, placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill; moreover, he wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes, which was plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea; and he had the buggy and the sorrel mare, which betokened that he was going a considerable distance. Now, where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going there? --Anne of Green Gables, LM Montgomery

The bolded bits are details, because they stick out to the narrating character, Mrs Lynde.

What should description and detail include?

It's best to include these with an emotion attached, instead of listing them off.

So it's not chocolate chip cookies.

It's grandmother's chocolate chip cookies she made every Sunday without fail. Eating the gooey center made me cry as I stared at the recipe again in her dusty recipe box.

Aim the detail/description at an emotion, or at least towards your story driver. You can see that in even the Anne of Green Gables passage. There is a non-stated emotion in the first paragraph.

With emotion, BTW, doesn't mean writing the previous as,

I ate grandmother's chocolate chip cookies and I felt sad. I looked at the dusty recipe box.

No. Don't tell the emotion. Show the unique way your character has it. Because another character Might face a similar situation and sniff bravely.

Sensory information:

Sight

Color, texture, props, items.

Taste

salty, umame, sweet, aromas, bitter, etc.

C'mon leverage your literary super power as a novel writer.

Hearing

This is often good to combine with sight. For example, the creak of the wooden wheels ad the gravel crunched below in the grand courtyard.

Smell

People who don't go outside forget the smell of everything except food. People *smell*. Flowers smell like things. Smells are carried on the wind. You can't do this in movies, but you can in books. Make your character have this experience.

Touch

Smooth, rough, velvety? Up this for books. Make those screenwriters hate you.

Interoception- sensations from inside the body Belly grumbled with hunger. So tired. Headache.

Vestibular sense (balance) Is the character balanced all of the time?

Time information

What time of day is it? What time of year is it?

Place information

I'm guilty of forgetting to include the setting. But also, you should include where your character is in space. If you're lost, then draw a map with an x and colored pencils every time you move the character.

I also cheat by using programs like Sketch up, the Sims, etc. Make sure your characters don't jump in space. Color code as needed.

If they are up a mountain, down a mountain, about to cross a river, all of these should have a cascading effect on the character and the interactions. Don't forget that the place information should influence how the dialogue is said.

Weather. Don't forget what season it is. If it's sunny all of the time, I'm suspicious, especially if you've set it in England. WTH. Make sure your weather patterns match.

Dreary rain. Sunny. Snowing.

What do characters look like? What are their expressions?

Don't tell what the emotions are. Talk me through how they usually are when they are sad, or playing more than one emotion at a time. If you're limited on time, push it through dialogue.

What does the clothing, food, or customs look like?

The white shirt up there, for example is fast.

So across cultures this varies a bit.

Long descriptions of scenery is more Chinese, as well as describing the characters who usually get long info. Tone set up is usually done by description in traditional Zuni tales.

In Korean, there might be a setting set up with tone and theme attached.

Descriptions might be longer in Japanese works to set up a certain mood.

But I think it's worth it to look at those cultures and how they are pulling it off and what techniques you can learn from them doing it that way. What does the story gain, what does it communicate, how do you feel? How do people of that culture feel about the work? If you're a writer you need to be concerned about more than yourself when it comes to techniques.

Generally, when you're faced with a work that's unfamiliar, try to feel out what it's trying to accomplish by doing it that way and you learn much more than by rejecting it.

But imagine you could be masterful enough to have a scenery description that could set up mood, tone, voice of the story, and the theme all at once because you combed through other people's techniques to arrive there. Wouldn't you feel smug especially if you managed to do all of that in 40 words or less? (English, granted). I think I would.

[thefanficmonster]

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face. 

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 

Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[toweroftickles]

Odd Rant: Color Theory And Tickling

I had this random thought the other day and it hasn’t gotten out of my head.

To anyone in the community who reads this: do you associate any particular color with tickling? Think about it. Pink? White? Green maybe?

Well, what about blue and yellow? Or sometimes purple?

Those seem like a good fit, right? Obviously, there have been hundreds of tickle scenes in animated media throughout the years, in movies and shows from all over the world. But when I started to think about the “big” ones…the famous ones that really stick out in our memories, the ones that are often considered the “best,” the ones people mention most often when they’re talking about how they discovered their love of tickling…I noticed that many of them have characters or environments strongly connected to these colors. Take a look.

TMNT/Don Turtelli

Tarzan

Digimon

Lupin III - its remake has the same look too.

Dragon Quest

Spongebob - The Tickle Belt!

Kiki doesn’t have any blue on her, but we get plenty of yellow from the hay. Plus, her dress is drawn as purple (even though it's supposed to be black) and she’s seen throughout most of the movie in front of breezy blue skies…the color association with the character is still there.

And that’s just some of them. The tickle monster sequence in Raggedy Ann & Andy - blue scenery and characters. Xiaolin Showdown - the tickle machine was yellow and the scenery was blue. Negima - blue and yellow scenery. Squid Girl, My Life As A Teenage Robot - blue characters. Prince of Egypt - yellow background. Fairly OddParents - the GigglePies that tickled Timmy were blue and yellow, on a purple planet.

Obviously there are other factors…how they laugh, how they move. But it was funny to me that this was so common. I began to wonder, why do most of the big, influential, famous tickle moments share this color palette? Why do they affect us in a way that other tickle scenes don’t?

Yellow, in color theory, is synonymous with humor, laughter, and happiness. This is why emojis and smiley faces are yellow. However, it can also be an intense color that signifies nervousness, fear, and danger. This juxtaposition makes yellow a perfect color for tickling. So that makes sense. But why blue? Sure, it’s used with yellow a lot because they’re on opposite sides of the color wheel. But that’s not a good match. Blue is most often linked to calmness, wisdom, knowledge, fluidity, mystery, or dark moodiness…it can be a color of misery. These are all hardly the emotions one thinks of when thinking about tickling. So why does it seem to fit so well?

I have an idea about that. Blue, like pink, is a neighboring color of purple and therefore has similar properties. Purple often has a lot of intense and passionate emotions behind it…it’s romantic, sensual. How many love novels have purple covers? Pink (and by association, blue) is a milder, calmer version of “love.”

In other words, depending on context, blue and lighter shades of purple can also be “cute.” Especially sky-blue and cyan. If you were writing a color theory essay about blue, typically, you wouldn’t say that. We don’t usually make that link, but I think we subconsciously associate blue with cuteness, particularly in terms of character design. There’s a reason Bubbles (the most cheery and gleeful Powerpuff Girl) is yellow and blue.

Picture Neytiri from Avatar, Kida from Atlantis, or Krystal from Star Fox. They are all princesses, and blue is a color of wealth and royalty similar to purple. So it fits in that sense. But if their colors were different, they would be less cute, right? Imagine for a sec. If Neytiri was bright green, she would still be cute, but somehow more alien. If Katara’s parka was all brown, that would be less cute, yes? I think blue also creates in us a subliminal sense of innocence and relatability. It’s playful, childlike. Blue almost “invites” tickling. Have you noticed how popular Samus Aran and Chun-Li are in tickling fan-art?

So, for instance, when we see a character with a primarily blue/purple scheme involved in tickling, it has a stronger adorableness factor than usual. When we see a character getting tickled in a yellow environment or with yellow tools, it seems both funnier and more energetic. So when you have both together, the scene hits harder.

Exhibit A: Bubble Girl. 😁

Now, I don’t think animators of stuff like this intentionally choose that for this reason…nobody sat around drawing these sequences and consciously thought “Hmm, now how can we make this tickle torture scene awaken fuzzy feelings in our audience?” 😆 There are a ton of tickle moments that don’t have a palette like this. But I think the ones that do stick with us more, because they subtly emphasize the things we like about tickling.

Another thing that’s weird? I hate blue. I never buy anything blue. I don’t usually wear blue shirts. I change the color of blue equipment in games. It’s probably my least favorite color…except when it comes to female character design. I have a real weakness for blue skin in particular, and the reason for this never occurred to me.

Considering this, I compiled images of the characters that I most like to see/imagine being tickled, in addition to the ones above. You know; plenty of the ones I crushed on in my teen years. XD Not just in popular media…also in tickling-focused comics and artwork created by people in this community. And I was amazed…not all of them, but most of them were characters whose primary colors were blue, yellow, and soft lavenders and purples. Sometimes all 3 at once.

Seriously. Look at how much freaking blue, yellow, and purple are here!

It made me do a serious double take. Do I even really like these characters and their designs? Or am I just subconsciously linking them with tickling and drawing positive emotion from that?

How else have these weirdo animators programmed me?! Are these even my thoughts that I’m having?! Is grilled cheese really my favorite sandwich or was I supposed to be a hoagie man before you got your hands on my brain?!

Ehhh, I’m rambling. Sorry for the long post, but this idea just fascinated me. What do you all think? Am I nuts?

Either way…here’s hoping for plenty more adorable summer-colored laughs in the future. ;)

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  7.3

"You shall serve under Childe," the Tsaritsa gestured for you to rise to your feet.  "Mezzetin."

"Uh...bless you?"

"Thus is your new name:  Mezzetin," the archon repeated, raising a brow at your attitude.

"That's not my name."

"Am I hearing you break the contract you proposed to me only a few minutes ago?"  You bit your tongue to refrain from ripping her a new one.  "Childe, why don't you show her to her new room?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Childe led you down an especially long corridor that brought you to what looked like a type of barracks situation.  He opened a door that stood on the left side of the hall and showed you around.  It wasn't that bad of a room; it held a balcony that looked over the snowy landscape outside.  The walls were a deep burgundy color with dim lighting, which only seemed to further mock your dark circumstances .

"How do you like your room, Mezzetin?"

"If I hear that god-awful name again, I--"  That's odd.  Why is there a mask on my bed?  You picked it up and noted it was the same color as the walls.  It might have been slightly similar to Xiao's mask, in that it looked relatively animal-like.  It was harbinger-status, being that it held no similarities with that of the Fatui agent or skirmisher masks and was completely unique.

"Ah, that caught your attention?  It's yours."

Why was there already a spare mask? I barely made the decision to join them not even ten minutes ago.  Do they have a surplus of masks here?  Your gaze rose to Childe's in a questionable manner.  

"What?"  Childe let out an awkward laugh.

"Nothing."

"Well, I should get back to the throne room and let you adjust here for a bit, no?  I'll return soon."  His suspicious hurry to leave made you roll your eyes, but your attention just returned to the mask in your hands.  

Why did they already have a mask for me?

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

"Well done, Childe."  The Tsaritsa praised her devoted weapon of war as he knelt before her.  "When you proposed your idea to me I wasn't sure you'd be up for such a task, especially since you hate deception.  Everything played out exactly as you expected.  You have earned my praise."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."  Childe rose to his feet and revealed a dark grin.

Signora slowly clapped her hands as she approached the teen.  "To think that our youngest and most inexperienced would come up with a plan to manipulate the girl into joining us by manipulating Morax into waging war--you have matured greatly, Childe."

"Your praise is appreciated, Fair Lady."

"Just do your job correctly and make sure she doesn't get any bright ideas to turn on us," Scaramouche walked out of the throne room.

"Not one to praise another, as expected," Childe sneered.

"The sixth harbinger is correct, Childe.  While your plan has succeeded, your duty does not end here.  Such is why the girl will be in your hands; do not fail me."

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

"...What do we do now?" Aether's voice pierced the snow that fell upon the trio as they headed for the Snezhnayan border.  The walk had been excruciatingly long and quiet, the atmosphere holding a somber note and sour aftertaste in everyone's mouths.

"...I suppose we continue to look for you sister," Zhongli suggested.  "That is what you originally gathered us for, is it not?"  The archon kept his gaze on the snowy ground.

"It is..." Aether's gaze shifted to Xiao, who was quieter than he usually was.  "What do you think, Xiao?"

"I'm returning to Liyue and continuing my duty."

"So that's it?"  The boy stopped in his tracks.  "We're just going to give up on her? Is that it?  I'm not going to just sit around while she's still stuck in that dreadful place.  Don't you two cherish her like I do?  Don't you, Xiao?"  His hands curled into tight fists as he thought about Lumine.  He couldn't comprehend the idea of giving up either of you.

The two adepti halted, and the yaksha met Aether's eyes.

"Don't think we haven't noticed how the two of you look at each other," Paimon popped up and put her hands on her hips.  "You two like each other more than teammates!  We're not stupid! So why are you just walking away?"

"She chose her path," Xiao stated.  "It's not like I can dissuade her from her decision; she clearly felt strongly about it."

"If she does not wish to be saved, there is nothing we can do," added Zhongli.  

"Well she clearly thought you guys were going to get a bunch of innocent people killed over her!"  Paimon huffed.  "Of course she wouldn't want to be saved if it meant all that death would be her fault!"

"Paimon..." Aether's gaze wavered at his emergency food.

"And you!" The mascot switched to Xiao.  "She clearly loves you, but you have no idea what that means even though it's bright as day that you feel the same for her!  Why didn't you tell her?!"

"I can't make much of human em--"

"No! Here's what's going to happen.  You're going to go back there, confess your lovey-dovey feelings and get her out of there!"

Xiao disappeared before their eyes, obviously agitated by Paimon's annoying rant.  "Great," Aether pulled at his hair.  "Now look at what you did, Paimon."

"He needs to hear the truth at some point!" She huffed.

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

"Xiao?"  Aether and Paimon investigated the Wangshu Inn as soon as they got back to Liyue a week or so later.  "Are you up here?"

"What do you want?"  The adeptus appeared next to them in a similar manner to when they first met.  He was just as unwelcoming as he was back then.

"We made some almond tofu!"  Paimon made a giddy gesture to Aether, and the boy held the dish out to Xiao.

"We thought you would like some," he gave a faint grin.  The yaksha didn't return it, instead returning his gaze to the moonlit scenery past the railing.

"I'll pass."

"Oh..." This is really bad.  Aether sent a worried glance to Paimon.  "Are you sure?  You love almond tofu."

"Mortal food is not to my liking," the yaksha grit his teeth in agitation.  "You should leave.  There's no reason for the two of you to be here."

"Don't be so rude to us!  We came to talk about her!"  Paimon flew forward so that she blocked Xiao's view of the scenery.  "We know how much you care about her.  Isn't there a way to contact her somehow?  You know, with your psychic abilities or something?"

"This conversation is pointless.  If there's nothing else, see yourselves out."

"Xiao."  Aether's shoulders dropped as he tried to figure out the correct words.  He failed to come up with something, and looked to Paimon.  "...Let's go."

Xiao didn't bother to glance their way as they made their exit, instead focusing on the scenery below him.  He hadn't heard from you since you saw him off.  'I love you,' she said.  Why does remembering it hurt so much?  He shivered as he remembered the look in your eyes.  They were so gentle, kind, yet broken.  Like you had just...given up on life.  Just what had Childe done to you to make you say those things?  His thoughts were fortunately interrupted when he felt a shift of energy carried through the wind.  He looked to the Guili Plains up ahead, and dispersed.

The yaksha came upon several lawachurls, which were relatively uncommon to the area compared to other places in Liyue.  The evil that consumed them reeked of gods past. Xiao didn't hesitate to wave a hand over his face and manifest his yaksha mask, throwing himself into his life-long work of defeating the evil that plagues Liyue.  Only this time, he used it as an outlet for his frustrations rather than solely fighting to fulfill his duty.

"My fight goes on."  That's right, he watched the demonic smoke whirl around him.  My fight does not stop for her.  My duty is here.  He twirled his polearm and leapt through the air, slicing at the closest lawachurl.  Since he and the monsters were far from the nearest road, he let loose a little.  And by a little, I mean a lot.  

The nearest trees splintered from the shockwave of his attacks, with the other lawachurls shaking off the bulky rock armor off their backs.  The ground rumbled beneath their feet.  Xiao plummeted to the earth and subsequently killed the first lawachurl with the blow.  Then he moved onto the next one, finding no fear in the monstrous bellow that greeted him face-to-face.  He shoved the lance through it's bottom jaw and jutted it through the skull with little effort.

The third charged just as he removed his polearm from the corpse of the second.  This time Xiao whipped around and thrust his weapon into the monster's knee, yanking it out to then deal several blows across its chest and decapitate it.  "Worthless," he growled as he watched the monsters disintegrate.  He continued his attacks on the remaining four until he stood alone among the ruins.  He watched as the spirits of the damned returned to their rightful places in the earth.

Xiao thought nothing of the disturbed soils and began to walk towards the inn once more until the demonic voices called out to him.  Some were quiet, no more than a whisper, while others were obnoxiously loud and demanded attention.  They moaned and whined, each having a unique pitch of anger tinging their curses and cries for help.  Xiao fell to his knees, with his body leaning on his polearm as it was overwhelmed with the hatred of the damned. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Not this again.

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

Your time in Snezhnaya wasn't fun so far, and you often secluded yourself in your room whenever you had the chance to avoid the Tsaritsa or her little puppets.  Childe checked on you often, doing so in a way that showed his concern for your obvious depression as you longingly stared out into the winter wonderland from your window.

You were being pestered by Childe yet again when you became overwhelmingly dizzy and nauseous.  "Urk--"  You doubled over and grabbed onto the curtain to steady yourself.

"Hey, are you alright?"  Childe put a concerned hand on your shoulder.

"What is...this...?"  Your fit of nausea transformed into an overwhelming hatred for nothing in particular.  You fell to all fours, heaving from a level of anger never experienced before.  "What is this!"

"...Comrade?" His words were drowned out by the desperate screams that entered your mind.  Your hands hurried to cover your ears in an attempt to make the voices stop, but they didn't disappear.

"They're so loud!"  You cried out, now in physical pain that was equivalent to being set on fire and shredded with knives.  "Stop!  Shut up!"

Childe quickly dropped to your level and lifted your chin up to examine your glowing eyes and the tears drenching your cheeks.  "What's wrong?"  He mouthed, but you still couldn't hear him.

"It hurts!"  You coughed, one hand covering your mouth only to be retracted and painted with your blood.  I'm bleeding?  Panic set in and the pain only worsened, the voices getting louder and louder while Childe desperately tried to get you to answer him.  "This hate!  Why do I feel so hateful?  Make it stop!"  You were screaming hysterically now, squeezing your eyes shut and clawing at your ears until they too began to bleed.  "Make it stop!"  Your senses were easily overwhelmed, and all you could focus on was the pain and the volume of the voices surrounding you.  "Please!" You couldn't seem to catch a decent breath of air like something heavy was sitting on you.

"Hey now!"  The harbinger watched the blood spill from the lips.  This is...  He pulled you close to him and held you tightly, ordering for medical aid when an agent burst through the door from hearing the ruckus.  "It's okay, it's okay--"

All you could do was continue to heave deep breaths to quell the rage that resided within you, to quell the demonic voices that demanded you to succumb to them.  Childe didn't let up his grip around you and pressed your head tightly against his chest.  Rage.  Hatred.  Agony.  The feelings tore through you like you were made of paper.  It was hard to explain, but the emotions felt otherworldly; nonhuman.  Your blood continued to seep from your mouth and soak into Childe's clothes while he continued to rock you back and forth.  Your screams were a mixture of cries for help and manic giggling as you lost all sense of rationality.

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

"Hey girlie," the familiar harbinger was hovering above your face when you finally reopened your eyes.  You were apparently still in your room, this time lying in bed with a damp cloth draped across your forehead and the moonlight illuminating the two of you.  "How're you feeling?"

"Mn."  You blinked sluggishly and tried to move around.

"Ah, I wouldn't do that.  You were bleeding internally, you know," he let out a strangled laugh as you returned to your original position.  "You really had us worried for a sec."

"Yeah right." The growl that emitted from your throat seemed to put Childe off guard, another flash of concern waving over his demeanor.  It was clear residual hatred still resided in you even though that was your usual response to his remarks.  Your eyes were still glowing.

"You feel his pain now?"  He raised a brow.  "Is that how this bond works?"

"What of it?" A dry giggle escaped your chapped lips as the hushed voices continued to plague you.

Interesting...This could pose a possible problem for the soldiers...I should inform Dottore immediately.  Childe removed himself from the bed and headed for the door.  "I'll check on you in a few hours.  Try and get some rest."

A slight draft brushed across the tip of your nose the second he closed the door, and you looked to the window to find a shadowy figure obscuring the moonlight that entered the room. It slowly approached the bed until it stood at your side.  The closer it got, the louder the voices became.  You winced when it leaned over you.

"You..."  Xiao's face occupied most of your vision.  He didn't need to know what happened to understand it was linked to his dealings with the possessed lawachurls a few hours ago.  "I felt your distress."

"What're you doing here?" You snapped quietly, the voices still raging a storm within your words.  It's not like you've communicated with him at all ever since you confessed your feelings.  He had no reason to be here...right?

"Do not fall prey to the darkness," he warned.  "I cannot save you if you allow yourself to be overrun."  He hesitantly placed a hand against your forehead in an attempt to gage your wellbeing.  He didn't have the powers of Zhongli, so there was no point in trying, but he did it anyway.  Your glowing eyes seemed to capture his, and the two of you stared at one another for a few moments.

Another laugh left your lips, and it was nothing short of disturbing unlike the airy carefree ones Xiao had heard you release before.  It was evil.  Mocking.  "I never called you here."

The yaksha let out something between a growl and a sigh.  "I have no choice but to kill you if you're consumed.  Do not let them overwhelm you," he repeated as he locked on your eyes.  While his words were sharp, the look in his eyes was nothing but endearing.  "I can always hear them, but you don't have to.  It's just a side effect; this too, shall pass."

"...It hurts."  Those two pained whimpers broke through the wall of hatred that surrounded you from within.  The glowing lights in your eyes flickered as you regained yourself in his presence.  

"I understand," he assured while his hand left your forehead to accompany your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your skin to wipe the tear that had fallen from your right eye.  He winced when he realized blood was mixed in with it, but didn't let on that he was taking a closer look at your eye.  Mortal bodies cannot withstand this...He bit the inside of his cheek as he thought of the worst-case scenario that had consumed his fellow yakshas long ago.  If we get them out of her now, she should still be able to fully recover.

He continued to stroke your cheek while you stared up at him, still unable to fully move your tired limbs that felt like they were severed at the ligaments.  Eventually you gathered enough strength to move your arm and place your hand over the one that cupped the side of your face.  You weren't sure of how much time had passed, but painful tears fell occasionally and were coupled with Xiao's brief looks of concern.

"I'm here," he soothed.  Archons, the way he handled you was so delicate.  Had he ever been this gentle with you, even when he caught you in your lowest moments?  If he had, the voices made it difficult to retrieve the memory.  They continued to scream and swirl within the depths of your mind, but the presence of the yaksha subdued them somewhat.

"I-I didn't...want to leave you..."  Your bloodied tears stained his hand and your pillow.  Xiao shifted on the bed upon hearing this and feeling your tears brim the corners of his eyes.  He continued to stroke your cheek.

"Do not speak; you're making your condition worse," he ordered.  "I can't hold your decision against you."

"But--"

"'What matters now isn't failures of the past; we are here together.'  Are those not your words?"  His head tilted slightly, and a fond smile formed across his lips.  "Rest.  I will be here until morning."

"Don't...leave..." You begged, gripping his hand a little tighter.  "Please."

Xiao watched the glow in your eyes eventually flicker out right before you fell asleep.  He took it upon himself to wipe the bloody streaks from your cheeks, and even let you continue to hold his hand while you slept.  He stayed true to his word and sat beside you until the first light of dawn shone through your window, his hand never fully leaving your skin until he had to return to Liyue.

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

Coming up:  A harbinger’s gift: some much-needed therapy.  Tea time with an archon.  The moonsong.

[eclipsebythedawn]

Smothered Flames & Shadows (Part 1)

Hi guys! So this is my first fanfiction ever, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even good but I thought I wanted to share some Gwynriel with you all :) I have a sort of story planned out and this will likely have more parts. I’m pretty sure I will continue this story since I have more stuff planned out (hence the part 1) but right now it’s just some Gwynriel crumbs. Hope you guys will enjoy it and stay safe wherever you are. 

(How are we gonna wait like ten years for the Gwynriel book because I believe in you SJM you MUST MUST give us Gwynriel ??!) 

Ps. This is the updated version, I added a new chunk for Azriel’s reaction. (Updated on 26 April 2021)

Azriel's wings flapped as he patrolled the skies. The dense cloud cover as well as the fading sunlight disguised his presence and he needed minimal effort to remain hidden. His shadows could taste the looming chaos and flitted around him warningly.

Be careful, be careful.

He could hear through their thoughts and saw through their lingering words. All was quiet here, it seemed. He would much rather preferred to be stationed at the ethereally beautiful Dawn Court, their High Lord serene but with an inner strength that was unflappable, instead of... here.

The Autumn Court held no such delights. Yes, the scenery was more than picturesque -- its flora suspended in eternal autumn, the golden-brown leaves swirling leisurely through the air, their russet color so much like a certain male that was mated to a certain girl he could never have.

Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.

Unbidden, his brother's fury-driven words cut into his muddled thoughts. Azriel knew that he was old and cranky and Rhys didn't deserve his anger and resentment after what he went through for all of them, but he was... gods, he was so damn tired.

The first female outside of Mor who had caught his eyes -- of course she had to be denied from him. Cauldron knew that the Mother had never shone its light on him, not that he even deserved to be embraced by Her warmth.

His mind finally allowed him to remember the beautiful brunette always on the back of his mind. Her doe-like eyes, sweet smile and that alluring scent, so pure and innocent and arousing and --

Fuck.

Azriel adjusted himself, his pants stifling and uncomfortable. Shit. He was in deep shit. But he couldn't stop himself from fantasizing about how she would taste, how she would look when he made her come.

Rhys's words from the other day, during solstice so many months ago, hadn't helped. Azriel's desperate lust had only grown even more to the point that he was actively avoiding the second Archeron sister so she wouldn't scent his arousal.

For that matter, so his two brothers wouldn't catch him lusting after her especially after the warning he was given.

And she seemed to be avoiding him too.

Azriel made one more round in the skies, the night as chilly and familiar as his own shadows that seemed strangely subdued now. His thoughts continued to stray towards...

Elain.

Beautiful, clean, pure, worthy Elain. He was none of those things, he knew that. Had resigned himself to it after five centuries of futile pining for a female that never returned his desires. He did not blame Mor. Could not blame Mor. He was tainted and she deserved someone better than him.

But when he saw Elain... Their unlikely friendship had gradually turned into something more. It had only continued to develop after Elain was Made High Fae and he became even more attuned to her, constantly sharing the same space. And for the first time since Mor, he wanted. He wanted to have what his two brothers had. It was wrong and it was selfish, but he saw Rhys and Cassian and he wondered --

Maybe the Cauldron had made a mistake. Three sisters of blood and three brothers of choice. Two thirds fulfilled, and somewhere deep down inside, he had been uselessly, worthlessly holding onto hope.

He had not dared to whisper it out loud until Rhys caught him just before their kiss. And Rhys reaction had only served to remind him why he was wrong for her. Why Elain deserved someone else.

But for the first time in his life, he wanted to throw caution to the wind.

Deciding that all was well and not wanting to remain a second longer, Azriel gathered his shadows and prepared to winnow back to home. He frowned when his shadows flittered over him... disapprovingly?

Yes, that was disapproval. His lips tightened as they swirled around him angrily.

What the hell was wrong with them tonight?

Azriel yanked on his petulant shadows. They continued to ignore him, some even going as far as to ignore him.

He scowled. His shadows were stepping out of line more and more frequently as thought something was bothering him.

Or someone.

He shoved aside the image of tendrils dancing and singing around a certain redhead, her bright teal eyes laughing and --

Azriel forcibly winnowed and dragged his disobeying shadows after him, leaping across the miles between the Autumn Court and home within a single step, resigning himself to a lonely night -- as always.

~~~

The night was alive.

It was a comforting blanket draped over her, Gwyn mused silently.

But she felt dead.

It was going to be one of those nights, then. Those nights when she woke up screaming, drenched in sweat only to realize it was just another nightmare. That reality was like a noose tied around her neck, dragging her further down into the pits of Hell where she belonged.

She would never meet Catrin even in death. Because her lovely, beautiful sister who had shone like the brightest star was amongst the stars in the heavens. That single thought was the only thing pushing her forward on the worst of nights.

On nights where flinging herself out of a high balcony on the impossible chance that she would see Catrin again seemed possible. Gwyn had thought that that was before.

Before Nesta, before Emerie, before meeting her Valkyrie sisters whom she knew would and had walked with her through pain and darkness and led her back.

But even after so much training, nothing had changed. She was still the cowardly, timid, broken doll she thought she had left behind.

Gwyn sighed even as sadness and pain, always so much pain, swelled inside her. Logically she knew she wasn't thinking straight. If Nesta or Emerie were here, they would be chiding her for her thoughts, the former sharp but mindful, and the latter firm but gentle. A small smile came onto her faces at all the memories they shared.

The cutting of the ribbon. Winning the obstacle course that served as the Blood Rite Qualifier. And then winning the actual Blood Rite itself while Nesta -- unyielding, unflinching -- held the lines for Gwyn and Emerie to be crowned as Carynthians.

And now, Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony. Despite everything she was feeling, Gwyn was happy for her friend.

Her sister by choice.

She knew Nesta deserved Cassian as he did her, and she felt genuine happiness for the pair. It was obvious during the long months of initial, grueling training that there was a spark between the two. An attraction that could not be denied.

She longed to find that love though in truth Gwyn knew she might never be ready for it.

Her point was further proven yesterday when Nesta had invited them during a break in training to her mating ceremony, held in a week's time. Gwyn knew that preparations were already underway and she was as honored and grateful as Emerie to be invited, but still she had hesitated, especially at the list of invited and accepted guests.

It wasn't mortifyingly long since Nesta only wanted close friends and family and Cassian only wanted the High Lord, Rhysand and Azriel, but the guest was filled with important names that made Gwyn nervous just to hear them.

The High Lord and High Lady were enough to make her dizzy. And then there was the High Lord's Second and Third, both formidable females in their own right. Gwyn thought wryly though that Emerie had seemed flustered and even blushed a little when her ears caught on a certain someone's name in the list Nesta had shared.

She was happy for her friend too. Emerie deserved friendship -- and love, if that relationship could blossom. But she knew better than interfere when her own relationships were so precarious.

The Prince of Adriata was coming, along with Mother above, the High Lord of the Day Court, Helion. Nesta's younger sister Elain was on the list as well though Nesta's face had clouded a bit when she read her name out loud. And then there was her mate -- Lucien Vanserra.

The supposedly exiled son of the High Lord of Autumn, who had ties to numerous Courts and was a valuable ally.

It was silly and stupid but amidst this sea of important names, Gwyn had wondered on more than one occasion what she could even do there. She had immediately scolded herself mentally, that she would be attending the ceremony for Nesta and even Cassian, who had become a bit of an older brother figure to her, and she would have Emerie with her.

She knew Emerie would fight anyone who dared to even look at her the wrong way.

But the larger part of Gwyn was scared. So many people would be attending, especially the males. It wasn't as if Helion or Lucien would randomly pounce on her, and that her fear was irrational, but she couldn't stop thinking about them. Couldn't stop thinking about that day where so many males surrounded her, where that hateful Hybern commander had ordered her held down, had pummeled into her as silent tears fell down her face, had laughed in her face and --

Gwyn counted the stars in the sky in time to her quickened breathing. Deep breaths, she told herself. When she couldn't sleep on nights like these she would train until nearly the breaking of dawn. She should get up from her position on the ground.

Probably.

But lying on the cold floor of the training area atop the House of Wind was a refreshing change. After having been coped up in the library for two years, she had finally decided to join Nesta in her morning training sessions with Cassian.

It was quite possibly the best decision she had ever made.

But still... But still, the doubt lingered. It festered. It thrived on her pain and self-hatred, quietly growing on nights like these.

It thrived at the fact that Emerie had accepted the invitation immediately, but Gwyn, worthless, selfish Gwyn had not. Was she so pathetic that she couldn't even congratulate her friend on her special day?

She should really get up. Perhaps train a bit more, instead of lying here wallowing in her dark thoughts.

Then a tiny tendril of shadow-kissed power gently prodded her arm. She startled, turning around and half-getting up.

She already knew who would be standing before her with his usual contemplative silence.

Azriel.

He was before her and she froze for one second. A twinge of fear crept in at his closeness, at the nearness of another male, so suddenly and unpredicted --

Azriel took a step back, saying softly, "I'm sorry if I surprised you."

Gwyn blinked. The shadowsinger was nothing but the epitome of manners and he had likely scented her fear.

"It's fine." And that was true. Her fear had instantly washed away as abruptly as it had arrived upon realizing who was here.

Azriel would never hurt her, Gwyn was sure of that.

She cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the awkward silence that had descended.

"Are you here for something?" She winced slightly at her choice of words. This was his home. She had no right to even utter such a question when she was the outsider.

Before Azriel could reply, another shadow darted out and wrapped itself around her arm before rushing back to its master. Gwyn felt the corners of her lips twitched up as the shadowsinger blinked once, twice in... shock.

"Did you forget your favorite dagger again?" She teased and was rewarded with a faint blush on his cheeks. His lovely and if she dared say, adorable shadows had given her the courage she needed.

To her surprise, he played along. "Have you seen an eighteen-inch dagger anywhere?"

Gwyn burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement.

"May I remind you that it's a dagger you have misplaced -- not a sword?"

"Forgive me if my memory fails sometimes." Was she seeing things or was there a twinkle in his eyes?

"Well, you do seem to forget things rather easily." Oh, she was certain! Amusement ran deep inside his hazel eyes and Gwyn felt breathless for a second, mesmerized by the beautiful male.

Staring into his eyes... She smiled at him, a genuine crinkling of her eyes. He had lifted her mood within seconds of his arrival.

Azriel seemed to freeze for a second, his usual stillness somehow magnifying. Intensifying. His shadows writhed around and she had the odd feeling that he was struggling to control them.

She blinked, and the moment passed.

"Were you training?" Azriel motioned towards her sweaty body. She nodded mutely, still caught up in what had occurred. Was it just her imagination? Looking at the stoic Illyrian standing before her, Gwyn decided she was just too tired, and her mind was playing tricks on her.

"...My help?"

Gwyn snapped out of her thoughts, head jerking up. "What?"

Azriel cocked an eyebrow at her obvious inattentiveness and she felt herself blushing. She chided herself mentally.

"Do you require my help?" He repeated the question, that faint amusement still dancing in his eyes.

"Wait. Are you asking to train me?" Another eyebrow raise.

"Were you expecting me to teach you the benefits of lying on the cold floor in the middle of the night?" He replied dryly.

Gwyn scowled and immediately stood up.

"Uh-huh. I was expecting you to fling your arms about and start serenading me."

"Is that a demand?" Azriel chuckled quietly. Gwyn thought that might be the most heavenly sound she had ever heard.

"Is that a challenge?" Gwyn shot back, not missing a beat.

The corners of his lips twitched up. Gwyn wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, her competitive streak setting in. She was also excited for this match because truth be told, she had been training everyday in anticipation of wiping the floor with the shadowsinger. It was her secret fantasy.

Not that it would happen anytime still but... Still.

"You can help me with my training. But on one condition."

Azriel contemplated her more seriously before he nodded his head.

"We fight now. Hand-to-hand."

~~~

The night was alive.

And Gwyneth Berdara was the full moon that accompanied it, shining brightly even amidst the darkness. She was so lovely, yet he sensed something pure and burning thriving inside her. His shadows yearned to flit around her, touch her, dance and sing for her. He had to keep them on a tight leash, and they were unhappy.

Little tendrils of darkness swirled around him petulantly. They wanted to go to Gwyn. Would have gone to her without his intervention. One stray thread snuck out and nearly coiled around Gwyn's wrist before he snatched it back in time. He could have sworn his own shadows growled at him. But he had bigger things to focus on.

Like the fact that Gwyn had just challenged Azriel to a duel.

Once again, his shadows had failed to mention that she was here. There was no quick escape that didn't end in awkwardness so he had stayed -- and so far he was... contented. Being around her seemed to have that effect on himself.

She was humming to herself as she stretched, preparing her body before their fight. His shadows buzzed around excitedly, seeming to forget about their earlier disagreement. He supposed there was no question who they were rooting for.

"Ready?" He asked Gwyn. She nodded, then held up a hand.

"Wait." She retied her ponytail, not letting even a single strand of her coppery chestnut obstructing her vision. He admired her competitiveness, her courage and strength in always fighting for the best.

Meeting her by chance here again reminded him of solstice, and his mind wandered to Elain before he slammed down his thoughts.

Focus. He had watched and trained Gwyn enough to know that she was a threat: an emerging dark horse that proved unpredictable and cunning. He also knew she had silently studied his fighting style enough to know more than just a few of his preferred tricks.

They circled each other, neither one of them making the first move.

He had drilled into her what signs to look out for, what feints and what blockings would be an unexpected yet effective counterattack that he was more than a little wary.

Still, he decided to make the first move, which was so out of his usual style that he hoped she would be unprepared. He had the feeling that she already knew he was going to attack first though as she sidestepped him and threw a punch.

Like he was expecting. He grabbed it and pulled her towards him to jilt her balance, but she was already expecting that and swept out her leg, forcing him to move unless he wanted to end up on the ground. The next move he had perfected to mastery.

He pretended to feint left when he was actually aiming for the left. A cheap shot, but he had also taught her that no real fights were clean and honest. She twisted her body but they both knew she wouldn't dodged in time.

At the last moment, his shadows decided to move and --

Capture his fucking hand. They wrapped themselves around him and his eyes widened as he was stopped mid-throw by his own shadows. The scenario would have been laughable if he wasn't in so much disbelief. They had never outright hindered him in any battles before.

He cursed, barely dodging the next kick Gwyn sent his way. They broke apart again and Gwyn asked, "Something wrong?" She glanced towards his wayward shadows and he had a strong feeling she knew.  

He shook his head, glaring at his swirling shadows. They just blinked up at him innocently.

Don't hurt her. Don't hurt her. Lovely mistress lovely mistress lovely mistress.

He gritted his teeth. Their fancy for Gwyn had reached the point of obsession but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she squinted and then broke into a grin.

"Aha. I thought I saw your little friends earlier." At her words, his shadows flew towards her joyfully, happy to be recognized. Azriel rubbed his neck as his shadows neared Gwyn, knowing that she had to secretly hate them for being so ugly and tainted and unworthy --

Gwyn bent down. What she did next would stay in his memories forever. Holding out an arm, she let his shadows coiled around the entire length, wisps of midnight trailing her as she walked towards Azriel.

His shadows were happier than he had ever known them to be. He could feel their joy with every step she took, sense the way they were telling him to look look look look.

Then Gwyn smiled at him, her teal eyes so clear and large.

"Your shadows are beautiful."

~~~

"Your shadows are beautiful."

Azriel stood still. His entire body was frozen, and even his heart seemed to cease its beating.

Gwyn took a step back at whatever expression was on his face. What she said... Did she understand that what she said -- no one had ever deigned to voice before?

Did she look at his hideous soul and scarred hands?

Did she see how truly stained he was?

He wanted to believe she did. He had never wanted something more than Gwyn seeing him, truly seeing him be true. But if it were true...

How could his shadows be beautiful?

"I'm -- I'm sorry for stepping out of line." She stuttered out, her eyes wide.

Azriel glanced up sharply, snapped out of his trance. She looked horrified and was stammering out another apology, her pitch high and wobbly.

Shit.

Before he could process what he was saying, words tumbled out of his mouth, aided by the push of an impatient shadow desperate to right all things wrong.

"It is I who should be apologizing." His voice was a soft whisper in the night breeze. Gwyn paused halfway through her long speech and she stood there gaping at him.

"I am sorry, Gwyn." Azriel truly was. He could feel the shame gnawing at him. Yet another mistake. Yet another disappointment. He was a lowly half-breed bastard. His "little friends" curled around his tightening fists anxiously. He could not quite meet her eyes as chagrin dragged him down and whispered,"I should not have reacted the way I did."

He did not know what to expect. The infamous spymaster that was Azriel could never anticipate any of Gwyn's actions. She was an enigma, a mystery that constantly evaded him, the light at the end of the tunnel that shied away from him at every twist and turn.

He saw Gwyn take a deep breath from his peripheral vision and steeled himself. He gathered the remnants of his scattered mask, ready to return to just the High Lord's spymaster.

And then Gwyn spoke.

"I... I do not know your story. I do not know the dark tales that define your past. But I know you. And I know that whatever it is... It does not define you. It does not define the male I see standing before me. It cannot define the male who saved my very life, who --" Here her voice caught and she had to stop for a moment.

Azriel's heart clenched painfully. He did not know why but... He wanted to hug her and show her that her past had never defined her. Not for him, not for Nesta or Emerie and he wanted her to know that it shouldn't for herself.

"Who placed that cloak upon me with such gentle hands." She continued softly, gazing down at his scarred palms. And for the first time in a sea of forever, Azriel did not feel the urge to hide his shadow-kissed hands. Those same shadows began to swirl towards Gwyn and she did not flinch.

She only continued staring at him with those eyes that could see through everything. Did he want them to see through him? Yes.

She sees. And she is not afraid. Azriel's shadows basked them in a cocoon of living darkness.

"I refuse to let your past define you. I do not accept that. So fight. Your story... even if it never comes to me, there is nothing it can tell me that I don't already know. You are brave, thoughtful and so, so kind. You and Cassian trusted me to survive and conquer the Rite as you two had trusted Nesta and Emerie. If not then both of you would have stormed in immediately, and no law could have overruled you. So please... Please believe in me like you did. Just this once, if nothing else." Gwyn finished a little breathlessly and he knew she had rushed through the last part because she was nervous.

But somehow the bit that stuck out to him was her thinking he used to believe in her. He did, but used to? He still did. And he wanted her to know that, more than anything. He wanted Gwyn to know that he had never stop believing in her.

And seeing Gwyn's crestfallen face as each second passed and he still remained silently, he knew she was thinking the worst.

He wanted her smile back. His shadows wanted that too.

But more than anything, they both wanted her to sing again. And looking at her dispirited expression, at that moment even his shadows were unsure whether she would find her voice again.

She had spilled her thoughts to him, and he was standing there like an idiot.

Your words, Azriel. Use your words.

His shadows were begging him to say something. Anything, please please please.

As she turned to leave, he finally found his voice. The voice she unknowingly helped him find.

"Gwyn, I'm sorry -- please wait." She paused, hesitating as her eyes met his. Azriel did not know what to say. He was incapable of saying anything but "sorry", that word so pathetic and useless. Sorry was not enough when Rhys was captured by Amarantha. Sorry was not enough when Feyre was forced to sacrifice herself for their -- for his sake. Sorry was not enough when Elain was taken away by the Cauldron in the middle of the night.

Sorry had never been enough and never would be. Azriel was a stupid, foolish idiot.

"Azriel." Gwyn spoke his name softly. He tore himself away from his useless thoughts and looked at her.

She... did not look upset. She did not look angry, nor sad, nor frustrated. Instead, understanding lay in those warm teal eyes.

"I'm not pushing you to share about yourself. You are not obliged to just because I rambled on about my thoughts." Gwyn's eyes were indeed filled with apology and remorse though she had a small smile.

"You will always be my friend. And I will wait for you, even if the day you want to share about yourself never comes. Because I know you will do the same for me."

Somehow, in that moment when even time seemed to have held its breath, when even the Mother seemed to be watching, Azriel felt something in him shifted. In the distant, he could have sworn a phoenix's song filled his veins, a song of smothered flames and shadows.

"Besides, I think the silent, brooding type fits you better than Cassian's I-wrecked-one-tiny-unimportant-useless-building hotheadedness." Gwyn teased.

The distant calling seemed to grow louder, and Azriel could have sworn --

He could have sworn that a faraway glow beckoned him. And his shadows were more restless than ever, nearly tearing away from their master in their excitement.

So when Gwyn grinned at him, he smiled back.

The stars twinkling overhead seemed to beam back too. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt contented. It was a feeling he had not experienced since... Since solstice. And back then he was with Gwyn, too, he realized abruptly. It was this female before him who had brought him not once, but twice such longed-for peace and quiet.

Gwyn was wrong. It was not his shadows who were beautiful.

It was her.

It was the Valkyrie who had walked beside Death -- and never cowered.

Never feared, never faltered.

Gwyneth Berdara was a secret, lovely beauty.

Sorry for any grammatical errors (or just errors in general) since I’m writing on my own right now. Thanks for reading and stay tune for part 2 <3

Updated comment: Hi guys, so I added a new bit about Azriel’s reaction. I was planning out the whole story so it’s taking a while and I’m sorry about the wait. I’m nearly done with planning things out chapter-by-chapter so part 2 is on its way. Thank you for staying with me 

xoxo

Dawn ~

[forlove2020]

Day 2 - No Vacancy

It is the last day of November and no one wants to buy any more pumpkins. 

Halloween has gone by, and Thanksgiving has blown past too. The people of Lebanon, Kansas have had their fill of the bright orange gourds - for more than two months they've displayed them on their front porches, carved them into jack-o-lanterns, and added them into every kind of dessert and frothy little drink imaginable.

And that is why, on November 30th, Dean decides his family is going on a field trip to the Lebanon Corn Maze and Pumpkin Patch.

Things have been good lately. No, scratch that. Life has been freakin' awesome. It has been just under two weeks since he rescued Cas from the Empty and a week since Jack came home. Dean is over the moon; radiating happiness in a way he never has before. They're all together, alive, and no Big Bad hovers menacingly on the horizon. Dean's not one to believe in a 'best case scenario,' but hell if this doesn't feel just like it.

The farm is about a twenty-five minute drive from the Bunker, and Dean, Cas, and Jack pull up in the Impala at the same time as Sam and Eileen arrive in Sam's CR-V. 

(Dean had teased him mercilessly about his new ride until Sam looked him dead in the eye, placing his hand protectively on Eileen's protruding belly, and insisted "Honda gets really good safety ratings, Dean." Dean, wisely, had shut up after that.)

Claire and Kaia are already there waiting, leaning up against Claire’s car, hand in hand. Jack leaps out of Baby as soon as Dean puts her in park, barreling toward the girls so he can nag Claire about his latest obsession: TikTok. Even from a distance it’s clear she’s rolling her eyes at him, but smiling despite herself

Dean and Cas get out of the car at a more leisurely pace and survey their surroundings.

What had been a busy festival complete with a lush corn maze, vibrant pumpkin patch, and stalls selling kettle corn and caramel apples two months ago is now a dismal scene. The corn maze has dried out and shriveled up, and the stalls are unmanned. Technically, there are still pumpkins aplenty in the field, but they're the ones that have been forsaken. The remaining pumpkins are leftovers that were considered either too skinny, too fat, or just too misshapen and lumpy to have been picked as the cream-of-the-crop.

Dean looks over at Cas. He’s squinting at the scenery in the dim autumn sunlight, and the nippy breeze has swept through his dark hair, making it seem more tousled than usual. Not for the first time, Dean thinks that he is gorgeous.

But now, he can actually tell Cas what he is feeling in these moments. There are no more half-truths or lies between them, nothing secret. After years of pining for one another without any hope of reciprocation and hiding the pains of longing, they’ve finally broken down the walls that kept them apart. They love one another fiercely, and while their relationship is new, it is not tenuous. 

So, Dean turns to him with a crooked grin.  “Hey, handsome.”

Cas blinks, and then a little smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean moves closer until their shoulders are brushing and he can feel the warmth of Cas’ body through both of their jackets. “You think Jack’s gonna be disappointed?” he asks quietly, watching their kid practically tackle Sam with a hug as Eileen signs something Dean can’t quite make out from the other end of the parking lot. “I mean, this isn’t exactly the ‘autumn glory’ we were promised on those fliers earlier this month.”

Cas doesn’t even hesitate. “No. I think Jack just appreciates having a normal...uh, sort of a normal life again. He’s excited to be here picking pumpkins, especially with Claire and Kaia, and Sam and Eileen joining us. This was a nice surprise you planned for him, Dean.”

It’s a simple compliment, and not even particularly saccharine, but Dean flushes from head to toe anyway. He’s working on believing the good things Cas says about him; he’s really trying, but it’s always been difficult for him to take a compliment about anything other than his good looks or hunting prowess. Instead, he meets Cas’ eye, and nods silently. And then, remembering he is allowed, takes Cas’ hand in his own, twining their fingers together.

They walk hand-in-hand to join Claire, Kaia, Jack, Sam and Eileen at the front gate. It’s hanging wide open, and no one is standing there to charge them an entrance fee. However, the sign does make a point to state that the maze is open until December 1st. Eileen shrugs, and so the seven of them wander down the path towards the pumpkin patch and the entrance to the maze. 

“Kaia! I’ll race you to the end!” Jack shouts, and laughing, Kaia chases him into the maze, dragging a grumbling Claire along behind her. 

“Let’s see if we can find anybody still working,” Sam suggests.

Eileen points at a worn down farmhouse tucked mostly behind a newly-painted red barn. “Someone must be home,” she signs pointedly, gesturing to plumes of smoke exuding from a grey chimney stack.

Dean ends up knocking on the door. He leaves Sam, Eileen, and Cas at a nearby picnic table, debating in Sign Language about the best flavor of cotton candy and whether or not the color of the dye changes the taste. 

 A minute or two later, an older man swings open the squeaky screen door to the house. He’s scowling, wearing muddy overalls, and chewing on a thick cigar. “Yeah?” he asks shortly. “Whaddya want?”

Dean raises his eyebrows at the farmer’s bluntness, but manages to respond politely. “My family and I saw fliers for this place a few weeks ago. We were hoping to buy some pumpkins and candy apples. What are you charging”

The farmer’s scowl grows deeper, and he looks past Dean to Sam, Eileen, and Cas relaxing on the bench, then narrows his eyes at the corn maze, where shrieks of laughter can be heard as the younger adults chase one another through the thinning stalks.

Getting impatient, with the man’s surly silence, Dean prods, “And…? It’s a yes or no question. Are you still selling pumpkins?”

The old man pulls the cigar out from between his teeth. “My wife and daughter run this hokey shit,” he grunts. “They went into town today ‘cause folks already came through here earlier in the month. They like customers. We haven't had anybody else stop by since before Thanksgiving.”

As his temper flares, Dean turns his grit teeth into a sharp smile. “Well, then it’s your lucky day! Here we are,” he says mockingly, sweeping his arms wide. The farmer mumbles something insulting and covers it with a hacking cough. Dean pretends not to hear him, “Fine. I take it from your sunny attitude that there will be no popcorn or apples today?” 

The man scoffs, “Enjoy the maze, boy-o. Free of charge.” He turns to lumber back inside, but Dean grabs the screen door before he can try to disappear.

“Hey!” the hunter barks. The farmer pauses, his body tensing for a fight. “Are you gonna sell me the goddamn pumpkins or not?” 

Cas has wandered to his side, either noticing the commotion, or simply because he wanted to be closer to Dean. Now, he interrupts casually, “You still have quite a few squash left in the fields and there’s going to be heavy frost two days from now, overnight. It’d be a shame if all of these pumpkins rotted, and you wasted the rest of your harvest.”

He has, quite deftly, snared the salty old farmer’s attention. Money is the man’s language; he might not enjoy having customers on his property so late in the season, but he certainly likes having the funds to maintain his land.

****************************************

“A hundred.”

“A hundred?” Sam sounds insulted. “You’re gonna pitch all of these in a couple days. There’s no way we’re paying a hundred. Try twenty-five dollars.”

The farmer rolls his eyes dramatically. He is in his element; the thrill of making a good deal and bartering his wares on the last day is an unexpected but welcome surprise that has put him in high spirits. “You’re cute, kid. I know my produce is worth more than that. I’ll go down to eighty-five, and you can take whatever you can carry in one trip.”

“Thirty-five,” Sam shoots back.

“Eighty.”

“Forty-one.” Once, Sam was going to be a lawyer. He’s got the upper hand in this situation and he’s going to crush his opposition. One more price reduction and they’ll have dozens of pumpkins to take home, way below the original asking price.

“Sevent…”

“Sixty-five, and we fill up all of our cars,” Dean interrupts, and Sam looks at him, utterly betrayed as the gleeful farmer shakes on the deal.

As Cas, Jack, Claire, and Kaia help carry the pumpkins to Sam and Claire’s cars respectively, Dean just claps Sam on the shoulder and tells his brother, “It’s still a cheaper family outing than going to Disney.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam says mournfully, and sulks over to help Eileen, who is supervising the influx of pumpkins that are being loaded into their vehicle.

Dean chuckles, and scoops up a few pumpkins. He’s got some recipes he wants to try out, plus he’s excited to teach Jack to carve ‘Jack’-o-lanterns. The kid seemed to want to learn how to do everything the human way now, and Dean is more than happy to teach him.

One by one, Dean places eight pumpkins in the backseat of Baby. One is tall and oblong with lots of stringy stems, matched with the only short and well rounded pumpkin he sees in the field. Between those two he sets a teeny tiny baby-sized pumpkin. Then, there’s a pumpkin that is half-green half-orange. It seems like it must have grown too fast because it is still quite young despite its size. Next, he adds two medium pumpkins that are also young, but growing strong. And last but not least, he picks up two more pumpkins. They are both a bit damaged - one is bruised and discolored, the other looks like it might have grown sideways. But Dean picks them because they lean against one another in the field, steady despite their flaws, despite what they’ve been through. 

He sets them all up in a long line along the backseat, and when Cas sees what he chose, his eyes go soft and warm as he looks at Dean.

“Let’s go home,” he breathes out, and takes Dean’s hand again.

Everyone gets in their cars - Dean in the driver's seat and Cas taking shotgun, as before. Jack tries to get in the Impala, then looks in the back window, and starts laughing. 

“Dean! There’s nowhere for me to sit.”

Cas chuckles quietly beside him, as Dean grins. “Aw, tough break, kid. Guess you’re walking home.”

“Hey, no fair- Dean! C’mon! Cas! Tell Dean he has to -”

Dean starts to roll up the window, laughing loudly as Jack knocks on the window pane.

“Sorry! No vacancy!” he hollers. Jack is nearly doubled over, hilarity spilling from him in peals of laughter.

Claire honks her horn loudly, and throws open the back door to her car. Jack straightens, and scrambles to join her and Kaia, shooting Dean and Cas a bright wave goodbye.

Sam and Eileen also wave as they leave the parking lot, wheels sending gravel spinning in their wake. Claire and Kaia follow, and Jack rolls down the window as they pass, and calls across to Cas and Dean, “This was the best family trip ever!”

They too are soon gone, headed for the Bunker to drop off dozens of pumpkins which will decorate every room until they end up decaying or until Dean cooks them. 

Dean and Cas wait until the others have left, and then Dean leans over and kisses Cas, long and sweet. When he pulls back, Cas traces his cheek, and says thoughtfully, “We could take the backroads home today….”

Dean is so gone on him. He kisses Cas once, twice more, and then puts the Impala in drive, and they’re on the road, taking the long way home.

**********************************

I enjoyed adding a little Day 1 ‘Harvest’ flare to Day 2!

My goal is to make most of my Suptober fics one-shots that are in some way related to my multichapter fix-it that is still a work in progress (Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, etc, post 15x20).

Thank you for reading!

-V

[joonkorre]

To my love,

@drarrymicrofic prompt: forbidden

read Paper Hearts by @dorthyanndrarry and have been completely obsessed w draco doing little mundane things as a hobby or bc it's therapeutic etc etc. i had to fold these paper cranes for an art project once. it's fucking addictive lmao. ao3

tw: very brief mention of blood

It’s just a thing Draco does when he’s bored. A past-time, or a hobby, even. If it’s past midnight and less tiring to be honest, he’d admit that it’s a coping method. But he never really feels like that as of late, as expected from a permanent resident in what is now the Dark Lord’s lair.

Light, clean air, silence, and Merlin knows what else, are lacking in abundance in the Malfoy Manor these days. However, with owl posts too easily intercepted and words too eagerly etched on skin rather than blank pages, paper is readily available. Draco has a lot of free time, being ‘Lucius’s worthless son’ and all. Thus, he writes.

Are you out there? How do you fare?

I haven’t eaten breakfast today. Perhaps I should’ve, but Nagini never leaves.

Will Harry Potter ever get caught?

I tried to go out today. Do you know how it feels to have blood drained from your feet?

Comments of nonsensical nature like so. They help, though. Draco doesn’t quite know the psychology behind it, but he can’t help writing them. A passing interest, then once every two weeks, then every other day, then any piece of paper he can find. Any piece large enough.

To my love,

That Luna girl cries again.

He doesn’t understand why—he’s never understood much, now that he thinks about it—but he’s taken to writing those three words before every message. It feels nice, he supposes, to pretend there’s someone who looks forward to reading his letters, regardless of how boring or awful they are. No matter, a tiny phrase never hurts anyone. He hopes. How many things (small, insignificant things) did he say that—?

To my love,

The last of Mother’s roses have faded to a dull grey. They used to be the color of lilac.

He’s used his wand as a light tonight, a whispered Lumos scarcely bright enough to write down a sentence and cut a strip of paper away, making a square. Familiar folds and creases give way easily beneath his calloused fingers in the dark. Feeling the precise pleats, he bends the wings, then pulls out the tail and the neck. He runs a finger down the neck’s tip. Its head is formed.

To my love,

Should I have killed him?

Cracking open the dirty window right beside his bed, the cool scent of fog and sleepy meadows wafts against his face. A gentle tap of his wand, and the paper crane floats away into the night with minute flaps of wings. Where is it going? He never knows. To his love?

To my love,

There’s a suitcase hidden inside my mattress, ready to go.

Draco closes the window and slides under the cover. Staring up at the swirling darkness of his canopy, he hopes the crane gets to, say, the nearby valley before descending.

To my love,

Let’s run away together.

The scenery is nice there, at least.

----

There’s an analogy to be made about shackles and penance and father’s sins. Draco wouldn’t know. He’s not in the right state of mind to ponder it.

A shame. It’d be nice if his last thought before the Kiss is something poetic.

“He was but a child,” he hears his mother scream. A deafening crash echoes throughout the vast space as her chains weigh more with each word spoken out of turn, forcing her to the dirty floor. “A child!”

Titters and jeers swell in the overheated courtroom. Draco shifts his neck against his collar, silent. Much herculean effort has to be made to ensure his legs are still, lest he rushes to his mother’s side and. Well. He doesn’t know if moving without permission also results in the same punishment. It’ll be improper to collapse in defeat before he’s supposed to: after the Dementor’s had its way with him.

He stands there, unable to do all but look at the particularly orange tile four paces from his position.

“Before Draco Malfoy is given the Dementor’s Kiss as punishment for his crimes, relatives and loved ones are now allowed to say their last words to him,” the Wizengamot judge whose name Draco has let slipped out of his mind in a daze says with a bored drawl.

“If Mrs. Malfoy had just waited for this announcement, she wouldn’t be in her… predicament,” he says, his ‘but what can I do?’ attitude spurring the courtroom to snickers. Draco asks himself, for a brief, horrid moment, if Fiendfyre can be called forth without a wand.

After the laughter has died down, the judge says, “Is there a relative or loved one here who has something to tell Draco Malfoy before we proceed?”

The only one in the vicinity is his mother, whose sobs are choked off by heavy chains. His father has fled. Probably died, too, bless him.

The judge doesn’t even let Draco finish taking a breath and continues, “Alright. Draco Malfoy, you—”

“Wait.”

All noises cease, leaving behind the squeaking of trainers against tiles. Draco doesn’t look up even as the sounds get closer to where he stands.

“Mr, Mr. Potter,” the judge stammers, “you are not Mr. Malfoy’s relative nor loved one.”

“We have history. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Ratty trainers come into Draco’s field of vision. It’s already too late.

“I—yes, that should be enough, Mr. Potter.”

“Thought so.”

Potter’s presence covers up the especially orange tile, and now Draco can look nowhere else but at the many pockets of the man's olive green jacket. Lifting his head remains a horrible idea.

Nothing seems to move, then, even dust particles seem to pause mid-air. From what Draco can deduce, Potter is content to just stare at him for a bit.

“Thanks for helping me out that time,” Potter finally says. Draco doesn’t know what he wants him to say. That night was fucking hell on earth, he could barely remember it with how hard he blocks it out of his head. So what if he didn’t turn Potter in? What does it matter?

Draco stays silent, even as Potter rustles in his innumerable pockets and grumbles when he can’t seem to find what he’s searching for. Before Draco knows it, Potter hums in pleasant surprise.

“I want to give you something,” he says, holding the mystery object out in a closed fist. Draco frowns, tempted to let his face shift into something long-past and glare at the man in front of him. “Come, now, don’t be stubborn.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco reaches for the object, wrists aching from the iron bands, pulsating with heat. To his confusion, Potter covers Draco's hand with both of his. The man is a furnace, his palms possibly even warmer than the iron bands, the sensation sending volatile, feverish streaks of lightning up Draco’s arms. Potter then tucks an item into Draco’s hand, keeping his hands close by as Draco peers at what he is gifted. His eyes widen.

A paper crane.

Potter's left forearm shifts a bit, jostling the jacket sleeve and capturing Draco’s eyes. This can’t be right. Draco glances at Potter’s right arm and the visibly holstered wand that he always carries with him. Back to his left arm, where the head of another wand is but a hint in the shadow. Draco would’ve thought so as well, would’ve thought Potter is being cautious, if not for the instant familiarity striking him like an elbow to the throat.

His head whips up so quickly his neck strains within the collar. Knowing emerald eyes meet his gaze. “Potter, no.”

An eyebrow cocks up. “Did you not say you want to run away?” Potter whispers back. His fingers trail to the edge of Draco’s armbands like they’re trying to sneak under and touch bare skin.

Draco gasps. Nothing makes sense anymore, absolutely nothing at all.

But from the way the court is growing evidently agitated, from the way Potter doesn’t let them bother him one bit, from the way he waits, endlessly patient.

Potter might be the only one able to make sense of anything at all.

Draco leans a hair closer, so his voice is clear to no one but the two of them.

“My mother,” he says, watching Potter’s irises get swallowed up by pure black. “Remember what she did for you, Potter, please. She can’t stay here…”

Potter nods, promising a later date, that they will both get her. And Merlin help him, Draco trusts every word.

A chair tumbles onto the ground. Shouts explode into existence, footsteps thumping. Draco grips Potter’s left forearm as Potter’s wand effortlessly slides out of its holster into a waiting hand. The fizzling heat of hastily casted hexes slices through the air. With his mother’s shout of relief in his ears, Draco succumbs to the squeezing suffocation of Apparition.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Wait ~ E.O.

A/n: let’s be real this is a Drabble, and after how much I’ve struggled to write requests the rest will probably be as well so I can finally get them out to you guys.

Request: “1 from prompt list... Enoch x non-binary maybe?...” by anon

Prompt: #1 (here): “I should go” / “Or you should stay a little longer.”

MASTERLIST

Hearing the music confused Y/n just a little bit. It was definitely piano, but it shouldn’t have been playing. It was clear, far different than the old recordings they had around that scratched and slipped and popped. It couldn’t have been Miss Peregrine either, because she had taken the others out on a picnic. Y/n knew that because they were sick in bed, and Miss P had given them a head’s up on her way out so Y/n wouldn’t be startled if they got up and moved around to see an empty house.

The thing was, Y/n was torn about whether they were happy to hear the music or not. On one hand, they had the WORST headache. On the other... their favorite music had always been made by pianos and violins - The two most beautiful instruments in their mind. Most importantly, the music was being played beautifully.

Half in irritation and half due to curiosity, Y/n plodded down the steps of the very special house for very special people like Y/n, which was uncharacteristically empty today. They wandered around, trying to narrow their eyes enough to block out the sun while still being able to see.

Following the music brought them to a small parlor room. They’d just moved since the attack on the old time loop and with the chaos of so many people and adjusting to a new place, Y/n hadn’t had much time to explore. Their quirk was that they had a sort of psychic link to all living creatures. Not in the form of mind reading, but of feeling emotions. Emotions that, unfortunately, demanded to be felt rather violently. Emotions that fell of people in waves of bright colors. With the many new people they were boarding with until they found their own place to make a new loop, Y/n had been overwhelmed and very sick. It was probably why Miss Peregrine has set up the picnic to begin with.

It was also why they loved music so much. They could listen to and feel music without it messing them up. It was a beautiful experience.

That was all beside the point though.

The small parlor was new to Y/n. It didn’t have much in it. In fact, the most noticiable things were a bunch of seats forming a semi circle around a large, blank wall, which is probably where the others sat to watch Horace’s dreams. The other thing in the room was a gorgeous grand piano. Sitting on the bench playing it, to Y/n’s shock, was Enoch.

Upon hearing the door open, Enoch jumped away from the piano like it had burned him, spinning around and tripping over himself to get away from the thing. Y/n covered their mouth to hide a laugh they knew Enoch would find offensive.

“You- you’re here,” he stuttered. For someone who was usually gloomy and withdrawn and sulky, Enoch was suddenly very read faced, waves of magenta rolling off of him and pooling on the floor like mist. The bits higher up twirled into the air and spun around, like rays of sun. Compared to his dark grey outfit, pale skin, and black hair, the colorful emotion was almost laughable in its brilliance.

“I am,” Y/n agreed. “I’ve Uh, been sick.”

Enoch oriented himself, and his color changed. Like food coloring falling into water, a rich purple and sickly green twisted and spun, spreading out from the middle and consuming all the magenta from before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’ve been... there are a lot of people here. I’ve sort of been a recluse. Not talked much. Miss Peregrine said you’d all be gone.”

“I don’t think it occurred to her I’d be getting out of bed. Lots of people like you said. Very overwhelming, especially with how pretty the scenery outside is as well. I mean, emotions are one thing but living in a world that’s like some sort of painting? All those vibrant colors all the time? World’s worst headache.” Y/n suddenly rushed to end the ramble, embarrassed. They looked down at their hands and took reassurance that they could not see colors curling off of their fingers. Alone, at least, they had solace from the colors.

Enoch shuffled. “Well I’m sorry I bothered you. I just, uh, it’s peaceful. Easy way to blow off some steam, or make some noise that isn’t annoying. Never did like quiet. If you’re trying to get a break from emotions I’m sure you don’t want to see mine.” He scowled, the green taking over the purple now. It was the color green that spoke of disgust. Y/n immediately looked at their feet.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I-“ they swallowed. In all honesty, they had a bit of a crush on Enoch. It had started ages ago when being around Enoch had been a relief. His emotions were usually duller colors, because he was broody and sarcastic. Y/n wished him happiness, but if he was going to be grumpy then Y/n was going to enjoy it. The thing was, enjoying Enoch’s company had lead Y/n to taking part in it a lot. It wasn’t until Jake came around and ruined everything that Y/n withdrew, turned away by the sudden surging vibrant red of angry annoyance that spurted off of Enoch like fireworks. Since then, it had been one thing after another until Y/n was left feeling like Enoch got rather annoyed whenever Y/n was around anymore.

They figured he’d realized he liked not having them around and tried to keep their distance. Every time they showed up, Enoch got glummer than usual and his colors became like mop water. Not just dull, but muddy, and often mixing with hate and disgust. It made Y/n sick to see. If he was being honest, it was that more than anything that made him feel terrible.

“Why would you ever need to be sorry for anything?” Enoch asked quietly, seeming genuinely curious about that. “I’m the one that’s upset you.”

“I upset you first.” It was too honest, and Y/n felt their body tense. “Er, interrupting your piano playing. Which I didn’t know you did by the way.”

For the first time in a very long time, Enoch offered a smile. It was small, and he seemed shy about it, but it was there, and it stuck. “You never upset me, Y/n. I don’t think you could if you tried.”

At that, Y/n got angry. “Well don’t go lying to me now just because you pity me.” That seemed to startle Enoch. “Mind You Enoch O’Connor, I can see your emotions, remember? I can’t see all that hate and disgust that flares up everytime I’m around. I’m not blind and I’m not an idiot - don’t treat me one and just let me apologize already!”

For a long time, Enoch was stunned. Then he slowly realized, and his face morphed into a mix of emotions Y/n had gotten used to seeing. Irritation. Disgust. Frustration. Anger. Regret. There were new ones too. Ones that didn’t make sense. Amusement. The light bubblegum that usually signaled someone making sassy comments in their head. The color of attitude. Enoch finally shook his head, watching Y/n’s eyes flick around him but never looking directly at him. He had long since learned that it was them looking at the colors. With all the emotions in him right now, he was sure that the confusion on their face was the result of attempting to dicipher any of it.

“Remember that you can see feelings, but you don’t know why they’re there.” Y/n finally looked at Enoch, wary. “The hate and disgust wasn’t directed at you, Y/n. I-“ he purses his lips for a second. “When Jake came around, I was really annoyed with him. After his stupid grandfather I didn’t want another one coming around and hurting my friends by leaving again. And I knew he would. And then he did! He came back but that’s not the point.” He sighed, seeming to be taking a second to remind himself of something. “I let that get to me too much. I... remember how you’d flinch away from me every time Jake was around and my emotions would flare up. I felt terrible. One day you just disappeared, and then so much was happening and I‘d gone and pushed you away and now we might not ever be friends again.” He shrugged. Though not usually one to express himself, he’d always been loose lipped around Y/n. More so now after all they’d been through. Jake had taught him to talk, if nothing else, and Enoch could appreciate that at the very least.

Y/n looked at their feet. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. That you felt so pressured to be calm around me, to repressed your emotions. And that I... mixed things up, rather than just talking to you. I know it’s not fair to read into your emotions with the hints I get when you never get a look into mine when it comes to you.” Suddenly they were both on high alert. The way Y/n had said that had been so far from talking about normal feelings like Enoch had been talking about. They had used a tone that was so distinctively... something more.

“What?” Enoch asked softly.

“I- I-“ Y/n began to back up, and Enoch didn’t have to see their emotional colors to know they were panicking. “I better go.”

Enoch surged forward, catching their arm. “No, wait.” He bit his lip as Y/n refused to look at him, before reaching over and catching their chin, tugging them around to look at him again. He offered a soft smile. That same one from before, but hopeful now. “I think you could- or, you should at least, stay. Just a little longer.”

Y/n looked up at him with that same nervous hope. “Why?”

Enoch stepped closer, and Y/n felt something in his chest grow warm at the sunset orange slowly curling around and drowning all the other colors. Orange, which was sometimes admiration or idolization, but was most often proof of a crush. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

And Y/n knew he was right.

[honey-dewey]

The Rainbow Connection

Pairing: Ezra/Male! Reader

Word Count: 2,123

Warnings: canon-typical violence and language.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell​

It is week two of pride month! As I have said, I am participating in @flightlessangelwings and @autumnleaves1991-blog​ Pride writing prompts! This one was super fun for me, and I hope you enjoy. 

Prompts:  Rainbow and/or “Hold my hand tight. I’ll protect you.”

“Babe?” 

You rolled over, groaning and putting your arm over your eyes. You and Ezra had been prospecting on a truly hellish desert planet for nearly a week now, and the three suns made the sky as bright and as hot as it could possibly be. It filtered through the pod’s tiny window, lighting the entire room. “Yes Ez?” 

Ezra smiled down at you, putting his hand on the bed and leaning in to kiss you. “Good morning dove.” 

“Did you wake me up just to say good morning?” You asked, rolling out of bed and fumbling for a pair of pants. You ended up grabbing Ezra’s from the night before off the floor, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he stared rather obviously at where the elastic met your bare waist, the skin marred by scars you’d gotten while working. 

“Hey, Casanova,” you said, turning and catching Ezra staring. “What’s on the agenda for today?” 

Ezra smiled, leaning against the bed. “They just found a new deposit of zipreye out a few miles north. It’ll be a hell of a trek, especially in this weather. Hot as the devil out there.” 

You sighed, grabbing a tank top out of your travel bag. “Think I should just go topless?” 

“Might feel better,” Ezra decided. “But you might burn, so grab the sunscreen. And don’t forget your boot covers this time.” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, tugging on thin socks and your heavy hiking boots. “And you better not forget your glove again.” 

After a long and lazy breakfast, you and Ezra left the pod you were temporarily calling home and started traveling north, both carrying your prospecting equipment. The heavy bags combined with the suns and the physical labor of walking made you groan more than once. The air was barely breathable, and it felt like thick soup going to your lungs. Multiple times you had to stop for water, leaning against Ezra, who was just as tired as you were. 

By the time you arrived at the dig site, you were both sweating and exhausted, but the scenery made up for it. The site was settled on the very edge of a giant canyon, at least a hundred feet deep and streaked with color as far as the eye could see. The sky was growing grey and cloudy, the sunlight filtering through creating pockets of sunshine shining on the rocks. The air was cooler out here as it swelled up from the depth of the canyon, and you took a deep breath of the sandy air, eyeing the rapidly growing clouds. 

“Think it’ll rain?” You asked, turning to the dig site and kneeling down so you could unpack your stuff. 

Ezra shrugged, sitting cross legged on the dirt so he could unload his own bag. “Dunno. I like that shirt on you, by the way.” 

You smiled, looking down. In an effort not to get horrifically sunburnt, you’d put on a thin white shirt with short sleeves and a hood. “Thanks. I think it’s yours.” 

“Ah, well, that would explain it.” Ezra smiled as he squinted at the sky. “It does look like rain, but it’s far off. We have an hour. Maybe two, at a push.” 

You nodded, bending down. Zipreye was one of the easier minerals to prospect, with no need for acids or dangerous conditions to battle against. All you had to do was find a deposit and chip it out, piece by piece. It was harder for Ezra, with only one hand, but he made it work. The reward was enough for you two to finally take a vacation after this trip. You two were planning on visiting Cee, who had joined a few distant family members on a perfectly habitable and safe planet. It would be a nice break from the chaos of planet hopping and hoping to find a job. 

You and Ezra had been prospecting for nearly an hour and a half before you felt the air shift for real. It had been stirring the sand for a while, but now it started to truly whip your lighter equipment around, making you look up and see the suddenly very dark clouds completely blocking the sun. The temperature began to drop noticeably, and you carefully lifted the chunk of zipreye you’d been harvesting out of the ground before beginning to pack up. 

“Dove?” Ezra looked up at you, confused. “What’s wrong?” 

“The rain,” you said. “Can’t you feel it?” 

Ezra sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. “I can,” he murmured. “Let’s go, before it hits us.” 

You weren’t very lucky, and the rain began to pour a mile or two away from the pod. It stung your skin and soaked your bodies, making your clothes stick to you and forcing Ezra to push his hair out of his eyes every few seconds. It took everything you had to keep your equipment as dry as possible, the bag at your side shielded by your body and the waterproof backpack getting absolutely drenched. 

“Pod’s just up there!” Ezra yelled above the downpour, pointing to a familiar looking ridge. “C’mon!”

You grabbed his hand, continuing to trudge through the rain. It was seriously coming down, and it burned badly enough that you had to wonder if it was acidic. 

“Ez!” You shouted, tugging on Ezra’s shirt to get his attention. “This planet doesn’t have acidic rain, does it?” 

Ezra shrugged, looking at his bare skin. It was starting to get red, and so was yours. 

“We have that soap with the burn relief shit in it,” Ezra said, pulling you closer. “And a thing in the first aid kit. It’ll be fine, even if the rain is acidic. We would’ve been issued a warning and suits if it was dangerous.” 

You nodded, looking out over the blank horizon, hoping you’d be able to see your temporary home soon. The landscape did look familiar, and you sighed deeply. Taking another soggy step, you decided today could not get much worse. 

Of course, it somehow could, because the pod was just barely in sight when Ezra was attacked. 

Something large and soaking wet came running up out of nowhere and swung a large weapon at Ezra, catching his indefendible right side. Ezra yelled loudly, flinching away as the attacker got a lucky strike in. 

You screamed as Ezra bumped into you, grabbing your dagger off your belt and immediately pulling Ezra back behind you, away from the attacker. The man, at least you thought it was a man, made a blind swing in your direction, but you were quicker. You whirled around him, grabbing his throat and shoving him down. Two quick moves with your knife later, and you were standing, wiping blood off your knife and letting the rain clean up the rest. Ezra, who had been knocked to the ground, winced when you pulled him to his feet, blood washing away as it hit the sand, but he was definitely bleeding. 

“Did he get you?” You asked, checking Ezra over as best you could. 

Ezra nodded, moving his hand off his right stump. “My shoulder.” 

You hissed, seeing the tattered wound. “Disinfectant,” you said. “A bandage. But no stitches. You’ll be a-okay.” 

Ezra shrugged, still shaking as you reached into your bag for a temporary bandage. You tore the bottom off your shirt and used it to tie the gauze pad in place, effectively giving yourself a crop top. 

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching out and taking Ezra’s hand when you were done. “Hold my hand tight. I’ll protect you.” 

The walk to the pod was quiet. The rain was starting to let up, finally, and after drying off somewhat, you herded Ezra into the kitchen so you could examine his arm. Both of you were covered in mild burns from the rain, but after careful consideration, you decided that cleaning Ezra’s wound and taking a nap would be best. You two could bathe and treat your burns later, but for now, you removed the current bandage and discarded it in the sink, taking another look at the sluggishly bleeding injury.

“Looks worse than it is!” You announced, putting on a pair of sterile gloves and opening your first aid kit. “I promise. It just needs disinfecting, like I said.” 

Ezra fidgeted from his spot at the tiny kitchen table as you grabbed a towel and used warm water to wipe away the worst of the mess. “Sure?” 

“I’m sure,” you said, opening a can of spray-on disinfectant. “This’ll sting.” You braced Ezra’s shoulder with your non-dominant hand and sprayed the wound with the other. His face twisted with barely concealed pain, and you took a breath. “Ez?” 

“I’m fine, dove,” Ezra said, although it sounded strained. “Fine. Keep going.” 

You nodded, continuing through the motions of cleaning and bandaging Ezra’s wound. Somewhere in the middle of the process, you started to sing. It was a mindless lullaby, but Ezra seemed to enjoy it. 

“Why are there so many songs about rainbows, and what's on the other side? Rainbows are visions, but only illusions. And rainbows have nothing to hide.” You pressed the last piece of tape to Ezra’s arm, gently kissing the patch of gauze. “So we've been told and some choose to believe it, I know they're wrong, wait and see. Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers and me.” You pulled your gloves off and threw them out, coming back to stand in front of Ezra. “How’s that feel?”

Ezra smiled, resting his head on your shoulder. “It feels fine,” he decided softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, putting your arms around Ezra and holding him close. “Do you want me to put something on those burns or would you rather just go straight to bed?” 

Ezra shrugged. “Do we have any quick burn stuff? I don’t want a shower right now.” 

You chuckled slightly, digging through the first aid kit and finding a bottle of burn lotion. “You said you need to use mycotex, right?” 

“Yeah,” Ezra said, not removing his head from your shoulder. “I’m allergic to the other stuff. What is it?” 

“Acitretiza,” you said. “My mom used it all the time.” As you spoke, you gently rubbed Ezra’s tender shoulders with the lotion, hearing him sigh with relief as the lotion began to cool and heal his burns. “Works better to help scars, but I think mycotex feels nicer.” 

“Amen to that,” Ezra mumbled into your skin. “You ruined your shirt, by the way.” 

You looked down at the ripped edge of your shirt. It was bloody and unrepairable, and you were a tiny bit disappointed. “I can always find a new one,” you said, continuing down Ezra’s back and digging your thumbs into the knots under his skin. “Maybe I’ll get you one this time.”

Ezra chuckled, taking the bottle of lotion from you and motioning for you to turn around. “Cee would have a field day if she saw us in matching shirts, and you know it.” 

After you and him had both rubbed the lotion into each other’s skin, accompanied by no less than six thinly veiled sexual comments, you decided it was time for a nap. Ezra’s eyes were dropping and he was clearly exhausted from the job and from the trip home. 

It was no struggle getting Ezra into bed. Neither of you bothered with your barely damp clothes, so you left a trail of discarded clothes to the bedroom, leading up to the bed. Pyjamas were a fruitless endeavor, so you just grabbed a second blanket so neither of you would be cold. Ezra fell asleep first, snoring slightly as you sat beside him, working on your laptop. At some point, you got up to put on pants and an old shirt of Ezra’s. As you worked on mind-numbing files, you hummed, unable to get the song you’d been singing earlier out of your head. Turning to look at Ezra, you smiled, watching his side rise and fall gently as he slept, completely oblivious to your actions as you bent down and kissed his temple. 

Sitting back up, you looked out the window, seeing a beautiful and vibrant rainbow illuminating the canyon you’d just been prospecting near. The rain had left the earth wet, and it glimmered like a thousand diamonds under the afternoon sun. The scenery made you grin, nodding your head slightly as you went back to work, your humming turning to soft singing. 

“What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing, and what do we think we might see? Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers and me.”

[catwithangerissues]

WEEKLY EVENT I HEAR ? time to crawl out of my little cave dwelling !! ☺️💛

romantic please, since ima hopeless romantic and can’t get enough of that !! 😖 I don’t know if it has to be current time or favorite time, so I’ll just say both just in case.. ? current is 5 p.m and favorite time is 1 a.m ! and as much as I wanna ask for kyōtani, I’ll try and do someone who might be a little easier i hope — tanaka !! ( I think it’s clear that I might have a type 🤭🥺 )

<3 <3 <3 much love !!! take your time and be sure to take breaks !! if this stresses you in anyway, you can delete, I don’t wanna be a bother ! 🥺☺️

Bb I’d write Kyo for you any day😌 but have some Tanaka! Love this chaotic fella😌 Thank you for always interacting with our events! I’m so grateful and it always makes me smile!! And youre never a bother!! Don’t think that ever, please :) <3 also! You can thank @sunalma for helping come up with the scenario for this one! 😌

1:03am

It hadn’t been a long night so far, but you knew that was about to change. You and your long time friend group had rented a house for the next few days- as a means to get away from your work and school lives for a little vacation. Amongst the seven of you, Tanaka, your long time crush from high school, was also there.

After getting settled in, you all had come to the realization that it was getting pretty late, it was your first night in the house, so going on wasn’t the best idea- especially given that it was nearing 1 in the morning and it was snowing outside.

You’d all settled on playing a game of truth or dare, much like your group used to do when you were younger and all hung out.

A few pizzas and other snacks were sat in various parts of the small living room, a few people with drinks in their hands and a couple bottles laying around ready to be opened. A few individuals sitting on the floor, one of your buddies laying upside down on the couch, one laying with their feet in the air on the floor, and another sitting normally on the couch cushions tucked into a blanket- in all your respective places. It really reminded you of the good old days with your friends, and you found yourself smiling at how you guys truly never changed, even when life around you all did.

About an hour into the game, a spin of the bottle in the middle of your circle decided it was your turn to suffer through whatever your friends wanted you to endure. You knew they cared about you dearly and would never force you to do anything that would harm you, but the fun of the game was coming up with outrageous ideas, so you knew what to expect from previous rounds.

You replayed the comforting message in your head over and over until your best friend decided on their dare for you. You nearly choked on your drink upon hearing it.

“Jump in the pool, right now.”

A round of laughter spilled from the circle, and you couldn’t help but playfully remind them that it was the dead of night, winter, and snowing. They didn’t have much sympathy for you, since your best friend, the one who chose the house you’d be staying in, knew the temperature of the water could be changed in the pool, which is why it hadn’t frozen over despite the frigid temperature outside.

You pouted, not wanting to jump into the pool in your shorts and tshirt all while it was snowing outside- but you knew they wouldn’t give you time to change. An all too familiar voice rang through the air with laughter behind it as you began to fall backwards onto the floor with your arms spread- mumbling a complaint towards the ceiling about your choice of a dare over another truth.

“I’ll join you, it can’t be that bad! Come on, it’ll be fun!” Tanaka was always a sweetheart, and one of the reasons you’d fallen for him so long ago was because he was always considerate of others. He didn’t want you to go alone, especially since it was 1am and he also was in the unknown about the pools temperature changing. If you were gonna suffer, he decided he’d want in on all the fun. ;)

Making your way to the back door, he slid it open and the two of you were immediately bombarded with a bite of the cold air. Shivering already, you tossed aside anything you had on you that you didn’t want wet, Tanaka following suit, and padded your way across the worn wooden porch to examine where you’d be jumping momentarily.

The porch awning was adorned with warm colored string lights, and other than that the only light was from the glass windows and door attached to the house, and the color changing ones on the walls of the pool interior. You had to admit, it made for beautiful scenery- with the flurries of snow complimenting the environment around you. You mentally gave your best friend credit for finding such a little slice of heaven.

After closing the door behind the two of you, a few of your friends appeared behind the glass recording the scene about to unfold for future blackmail- probably when they wanted food but were too lazy to go get it themselves.

Amongst the few, your best friend slid a hand to the remote that lay dormant on the table, turning up the temperature to the pool. F/n knew of your crush on Tanaka, but they didn’t tell you of their plan to get you two alone together.

“On three?” The bald boy asked, grabbing your hand in his proportionally much larger one and nodding his head to the side. He could see your shivering, but he had taken note of the steam beginning to arise from the water.

“Yeah, sure, you count!” You rushed, gripping his hand tightly, maybe it wasn’t only because you were cold, but also that you needed to get this dare over with or else you just knew you’d say something embarrassing around the cute boy.

On a count of three, you both jumped into the pool, and after the initial shock of the spontaneity from the situation, you rose above the warm water, shaking the water off of your face and rubbing your eyes. Tanaka smiled brightly at you, both slightly panting, the two of you laughing together and basking in the situations entertainment.

The cold breeze nipped at your exposed body, your tshirt clinging to you and beginning to freeze. You sank back down into the steamy water, and watched with brightly entertained eyes as Tanaka began his usual chaotic tendencies- flinging off his shirt and splashing around in the water, hoping out of the pool just to dive back in before popping up nearer to you and laughing so loud you swore it could be heard inside the house.

“Let’s hang out here for a while, we’ve been playing for so long, and the waters warm.” He suggested, he looked so hopeful and excited, he linked his hand with yours once again and pulled you into the middle of the water upon the nod of your head. Giving a small wave to your friends behind the glass, they all went back to the living room to continue their game, leaving you two alone.

After a few more minutes of swimming around, jumping into the water, and general fun with Tanaka, a moment of stillness and quiet had spread over you two- the only noises being the sloshing of water and muffled laughter coming from the house. It all added to the ambiance, and you found yourself smiling brightly while looking up at the sky- the dark sky that made the moon look so much brighter than it did in the busy city, and the stars that looked like you could reach up and grab them with how bright they were.

You were so busy admiring the sky, the voice next to you startled you out of your little daydream.

“Ya know, I’m already really enjoying this trip. And I hardly ever get all sentimental, but it’s just too beautiful out not to right now.” You smiled at the boy, the colorful pool lights complimenting his features, and agreeing with his comment about the sky, but while you were back staring at the stars and the moon, he wasn’t exactly sure you knew what he was talking about.

“Y/n, I need to tell you something that I’ve been putting off for a while now. I don’t know how you’ll react to this, but just hear me out, okay?” He warily began, his eyes held a fear but hopefulness as well, and you couldn’t quite place what he was thinking, but a pit in your stomach grew nonetheless.

A nod of your head signaling him to continue, he found himself looking anywhere but you while he uncharacteristically mumbled his words, “I’ve liked you since high school, and I was always scared to tell you because I didn’t think you felt the same way. This trip gave me the opportunity to confess in a way that wouldn’t be so stressful, with life not being able to get in the way, but now that I think about it,, if you don’t feel the same way it could be even more stressful cause you’re gonna be stuck with me for the next few days- dammit, I didn’t mean to—“ he began to outwardly worry and fidget as the words kept spilling from his lips, until you interrupted his sentence by pulling him into a tight embrace.

“I’ve always felt that way for you, Tanaka. I always thought you were set on winning over Shimizu, so I kinda gave up on the idea of ever confessing to you. But I’m so happy you told me.” You nuzzled into his shoulder with a grateful smile on your face, and he slowly went from shocked to overjoyed- hugging you back even tighter, his large arms squeezing you and his laughter once again ringing through the night.

“Holy shit, I was so scared there for a minute! But did you really not know how I felt about you? I slipped up like a year ago and told b/f/n how I felt about you, I figured they would’ve shared? And you don’t have to worry about Shimizu, she was kind of a cover up for you.” He sounded surprised but still laughed through his words. “Nope, I guess even if they had, my own insecurities would’ve made me overthink the whole thing, and they probably knew that, so they kept it a secret. Sure wish the little shit had told me now though.” You both laughed at your comment, exchanging a few more sarcastic ones, but after another minute, Tanaka laying his forehead on yours brought you back to reality.

It was silent but judging by the wide grin he had and closed eyes, he was content with holding you in his arms for however long you would let him.

You hadn’t planned for it to be such a long night, but as you were getting ready for bed later that night, the kiss on your forehead your long time crush now turned boyfriend left brought a wide smile to your face, and it all felt worth it- even if you knew you’d be dead tired in the morning.

What you didn’t know, was that your best friend had watched the last part of your romantic winter pool scene unfold, and was definitely super smug about their plan, unbeknownst to either of you, that had worked out perfectly.

Taglist: @toworuu @sunalma

🌱I hope you liked the concept! This was again- supposed to be a drabble but,, we all know it’s a lie when I say that I’ll write something short. 😌😅 lmk what you think with this one!

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (waffles)

summary: (part 1) or (part 5) <- reader joins douxie on his quest to protect nari. he’ll need company wont he. (part 6) do you like waffles? also appalachia and nj trollmarket fun. next-> (part 7)

warnings: swearing, fem! reader, maybe an alcohol mention, proof reading is for squares yo

word count: 3875

a/n: i’m sorry to anyone from PA but wtf. i also have no idea why this turned out the way it did. bon apetit.

no gif im trying to test something

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/n looked over at Douxie. The blue of his hair was starting to fade into a duller hue. While not as bright and bold as his personality, it was still very nice to look at. This muted blue was softer, almost comforting in a way. Y/n found herself running her fingers through it. It wasn’t just the color that was soft. Like feathers in her hand, she gently caressed the strands. The duller color made him look tired, older, and the permanent bags under his eyes didn’t help. She placed her hand on his face and ran her thumb over a said eye bag. He gave her a very subdued smile in return. His sunken eyes were so beautiful. Her favorite color. Or colors, one should say. They were like an earth toned opal. Y/n’s hand drifted down his face. She used her thumb to explore his cheekbones, tracing constellations in his freckles, and finally settled on his mouth, tracing his cupid’s bow. Douxie couldn’t help but break the stoic face he was trying to hold.

“As much as I hate to ask this, and I really do, but will you please cease what you’re doing, My Love. I’m trying to drive here.”

“Yes, I would also like to ask you to stop, miss L/n. Not wrecking the ship is worth you canning your pda for a while.” Archie added.

Y/n pulled her hand back and exaggeratedly pouted. She teasingly stuck her tongue out at Archie for good measure, but couldn’t help but dissolve into a snicker right after so it wasn’t very effective. But really, it wasn’t her fault that Douxie’s beautifully sculpted face was right there and demanding to be touched. She tried to distract herself by focusing on the scenery around them. North Pennsylvania was delightful, so it’d be a shame if she spent the whole time that they flew through it looking at nothing but Douxie. There was plenty of time for her to do that the rest of her life. It’s not like she didn’t have every freckle memorized already. Every single adorable little dot. Right, Pennsylvania. Appalachia. Y/n was a little disappointed they didn’t manage to go through West Virginia, being as north as they were. She really wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Country roads.

The mountains were hard to transverse through, so Douxie took the boat up high in the clouds. A little too high. The oxygen was thin. While this didn’t affect Archie the dragon or Nari the plant goddess, Douxie and Y/n were getting a bit woozy. Neither would get altitude sickness to the point of dying, thanks to that good ol’ curse of immortality, but their minds weren’t exactly operating at high speeds here. They passed through a low hanging cloud in a puff of fog.

Though they were over it, just being in the range of Appalachia felt odd. There was a presence that clung to the mountains. Even flying high up in the air, one felt as though they were being watched. Like the thousand eyes of the forest were upon them. Looking down below, hanging over the edge like Douxie hated her to do, Y/n saw a herd of deer that might as well be ants. Watching over the herd was a bigger, or maybe closer, stag on a peak of some sort. His antlers were covered in crimson. Y/n hoped he was just shedding.

There were pathways cutting through the trees below, some roads, some manmade trails, some rivers, some troll trails, and some deer trails. Some that wound around in endless curves, some that seemed to start from nowhere and stop at nothing, some that went round and round in a circle, and some that crossed over each other, effectively creating a maze of sorts. Y/n didn’t know why, but she was glad she was above the trees and not in them. Something within her gut told her that as beautiful as the scenery was, she did not wish to experience it first-hand. The deer below were beautiful, but there was something not quite right about them. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to turn down a game of ninepins either, and she could really go for a drink.

Douxie’s brain may have been foggy, but he could certainly see Y/n hanging over the edge again, tantalizing him. He couldn’t help but imagine 174 ways for it to end badly. He’d been pretty passive about this before but now that they were so high up, he had no choice but to be up front now.

“Y/n, My Love,” Y/n turned her attention to him, which also pulled her weight more towards the boat than the sky. Good. “do you mind being back near the center of the ship? I really don’t like you draping yourself over the railing like that.”

Y/n was getting sick and tired of people always trying to keep her away from edges, advising her not to climb the mountain, telling her to stay inside when there was only a light rainstorm. She could handle it. She wasn’t a fucking porcelain doll. She was not wearing a fancy gown that suffocated her, she could speak, her lips were not perfectly painted on. And she wouldn’t shatter. “Relax, Dewdrop. I’m fine. I’m not just gonna go skydiving for kicks. If anyone has had a penchant for falling through the sky recently, it’s been you, Hisirdoux. I can catch myself with anti-gravity spells, like you taught me. Besides, we walk across tall, crumbly, ancient non-osha compliant walkways all the time. You never had a problem then.”

“Well,” He huffed, “it would be one thing if I was there next to you, but I’m not, so could you please just try to stay safe when I can’t reach you?” Y/n was taken about at how quick his tone went from annoyed to desperate. She furrowed her brows. Doux sighed, “Look, it frightens me, okay. I know that nothing will happen, but what if it does? I can’t- I can’t lose you.” His tone got even feebler in his pleading. “And there’s so many ways to lose you. Especially with the Order on our tails. Please, just give me this peace of mind for at least one thing.”

Y/n stepped away from the railing, crossing over to Douxie. He opened his arm and she nestled into his side. Pressing her head against his chest, she mumbled, “Absolutely. I’ll just—I’ll just stay here then. Next to you. I’m sorry I worried you. That was the last thing I wanted to do.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, My Darling.”

~ ~ ~

The dipped down south to go through the top of Maryland and completely through Delaware to get to the south of New Jersey, in place of just going through Philadelphia. The city of brotherly love was not on the itinerary.  Philly, and the top of New Jersey, were just too densely populated to take a magic boat through. The airspace was filled with airplanes and skyscrapers. It was easier to go the roundabout way.

As they passed between Philly and Lancaster, they went by fantastically named towns such as Paradise the city, where the girls are pretty, Bird In Hand, Blue Ball, and Intercourse. Stellar. Y/n was starting to really like Pennsylvania. It was cursed ground. She made sure to get photographic evidence of every road sign. Douxie was happy to pose with them.

They took a pit stop in a town called Peach Bottom before leaving Pennsylvania. Y/n wanted to go through New Texas, since she was curious how somewhere in the original colonies could be a new Texas, but Nari could sense a river nearby, and wanted to seek it out. Peach Bottom. It was a cozy little town with a power plant that was dumping it’s waste into the riverside it was built on. Toxic river. Fun. Y/n made Douxie explain to Nari why she couldn’t get near the river or touch any of the water. Y/n wouldn’t have been able to stay as calm as Douxie could. There was nothing happening in the rural Pennsylvanian town. Nothing special about it unless you counted their countless nuclear admissions. The locals didn’t care for strangers, and that was alright with them cause they didn’t want to be here for any more than necessary for a restroom break. Dinner could wait.

The top of Maryland was great. Lots of rivers to make it up to Nari. There was just, an incredibly large walmart near the line. Just absolutely humongous whopper walmart. A leach whose name doesn’t even deserve to be capitalized, thank you very much autocorrect.

It took less than half an hour to fly right through the top of Delaware. Hi Delaware, bye Delaware.

Soon they were on the coast of south New Jersey, headed for a sleepy town called Monty. Monty was a town along the Cohansey, split across it with quite an impressive bridge between the two sides. As soon as the bridge became visible on the skyline, Y/n grabbed Douxie’s sleeve and tugged excitedly. She looked up at him with a big smile. Rest. At last, they were going to get to rest. Y/n made herself busy calling Jim to let him know that they were there so he could call someone else to let them know that they were there and to wait by the entrance for them. Neither Douxie nor Y/n had a horngazzle on them at the moment. Y/n had had one in her possession back in Arcadia, being book club buddies with Blinky, but alas that was destroyed along with their bookstore.

They hid that damn magic boat in the forest. While they did plan on staying with the trolls for a few weeks, Douxie didn’t put it back in its glass bottle quite yet, cause they were in fact taking it into New York not tomorrow but the next day. He covered the ground around it with a few more wards than necessary. Y/n threw up an illusion spell around it, as she had been all the other times they’d just left it in the woods, and thought the wards were overkill but didn’t say anything. They started on the trek to the base of the bridge.

The troll at the entrance greeted them cordially. He was a dark green color, with two massive horns resembling those of a longhorn cow, chiseled stone tattoos, and no clothes other than a tiny loincloth which made everyone but Nari uncomfortable. He let them in with flourish, as if he’d always wanted to do this and practiced it.

“Welcome to NEW JERSEY TROLLMARKET.”

Y/n was surprised at how well the town had come along within the two months the trolls had occupied the cavern. It wasn’t the Trollmarket she had known, there was no Blinky and no library, but still marvelous. The new hearthstone glowed warmly, very much alive and not making zombies. While looking pretty similar to the old Trollmarket, with a multitude of shops and homes carved into the mineral covered walls and formations, there was a sort of human touch to it now. Claire definitely had a hand in the planning and maybe the decorative features too. Or perhaps Jim. Y/n wouldn’t put it past the boy to be the one who designed the very elaborate crystal art flower bed she was looking at. Or that weirdly steampunk bridge. Funny thing, a bridge under a bridge.

Dictatious met them soon after they came in to show them around and to where they would be staying. The tour he gave them basically just included him walking them through the main street, waving his arms to various places and vaguely saying that they were shops but not what they sold, pointing out the pub, and then took them straight to their accommodations. Since the home that had been occupied by Blinky, Jim, and Claire was now empty, they’d be staying there, with the place practically to themselves. Dictatious also lived in said home, but rarely stuck around it for long now that his brother was gone.

“Alright, here’s your nest.”

Since Dictatious still slept in the nest that he shared with Blinky, he had given them Jim and Claire’s. The nests were just rocky bowls carved into the floor of the room, with a few comfort items. Thankfully, Jim and Claire had left theirs full of pillows and a couple thick cushions they must have taken from a couch. Unconventional, but better than sleeping on literal solid rock. Speaking of couches, there were way too many couches spread across the apartment. This entire place only had two rooms, a large living area and a nestroom, and yet there were five couches. Not to mention the extra-large easy chair Dic was currently lounging in. Okay, so one of said couches was technically a love seat, but still. There was no kitchen, which was surprising due to this being Jim Lake Jr’s home, and no table besides the one that three of the sofas were gathered around and a paper-covered work desk against a corner. There were glowing crystal lamps all throughout, lighting the house. All in all, interesting interior design decisions. The kids had definitely been trying to make it a more homey human dwelling but had limited options.

Nari nestled into the nest, happy that there were no blankets to smother her. Not even a minute passed and she was out like a light. Douxie and Y/n sat on one of the couches in the nestroom, watching the veggie lady snooze. Archie made himself comfy in Douxie’s lap, who absent mindedly stroked his familiar’s fur. They were underground now. Surrounded by inorganic matter. Some of that inorganic matter could fight, would be willing to fight, would probably be disappointed if there wasn’t a fight. The little devil on Douxie’s shoulder wasn’t really having to work hard. His stomach growled. They had opted to just not stop for dinner in favor of plowing right through their trip route. It was late, and dark, and Douxie really just wanted them to have a roof over their head before midnight. And now they did.

He looked over at Y/n. They had been a couple for an entire day now and he had yet to take her on a proper date. What a bad boyfriend he was. It’s not like Archie would want to come with them or anything either, since he filled himself with birds that didn’t know what hit them while they traveled. The dragon had even caught a hawk at one point, which wasn’t as impressive as it sounds, since Archie was a much faster flyer. He would be happy to watch Nari for them, surely. And Dic had given them a horngazzle so they could come and go as they pleased. It was settled then.

“Arch, watch Nari for us, please, we’ll be back in a pinch,” He grabbed Y/n’s hand to pull her off the couch, “C’mon, My Love, we’re going on a date.”

~ ~ ~

Turns out the only thing open past midnight in small town New Jersey was a waffle house. The perfect date. Y/n had thought it funny to watch Douxie try and deactivate all the fresh wards he had put around the boat. He had to be careful where he put his feet, and it was like he was doing a silly little dance. Ward trap ballet of his own barely thought-out design. At one point he stepped backwards to admire his work, triggering the ward behind him, and Y/n had to free him from the net. Lucky it was just a net one.

Entering the waffle house, they slid into the nearest booth, the one near the jukebox. They ordered what else but waffles. The food of kings and hungover college kids. Not just plain waffles, though. Douxie got chocolate chip and Y/ got strawberry, and they were going to combine them to make chocolate covered strawberry waffles. Everyone knows chocolate covered strawberries were the most romantic food, why else would they push them so hard around Valentine’s.

Douxie leaned in with his head in his hand. “So, tell me about yourself.”

Y/n laughed, decided to play into this bit. “Oh, I’m just a California lass, on her way to New York. Things have been crazy lately. Went to a very convincing renaissance faire, I’m harboring a fugitive, my roommate keeps hitting on me. Very stressful.  Sure am lucky I came across you, Mr. Handsome.”

“Lucky indeed.” Doux snickered.

Y/n pointed to the jukebox behind Doux, which he twisted around to see. “Have you ever heard ‘Last Night I Saw Elvis At Waffle House’?”

“No?”

“Oh, it’s a banger.” She got out of the booth and put a coin in the juke, making her selection. She slid back in with a Cheshire cat grin and Doux was kind of scared now, actually. As the current song ended and the song that they were waiting for began. Well, it was a song. About seeing Elvis in a waffle house. With a country tune he supposed someone thought was catchy in order for them to have recorded this. Douxie didn’t know what he had expected.

“Uh, wow.”

“Yeah, Ain’t it something. I loved this song when I was knee high to a grasshopper. All the waffle house jams really.”

“Your aunt let someone bring you to a waffle house? That’s not very proper.” Douxie chuckled.

“Oh, no, actually. Um, this was before my dad passed and my mother, ah, slipped.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Douxie rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“No, no. I’m fine Dewdrop. I can talk about it, really. And, like you said the other day, I’ve been focusing on the Now Love.” The silly waffle house themed song was still playing despite the air of seriousness that had fallen over the duo. It helped keep Y/n from getting too sad and dwelling on the memories she had just brought up. It was comical, really. A waffle house song keeping her grounded. She rubbed the palm of Douxie’s hand. “I still mourn my family, but it’s been so long that the pain’s but a dull ache now. As long as I don’t think too hard about it. If anyone knows about mourning it’d be you, Doux. I can’t imagine meeting hundreds of friends over my lifetime just to watch them all grow old and die while you just have to go on living.” She paused, eyes drifting downwards, “But I suppose that’ll be my fate anyways.”

Douxie reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s actually not that bad, once you get used to it. You just have to enjoy every bit of time you get. That’s what makes other magic friends so valuable, there are some permanent players on your team.” He let his hand linger under her jaw, pulling her face closer to his, “You have me. We have each other. We’re family. We always have been.”

“So I hate to interrupt, but, waffles.” The server put the plates she had been holding down onto the table. Douxie and Y/n pulled away from each other quick as lightning, sitting up straight in their seats. “Again, sorry guys.”

“Thank you.” The two chorused to their fleeting form in embarrassment. Their faces were fire engine red. Archie was right, they did get a little carried away with the pda. It may have been 12:28am in a waffle house but they were still in public. Grabby hands needed to be kept to themselves.

After dinner, neither Doux nor Y/n could bring themselves to go home quite yet, despite the nagging feeling to return to Nari. They loitered around woods, unsure of what to do. Leaning against the parked boat, Douxie got an idea. He put on the music on his phone, turning the volume all the way up and positioning it so it’d put out a better sound the best he could. The playlist he selected was actually the one he had of songs that reminded him of his beloved. Copying what Y/n had done last night, he held out his hand.

“Come on, dance with me, My Darling.”

Douxie twirled Y/n around in the night breeze that blew through the trees. This song was much faster than the one they danced to last time, and there was more energy between them. Y/n’s laugh echoed through the forest. This was a lot of fun, she could do it all night. Honestly, she could do anything all night if it was with Douxie. He lifted her up, like she weighed nothing. Seriously, how strong was this noodle armed wizard. She threw her arms around his neck, looking down to meet his eyes, a rare thing. Y/n kissed his nose, eliciting a happy giggle from his mouth.

He should have put her back down by now. Instead, he still held her up, transfixed by her face ringed in moonlight, like a halo. She noticed the awestruck look on his face, kissing him properly, yet it did nothing to pull him out of his stupor. He had one thought running over and over in his mind. Marry me. But, he couldn’t say that. A proposal had to be special, not after a waffle house date. Their first date, mind you. He couldn’t possibly jus-

“Marry me, Dewdrop?”

Well apparently he couldn’t but she absolutely could.

It took him a moment to take in her words, shocked out of his overthinking. The biggest grin spread across his face as he giddily spun her around in his arms. He finally put her feet back on the ground, crashing his lips into hers. Y/n brought a hand up to drag through his hair and left the other to slide down his back. No battle for dominance, Douxie’s tongue was definitely the one leading here. He just couldn’t believe it. It was if she had read his mind. It was still hard for him to believe she wanted him in the first place, but this much? If this was the afterlife he must surely be in heaven. One makeout session later, Y/n rasped “So I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

“Let’s sign the papers tomorrow.”

~ ~ ~

Despite the uneasy feeling they had both had about leaving Nari alone for so long, she was perfectly fine. In fact she hadn’t even moved an inch form the spot they left her in. Like they never left at all. Archie was asleep on that couch, as peaceful as ever. They’d tell him the news in the morning.

Y/n climbed into the nest and dragged Douxie down with her. After getting comfy on the array of cushions, he opened his arms and she nestled into his chest. She could feel his hands rest on her back. Perfect. It was calming, listening to his heartbeat, being lulled to sleep with the rhythm that gave proof that her beloved was alive. A steady beat that reassured her he was there, he was there. He wouldn’t leave her again.

*** check notes for chapter illustrations lmao