#I mean the sky normally can look just plain blue too on a normal day. no clouds but ye...

[blueshykitsune-blog]

So bad air today where I live, likely a fire was nearby, probably a bigger one but not too close you know?

Smoky air and stuff. Makes the sky look white and such. Well I took a picture during sunset today. (Actually a but before or it'd probably be more red, the sun I mean.)

Btw the sun is orange, like extremely orange. This is one if the best looks one can get right now without going blind... or more blind. Also I may miss before it actually goes down as there's stuff around me that hides it... however if I find a picture I took a while ago of the sun I'll show it.

[chupenguin]

Fret not, dear heart

(This is my fic for the @grishaversebigbang, hope u enjoy it!!)

Materialki: @paranormarine piece!!! I'm so in love!! Look at this amazinf thing!!! (art) 

Ethrealki: @patronsaintofdemons This fic has another part!! Go read it here to have more of this au (fic)

Summary: 

Her back faces him, clad in a blue jacket with white sleeves and strange worlds engraved across the back. 

Sopot hockey

What is a hockey is a mystery Nikolai would leave for later, now he’s busy trying to look at his hands, at his feet. He’s busy pinching his own face to check that he’s not dreaming. When he shoves his finger inside his mouth, Nikolai finds a plain, normal, perfect row of teeth.

A shiver runs down Nikolai’s back when rain keeps soaking him. He feels cold, something he had forgotten after weeks living by Genya’s fire.

“Welcome to Sopot,” Zoya’s voice reaches him in the middle of the fog that clouds his mind. “Now tell me why are you here and why I shouldn’t hide your dead, cold body where no one else could find it?”

Or: Nikolai gets cursed, finds The Storm Witch in a strange castle and follows her into a stranger world

Ao3 Link

Zoya looks blue today, and Nikolai doesn’t talk about the silk of her blouse or her eyes. Today she is blue. She looks sad instead of fierce and Nikolai can see it.

And he’s sure Genya and David, after living with her for much more time than he has, can say it too.

There’s something about the witch that seems off and Nikolai wants to find what. He had been living there for several weeks —or maybe months, he’s not really sure about how time flows in the castle— living here, he had never seen her like that. 

Zoya is rude and cold but hardworking, and she never complains about business. Due lines are always complete and no client is left unsatisfied when the Dragon Witch is the one tending to your demands. 

But these past days Zoya seems distant, less focused than usual, all of today’s clients have been attended by Genya or David. 

It’s late when Zoya steps out of her room. The moon shines up in the sky, which means that Nikolai’s wings are gone and he feels a little less monstrous. It’s easier to sneak behind her now, without a stupid big body that knocks things out of their place. 

Zoya ties her hair in a high ponytail before making the dial by the door spin until it points to the black slot, opens it and jumps to the other side. Nikolai has seen her disappear through the door a lot of times. But he doesn’t know that waits behind the black door and…

He's scared.

Is Zoya meeting with a lover? Some high level client that can’t show during the day? Is she doing something dangerous out there? Following Zoya is never a good idea. Not without her permission at least- Zoya is a private and mysterious woman. Maybe it has something to do with her heartless Witch facade or with some gruesome secret. 

Nikolai had already checked for both corpses in the basement and a secret stack of romance novels that may shame someone like Zoya. Instead of that he had just found all of David's inventions and a trunk full of Genya’s dresses. The castle is a sifting thing but, if Zoya has a secret, it doesn’t lay beneath the walls of her home. 

So, searching for something to satiate his curiosity and his need to know what’s wrong with Zoya, he opens the door.

When he steps through the door the last thing Nikolai expects is for the curse to retreat. It’s so sudden that air leaves his lungs, pressure making his chest hurt. 

One time, when he was just a kid, Nikolai had tried to dive deeper than any other time, trying to catch the shine of a starlight fish for his mother. His lungs had burned, but Nikolai had looked up, seen the surface of the sea above him and thought that he wanted to have that view forever, before kicking against the current. Deeper and deeper until all he could see was water, not a single trace of the world above or his family boat. 

He had turned to lay - or float - on his back, the world around him bright and alive, so alive and fascinating that he didn’t even notice when it had been too much. 

Nikolai remembers hands then, pulling him up, up, up to the sky. 

Losing the curse feels similar. 

He’s sinking but nothing around him feels alive.

What is this place?

He feels hollow. Something here is different, like life itself is dull and weak. The curse is gone, but the only thing he can think about is how weak his knees feel and how everything is gray, soft rain tapping against the ground. 

A gentle tap-tap-tap that balances the loud thud of Nikolai’s own heart inside a chest that no longer feels the weight of dark magic.

He can’t feel magic at all.

Looking around the place he finds stone walls and dust under his nacked feet. He’s got so used to the claws that the feeling of dirt and soil doesn’t even bother him. In front of him is an iron gate that must have served as a portal to lead them here. So this is the place where the black door leads…

A garden.

He’s in a garden where plants of all kinds climb up the gray stone walls, with a gray sky above and gray ground under him, light rain falling from the sky. 

Everything is so gray and, in the center of it, stands Zoya.

Her back faces him, cladded in a blue jacket with white sleeves and strange worlds engraved across the back. 

Sopot hockey

What is a hockey is a mystery Nikolai would leave for later, now he’s busy trying to look at his hands, at his feet. He’s busy pinching his own face to cheek that he’s not dreaming. When he shoves his finger inside his mouth, Nikolai finds a plain, normal, perfect row of teeth.

A shiver runs down Nikolai’s back when rain keeps soaking him. He feels cold, something he had forgotten after weeks living by Genya’s fire.

“Welcome to Sopot,” Zoya’s voice reaches him in the middle of the fog that clouds his mind. “Now tell me why are you here and why I shouldn’t hide your dead, cold body where no one else could find it?”

I wanted to follow you.

“What is this place?” You looked so deep in sorrow that I had to follow “Where are we?”

“This is Sopot,” Zoya says and the wind carries her voice to him. “We’re in north Poland, I think you would like this place.” Poland.

Nikolai grew as a well educated kid, he was smart and quick on his feet. He loved learning and, above all, he was curious and wanted to travel the world. He learned to read nautical charts and maps, he learned about the four corners of their world and never had he heard about this place or this city.

“We’re not far from the beach, there’s this pier that-”

“What is this place Zoya?” Nikolai interrupts her, taking a cautious step to approach the witch. “Why is the curse gone?” Why is he back to being human?

“No curse can be sustained without magic,” she explains. Her left hand leaves the safety and warmth of her pocket and she reaches for one of the flowers. When she takes it away the tips of her fingers are red and Nikolai wants to kiss the color from her skin. “The only magic here is the lies humans tell to themselves when they try to find hope.” That’s why everything feels so dull?

This world is painted shades of gray and Nikolai finds it disturbing, unnatural.

“We’re not in Ravka?”

“We’re not in anyplace you know,” Zoya finally looks at him. Her dark eyes remind Nikolai of the sea right before the storm. “We’re the furthest you've ever been from your world.” “My world?” so many questions want to crawl their way out his mouth and Nikolai is scared that he’ll start to stutter for the first time in his life. “This is my world,” Zoya walks away from him, further into the strange garden. “I grew up in this house.” It’s not until she points it out, Nikolai notices why everything is so gray. A small house with dark walls and half collapsed. The shadows it casts condemns half of the garden to eternal darkness. 

“And I thought you were raised  by wolves or dragons,” Nikolai dares to walk after her. “Didn’t your mother crave you out of stone and storm gave you life?”

“I was born like any other mortal does,” Zoya’s black hair dances around her face when the wind rises, cold rin hitting their bodies. “And I found a way into your world.” She doesn’t explain any further.

She doesn’t tell him what a hockey is or why the house is silent as a cementerie.

“You found… a portal?” 

Yes, magic portals are a science. Math and physics and the right spell written in the right ink and lines drawn in the right angle. You don’t find portals. At least not in his world. At least that’s what Nikolai had thought all his life. If he had known that portals were something you could find he would have loved the ocean a little less, too busy trying to find one of those magic doors. 

“And you’ve been the first person fool enough to follow me through it.” Like he wouldn’t follow Zoya to the end of the world.

She has the charm of a leader, she makes you want to follow her. She has the kind of pull tides have.

“Since my teeth no longer look like a saw, I think I made a good choice my dear Zoya,” her blue eyes spark with something similar to amusement. Or maybe murderous rage, it’s hard to tell them apart. “But I guess we can’t stay here.” “No if you want to keep yourself alive,” Zoya crouches down and starts to pull weeds from the ground. She’s the last woman on earth Nikolai expected to see taking care of a garden, a beautiful one. “Your body feeds on magic, so does everyone in your world,” when Nikolai goes down to his knees to help, Zoya doesn’t bother to look at him. “So does mine now, your world changes people.” He doesn’t want to ask.

He wants to know, but he’ll take whatever piece of information Zoya gives him.

Nikolai won’t push, he won’t insist, he can sit patiently until she gives pieces of herself to him.

A whole life or whatever it takes.

Damn, he would be fine with what he already has, no need for more if Zoya doesn’t want it. He can bleed openly for her to see without nothing in exchange.

That’s how love works doesn’t it?

“I plant something here each time I lose someone,” her voice sounds distant, a trace of something Nikolai can’t identify. “Lilys for my aunt,” her hand gestures to the small flowers growing in the corner. “Forget-me-not for her daughter…”

“They…” Nikolai swallows. “Are they…” “Death? Yes,” when she stands she dust off non existent dirt for her pants. “A car accident, two years ago today.”

Zoya turns around, pointing to some red flowers, big and brilliant and gorgeous. “Dahlias for a friend and yew for another… Nina and Sergei I… lost them too.” 

She had lost so many people.

And if she belongs to two worlds… Nikolai supposes that she has the double of people to lose.

“I fear one day… I’ll run out of space you know?” her eyes are wet with tears when she looks at him over her shoulder. She’s beautiful even like this. “And I don’t know what I’ll do then.” Find another garden, Nikolai thinks. Bring down the wall so the whole world is your garden. 

But he can’t tell her that.

“I don’t know,” he says instead. “But I can promise that I’m not going to become one of these flowers.” You won’t lose me.

“Don’t promise things you can’t know for sure Lantsov,” Zoya walks to him, face cold as stone, but with blue eyes that tell Nikolai all he needs to know. “I don’t like promises.” “I cross my heart on that Zoya,” Nikolai traces an x over his skin, wishing he had his claws back. He would paint himself red for Zoya to see. “I’m here for as long as you allow me to be.” Zoya’s eyes, those eyes that are usually calm, are roaring with emotion as she lets her body fall against his.

Two years ago today, she said.

How long had she carried the pain alone?

Nikolai wraps his arms around her, locking her in a safe space where Zoya can brawl her eyes out and break. Nikolai knows that it’ll be gone the exact moment they’re back into the castle, so he allows her to cry now.

The monster and the witch, together under the rain.

________________________________________________________________

Nikolai doesn’t know how much time passes but, after a while they’re back into Zoya’s castle. Back to the already familiar sounds of the building, alive around them.

He prepares tea for both of them and Zoya changes into clothes that aren¡t soaked. She leaves her jacket by the fireplace to dry.

Silence is welcomed, instead of uncomfortable or tense. Zoya cried the tears she needed to cry. Nikolai held her… and now they have followed into a quiet place where none of them knows how to advance.

Light dances over Zoya’s face, casting shadows over her skin that flickers with each breath of wind that sneaks between the cracks of the castle. It’s a quiet pace, filled with a silence that remains Nikolai of the sea he misses so much. It’s the same quietness he finds when he lies under the surface, trying to sink in the bottom of the ocean.

Zoya sits in front of the fireplace, long legs tucked under her body, holding into the steaming cup of tea with hands that are no longer trembling. She looks smaller than usual, not weaker but… more human. Maybe she is, maybe she’s just one of those humans with a little too much love for magic.

“You’re staring again,” she says, voice low so she won’t bother any of the other habitants of the castle. “A picture would last longer.” “I was thinking,” he catches the tug in Zoya’s lip, the way she almost slips from that cold armor and laughs at him. “Have you ever thought about destiny?” “Destiny is for the third sons of a poor family and bastards from evil kings who will overthrone their parents,” Zoya answers questions with poison under her tongue. Sometimes Nikolai can’t help but wonder what’s behind all that hate for a world that, if cruel sometimes, he loves so much. “You don’t stick me like either of those Lantsov, or are you the seventh son of a seventh son?”

No, he’s not.

Maybe he’s not the youngest of three sons.

He’s the youngest of two, and no merchant has ever sold him a magic  device who will change his life.

He’s a sailor, but no mermaid has tried to drown him, to later fall in love.

He was loved, so no prince could rescue him from a dark tower.

Until the curse, Nikolai was meant to live the most mundane and normal life one could imagine. 

Until Zoya, Nikolai was meant to wander around, trying to find what made him feel alive apart from the ocean and his inventions. The witch is like one of the last some times, a strange machine he wants to tear apart piece by piece until he figures out the gears.

“Maybe I’m destined to find a star,” he says, eyes fixed on her profile.  Zoya’s nose is slightly crooked and, even if he doesn’t know it, he likes to think that, just like him, she broke it during a fistfight.

There’s something endearing about imagining the most powerful witch in the land getting into a fight using her hands.

“A star who would fall in love with me and I would rule the sky by her side.” “The ones who own the heart of a star are meant to live forever. You look like the kind of man that would be bored of immortality after a few years.”

And she’s not wrong. A life with no ends seems tedious and boring.

“I would annoy a certain witch until she des-immortalized me.”

It’s only in moments like this one, late at night with just the two of them, when Zoya allows herself to laugh. 

“There was this one song… a lullaby my aunt used to sing to me,” she whispers just for them and the fire to hear. “About catching stars and making potions. I think it was the first time I believed in magic.”

“She was the one raissing you?”

“Mostly. It was us two and her daughter,” Nikolai feels like, as soon as the fire dies and the sun rises, no trace of Zoya’s sincerity will remain. “My parents and I… we didn’t click.”

“The thing about blood relatives is that they can be deleterious for your health,” Nikolai says, leaning in to grave his own mug from the counter of the fireplace. “I haven’t talked to my parents in years, I don’t…” swallowing the knot on his throat, Nikolai forces himself to say the next words like it doesn’t make him feel like a cruel son, “I don’t even consider them my parents sometimes.”

His parents had been wealthy, they had given him everything. Toys, education, food and a roof over his head. They were the reason he had met Dominik so, in a way, they had gifted him his first kiss. 

But they were distant, they wanted a stoic and serious kid, not a curious and loud one.

When he left his home - his house, since it didn’t feel like he belonged there - he arrived at a small coastal town. The place rushed with life and magic, street vendors in each corner and loud voices filling the street. He was young and the old sailors were charmed with him as soon as he started helping around the marina. 

They taught him how to read nautical charts, how to navigate a boat, the ropes and the secrets of the ocean that had fascinated him for years.

For Nikolai, those old men and women had been more like parents than the real ones. 

But his story, his tale, is not for this night to tell.

This night belongs to Zoya. He doesn't want to interrupt the little flow of truth that the witch is letting escape from her cold heart. 

“I hope my mother is dead in some ditch along the road,” she raises her cup. “To a family we wish we didn’t have.”

“To the family we found along the way.” 

Their cups click, a soft sound in the silence of the night, and Zoya looks a little less blue than she did in the morning.

Fire suits her, it makes her glow like a bronze statue, hair so dark that it swallows the light around them.

Nikolai black eyes are fixed on her, and that’s how he wants the morning sun to find them.

________________________________________________________________

When Nikolai walks to the kitchen, he’s meet with Genya already waiting in the corridor, exactly what he was searching for.

“My dear Genya, would you do me the favor of warming a bath for this poor cursed soul?”

Nikolai bows in a way that would make his parents proud and takes Genya’s hand on his, leaving a caste kiss against her knuckles. “I really need a bath.”

Like he always does, David walks past them, not paying attention to the demonic creature holding his wife's hand. 

“You know the price,” Genya laughs, bubbly and happy. His good Genya, so bright and beautiful. Each day he wakes up and each day the small kid that still reminds him is glad for the sister he spent years asking for. “A song.” Genya always asks for little prices for her favors.

A song.

A tale.

A small trinket.

As a fire demon, she can’t leave the castle, so she would take anything from the outside world.

“Zoya, would you help me to entertain the most precious demon in the world?” he asks, eying the witch as she walks into the kitchen. “I could use a dance partner.” “I don’t dance with ugly bats,” she says, already opening the cabinets so she can get the breakfast going. “Just let him freeze Genya.” “My cold witch, what would I do without your disdain,” Zoya’s facing the fire, but he can feel her roll her eyes. “Would you dance with me then?” “Of course my dear,” she bows too. It’s an exaggerated bow, like the one Nikolai offered her. It’s fun, laughing at the things his parents taught him as a kid. He would never do it in front of a king, he still has decorum, but it’s fun throwing all your manes out the window when it’s just you and your friends. “What’s the song called, heart of mine?” Nikolai clears his voice, like he’s about to start the most heartbreaking ballad ever written. He takes a deep breath, holds Genya's hands…

And start stomping around the room, pulling her along as they spin and he sins like a drunk sailor in a tavern late at night. Voice deep and slurred. 

“I’m the captain of a Ravkan ship!” he screams and it mingles with Genya’s laugh. “In each port a wife waits for me!”

She throws her head back and laughs, hair like fire shining in the dim morning light.

“The blond front enchanted men and the ginger rode the waves,” he can feel himself about to laugh. “But I’m due to marry, oh who would it be? You my dear siren, who took it all from me!”

The song gets worse.

Way, way worse.

It’s fun to scream in a tavern and make a song up as you go, singing with friends and lovers, not minding how crude you are.

But Nikolai bursts into laughter so he cuts it short and finishes the song. He wants to wipe Genya’s tears, but the fire demon cries boiling water.

“I think I can warm the bath for our brute pirate,” she says, wiping away tears. “Tell me one thing, how many women slap their husbands faces after that one?” “More or them join the song,” he says. “After all, one of the lines says something about… you know,” he gestures to his body, holding another chuckle. “Masculinity.” “Sailors… they’re one of a kind,” she walks up the stairs and he trots behind her, loaning for his warm bath and breakfast before going for a flight. Before getting away from the kitchen, Nikolai looks over his shoulder.

Zoya’s blue eyes find him, there’s a small smile on her lips. She’s gorgeous and perfect and he returns the smile and the thing bubbling in his chest feels real as nothing he had ever felt before, mind flying back to last night.

.

.

.

.

.

.

That’s how he wants the morning sun to find them but, instead of that he talks again.

“The men raising me, not my father, also taught me a song,” he says as he stands. “It didn’t make me believe in magic, I already saw it each day, but he told me that he used to sing it to his husband…” It didn't make him believe in magic.

But it made Nikolai start to think about what love means.

“Indulge me?” offering Zoya his hand feels wrong now that the black marks cover his skin again. Even if once the moon is out the claws retract, it feels wrong holding so delicate as Zoya’s hand against the skin of a monster. “I don’t-” “Just for tonight, you indulged this poor soul with the truth, what’s a little more?” “I’ll step on your foot.” “And I’ll pretend it didn’t happen.” Zoya is an emotional woman, even if she thinks that the mask of stone she puts each morning hides it. He can see the shift in her eyes. From the blue of the deep sea to the one ocean right after a storm. He can see how she swallows and takes a deep breath.

“If you tell anyone…”

“I don’t plan to die an early death my dear,” he stands there. Like the stoic prince each person dreams of at least one. A hand behind his back, the other offered to Zoya. “Can I have this dance?”

“Just one,” her hand is small against his. Not delicate, Zoya may be the most beautiful woman he knows, but no part of her is delicate. “Just once.” “Is all I’m asking for.” At least for tonight.

At least for the night where truth bleeds out of them.

“You’re insufferable,” she says, placing her free hand over his shoulder. 

“I know.”

“You’re lucky I’m open to put up with you,” Zoya’s chin is up, back straight and shoulders firm. Like she’s declaring war instead of whatever this is. “You can’t imagine how lucky you are.” Oh he does.

Of course he does.

“Go and catch a falling star,” he starts, moving Zoya around the room. “Go and sail the savage seas.”

He signs, low enough for just them to hear.

A whisper that makes Zoya need to step closer, stop moving an ocean away from him to listen. 

“Get the parem root and a ring of gold, tell me, oh dear, where all the past year’s are.”

He thinks of Dominik, all the times he cowered away from him, all the times he regretted not doing this with him and how now it’s too late.

Or who cleft the Kestrel feathers

Teach me to hear the mermaids singing,

and ride the waves of life

Or to keep off envy’s stinging,

He thinks of his father and lipstick stains on his shirt that didn’t match the ones his mother always wears. They never taught him what love meant.

If that makes you promise me your heart

Find the scorching sun and capture the freezing cold

Put the wind in a bottle and love me for eternity

He thinks about Tamar and Nadia getting married with their feet buried in white sand. He remembers his own tears and the river Tolya cried. 

I've no need for mighty deeds

I could use an honest mind.

He thinks about the old sailor, telling him the story of his life. Telling him about the man he loved and the nights they spent dancing to this same song. He thinks about the night the sailor wept as he told him, how love hurt so much that it was worthy.

Decide what this is about

Write a second verse yourself

My dearest one, If thou be'st born to strange sights

Allow me to be one and love me for eternity

And he thinks about the woman in front of him. 

Fierce and gentle.

Opening him the doors of her home, allowing him to stay.

The woman searching for a cure and the way to fix this.

Ride ten thousand days and nights with me,

Until our hair turns white with age

And swear I’ll have  your hand to hold

To love and kiss to sweetly hold

He thinks about Zoya in her lonely garden.

Zoya, facing the storm to catch lightning.

Zoya in the morning, hair messy and pillow lines on her face.

Zoya, bright, vibrant Zoya.

“And love you for eternity…” the words die as he sings the last verse.

Silence rings and he meets ocean blue eyes. He could down in those eyes because calm, deep waters are the most dangerous ones. 

“It’s a good song,” she says, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. Maybe for comfort. Maybe so they can keep dancing. Maybe it’s just so she doesn’t have to look into his eyes.  “Do you know more?”

Of course he does.

He could lure Zoya for a whole life.

For a thousand and one.

Nikolai holds her closer, hands clasped on her back and just swinging on his feet as his lips part one more time.

“My heart just yearns to say, scream in the horrors of the night,” he could sing for Zoya forever if it means holding her like this. “I love you in ways that I can utter to say, so my rotting bones will sing for me when the rest is dead.” He sings.

Nikolai keeps singing.

And Zoya keeps being held, learning how to be held, and they keep dancing.

That’s how the sun truly finds them. 

[thewolfisawake]

RULES: repost, don’t reblog. just pick a muse of yours and fill it out.

MUSE: Balmoral

— basics

▸ is your muse tall/short/average? 

Bal is about average height. He's about 5'9" (~174 cm).

▸ are they okay with their height? 

He has no problem with it. He can reach reasonable amount of things, he's not having folks mess with him because he's a tree nor a stump. Although his height can actually fluctuate with his emotional state but it hasn't acted up in quite a while.

▸ what’s their hair like?

Bal's hair is a darkness that is comparable to the evening sky. So it is more black or blue dependent on the lighting. It gradients down towards an icy blue and then every so faintly is the barest bit of pink. His hair has a little body so it's not flat but it also isn't immensely fluffy. It falls half way down his chest. While he would like to be able to wear it down, he usually can't because of decorum rules or something of the like. So his hair is normally in a long braid, partial braid with the rest down, or a ponytail. All with simple flairs or additions to make it a little less plain but overall still pretty practical.

▸ do they spend a lot of time on their hair/with their grooming?

Not really because he has that 'I woke up like this' sort of thing (the bastard). But he does detangle it so that it causes less problems in his day. Honestly the longest time is usually getting the style working with his circlet or crown. And he has to get that right, unfortunately.

▸ does your muse care about their appearance?

Yes to an extent. As the king he has to appear immaculate since he doesn't want to make the Unseelie look bad. Doubly so since they're thought of as the more slovenly of the Courts to begin with. He also keeps up his looks because it keeps others attention longer and it adds his charisma. But he is the type to get annoyed at having to 'made up' for an extended amount of time.

▸ does your muse care about what others think about them?

Professionally, yes. Personally, no. He keeps a hand on the pulse when it comes to what others think of him. He uses them as indicators of public perception. And it usually means some adjustment somewhere for himself. But as for does it actually hurt his feelings what others think about him? No. He's himself and he's gonna do what he wants so others can kick rocks. Of course he can't always act so brazenly but it's enough to know you probably don't want to mess with him.

— preferences

▸ indoors or outdoors? Outdoors ▸ rain or sunshine? Rain ▸ forest or beach? Forest ▸ precious metals or gems? Precious Metals ▸ flowers or perfumes? Flowers ▸ personality or appearance? Personality ▸ being alone or being in a crowd? Being in a crowd ▸ order or anarchy? Anrachy ▸ painful truths or white lies? White Lies ▸ science or magic? Magic ▸ peace or conflict? Conflict ▸ night or day? Night ▸ dusk or dawn? Dusk ▸ warmth or cold? Warmth ▸ many acquaintances or a few close friends? Many acquaintances ▸ reading or playing a game? Playing a game

— questionnaire

▸ what are some of your muse’s bad habits?

Bal tends to be overly familiar to others. This can mean him being a bit too casual with the diplomat. This can be him putting out half-hearted threats that could be very bad for the land if he acted on them. He also likes to push buttons and instigate to see where things will go and to sometimes push someone to a discomfort they need to face.

▸ has your muse lost anyone close to them? how has it affected them?

Sort of? I will say for now that it was a group of nature spirits/insects. The loss made him driven and to never hesitate.

▸ what are some fond memories your muse has?

A lot of his fond memories are actually after he came to the Unseelie. He tends to feel nostalgic for the patrols that brought him to the surface. And not so lonely patrol nights after Mhoirbheinn joined them.

▸ is it easy for your muse to kill?

It's fairly easy to him. I wouldn't say that he's murder happy but it also isn't off the table with most encounters Bal has had. But that may also be apart of being an Unseelie where power does talk and it is something that gains respect.

▸ what’s it like when your muse breaks down?

Hoo. Boy. How pointed. But generally, there's this spiral of 'why.' He wants to know why it came to this conclusion, what he could've done, if there were certain conditions to this. His mind is racing with no finish line in sight and I'm sure he probably sounds like a madman with his mutterings. There is also an anger and frustration that makes him volatile to be around. Kinda literally as all sorts of magic is sparking off him. But then it eventually simmers down to resolution. That he has either reasoned or brought himself to a conclusion and sticks to it. Almost doubling down on it.

▸ is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life?

Yes. He is capable of doing so. He feels by virtue of his generals, he does trust them with his life. And further than that, he would put his life in Mhoirbheinn's hands with no hesitation.

▸ what’s your muse like when they’re in love?

There is feeling of soft and reprieve from all the noise of life. It is an unmistakable feeling of safety and it is all-encompassing of his senses. He is more forward and sincere to them because it is where there is no boundary and rules to stop him. There is a yearning that he has throughout his mind when it's the public and when alone there is a desire for touch, closeness and presence. As if to soak it all in for them to last until the next time that'd be allow...whenever that is. Balmoral would want to lavish the world to them and would want to give every aspect of himself to them. It can be a lot.

[kittysamzkewlz19]

‪Medusa Ex Makina‬

‪Chapter 2: By the Fanbooks‬

‪Rated: M for Mature‬

‪Warnings: Murderface being a creep‬

‪Author’s Note: I have been sitting on my hands for this one, this chapter is a bit all over the place. Trying to plant seeds and everything. I promise it’ll get better after this. -w-;;‬

A brand new dawn had finally fallen upon Makina. Yesterday was a bit awkward to say the least, with her getting lost and all. But, today was her chance to fully prove herself to her idols. But first, she had to get ready. Sluggishly, Makina rolled out of bed to her new personal bathroom. It was fancier than a 5 star hotel; complete with a whirlpool bathtub, brand new fresh guest soaps, and even a custom tissue box with her name on it. Although it was spelled wrong, Makina didn’t care, she was happy to feel important enough to have one. After taking a quick bath, she opened up the cupboard underneath the sink, and grabbed her black quilted makeup bag. Makina carefully washed her face before applying her eyeshadow and eyeliner. She hated how much time she had to spend on looking as brutal as she can be, but loved how the darkest pigments looked on her eyelids. Lipstick was the easiest thing to apply, she wouldn’t usually put it on. In fact she would usually put it on for her corpse paint. But ever since she started living with Dethklok, she wanted to keep the brutal facade going. She decided to go a shade lighter so as to not go overboard. Instead of the deep dark abyss black pigment, she opted for a burgundy shade. It wasn’t too bright but still had a splash of color. Satisfied with her painted face, Makina exited her bathroom and put on her normal everyday clothes. A pair of black knee high boots, an old black leather studded belt that seemed much too big for her, gray hot pants, her hoodie, a plain black choker, a dark tubetop, and her upside down cross earring. Posing in front of her bathroom mirror, as nervous as she was for the day ahead, she tried to give herself a little confidence boost by doing a little twirl. ‘Just you wait, world! Medusa’s gonna bite back!’ Makina thought to herself.

Fully awake, Makina had remembered what was plaguing her mind. Skwisgaar. Throughout the entire dinner last night, he was keeping to himself. Did she do something wrong? Makina quietly opened up the wardrobe that contained her prized Dethklok plushies and grabbed the Skwisgaar doll by its little nubby hand. She sat the doll on her bed and lied on her stomach while kicking her feet in the air, “Why is it easier to talk to this version of you?” Makina whined at the plush, her hands pushing her cheeks. “I mean, the real you is so… aloof! I can’t even get a good read on you. The others are so much more approachable, even Mr. Explosion of all people is more of a conversation bug than you.” Makina sits up, placing the doll in her lap and staring into its blue printed eyes. “Do you hate me, am I not brutal enough for you?” The doll gives no response, a bit of the plush’s yarn hair slightly moves in front of its face. Makina laid down on her back, lifting the plushie to the sky. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to talk to you for real since well… forever. And now the minute I want to, you clam up and ignore me.” She rolls to her side, bringing the doll close to her chest. “What if that day never comes, and you’ll just ignore me for the rest of my life? It’s only been a day, surely we could be somewhat friendly with each other… right?” Makina holds the plush close to her face, she nuzzles the doll’s forehead before sitting back up and placing it back in the wardrobe with the other dolls. ‘That’s my goal, I’ll finally get the courage to talk with Skwisgaar!’

Breakfast was yet to be served so Makina still had a bit more time to herself. Not wanting to get lost again, she opened up the map Pickles had sent her on her phone. It was much more detailed than the old fan day map, it even held secrets the average fan wouldn’t be able to see. Laboratories, an underground klokateer training facility, and even a secret meeting closet! Who knew that the world’s most famous band ever needed a meeting closet?! Using the map, Makina decided to slink out of her room to find Skwisgaar’s room. But before she could, she opened the door and was stopped by Toki standing uncomfortably close in her doorway. “Mornings Makis!” Toki chirped gleefully, “ACK!” Makina jumped backwards, falling to the ground. “Oh, sorrys, I didn’ts means to scares yous. Hows ya sleeps?”

“Oh, it was good. Geez, it would’ve killed you to knock first?”

“I was, buts yous openeds da doors before thens.” Toki reached out his hand, Makina grabbed it as he helped her stand up. She noticed the rhythm guitarist had his hair up in a high ponytail and was wearing a pair of sweatpants and black hightops.

“So do you uh, normally wake up this early?” Makina questioned, Toki nodded. “Ja, I just finished stretchings and doings somes cores workings outs, and ams goings for a jogs. I was goings to asks ifs yous wanteds to joins mes?” Makina gave the idea some thought, she remembered reading extensively in fan books that Toki’s daily workout routine could be considered something akin to hardcore military training. Surely a jog wouldn’t be too bad, after all running helps with increasing a vocalist’s lung capacity. “Sure why not, let me change clothes and I’ll be out in 5.” Makina shooed the brunette out of her room and shut the door behind him. She opened up her closet, swiftly taking off her boots, belt, and hoodie. She tossed them on her bed and grabbed an old black crop top and a pair of red trainers. Makina’s transformation into her workout gear was complete as she exited the room. ”Wowee, nice crops tops! It’s evens gots Skwisgaar’s faces ons da fronts.” Makina’s eyes widened as she looked down at her top which read “Blonde Bitches are Brutal.” with an image of Skwisgaar flipping off. “Oh umm thanks…” Makina answered bashfully. ‘Fuck.’

Makina followed Toki to the front of Mordhaus. “So, you just jog around Mordhaus?”

“Yeps, it am’st not thats hards.” Makina gulped at the idea; if Mordhaus on the inside was a palace maze, Mordhaus on the outside was as big as an American Football stadium or even bigger. “Yous readys Makis?” Toki asked, Makina hesitantly nodded. Surprisingly, Toki was in a perfect runner’s starting position and zoomed off. Makina was almost too stunned to even start. “Come ons Makis! Keeps ups!” The norseman shouted. Makina shook it off and began running after him. She decided to make a mad dash for the brunette till she was closer to him, Makina began to feel the effects of the dash and her breath began to stifle. The distance between them began to grow again, Makina huffed and puffed until there was a choking feeling in her throat. She slowed down and stopped for a second, the raven haired woman looked up, they were only about less than a yard away from the front door. ‘And he does this every fucking morning?!’ Makina began to walk slowly, picking up the pace with each step. How was she going to catch up to Toki at this rate? In a flash, Makina remembered a workout tip from one of the fan books.

“To keep in rhythm while you workout, try chanting the word Dethklok with every beat. Breaking it down into, ‘Deth’ and ‘klok’. It’ll sure help you be your most brutal self!”

Makina then began to think of the chant in her head. ‘Deth, klok, deth, klok!’ It was working, she was slowly catching up to Toki. Soon enough, Makina began chanting out loud. “Deth, klok, deth, klok!” with every step. Toki took notice of the chant and began to join in. Finally they were in the home stretch, Makina could see the front door. Excitingly, Makina picked up the pace forward and screamed the chant. “Deth, KLOOOOOK!” As soon as Makina made it to 2 inches away from the steps of Mordhaus, she tripped and fell flat on her face, eating asphalt in the process. “Ooh, that’s gots tos leaves a markings. Yous ams goods Makis?” Toki asked as he knelt down to the ground. Makina gave a slight thumbs up, she began to lift herself off the ground and as she did blood dripped from her face. Toki gestured to her that there was something around her nose, out of instinct Makina stuck out her tongue and licked the blood clean off. Toki gave a strange look to the girl, the length of her tongue was abnormally long to say the least. The brunette didn’t want to point it out, and tucked away his thoughts to the back of his mind. Makina huffed a little bit as she wiped her brow. “Fuck, you do that every morning?”

“Yeps, ands thens I goes backs to mah rooms to sleeps.” Makina tilted her head with confusion, “But what about breakfast?”

“Oh, usuallys Charles had his breakfasts ‘rounds this times, but wes usuallys haves ours laters. Yous coulds always cans asks da klokateers if you’d wants a somethings.” ‘That’s a good idea, maybe I should eat something before talking to Skwisgaar.’

XxxX

After a quick shower and changing back into her normal attire, Makina went to find the kitchen again. This time she wasn’t going to get lost, she pulled out her phone and opened up the Mordhaus directory. Following the new map, she finally ended up in the kitchen by herself. Makina looked at their phone, it was 8:30 AM. Scavenging the many shelves and cupboards, there weren’t that many options present. It was as if this was a showroom at an Ikea furniture store, if Ikea was ever in the market for wickedly brutal decor. Looking around Makina was able to find a bowl of white microwave rice, a few mozzarella cheese stick snacks, some hot dogs, small nori sheets, and some spices. ‘This’ll have to suffice.’ Makina thought as she began ripping the cheese sticks up into bite sized pieces. She placed the cheese onto the rice and microwaved it for the proper time, meanwhile she cut up the hot dogs in half and sliced them to the midsection so that they would look like small little octopuses. Placing the nori and spices into the cheese rice, she mixed it until it was ready, adding the warmed up hotdogs. Now was this the best meal, not really. Makina didn’t give a shit, after all she had eaten like this for most of her life. For her, this was comfort food. Before she could take a bite, she noticed a familiar muscular klokateer watching her eat from the doorway. “Uh… why the hell are you staring at me? It’s rude and really creepy.”

“Ah, my apologies. I just couldn’t help but notice that you’re dining alone. In the main kitchen…”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

”Because new recruits are supposed to be eating downstairs.” Makina tilted her head, the words replayed in her mind until she realized what he had meant. “Oh no, I’m not a klokateer! I’m Mr. Explosion’s protege, Medusa.”

”Protege? …OH! The kid from last night! Sorry, I’m still getting used to your face. Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?”

Makina stuffed a hotdog octopus in her mouth and leaned her arm on the table while placing her fist on her temple. She chewed on the thought; Makina could easily ask the servant for advice about how to talk to Skwisgaar, but would it even be wise to ask about it? Makina’s mind was made up as she swallowed her food, “You know, there is something. I get so nervous around Skwisgaar. He’s got an intimidating aura and I don’t know how to talk to him. Got any advice?” Makina could feel the klokateer smirk underneath his mask, “Why, are you charmed by his good looks?”

”What no! It’s not like that! I just don’t want to look stupid is all.” Makina blushed. “Hey I was just kidding, my apologies for teasing you my lady.” The klokateer giggled, “Hmm… Master Skwigelf is more like a cat to strangers. He’s friendly, but I bet he’s just not used to you being around is all. Give him time.” Makina hummed with understandment. “Thank you um… what do they call you?”

”Me? Um… well my Klokateer number is 4235.” Makina shook her head and took another spoonful of cheese rice in her mouth, “Shii, Nii, San, Go. Ha, Sparkling Coral. From here on out, you shall be known as Sango! And you are only to address me as princess. Got it?” She commented proudly. The klokateer rolled his eyes and humored her, “As you wish, princess.” Sango said with a tinge of playful sarcasm in his tone. “Good talking to you, I gotta go. Watch tower duty.” And with that the Sango left the kitchen. She quickly finished the meal she made, throwing away the plastic rice bowl.

XxxX

Makina finally made her way to Skwisgaar’s room. She took a deep breath, through the door she could faintly hear the plucking of a guitar being played. ‘This is it’ she thought to herself. Makina gingerly knocked on the door, the playing stopped as the sound of footsteps came approaching. Her heart began to beat faster and faster, her palms began to sweat a bit. Makina wanted to abort the attempt but her feet felt frozen to the ground. Then the door finally opened, it was far too late to back out now. “Whats?” Skwisgaar asked with annoyance, he was in nothing but a pair of white briefs. “I just um…” Makina looked behind the lanky man to see a group of women in his room. “Ah- nevermind, I see you’re busy at the moment.” Skwisgaar looked back on the gaggle of naked ladies on his bed, “Oh thems, don’ts worries we ams dones. Unless yous wanteds to joins? I coulds goes another rounds, or threes.” He said in a playfully flirtatious tone. Makina’s mind went wild. The proposal was alluring to say the least, she imagined being tenderly kissed in the rays of the dawn while being snuggled in his arms. Makina had dreamed of a moment like that since her college years! But that’s when she remembered a fact from the fanbooks.

“Skwisgaar’s libido and fertility rate is notoriously high. Even if you were on the pill or have a lady condom, you’d best be ready to spend thousands of dollars for your very own baby Skwis.”

Makina shivered, she couldn’t just risk her virgining music career for being another one of his baby mamas! Her mind ran in circles until, “Ams kiddings.” Skwisgaar stated bluntly. The tension in the air mellowed out just a bit to make Makina stop shaking in her boots. “Ah hahahahahaha. Oh wow, you got me there.” Makina stated stiffly. “But seriouslys, why ams you wanteds to talks?” She was silently panicking, all that effort in wanting to see him and she didn’t have anything prepared to say! What could she say, what did she want to ask him? “You ams wastings my time.”

”No wait!” Before Makina could say another word, Skwisgaar rudely slammed the door on her. Makina stood there dumbfounded, her shoulders relaxed as she sighed in disappointment. ‘Next time.’ She thought to herself. Makina began to walk back to the living room and plopped down on the couch, she checked her phone again. 9:15 AM. ’Could this morning get any worse?’

“MURDERFACE, WHY DID YOU USE MY BATHROOM?!” Pickles shouted from down the hall, “BECAUSE MINE’S BROKEN, REMEMBER?!” Replied Murderface as he was walking towards the side chair. “I TOLD YOU TO GET A GUY!”

”I FORGOT, SORRY!” Makina went to stare at her phone, not wanting to make eye contact with Murderface. She dared not to look up, as she kept scrolling through her Pin’dBlur dashboard. She had heard countless stories of girls and their fan interactions with him back on the old Gear’dUp forums. Murderface was either painfully awkward, creepy as hell, or just plain misogynistic towards women. But this was when he was by himself publicly, surly in private he wouldn’t be like that. After all, last night he behaved pretty well. Then again, maybe that was because Nathan was keeping a watchful eye on him. ”Morning Medusa, how’d you sleep?” Murderface asked, his lateral lisp slurring his ‘s’ sounds. “Tch, way better than sleeping on my old pullout sofa.” Makina replied as she tried to sound a bit more tough than how she really felt. “Well no shit, it’s not a couch! Anyway, you sound kinda pissed. Did you stub your toe or get your period?” ‘And the answer was all of the above.’ “First off, who asked you about my cycle? And second off, neither of those things happened.” Makina didn’t look up from her phone, now she was scrolling more rapidly. “Oh good, but you still sound pissed off.”

‘I’m slowly getting there with you bombarding me with these questions.’

“Look man, I don’t wanna talk about it. It’s really embarrassing and stupid.”

”Oh come on, it’s probably not that bad.” Murderface tried to reassure her, leaning forward in his seat.

Makina refused to answer, she didn’t want him knowing about her embarrassing encounter. She’d rather die a horrible death than to tell Dethklok’s bassist about her failure to interact like a normal ass person. Murderface stood up from his chair and sat next to her on the couch. “You gotta loosen up a little bit. I’m not gonna judge you for shit. I swear!” Makina sighed, she placed her phone back in her pocket and put her head in her hands, still humiliated about what happened earlier that day. Makina relented. “I couldn’t do it.”

”Couldn’t do what?”

”I… I couldn’t talk to Skwisgaar. I just… you know… want to get to know him better. But I froze like an idiot!”

”That’s it?! Oh god, don’t tell me you’re one of those fans.” Makina shook her head, she explained to him what happened in full detail. Murderface cracked a smile, roaring with laughter, and smacked her on the back. Makina hissed through her teeth, wincing at the sudden sting of pain. “Holy fuck, classic Skwisgaar. Don’t beat yourself up about it. He’s not used to girls like you not being interested in a quickie.”

”Girls like me?” Makina asked with a dry tone. ”Yeah, no offense you look like a really hot groupie. You caught him almost practically naked right?” She nodded, “Then he’s still in playboy mode. Don’t worry, just lay off him.” Makina was perplexed at how causally Murderface knew all of this, as if it was common knowledge. It made sense to Makina that not every Dethklok secret was out there for the world to see, not even the fan books could predict Murderface giving wise advice. But then again, maybe it was a fluke.

Pickles finally came out of the bathroom, “God damn it Murderface, don’t ever use my toilet ever again!” He said angrily as he plopped himself next to Makina. Murderface scooted closer to the woman placing an arm around her. “I said I was sorry!” Murderface whined. “I don’t want to ask, I don’t wanna know.” Makina winced at the thought, she pushed Murderface’s arm off of her. “Heh, yeah you really don’t.” Pickles said while crossing his arms, placing his feet on the table. The ginger took out a box of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Murderface who swiped it out of his hands. The bassist grabbed a lighter out from his vest pocket and lit the cigarette. “So, got any plans today?” Asked Pickles as he offered Makina a cigarette, she shook her head and wafted the offer away. “Not really, I’m not sure if my mentor’s got anything planned for me.” Pickles shrugged, he leaned over to Murderface for a light and huffed a bit of the nicotine, “I mean, sure, probably? You should probably talk to him.” He commented as he blew out some smoke. Makina was reminded again of what the fan books said about Nathan.

“Nathan Explosion is a mysterious quiet man, a lady-killer for sure as he’s the king of heartbreak mountain. While being the brutal face of the group, he still keeps his true feelings close to his chest.”

[faithofgods]

birthday prompts; sol; 1/4. || [ looking in each other’s eyes ] || prompts from here.

How do you always find your way here, the two of you?

The secluded hillside, the one you’ve claimed as your own over the years; it’s the first place you end up every time they visit.

Sol is splayed out on the slope, grass in their hair and poking out of their shirt. Dirt is smudged on their cheek, streaked across their forehead, but they look happier now, away from the city. Tired, but not as stressed.

It always takes some time for them to readjust to more typical life, to the busy movement of the markets and streets, so far from the solitude of the forests and empty plains they spend so many of their days in.

You’re there beside them, arms wrapped loosely around tucked-up knees, head tilted down, making no show of hiding how you watch them. You’re both too tired for that.

“You’re covered in dirt,” you comment, voice betraying how worn you feel. “Do you want me to run a bath when we get back?”

Sol laughs, something quick, half-sighed out. They’re exhausted, and their body must ache from how far they’ve traveled to reach you before dusk, but they still manage to quirk their lips, hood their eyes. A teasing look.

“You gonna help me with it if you do?”

It’s frustrating, how they can flirt so casually and never mean it. How they can seemingly notice everything about what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling, but not see how much they affect you.

You roll your eyes, pushing down the sting. “That’s bold, coming from someone who runs at the sight of a bare shoulder.”

Sol laughs again, weaker this time. Their hand shoots out, a brief tug on your arm pulling you down to them, level on the hill. “Shut up.”

“Warning, much?” You rub at your shoulder, fingers digging into tight muscle. A slight ache in the spot where it banged against the ground on your way down, one that’s already fading.

“Was just helpin’ you out.” They shoot you a small smile, their nose twisting. “Looked lonely, all by yourself up there.”

“One of these days you’re going to bruise me doing that,” you mutter back, ignoring their quip. Your hand flops down, fingers tangling into the dense grass beneath you, a sliver of guilt over how their smile wanes.

“Wouldn’t be that careless.” A serious edge lining it, one that’s pushed down before it can overtake. They summon a new smile, as weak as their laugh had been. “But I’d see you back to full health if I ever did. Stay right by your side and never leave.”

You don’t know how to interpret the strain in their voice.

“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean,” you say after a moment, careful and slow. A fine thread, the one you’re walking, liable to snap under you at any moment. Being direct with Sol has a way of backfiring on you.

Like now, their smile fading entirely. “Who says I don’t mean it?”

But they don’t, not in the way you want them to.

You meet their eyes, study them the same way they study you. So many things unsaid, left rotting in the space between you. Hundreds of little corridors you could turn down, ways out, or through, different endings than the one that sits so plainly before you.

Endings where you could roll to your side, hand along their neck and head bowing to meet theirs. Endings where you could kiss them without hesitation, without fear. Without consequence. Without waiting for the hammer to drop and for them to pull away, leave, flee from you.

Endings where they don’t come back because they don’t ever leave, endings where either of you lead anything close to a normal life.

A garden in the back, plants overgrown and wood shavings littering the dirt patches. A small house in a quiet place, far from any prying eyes. On the road together, your hand held tightly in theirs, shoulders bumping as you walk with no direction in mind.

Endings that never change, never cease to slip through your fingers, and you have to turn before they see them there, lying cold. The sky above is unchanging too, cloudy and grey, dimming blue hour. Sol’s eyes on you are unflinching, trained on your profile, and you’re still trying to pretend like you’re not slowly drowning in the shadow of them.

Their hand finds your wrist, fingers curling against the thin skin of it, knuckles brushing your pulse. Not holding, merely touching.

“There’s a dream I had the other night,” they start, waiting until you give in, roll your head back to face them. “You were in it.”

“Was I?” Your voice is steadier than you feel. You turn your hand, taking in the weight of their palm as it slides into yours. Solid, stable, something to cling to. “What was I doing?”

“Nothin’, really.” They raise your joined hands, let them fall back to the ground. “But it was just you ‘nd me, in a place like this.”

“What did we talk about?” Idle conversation, a distraction meant to pull you from your fraying thoughts.

Like their hand in yours, the sky grey, cloudy, night coming and bringing its chill with it. Their hand in yours, the grass against your arms, your back, your cheek. Their hand in yours, black mark on their forehead peeking out beneath displaced hair, rustle of their shirt in a shallow breeze. Their hand in yours, the only thing keeping you from sinking right now.

Sol’s smile returns, but it doesn’t feel real. Mustered for your sake, theirs. Maybe both. It never takes them long to sense when you’re upset. “Only one who talked was me.”

“Sounds right.” You try for your own smile. It falls just as flat. “What did you say?”

No immediate reply, their hand gripping yours a little tighter.

“Lotta shit,” they evade, eyes sliding away and back. “Most of it dumb.”

It wasn’t quick enough, that search for avoidance, escape, a different kind of confession branded on their face and clouding their expression. You recognize it all too easily; it’s what you think every time they’re here and every time they leave.

Sometimes I miss you so much it hurts. Sometimes I think about losing you again and I can’t breathe.

“Let’s head back, yeah?” they say instead, sitting up, pained truth slipping beneath the surface once more. Restless now, as if getting up and walking away could somehow take back what you saw. “I’ll help carry the water.”

[unravellingdescent]

Dream Guardian

Today, I was a butterfly. I’d never been a butterfly before, nor would I know if I were ever going to be a butterfly again. Despite that though, flying felt familiar; comfortable. I recognised the area, though I can’t recall where I’d seen it before. I remember fluttering through certain roads that looked hauntingly familiar, but I can’t remember where from. I wouldn’t say I had no control over where I’d go, but rather, it just… felt right.

Another weird dream huh. This time it was in the presence of a butterfly, wings of midnight blue, as I watched it travel across my neighbourhood under the full moon. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t dreamt of butterflies before; but unlike the other ones, this butterfly had a presence to it.

My car broke down today on my way to work, so I had to take the night bus home. This normally wouldn’t be an issue, except I had to stay late for work AND the fact that the main bus I’d take no longer functioned after midnight. At least I had the day off tomorrow to solve this stupid car issue. Today’s been a rough day in general, and it’s driving me crazy that the fucking butterfly dream is stuck in my head. Just watching it flutter, again and again, from beginning to end. An intrusive thought is one thing but this one would JUST NOT leave.

As I walk from the bus stop towards my apartment, I notice the surroundings is familiar, too familiar. I’ve lived in this area for about two years now, and it’s not like I haven’t walked here before, but this felt different. Normally, I’d take the main roads, staying away from any dark alleys and unlit areas – for safety reasons of course, but I recall the butterfly, floating through this exact area. It didn’t take the normal routes I would take, instead turning into the daunting alleys and taking the backroads I normally wouldn’t.

“Teenage boy’s body found in abandoned car.”

Poor kid I thought to myself, watching the morning news in my new pyjamas that I JUST spilled coffee on. As I kept listening though, my hands began to freeze, sending chills down my entire body and staining the rest of my pjs.

“…found near the roundabout of Smith’s Avenue… …autopsy reports show the victim was murdered around 12:20am...”

Smith’s Avenue? The closest main road I’d drive to work? The same one I’d normally take coming home from the bus stop? The same path I would’ve taken last night had I not spontaneously followed a different route all because of a dream. Surely it was luck. Or just déjà vu. There’s no way that body could’ve been mine had I gone the normal way, right?

Today I was a kitten, awoken by the early morning cold. My mother and siblings still asleep, tugging trying to feed themselves on her milk. I couldn’t fall back to sleep though, so I wandered the plains, running through the thick fog of winter dusk. I soon found myself near a small townhouse, not of humans, but other cats. They welcome me with warm purrs and feeding me fresh milk and fish, disappearing once the sun was in the sky.

My alarm really woke me up this early. 4:30 am? A whole hour earlier than my usual routine – maybe I was half asleep while setting it up but I don’t think I can go back to bed. And these birds outside are chirping so damn loud there’s no way I’m getting another ounce of sleep. Maybe I should just head to work, at least that way I’ll get to catch up on the work that’s been piling on me since the day my car broke down. Leaving at 5:30 in the morning feels strange, I can barely see anything in this mist but on the bright side, the roads are somewhat empty. Guess I’ll be the first one at work today, reminds me of the times I used to come in early just to impress and suck up the management.

It's almost 7am and most of my colleagues should be here by now but so far, there’s only four people here, and one of them had to be my boss that’s been on my ass for the past week about some new project which wasn’t even assigned to our department. I see the HR lady talking to him, …and now he's walking towards my office. Hopefully it’s not about this damn project again, maybe I should put some headphones in and pretend like I’m working so he’ll leave me alo- guess not.

“There’s been a massive multi-lane accident on King’s Road. Some of our colleagues have been affected by this and will not be able to come in due to traffic blockage. You may take the day off if...”

Turns out there was a drunk driver going over 70 mph that ran a red light into an oil truck around half past 6 in the morning. Over 14 casualties and counting according to Google’s latest results. Not sure what sane human drinks and drives that early in the morning, but what bothered me most was that this was my usual time commuting to work. There was a significantly high chance of that number being 15 had I woken up like I usually do. I’m suddenly reminded of the butterfly from 4 weeks ago, and the kitten last night. They both had the same eery presence to them that I still can’t quite put my finger on, but apart from that, there was no real correlation, right? I mean, sure the kitten was awoken early like I was, but nothing else stands out.

As I drove home, the dream kept replaying in my head, I’d watch this kitten wake up, wander off in the fog, and visit a townhouse of cats, eat, drink, disappear and repeat. It came to my realisation that the kitten was rewarded for waking up early and wandering off, before all its siblings, and getting to eat and drink free meals. Was I somehow rewarded, or rather, somehow avoided a fatal accident by being awake early and wandering off, or heading, to work?

A guardian angel looking out for me? It’s been appearing much more often, increasing in frequency over the last year or so, where certain animals, objects, even inconspicuous things like the wind or sunlight, had a weird presence to them. One time it was a bird that stared at my usual coffee shop for ages, and then flew away – most likely telling me to not get coffee that following day. It took me 2 hours in the bathroom to understand that maybe I shouldn’t have drunk coffee that day. Another time it was in the form of the rain, heavy pouring rain. This time I listened, and had brought multiple umbrellas and raincoats with me to work. Did I mention I work in the fields now? Well, I work in the fields now, rarely in the office but occasionally I do have to go in to finish off some paperwork.

In the past 6 months or so, the presence has taken a form that it hasn’t before, a human. A woman, more beautiful than any I’d seen, deep hazel eyes and a smile that lit up her face. She would talk to me. Talk with me. At first, she only pointed, her hands glowing in certain directions, sometimes in the sky. Sometimes she’d stand, or float, in empty space, pointing to 4D diagrams, pictures, usually warning me of danger, or just things I should consider or approach in my day to day life. It’s not like I’m uncapable of doing my work or meeting new friends, but listening to her has helped improved my social circle and work life.

Eventually she spoke. We’d talk about each other, well, me mainly. It was weird talking to someone in my dream and vividly remembering every detail, but it was a good weird, one that made me comfortable and felt therapeutic. I’d listen to her speak in her soft, tender voice, about who she was, though she didn’t know much either. She said she wasn’t a guardian angel but a dream guardian. A presence that only speaks to you in your dreams – she knew that much at least. She told me she didn’t know why she was here, but that she felt like there was something important to do regarding me. Something that drove her very existence to me.

At first I was curious, intrigued as to what mystic force would drive her to me. But eventually, I stopped losing interest as to why she was here, and just appreciated and enjoyed her company. It wasn’t physical, but it felt real. I asked her why she didn’t appear as a human from the very beginning, but I soon found out that wasn’t in her control. We came to the assumption that maybe I had to listen to her warnings more and trust its presence more for that to happen. I asked her why she felt so important to me, and yet so distant; she didn’t know. I asked her if she’d stay with me for the rest of my life, if she’d continue to appear in my dreams, but again, she didn’t know. Maybe once the “important” thing was completed, she’d disappear for good.

I didn’t want her to disappear, but I didn’t know what to do either. So, I let it be. She’d visit me almost every night, and the mornings after not getting a visit from her, I found myself trying to go back to sleep for a chance to talk to her again. I never could though. It’s not like I could force myself to dream of her either. And when I did dream of her, it felt lucid, yet I was unable to control my surroundings or my own body to the extent I wanted it to. I wanted to hug her, or even just hold her hand and say thank you. Thank you for saving me countless of times, no matter how big or small it was. It’s not like I didn’t thank her every time I saw her, but it never felt sincere. I don’t think it could’ve felt sincere unless I’d hold her hands in mine and wept and cried telling her how much I appreciated her looking out for me.

It’s been an entire year since I’ve met her. And yes, I’ve managed to hold her hand and tell her all the things I wanted to say, and more. It felt like I was holding everything and nothing at the same time. It was so full and so heavy, yet so empty. The cosmic universe in the palm of my hands and the absence of everything simultaneously. She said she could feel nothing, and she’s felt nothing throughout all the times I’ve held her. I didn’t know if that was an insult at first, but she reassured me that dream guardians cannot feel anything, and that she understood and empathised with everything I said.

It's been three years since I’ve met her. She hasn’t shown up since then. I’ve dreamt of her and thought of her every day, but there was never that presence to her like the past. It wasn’t her. It was something I conjured up from my own thoughts and tried to manifest in my dream. The one I’ve been dreaming of isn’t my dream guardian. I missed her. Did she finally complete the important task she was assigned to? Did God, or whatever heavenly divinity that brought her to me, decide to finally take her back? If she was here to protect me and keep me happy, why have I felt so miserable? Why is she always on my mind? Her soft voice, her smile that’d light up her entire face, her hand that filled me with everything and nothing, her comfort and her worry. I missed everything.

I haven’t had proper sleep in weeks, I’m scared I’ll never see her again. I don’t want to conjure up a fake her from my obsessive thoughts and replace her. I’m scared I’ll no longer dream of her, and she’ll be gone forever, forgotten from my mind. I’m scared I’ll come to the point where I thought everything was just a hallucination or just a normal dream. That she was never real. No, I’m going to try to see her again soon. Tomorrow I’ll drive to the nearest pharmacy and buy the strongest sleeping pills in hopes that they can help me meet her again.

She appeared that night, but she was different. Her voice was weak and straining. Her face no longer carrying her smile that filled up my heart. And her eyes, lifeless. For the first time, she reached out her hand to hold mine. But it didn’t feel like everything and nothing, it felt… real. It felt human. She begged me not to go tomorrow and take those pills, she begged me to forget about her and live the better life she helped me achieve. She said to not let her efforts go to waste, and that she would watch over me from above. She said she loved me. She loved me. She loved me. Again and again. I didn’t know it until that moment either, but I loved her too. I fell in love with my dream guardian, and I didn’t want to ever let her go.

I awoke this morning, crying, beating myself up for waking up so early. If I slept a little longer, I could be with her for a little longer. How could my own body be so against my own wishes? Falling in love with the woman of my dreams, literally. But I loved her more than any other person I’ve ever loved and felt more loved in that one dream than I ever felt before. I wanted to see her again, and I’m going to.

9pm. There’s two bottles of sleeping pills in front of me. I’m going to meet her tonight again, and hopefully, I can stay with her for the rest of my life. Even if I have to take multiple bottles every night. I’m going to see her.

As I swallow one pill after another, I slowly find myself getting sleepier and sleepier, but I need more. I need as much time I can to be with her. Fighting to stay awake, I open the second bottle and start taking a handful of them at once. I’m sleepy, I’m falling asleep. Please wait for me.

It's been so long since I’ve been here, I’ve lost count. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few millennia, maybe since the beginning of time. What was I doing here? What am I doing here? How did I get here? Who am I? Who was I before I got here? I want to know who, or what I am. It’s so dark, I’ve been wandering for so long, yet I don’t feel like I’ve moved at all. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to go back to a time before I was here, before I forgot who I was.

Am I alive? Was I once alive? Is this the graveyard of the dead? I don't feel alive, nor do I feel dead. Is this where the forgotton are left behind? I see glimpses of a life, somewhere in the distant past, somewhere in another universe. Why was I so eager to rest? So eager to throw away my life? What for? To sleep? To meet something, or someone? Is this the realm for the souls that gave up on living? If it is, I don't want to be here. I don't want to give up on my life. I want to go back. I want to live a longer life, as long as I can. I'm sleepy. I close my eyes one last time.

...And some day, open them again. I don’t feel what I’ve felt before in the darkness, it’s not dark at all. I feel nothing and yet, everything at the same time. I can see yet I sense I’m also being watched. I don’t know where I am, but these roads feel hauntingly familiar. I don’t know where I’m going, but wherever I go, it just feels right. I’m looking around, it’s a full moon and I’m floating on wings, midnight blue, a butterfly.

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress (pt.II)

Hello again! I hope your having an amazing day, night, or morning! Don't forget to drink water!

Warnings: mention of Alcohol, swearing

Words: 5,951

   The time spent on the ship was long, tiring and freezing. The weather danced between rain, sleet, snow, and hail. Complete opposite of what conditions you were used to. But thankfully land was just up ahead. The ever changing weather shifting finally for snow. As the snow danced in the sky you couldn't help notice the beauty, back at your village snow was basically never seen. unless you went to the higher elevations that is.

   As you approached the tiny harbor the captain made it very clear he would not be staying. He was here to drop you off and leave, not wanting to stay long at the Empire. This had you chewing your lip, finding your way home would be up to you at the end of this. Which wouldn't be so bad usually, but you didn't know anyone. So it was bad.

   When they docked you took your things. The sword carefully wrapped up and strapped to your back, your bag sitting atop it. you'd be damned if your going to loose that blade now that you were finally at your destination. You carefully got off the boat with a little help from a crew member. Trying not to fall from the ice already forming.

   The first thing you could notice about the land was the unfamiliar sharp smell in the air of winter. It was absolutely freezing. You pulled your cloak around you more, slowly making your way to the small village. The land definitely wasn't welcoming. Besides the village there was just plain barren land, draped with light fluffy snow. The village was however quaint. Logged cabins stood as a contrast against the white snow. Smoke rose up into the air by winding, and straight chimneys. Looking around at the village almost looked like a nice painting. But when you look up you realize the quaint little village was surrounded by ice spikes. They looked as if the gods had thrown them as spears, impaling the earth. Although beautiful, the thought of one of them crashing down on you, had you weary.

   The people were the second thing you noticed. They were mostly hybrids, but humans were also seen wondering about. As you walked away from the harbor more people came into view. The people were so beautiful, it almost took you by surprise. Tucked beneath large fur lined cloaks you could see a similarly of sharp featured faces. Even the human hybrids looked ethereal, ranging from tall divine Enderman, Piglins, animals, your sure you even saw a Shulkerbox.

   The once quiet humming streets were soon differentiated by a loud buzzing noise that shook you from your admiring state, your turned to see rather large... things? The things you were looking at were made out of metal, that much you could easily see. A bright blue painted sun sat on the side. The signa of the Antarctic Empire. On the top of the metal contraption there were wings. Two of them, spanning way out on the sides. The things slowly circled until they landed in the barren field. There were four of them, all of them slowly landing one at a time. Slowly they moving to the village edge. You sat and watched with curiosity until the buzzing had stopped.

   At this point you realized how cold you were. You tore your eyes away from the metal contraptions. Looking around for a place to seek warmth. You saw a Bar up ahead and instantly knew that would be the best place to start. Walking over, minding the large banks of snow, you pushed the door open. Instantly you met with a rush of warm air. A smile fell on your lips, man you missed that feeling. Being on the boat they only had lanterns, and you better believe that did not keep you warm. You pushed in further. Looking around for a seat, the only ones you could find were at the Bar it self. Setting your bag by your feet, sword still strapped to your back you climbed onto the stool. You couldn't help but look around at the décor. Behind the bar, the shelfs were covered with random bottles and bottles of liquor. Some almost gone and some not even opened yet. The walls were lined with mounts from hunts, elk, deer, the occasional game animals. The one that shocked you was the bear. Back at your village bear was not local, so seeing a mount of one, and the sheer size they were was kind of terrifying.

   The bar it self was mostly filled with men and the occasional women. Some people were gambling, but most were just drinking and laughing. Enjoying each others company. After summing the atmosphere up you turned to the bartender and offered a shy smile.

   "Wha'd you like?" He asked, his voice was deep and gruff. He was dressed very nice, a vest with a white button up. His hair combed back, he looked like he was ready for a date with someone. He had a hard face, but did offer a smile.

   "Whatever you recommend?..." You asked a bit sheepishly. He smiled wider, nodding before he turned his back. Starting to prepare your drink. You took your time to look around more. The wood of the bar under your hands was nice, kinda reminded you of sitting back at the kitchen table with your family. Your family. The thought of them pained you. After being away for a bit you came to see how much of a homebody you really were. Your mothers kind smile, morning coffee with your father, the roosters crowing to alert the farmers of morn. The smell of dew on the grass. The sigh that escaped your lips was one of lonesome.

   Unbeknownst to you, a stranger had entered the bar. The quiet chatter soon died down to nothing. A few groups of people even decided to leave the bar as a whole. The strange man, a tall one for sure, pulled out the stool and sat next to you. With him came three men as well. All were dressed in high ranking military attire. Combat boots adorned there feet well heavy cloaks draped there shoulders. Beneath the cloaks something was definitely poking up towards the ceiling. The fur that lined the cloaks was not mere rabbit or minx. It was big, and definitely fluffy. But oh so warm. The fourth man, the strange tall man, stood out. He was in a heavy cloak as well, but also in robes of green instead of blues. He wore a white hat with green stripes. His face had a bit of stubble, but it looked nice. His hair was sandy blonde, with fairly straight locks. It was a tad on the longer side, but he had it pulled into the hat mostly. Only a braid and a bit of bangs poped out the front. Besides the normality of his appearance, the thing that stuck out were his Great wings. There were the color of a raven, but on a much greater scale.

   "Hello" His voice rang though as he addressed the bartender. This caught your attention, pulling you from your thoughts of your parents. Looking to the men you had immediately noticed the military attire, it was unsettling to say the least. You glanced away, feeling like you shouldn't be looking at them. The atmosphere had grown tense. Deciding to face down instead of the new company, you noticed the bartender had set a drink in front of you. The liquid was clear, unsure if it was water however due to a weird strong burning smell.

   Your attention was drawn back to the man again, he whispered something to the three military men before they left with a swift nod. for some reason the military men were more terrifying than the man next to you. At there leave, the blonde gentleman was alone at the bar. His gaze met with your curious one.

   "Hello there little one" he said gently. His voice was kind, and light hearted. The smile that laced his lips was nothing near malicious.

   "Hello" with your reply you gave a light nod. Still a little unsure.

   "You don't look like your from around here" He must have known, or judged your lack of warmer heavier clothes. You could only nod in agreement. "What brings you to the Empire? You hav'ta be fucking stupid to come here for a vacation" he mused, his sight chuckle was warm to hear. You couldn't help but smile a bit at his contagious one.

   "I actually came to deliver this sword to the Empire.. I'm just uncertain how to get to the capital" his interest almost visibly double.

   "Really now" He removed his hat. Setting it aside, you could see a hanging emerald from his ear. "Did you make the sword yourself?" He took his drink and easily downed the whole thing, facing you for curiosity. Wherever he came from he was obviously very thirsty.

   "I did actually, I'm quite proud of it too.. i believe its the best one ive made yet" your smile grew wider. He hummed as he set the glass down with a light 'tink'. He shrugged his outer cloak off. You took note of how the slits were made to form around the massive wings.

   "Not many women smith's out there, if your blade is chosen i hav'ta think its a pretty damn good one. Do you have your letter?" He inquired. You nodded. Leaning down, sifting through your things. Pulling out the neatly folded letter. You gently handed it to him. His hands were gloved with thick black leather, guarding what you assume is his hands from the climate. He opened the letter and glanced it over, his eyes lingering the seal. "Well I'll be damned. Alrighty then. Do you need a ride by chance?" You tilted your head a bit. Taking the letter back.

   "A ride?" He chuckled, Nodding to you.

   "You don't have a idea where the capital is do you?" You shook your head slowly. Feeling a little foolish now. "Hey, hey. I didn't mean it rudely. Your not familiar around here. I gotta swing by the capital after this stop. I could give you a ride if you would like. Save ya' a lot of trudging in the snow.".

   "Oh! R-right!" You nodded. "Please id actually really like that".

   "Perfect, we can leave whenever you'd like. Although I recommend we leave soon. Flying at night is a fuckin' nightmare" he stated.

   Your brow furrowed. "Flying? You mean with your wings?".

   "No mate, I mean with the plane". He leaned in his chair. Folding his hands on his lap. His strong blue eyes never waved away from yours. When he leaned back you noticed a long hilt attached to his hip. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to the hilt.

   "What's a plane?" You asked curiosity lingering your voice. He laughed a deep chested laugh. Only making you feel a bit stupid at your question now. When he noticed you weren't joking he went surprised.

   "Oh your actually serious. Erm.." he paused a bit. Trying to think. "Where exactly do you come from?" He asked. Leaning closer to you now. His brows were slightly knit together in confusion.

   "Oh.. I uhm. came from a small village out in Madagascar." You watched him as you moved your hands to your lap.

   "You haven't seen a plane?" He asked again. Almost just to clarify that if you were joking, this would be the time to out yourself. You shook your head. "Hunh. Well then.." he said Shrugging. "Fair enough. Here come with me." He said as he stood, brushing his hair back before placing his cap on. He patted his coat a bit. You watched. Assuming he meant for you to stand was well. "Shit.." he mumbled. You realized he was looking for money.

   "Oh- here I got it" you dug in your pocket and handed a few coins over to the bartender. The blonde watched. Almost mentally taking note. The bartender gave you a weird look when you handed the money over.

   "You didn't drink your glass miss" you looked down and realized. You took it and took a sip expecting water. It wasn't water. You nearly spit it out. But swallowed instead to spare the embarrassment. The blonde man laughed at your face as it contorted into disgust. It burned the whole way down your throat, filling your body with a quick glow of warmth. The stranger took the glass from you and took a wif, laughing more before easily downing it.

   "Good to know vodka doesn't agree with you" he said still laughing. You watched as he set the glass down, pulling his cloak on. Well you grabbed your things you looked up and noticed he had a signa of the empire on it.

   "Why does it burn so much?.." you asked, wishing you never took that sip. He mused at you well you two walked side by side together.

   "Ah, don't worry so much on it. I have actual water in the plane you can have" he walked towards the metal contraption with you. At this you assumed this was a 'plane'. Gods was it big.

   "How does it fly?" You asked looking it over in curiosity. He only hummed before answering.

   "Its actually really simple. The propeller in the front will spin and gets air going. Once there's enough momentum it will pull the plane forward, i just steer it up and we will glide." He explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You didn't quite fully understand. But something told you he didn't expect you too. He climbed up and asked for your bag. Placing it in the plane where there were two seats. After your bag was situated he offered you a heavy cloak. It was lined with thick fur. "Your going to want this. It gets cold in flight. You nodded and pulled it on your shoulders. Instantly feeling the warmth and heaviness the cloak brought. You saw his hand come down reaching for yours. "Here let me help you up" his hand was firm and definitely a strong one. Pulling you up like it was nothing. Once you were on the wing of the plane he helped you steady yourself. He grabbed your waist without warning and lifted you up like a child. "Go ahead and step in- Mind your feet though, step on the seat and then sit" you fallowed his instructions. Feeling his grip slip from your waist as you sunk into the cockpit. You took note at how low you sat in the seat, there were buttons and two weird looking things beside you. They were long and bulky, you wouldn't touch them since you obviously had no idea what they did. He easily hopped into the front seat well he folded his wings carefully. Being mindful of the limited space the seats offered.

   "I never caught your name" you said looking up to the back of the man.

   "Oh that's right, I'm Philza. What's your name?" He asked as he turned his head towards you a bit.

   "Nice to meet you Philza, I'm (y/n)" he smiled more fallowing it up with him being pleased to meet you. "If I can ask. What are these?" You inquired. Pointing to the bulky long things next to you.

   "Oh those are my rifles'" he stated simply. You blinked in slight confusion. 'Rifles? The hell's a Rifle?' Your silence gave away your confusion. "Its a Gun. A type of weapon. Its faster than a bow and just as dangerous" you gave a little 'oh' in response. "The safety is on. It cant hurt you, I promise" he stated as he started up the plane. The loud buzzing starting up. "I usually fly alone, unless I'm with Tech. This should he interesting" he said with a wide smile. You felt the plane lurch before it moved. On instinct you gripped your seat. You were forced back as the plane lifted up from the ground. You couldn't help but watch as the little village grew smaller. You soon got awfully high, it was frightening to say the least. But something told you the man driving wouldn't let anything hurt you. Philza carefully maneuvered around the giant ice spikes. Flying with ease like a bird. "Go ahead and get comfortable. We'll be a slight bit" you saw him adjust in his seat, presumably getting more comfortable. You glanced the ground again before sinking into your seat yourself. Pulling the cloak around you more, enjoying the warmth it brought you. The loud buzz made you realize you were honestly quite tired. Well you were on the ship you worked from dawn until past dusk. Feeling no forceful urge to do anything currently, you let the gentle rock of the plane lull you to sleep.

   "Aye, kiddo?" You herd someone call, nudging you a slight bit. You shifted, realizing you were in a seat. Memories from before your nap rushed forward as you opened your eyes, wiping the sleep from them. Phil sat with a smile as he stood on the wing of the plane. "Took a nap i see. Don't blame you, c'mon lets get you inside." Your eyes flickered around, sleep still lingering making your eyes heavy. It was now nighttime, and Phil was right the temperature does drop when the sun goes down. "Were at the palace" he said as he took your shoulders. Lifting you up like a child again. Setting you on the wing of the plane. You held onto his arm to steady yourself.

   "Palace?" You mumbled. Still trying to wake up more. Phil just gave a hum and a firm nod before handing you your bag, and the blade. He stepped off the wing and helped you down. You thanked him and looked around in awe. You were in a large open room. Planes were lined up everywhere, it honestly was amazing.

   "Fallow me" he stated. Smiling at you as he made his way across the floor. You fallowed, walking around the lined up planes. Soon you two found a corridor. The walls were made of whites, greys, blues and the occasional green-blue-ish tint. Pillars lined the corridors, as small candle lit chandeliers illuminated them. Shadows dancing with the flick of the flame. The floors were carpeted down the middle. White marble on the outsides. The dark oak details contrasted all the white so beautifully.

   "Dadza!!" You herd a child yell. You turned with Phil to see a boy no older than 12 with brown hair running to phil. His curls bounced as he ran, his wide smile shining. The child, was more than beaming with love as he threw himself into Philza's arms.

   "Hi bud" Phil had bended down to the Childs size. Hugging him close to his chest. As he smiled back at the child before he explained to you. "(Y/n), this is my son Wilbur" you gave a nod as Wilbur waved cheerfully. Hugging tightly to his father. Phil rested his hand on top of Wilbur’s head, ruffling the curls. You didn't think he was a father, but somehow now that you see him with a child- his son to be exact. How he treated you now, and back at the bar, makes sense now.

   "Tech, said you wouldn't be here until tomorrow!" Wil said cheerfully, having a awful lot of energy for the time of night. Wil was honestly an adorable child. He was tall, thin, but very well dressed. Golden glasses rested on his nose, his attire consisted of a white button down, and simple black pants. his sleeves were rolled up slightly, showing he was working. happy enough to say, you could tell he was well taken care of. You herd the name 'Tech' get thrown around again. You herd Phil mention that name before you fell asleep, but it never really stuck out.

   "Did he now" the boy hummed in agreement. "Did he also scold you for being out of bed?" Phil lifted a brow challengingly to Wil. His tone taking on a more strict role. In response Wil merely shrugged. 

“He may have mentioned it.” Wil’s tone was casual, it also showed that he didn't take Phil’s tone too seriously. Phil in turn just rolled his eyes with a sigh.

   We came to two tall wooden doors. A guard opening one at the sight of Phil, and Wilbur. You still weren't sure how, or why, you were in the palace. Nor how no one questioned your presence. You didn't feel like questioning much. Feeling like you were far out of the loop quite honestly.

   Past the doors was a medium sized circular room. In the center stood a tall man. His shoulders were wide and brawn. He had a boar's skull as a mask. The tusk's adorned with jewelry. His ears were well pierced with golden chains and tiny diamonds. You caught that like Phil, the man had a single emerald earring. He definitely stood out to say the least. He had pink hair, neatly pulled into a ponytail. Braids shown through his hair, offering a contrast to the soft flowing pink. On one braid he had a black feather attached. His clothes shown a higher status. He had a white button down that was slightly undone at the top, you saw reading glasses attached on a chain that hung around his neck. A red sash sat wrapped around his waist, pulling together the white and black he wore. He had a larger sword strapped to his waist, the hilt of the sword was long and adorned with gold. His black pants were neatly tucked into his boots. He stood arms crossed. Almost like he was expecting Phil.

   "Eh?.." was all he said when he saw you and phil.

   "Ah Techno. I see your still awake too" the man called 'Techno' gave a nod to phil. "(Y/n), this is my other son, Technoblade" you looked from Phil, to Wil, and then to techno. There was a age gap between the boys, but you couldn't tell the exact age. Techno’s stature made you assume he was much older. since he was taller than Phil, not by much however."(Y/n) is here for the weapon call. She has her letter if you would like to see" Phil explained to techno. Instead of a response techno merely faced you. You were not able to see his eyes or much of a expression. Only his jaw was seen since the boar skull had no lower jaw. Techno's jaw however sat in a stoic, locked placement. Soon his monotone voice came through. It was low, smooth and captivating.

   "You came for the weapon call?" He questioned, his voice, nor his stance wavered. the closer you got to Techno you saw how broad he was built. His shoulders looked as if he could have supported anvil’s on them. His stature and his voice made him very menacing. You gave a slight nod. Techno only faced you shortly before he faced Phil again. "I'll test the weapon tomorrow." He stated plainly. You saw Phil nod his head in agreement.

   Phil faced you next "We have a spare room you can stay in" he flashed you a warm smile. Techno stood beside him, contrasting the warmth you felt from Phil. Techno however, did step back to allow you to fallow Phil. Techno never looked away from you. He was facing you well you passed. It unnerved you a little, you couldn't see his eyes, but man you could tell he was staring at you. The thought of how one man could have a happy smiling boy, and then one that stuck fear into you for simply breathing his air didn't make a lick of sense. Scary or not you would give it to Techno. He made terrifying look nice.

   The palace was larger than you expected, but still beyond elegant. Wil wondered beside Phil casually. Thinking on the ‘Weapon Call’ you decided now was a good time to bring it up. well fallowing Phil down the beautiful corridors you spoke up.

   “is there anyone else here?” you watched Phil’s back. Well walking the halls he had removed his cap, so you were at least able to see his expression a bit. from what you could see he was pondering his answer.

   “Yeah.. Yeah, no we’ve had others here for it” the suggestion of ‘had’ made your brows knit together. Wil shot a glance back to you before glancing his father. Phil must have took this as a chance to explain. “we had a few people show, they couldn't beat the test however.” his tone was casual. the idea of a test made your stomach drop. ‘what kind of test?’, ‘what will they do to the blade?’, ‘what happens if I fail?’, questions raced your mind. 

   “t...test?” you worded it hesitantly, only earning a hum of agreement. 

   “techno is very peculiar on what he wants in a sword. it has to fit to his strength and his taste.” Phil paused briefly, “Sadly no sword so far, has been strong enough to withstand his strength.”. oh you could have died on the spot at that. that was the equivalent of ‘Oh yeah, thanks for coming thousands of miles. here's your participation ribbon’. the only response you could muster was a simple ‘Oh’. At your response Wil turned to face you, walking backwards. 

   “Don't feel discouraged, techno can be a mighty dick when he wants to be-” at that you stifled a laugh as he was swatted upside the head by Phil.

    after the light comment from Wil, the three of you fell into silence. occasionally you saw a painting or two, one did stand out though upon passing. There was a beautiful woman, she looked kinder than any woman you’ve seen to be honest. In her arms was a baby, wrapped up and peacefully asleep. By her arms stood Phil, he had a kind, warm smile. Your eyes moved down the painting. in between the couple stood a young child, he had pink hair and a shy smile. he looked like a sweet kid, you could automatically assume who the family was just from the child and Phil.

   Soon the room came to view. it was at the end of the corridor, which honestly didn't bother you. The thought of a comfortable bed  had you more excited than you cared to admit. Phil opened the door for you. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. breakfast is around six to ten.” Phil and Wil watched you walk in, looking around in awe at the glorious room. “I’ll have a maid get you some warmer clothes too. If your staying for a bit I can promise you will want something heavier than what you have.” You turned back to face him a thankful smile on your lips.

   “Thank you...” you were so thankful. You knew you would have to find a way to make it up to them for letting you stay. Especially without the permission of the Emperor. Phil nodded and bid a goodnight with Wil at his side. When you herd the door ‘click’ shut you couldn't help but look around again. So much had happened in under 24 hours that processing it all was hard. What started as meeting a strange man in a bar, turned into staying at the palace. talk about right time, right place. You smiled at the thought, you hoped that whatever was guiding you would continue.

   You set your bag down at the foot of the bed. taking the blade off your back. it was heavy, feeling the weight lifted off was a blessing all by itself. you carefully set the blade on the ottoman at the end of your bed. you turned your head towards the window. when you approached you didn't expect to see much, but oh you should have. outside was a view worth a million words. It wasn't a village, it was a prosperous city. Massive didn't even begin to explain the size. You couldn't even fathom how many people lived here. the city could have held your small village twenty times over. you knew the Antarctica Empire was large and powerful. but you never expected this. Your smile fell slowly.

   At that though you looked away from the city, facing back into your room. the four post bed was calling your name. Grabbing your clothes from your bag you changed into something you could comfortably sleep in. well changing new thoughts raced your mind. you knew the empire was known for being harsh and dangerous. yet so far all you have seen is beauty and kindness. this made you weary ‘was this all a painted face?’, ‘was this what they wanted you to see?’ ‘under this, is the whole country suffering under dictatorship?’. you thought back to Phil's face, the smiles he offered you. The Painting of the family. nothing said they were malicious. But nothing cemented that they were also kind people. you were a traveler. a foreigner, you didn't belong here. Your only here because your bringing a ‘gift’. When the gift looses its price then what? What will happen to you? What happened to those who gave blades previously?

   You didn't want to think anymore. You simply wanted to sleep. Pushing the heavy covers back you crawled into the unfamiliar bed. You pulled and pushed pillows until you could find a comfortable spot. You adjusted your head a bit and slowly fell into the embrace of a deep sleep. 

   Morning came faster than you anticipated. There were no birds chirping or the sound of deep waves rolling. Instead it was a warm fireplace. You rolled over, rubbing your eyes before arching your back in a stretch. The bed was warm and pleasant. You rolled your head and saw a pair of blue toned clothes at the foot of the bed. Those must have been the clothes that Phil mentioned last night. you found a old grandfathers clock in the corner. The hands pointed at 8:26. Thinking over what may await today you pushed yourself up. Gently running your fingers over the material, you were genuinely surprised. it was heavy and from what you would gage, warm. a sweet smell lingered, looking about you saw there was a bathroom connected. walking closer the smell of Chai grew. there was a bath prepared for you. you glanced the time, the clothes and then the bath again. ‘I mean it wouldn't hurt’.

   You cleaned yourself, the water wasn't scalding hot, but it was just enough. It was welcoming. The baths on the ship were nothing to this, the ones on the sea were often cold and nothing you wanted to linger in. Where here you could stay in the warm water all day, if you thought you could get away with it. You didn't linger though. You simply cleaned up and stepped out. letting the water out. Stepping out of the bathroom was horrible. The steam had tricked you into a false security of warmth. The room was cold, goosebumps ran your skin making you hurry to dress. The clothes were made incredibly well. Nothing from what you had back at your village. The base of the clothes consisted of a long black shirt and simple black pants. After that it was simple layering. You had a jacket similar to a cloak almost, over that a simple blue cape to drape over your shoulders. you assumed it had no signa to show you were not one of the empires people. There were gold as accents on the sleeves of the jacket, and on the cape itself. the whole fit was elegant. you saw your old shoes next to boots. slipping the boots on you wondered out. to find something to eat. your stomach turning in knots from the lack of food. 

   when you turned the corner you saw Phil. he smiled at you “Ah, just  came to see if you were up” he was dressed similar to last night. only instead he had no fluffy cloak or hat atop is head, he only had simple blue robes. his wings were spread slightly. but he payed no mind to them. he offered you a arm. “Ready for food? hope we have somthi’n you like” you smiled kindly.

   “I'm sure anything you offer I will be ok with, I still owe you for letting me stay” you said, looking out the windows of the corridor. the day was brilliant. blue skies and a bright sun. the sun came through the windows. warming you more when you passed through it’s rays.

   “awh, I wouldn't think too much on it. after all you came all this way on your own” he was right, you did make this trip all by yourself. something you were proud to say you did. Phil opened a dark oak door to show a nice table. Techno sat at the head of the table, Wilbur sitting to the left of him. There were two empty prepared seats to his right you assumed this was for Phil and you. 

   Wilbur was already digging into his breakfast like it was his last meal. God forbid if anyone put there hand between his food and his mouth, they may have lost it. he was dressed up a bit more than you recall previously. his white button down now had a jacket overtop, with a few draping pendants. his elegant clothes contrasted his hair that was still a wild curly mess. 

   Unlike last night Techno was dressed even more extravagant. instead of his white button down, he was in a military's uniform. A cape adorned his sturdy shoulders draping elegantly on him. unlike yesterday he did not have his reading glasses, instead it was replaced by golden chains and pendants. his hair was similar to yesterday, only instead it was braided back, tinier braids were swept into the main braid. one of them having the feather. not a strand of hair fell out of place. beneath the pink you could see the emerald earing he wore. the same one Phil wore. the thing that stuck out the most was the golden crown that adorned his head. His hands were folded, his chin resting on them. his face was still hidden by the Boar skull. but that didn't stop you from seeing all the rings that he wore.

“mornin’ Tech, Wil” Phil said casually. he only had a response from techno, but even then it was monotone. your eyes watched the crown on Techno's head. after seeing all the signs you now realized that you were staying with the royal family. Where Phil took his seat you had stopped mid tracks. ‘could you even eat with them?’ Phil gave you a weird look. “somthin’ wrong (y/n)?” 

   “Can I eat with you?” they way you said that made you sound childish, but in fact it was a genuine question. At your words Phil get out a laugh.

   “Of course you can, what’d you think we’d do? eat in front of you?” he was amused at you. His smile wide as Wil stopped eating to look up at you. “what makes you think your not welcome to eat with us?” he questioned, his tone shifting softer.

   “Your the Royal family. I didn't think...” you trailed off as techno spoke. 

   “A Emperor is simply a title. If he cannot break bread with others, he has no right to claim the throne that he sits on. You and I are humans. let us break bread” he said simply. 

[neighborhood-nori]

Sunrise

Summary: Levi always keeps his promises to Hanji, even if that means waking up at the crack of dawn just so she can watch the sunrise from a small canoe.

--

This fic is a gift for the amazing B ( @callingoutyourname03 ) for the Xmas in July event in the Levihan University discord server. I hope you enjoy the gift B! You were such an amazing help throughout the event’s planning stages and I cannot thank you enough, so I hope this expresses all our gratitude for you!

--

“Levi?” A soft voice broke through the haze of his sleep.

Levi grunted and rolled over, dragging his pillow out from under his head and instead using it to shield his face. 

That was pointless, however, as his wife was soon straddling his waist, tugging the pillow off of him. “Levi, you promised you wouldn’t be a grouch when I woke you up.”

“That was nighttime Levi who promised that. Morning Levi is running the show now.” 

“Well, which Levi promised to wake up and come with me to watch the sunrise on the lake?”

Levi peeled his eyes open ever so slightly to see Hanji, still sitting on top of him, pouting. He sighed and mumbled his reply, “Definitely not sane Levi.”

Hanji poked at his chest, attempting to rouse him. Levi tried to go back to sleep but the incessant poking was disturbing him. As she continued to poke him, he deftly caught her hand in his own.

“Stop being annoying.” He scolded.

“Then stop sleeping.” Hanji shot back. She leaned forward, placing her hands down on the bed, framing his head between her arms. She began to blow air on his face.

“God, your morning breath stinks.” Levi winced and tried to push her off of him. Hanji didn’t budge, gripping him tighter between her thighs and opening her mouth to breathe much hotter air on him.

“Did you eat a skunk last night, four eyes?” Levi switched tactics, knocking her off balance by pushing her hands away, and pulling her down towards him. Hanji fell forward on top of him, her face landing in the crook of his neck. Levi wrapped his arms around her and squeezed so she couldn’t budge. She attempted to wiggle out of his grasp for a few seconds but resigned herself to the new position when she realized it was futile to fight his grip.

“You promised you’d watch the sunrise with me, Levi.” She murmured into his neck. 

“Can’t we watch the sunset instead? I’ll be much more awake at sunset.” He turned his head and angled so he could place a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“I wanted to watch the sunrise over the lake. When it sets, it goes down over the forest.” Hanji explained.

Levi sighed against her skin, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. When it came to Hanji, he would always go out of his way to make her happy. “Fine.” He relented, “Let’s go.”

Hanji popped up faster than Levi had anticipated, and managed to knock the wind out of him as she climbed over him and kneed him in the stomach. 

He grunted and she seemed not to notice what she had done, as she grabbed both his hands and dragged him out of bed. 

“I already set out an outfit for you.” She pointed giddily to the armchair where Levi spotted a pair of dark blue jeans, a plain grey long sleeve, and a black turtleneck sweater. 

She pushed him towards the chair and Levi dug his feet into the carpet to stop himself. “Let me shower and brush my teeth first.”

“Alright but hurry up, sunrise is in an hour.” Hanji bubbled.

“An hour?” Levi narrowed his eyes at her. “Then why are we up already? I could have slept a bit more.”

“The sunrise happens fast! We have to be sure to be in a good position when it happens! And I want to see all the colors change in the sky.” Hanji began pushing him towards the bathroom. 

“Why did I agree to this?” 

“Because you love me.” Hanji kissed his cheek warmly before shoving him through the bathroom door.

Levi showered and dressed rather quickly, especially for only being half awake.

When he walked out of the bedroom and downstairs to the living room, Hanji was ready and waiting for him by the front door, a picnic basket in hand.

“Is that breakfast?” He reached for the basket.

“It will be.” Hanji grabbed his outstretched hand and began tugging him out the door.

She dragged him out of the house and down to the shore of the lake out front. Levi stumbled a bit as the ground was only partially lit by the very faint rays of dawn. He looked ahead and managed to spot an old red canoe with two oars sitting just by the water.

“Please tell me that’s not for us.” He groaned.

Hanji chuckled and Levi realized his fate. “Who else would it be for?”

“When I promised to watch the sunrise with you, rowing out in a dinky boat on the lake was not included in that promise.”

“It was implied.”

“How was it implied?” 

“Because-” Hanji explained as she gestured towards the boat, “This is how I want to watch the sunrise, out in the middle of the lake in a canoe with you.”

Levi wrinkled his nose, noting the chipped paint, the unstable looking wood, the spider webs that glistened with dew on the inside of the boat. But then he looked at Hanji, eyes wide and bright even at the crack of dawn, smile blinding and taking up almost her entire face, her bouncing slightly in place out of pure unadulterated excitement.

He could suck it up for one morning, for Hanji, Levi said to himself before begrudgingly starting to push the canoe into the water.

Hanji clapped her hands as Levi set the boat up, and turned to offer her a helping hand in stepping inside.

She gratefully accepted, stepping inside the boat, which wobbled only slightly as she made her way to sit at the bow. 

Levi stepped in behind her, pushing one foot off the shore to give them a boost before he stepped fully in the boat and sat down in the oarsman position. 

He took an oar in each hand and began a steady pace, oars dipping in and out of the water, propelling the boat forward.

“How did I get stuck doing all the work?” He huffed as he watched Hanji look out over the still water.

“You sat there, it makes sense.”

“I only sat here because you sat up front.” Levi argued.

“Stop fighting me and row harder, I think I see the sun starting to come up.” Hanji shushed him.

Levi mumbled some choice words under his breath before he put a little more pressure against the oars. He kept himself occupied watching Hanji continue to survey the water and treeline around them, until finally she told him to stop rowing.

“This is perfect.” Hanji whispered. They were directly in the middle of the lake now. Hanji moved so that she was facing the clear horizon. Levi turned and he too could see the first true rays of orange light begin to color the sky.

Hanji was right, the sunrise was quick, lighting up the sky in a blaze of orange, yellow, pink, and red before settling into the normal yellowish-whit light of day.

He watched all the colors dance across Hanji’s face, her brown eyes lit with wonder. She seemed perfectly content, watching the sun rise into the sky. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Levi?” She murmured as she watched the natural phenomenon.

“Yeah.” Levi agreed, but his own gaze was locked on his very own, personal natural phenomenon: her.

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x reader) Chapter 2

Warnings: Swearing?

Word count : 2.1k 

This chapter was a little longer, I really get hooked on all of the details and before long the chapter keeps getting bigger and bigger. It’s gonna be a whole story so bare with <3 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night before starting at a new school you thought was supposed to be exciting, or you were meant to feel nervous, it was not supposed to be spent crying in Tara’s arms after explaining to her what had happened between you and the man you now believed to be your soulmate. You don’t know how long it had taken you to get to sleep in the end, all you knew is that you woke up as heartbroken as you were the night before. However, today is the first day to the rest of your fairy life, so brave face, and deal with the pain after hours.

Technically you didn’t have to go down to the courtyard to see everybody coming in, part of you was just interested, nosy, sick of being surrounded by only like 3 people for the last two months? Let’s just say you had your reasons. So there you were standing by yourself like an idiot, Tara was helping some of her friends move their things in, you noticed a girl with bright blonde hair, stunning, popular no doubt, she had the heir about her, not to mention there was already a group of Fairies crowded around her. Then you noticed another girl, flaming red hair, looking a little lost, part of you wanted to walk over to her, say hi or whatever, then you realised Sky had already clocked her too and was making his way over. Sometimes it was good to fade into the background, it just meant you could see everything happening without seeming too nosy. Like when you notice Blondie shoot daggers towards Sky and the girl he was speaking to, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Dramaaaaa. The conversation ended quickly when another guy, dressed in dark clothing with brown hair snuck up behind Sky interrupting. From the way they messed around you knew they were good friends. Maybe it was the guy River… no.. Riven, Sky had told you about. You looked away, starting to feel a little lonely as you watched friends re connect after time away. You only had one friend so far, and no doubt she had friends already here too, it was only a matter of time before you were on your own again. 

It wasn’t long before the final students had come through the gates and they began to close, you were one of the last ones outside, some stragglers lingering, when you felt someone come up behind you. You could tell instantly who it was, you wanted to be pissed off, but you couldn’t, his presence making you feel more at home than ever. He was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning the back of you neck, but far enough away so that if anyone saw you both it would just look like a private conversation. 

“You should be mingling with others, not standing here on your own.” You could tell by the tone of his voice he was frowning. It angered you. He was the one that decided what you felt for each other ‘wouldn’t work’ and now he thought he had an opinion when it came to your social life? 

“Saul, I mean, Mr Silva, you made it pretty clear yesterday that what we have.. had, wouldn’t work, so why are you concerned about what I do.” You moved away from him as you heard him sigh. You could tell he was frustrated, you didn’t care. In the two months you’d got to know Silva, you realised that he was a pretty dominant figure, he wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted, or having someone talk back to him. 

“Listen Y/N, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He gritted out, it was paining him that he couldn’t touch you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning to look at him, raising your eyebrow in a kind of ‘are you done?’ attitude. His jaw clenched. “Just stay out of the woods, there was another sighting of a burned one, it’s not safe to be out there at the moment.” With that he brushed past you, his skin brushing yours lightly enough to leave your whole body tingling, he faltered as he felt it too but carried on walking away. You headed off the the Fairy hall, looking back watching his re treating figure, you thought you had been the only two out there, but just before you rounded the corner you caught a glimpse of Headmistress Dowling, staring at the both of you from the top window of her office. 

The hallways were bustling, students squealing and hugging friends, luggage being hauled through the crowds, you had to push your way past, noticing on the way, a lot of people staring at you. You could hear people chattering, whispering, getting bits and pieces of sentences here and there like “Changeling” ‘Burned one” “multiple powers”.. You rolled your eyes, how the fuck did the news spread so quickly. You were grateful when you reached the door to your halls. You pushed the double doors open wide and took in your surroundings. Tara was there, sorting out all of her plants, she looked up and gave you a wide smile. 

“Oh Y/N there you are! I was just telling the girls all about you.” She rushed out and came to stand next to you. The noise attracted a few girls from the rooms off of the main dorm. Blondie from earlier sauntered out, you don’t know why it hadn’t clicked before that she was obviously the princess. Then followed a girl with headphones, a girl with funky looking hair, bits of blue were braided through it, and then the girl with the flaming red hair you’d seen in the courtyard. You stood awkwardly, your Doc Martens kicking the tiled floor. It was easy to see you all had different styles, you were no exception. There seemed to be a colour theme going on. 

“You don’t have to be so worried you know, we don’t bite.” The voice came from the girl with the headphones dressed in purple. “I’m Musa, i’m a mind fairy, that’s how I know what you’re feeling, also the reason you’ll see me with these almost every single minute of the day” she said while holding up the bulky headphones that were around her neck. 

The girl with the braided hair was next to introduce herself as Aisha, Water Fairy, explained why she had the blue theme going on. Next was Bloom, the girl from the courtyard with the Fire like red hair, which was suiting considering she was a Fire fairy. She was the other girl from earth. 

Lastly was Princess Stella. A light fairy, her hair funnily enough as you mentioned earlier, a bright shade of blonde, her clothes weren’t yellow, matching the whole light theme, but you did clock that the majority of her room and clothing choices were shiny. She gave you a smug smile, you knew girls like her back home, you’d been friends with a girl like her back home, she gave off a vibe of “I’m better than everyone else” but it’s probably just so she can hide her own insecurities. There was hope for her yet so you gave Stella a smile, which shocked her. You looked down at yourself, taking in your appearance, heavy Doc Martin boots, black ripped skinny jeans, plain white top and black leather jacket, okay so if they all had colour themes yours would definitely be black. 

“You’ve obviously met Tara, she didn’t shut up about you since we all got here, interesting that you’re from earth too like Bloom, two earthlings in one year, how exciting, and you killed a burned one on your arrival, isn’t that something.” You glared a little at the girl dressed in Green as it seemed she had already spilled some details to the girls in your dorm. Stella mocked surprise, oopsing at the fact that she’d brought up what Tara had obviously babbled out. 

Tara mouthed a sorry from across the room, the earth fairy was harmless and you knew that anything she had said would have been accidental or came out in excitement. “Yup well, I’m Y/N as Tara has probably already told you, born in England, Silva found me, killed a burned one at the barrier in the woods, apparently I have multiple abilities andddd i’m a changeling. Any more questions? I thought not.” 

You laughed and walked over to your room. You shared the space with Musa, just like her mezzanine, you had one directly above, sort of like a bunk bed but it was more like a bunk room. You’d mastered the art of not falling over the railing when getting up in the night to pee which you were happy about. You heard the girls below all talking about what a changeling was, how you’d killed a burned one, what a burned one was, all riveting stuff. The only thing you could think about, the only person you could think about, Silva. Musa looked at you and gave you a side smile. You were going to have to get used to someone around you knowing how you felt all the time. 

“So Y/N, are you going to the party?” Your head peaked up, a party? You didn’t know there was going to be a party but you were sooo going. You needed to let off some steam, do some flirty flirting with the boys and for once be a normal teenager. “I say party, it’s not gonna be some total rave but it’s like a welcome party.” It surprised you that Stella asked. You flopped onto your stomach on your bed. 

“Count me in, i’m gonna go for a walk first though, clear my mind and get some air before. Anyone want to join?” You watched as 4 of the 5 girls shook their heads no, it was yet again Stella who surprised you saying yes. Maybe she wasn’t going to be awful after all. 

Stella was surprisingly easy to get along with and you could already tell she liked you, maybe you’d already become friends even, you didn’t want to push your luck. You found yourself walking by the pond near where the specialists train. You hadn’t realised that that’s where your feet had led you until Stella tugged on your arm a little. “See that guy there, the one with the blonde hair, that’s Sky, we used to date.” Stella linked arms with you. You nod your head and explained how you’d met Sky when you first arrived here. You tensed as you heard his voice, you heard him before you saw him. 

“So, after your classes, you’re all mine.” It made you choke on nothing but air and your cheeks flushed. A few heads turned to look at the interruption and you ducked before Silva saw your red face. He’d seen you though, hiding beside the Princess, he tried to conceal his grin of amusement and then went back to teaching. You looked to Stella, the awkward moment hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. Before you could explain you heard shouting, you and Stella sat down on a near by bench and watched as Silva roasted the living daylights out of a first year specialist for being disrespectful. You could pick up pieces of their conversation, Stella filling in the blanks you didn’t catch. 

“The shield is to protect us from the burned ones”….

“Have you ever seen a burned one.” Silva was pointing his sword at the students face. 

“That’s the thing no one my age has, isn’t that all over now?” The first year specialist didn’t seem so confident now and you scoffed. Wrong, you’d KILLED a burned one, without even knowing what a burned one was at the time. You still don’t remember how you did it, that moment blanked out completely in your mind, the only thing you remember, Silva finding you haunched over the body.

“That’s where you’re wrong, one of the fairies here, was attacked by one on the way in, luckily, something was in her powerful enough to kill it before it could kill her, so no, it’s not all over now.” You could tell Silva was gritting his teeth, stopping from going any further, sometimes his anger slipped away from him. A few people that had obviously heard the rumours turned and looked at you, shock crossing their faces as if they were all thinking the same thing… so it was true, not a rumour after all. You’d finally had enough of the stares, you jumped up, catching the attention of Silva, Stella following behind you as you walked away and towards the woods. 

The very place Saul had told you not to go to. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 3 ---- CLICK HERE 

Tag list :

@kingunder221b

@anreeixcobra

[jademakean]

Clouded Sea

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Warnings: Death, Thalassophobia.

Not edited

･*:༅｡.

It had been a while since your brother’s disappearance. You don't recollect how you reacted to the newfound information, in the beginning, your overwhelmed mind blocking out the details. What you do remember is how you spent days in your room mourning until you snapped out of your trance.

Just because they didn't find the boat doesn't mean they aren't alive.

It's John B, he knows how to get out of difficult situations.

He's okay

Of course, your slight change in attitude received attention from unwanted locals, you seemed more eager to leave the house, you didn't cry anytime you came back to the Routledge house, there weren't dark circles under your eyes anymore and it wasn't too long before they understood what you began speculating.

Delusion ran in the family

The pogues were the ones to understood your situation the quickest. On the rare location, John Bs name was mentioned, you spoke of him as though he were still alive. Barely phased by the fact that your brother wasn't around anymore. They also noticed how you'd run off right home to check the mail after hanging out with them.

At that point they began to pity you, believing that you were in denial and becoming obsessed-which you were- they discussed it amongst themselves trying to finds ways to bring you back to reality.

JJ was a different story, he became more distant and quiet. Mostly hanging at his house with his god-awful father. Doing his best at ignoring you because you'd just remind him of his second greatest loss.

As time went on you got some clarity on your surroundings. JJ behavior mostly.

You weren't sure how to approach him at first, he must be having his own battles that didn't need to be brought up, maybe he'd shut you out even more if you tried to ask him how he felt. So you decided to be casual.

You remembered how you had asked him to teach you how to surf before John Bs disappearance. You never learned how  because of your fear of the ocean, and it had gotten worse due to this past event. 

Sweat began to gather on your forehead due to the blazing sun up above. You readjusted you loose shirt, hiding your plain bathing suit. You knocked on the metal door, nervously waiting for who you were looking for and as you were about to knock a second time, a very tired JJ appeared with squinted eyes as the light hit his face.

The air left your lungs momentarily. You hadn't seen his face in a long while but he was here now, in front of you.

You snapped put of it when he whispered your name "What are you doing here?"

Taking a deep inhale, you smiled charmingly. “I came over to get you. You promised me you'd teach me how to surf last year, remember?” It was your fault for holding the plans back for so long, the thought of swimming above water clouded with sand was terrifying to you.

You walked past him, grabbing the beach towel on the floor and some sunscreen. “Right now?”

You answered with a smile “Of course! Better sooner than later. I'm tired of holding our plans off, we should just get it done and over with.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You stopped rummaging through the towels. It was easy to tell my the sound of his voice that he was still struggling immensely, it was also laced with confusion on how you aren't in the state of mind he is now.

“There are barely any waves today. I checked and there aren't many people either, it might be because it's a Wednesday.” You changed the attention the topic was directed to smoothly

“Y/n..”

You interrupted him by grabbing his hand, leading him to where his surfboard was abandoned for these past weeks. “Lets go, the sun is about to set.”

As you previously mentioned moments before, the sea was still. The sun warmed up everything beneath it, almost making you excited to get in the chill water.

Once you reached the shore line JJ began making little mountain of sand beside you “What are you doing?”

“You have to practice on sand before trying the real thing." He sighed.

“Actually-” you caught his eyes “-I was thinking that maybe you could help me get more comfortable with being in the water? I feel like that's the overall most basic step, you know?” You laughed lightly trying to cover up the anxiety spiralling in your head.

And thats what happened for the next few days. You started off small, allowing the water to reach your knees then moved on to mid thigh, and that alone lasted about 20 minutes. However, you didn't mind. You were able to talk to JJ more, which was hard.

It seemed like there was something on his mind that was one fake smile away from being revealed.

You both began meeting by the beach at 4:P.M, you'd stay for a few hours before he'd start help u balance yourself on the pile of sand with his surfboard.

It was all going well. You were always a quick learner when you got excited over something. JJ on the other hand seemed to become slightly closed off, like the only thing set on his mind was to teach you surf and nothing more. Limeted physical contact, no unessesary comments, no jokes.

Oh, how much you missed jokes. You hadn't heard one from him since your brother's disappearance. Your hopes of peeping one from him was slowly dimming away.

"Alrighty! I think I'm ready to sit on the board, maybe go farther out this time. A two in one." You smiled. While pulling down your shorts you decided to keep your shirt on. You excitedly took JJ's hand before guiding him to shore.

The water was cold, as usual, but you didn't feel as hesitant to enter it like before. It was an improvement that you were glad to notice.

Since you had a later shift at work it was already 7:50 P.M and the sun was starting to set, making the sky was a beautiful mixture of gold and blue.

You snapped out of your trance once you felt JJ's hands on your waist.

You were suddenly flustered by his action, and even though he was just helping you get on the board, he hadn't been very physical with you those past days. His a action was simply unexpected.

"Thank you." You said sitting up straight.

There was complete silence between the both of you. The only sounds heard was the waves clashing together gracefully, peoples distant voices and seagulls flying over their heads. This was the normal routine between the two of you, no talking, just the patiently waiting for your fear to disintegrate into ashes until you're able to swim without a care in the world, just like all the Pogues.

You missed them, truly.

There weren't anymore meatups at the Chateau or watching them surfing from your spot in the sand, sunbathing while drinking fresh juice.

"Do ya want to make plans with the gang? We could eat dinner at the diner, and maybe sleepover my hous-"

"What is wrong with you."

JJ interrupted you with a harsh tone, causing your smile to falter. "What do you mean?" You asked, calmly adjusting your body so you could sit with both of your legs on one side of the board.

"You know exactly what I mean." He looked into your eyes this time. And it's now that you have no choice but to look at his face that you notice the dark undereyes, dry lips and messy hair.

He wasn't taking proper care of himself, he probably couldn't if he tried. It was obvious your brother's disappearance took a toll on him. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" You asked, slightly afraid of his answer.

"How are you so okay with everything. I remember when you were locked in your room for weeks on end, and one day you just- came out. I didn't even see you and from what I heard it seemed impossible to be true. But then you just showed up at my door with no warning, with this big smile on your face and- I don't understand. He's your brother." His tone became more exasperated as he let out all the words that had been running through his mind.

"JJ, I'm not gonna stay sad all summer just because John be isn't here. I'm sure he wants me to do what makes me happy and keep taking care of myself. Plus, he's-"

"Stop talking about him as if he's alive!" JJ interrupted once again "He's dead, don't you understand? He's not coming back, or gonna send you some letter. He's dead."

His harsh tone made you feel as though he was purposely trying to hurt you. The worst part is that that's not the case. He's trying to make you see what he sees. "He's not dead."

There was a slight pause, he looked at you as if you were crazy.

"He's not. There's no body, so until I see one he's not dead. He's smart. He's got Sarah, they got away from the police and are probably in some island enjoying themselves."

"You've gotten comeplety insane! Do you hear yourself? You sound exactly like him when your dad disappeared, and you know damn well how that went."

His hurtful words ignited anxiety within your heart, making it feel heavy and sensitive. You were starting to feel too much and you didn't know how to stop it.

"I know he's alive! You'll see. He's gonna send some sort of signal, ofcourse we couldn't just show up out of nowhere when the police is looking for him. Since when does a disappearance automatically mean they died?"

JJ's eyes darkened, he was done with this game. He had to witness JJ obsess over his dad's disappearance only for him to be hit with utter disappointmen, he wasn't gonna allow the same to happen to you. "Face it. Your brother's dead, there's nothing you can do to change that."

His words hit you like a wave, his harshness making the agonizing emotion worse than ever thought possible.

It was so hard to keep hoping. It was exhausting.

"I don't wanna be alone"

Your words came out quiet and shaky. Once JJ looked back at you he took notice of the fact that your eyes were casted down, glossy and relaxed to the point where it seemed as though there was no emotion behind them.

The thought of not being able to hug your brother again- not having anymore long converstation about your future or simply seeing him from afar as he tried to outsurf JJ- was a thought that you refused to accept. However, you had begun douphting yourself and JJ finally saw through that crack.

His tense shoulders dropped, guilt sinking in knowing you were hiding the way you truly felt deep down.

"He's not dead, okay?"

JJ gazed at your expression swallowing the shame building up your throat before nodding his head. “You're right, he's not dead.”

He slowly approached you and got between your legs, wrapping his arms around you. “He's not dead.” You collapsed against him, resting your cheek against his collarbone.

Teardrops fell onto his golden skin, the feeling resulted in a shiver, running through his body as he hugged you tighter.

John Bs disappearance was harsh on everyone who truly knew him, and some learned how to hide it better than others. All that everyone slowly began understanding is that you were all one family and should watch out for each other.

“Do you wanna go grab a bite?”

You could almost laugh at his poor attempt to be casual, but you settled with a smile, pulling away from him while wiping your own tears with your arm.

JJ ran his thumb underneath your eye before kissing your forehead. “Come on, we can listen to Bob Marley on the way there if you want.” He snickered as he guided your surfboard towards the beachfront. You sighed, liking the feeling of the water moving underneath you as he pulled you to shore, observing the fish beneath you.

The sun had already set and all that was leftover of the sky was a pinkish-blue.

You could finally feel the sand beneath your feet. You watched as JJ walked off, grabbing his bag and shirt.

“Here.” He tossed over his top and your flip-flops as he slid in his. “Arent, you gonna be cold?” You asked knowing the shit that laid in your hands was the only one he had.

“What, would you prefer to walk around in your soaking wet shirt? Because I think that'd do more damage to your health than me going shirtless.” He teased with a raised brow.

You paused for a second allowing the realization that you are in fact soaking wet to sink in “Yeah you're right. Suffer.” Your approving sentence got a laugh from him.

You gaped at him. This was the first time you heard him laugh ever since go started talking to him again.

A smile made its way to your lips “Alright, I'm ready.” You stated after pulling a new shirt over your body. “My tapes are in the outside pocket.”

He pulled out the Bob Marley cassette from the bag before sharing an earbud with you. You accepted, untying your dry hair and finally setting it free.

The walk was peaceful, a comfortable silence falling over the both of you. The smell of pinewood from the trees was calming as you walked past the forestry area of the island.

You and JJ would always use this path after a beach day with the pogues. You would separate yourselves from the group so you could discuss about his job, home life, aspirations. Those were all things he never felt very safe discussing about with anyone but you. John B knew, but they didn't have the sort of relationship where they could switch to sensitive topics easily.

JJ liked how listened. You didn't look at him while he talked about such things, knowing he would feel intimidated by your gaze. The way your body slightly turned to him to show that you were paying attention. Most of all how you communicated with him first. When discussing about his father, you would ask if he needed a listener, a solution, or comfort.

Most of the time he would ask for you to simply allow him to rant, however, there were many times where he would ask for you to comfort him, just so he could receive the soothing sensation of embracing you tightly.

During every hug you shared, we're mere seconds of pure relief, relief that there was someone out there who knows about every aspect of his life and is yet to view him as weak.

“I’m really glad you got me put of the house. I hadn't surfed ever since he disappeared.”

It was as if the path you were on gave him the courage to speak with confidence. “And I'm sorry I was so harsh on you. I didn't mean to. I've just been feeling so much and I got so frustrated when you didn't seem as miserable as I am, I should've never been so insensitive.”

You knew he had a hard time apologizing to people, it made him feel vulnerable and he wants to have the upper hand in every situation. He likes being in control to compensate for the how much of it he lacks at home.

You looked over at him before smiling. “I love you too, JJ.” You ruffled his hair playfully before hugging his side as you walked.

JJ returned your smile, grateful for the fact that you resorted to a light-hearted response instead of a heavy one.

Time passed quickly and before you knew if you had arrived at the Chateau. JJ took a deep breath, his nerves increasing. He hadn't seen any of them, just as he hadn't seen you during those long weeks. How would they react seeing him there, let alone seeing the both of you together with smiles on your faces.

You squeezed his hand gently. An encouraging gesture to give him some strength.

You led him inside, the yellowish lights contrasted the night sky beautifully and as you both sat around the wooden table, you removed the earbud from your ear, which prompted him to follow your actions.

“JJ?” You heard Kie from behind you. Once you turned to face her she looked as though a miracle just occurred before her eyes.

Before your brain could acknowledge she dropped her notepad and hugged you both with the strength of an amazonian. “I missed you guys.” she mumbled into your hair.

As you were about to respond you felt more weight on you “We missed you guys.”

You giggled, now aware that it was Pope who was crushing you.

It had been so long since you had all shared such a heartfelt embrace, and you weren't going to let each other go for a while. You were all family. No matter how far you are or how long you don't speak to each other. This is what a true family was, and soon enough you were all going to be together again, as one.

“We missed you too.”

[haruno-sakura-san]

So I'm playing around with this idea for a Fic I'm writing called Altered. I'm just trying to get some thoughts down about it. Let me know what you think.

**

Shikamaru

Tsunade died quickly and painlessly one morning before her retirement. Shikamaru was sure it was the punch line of some cosmic joke at her expense. He wouldn’t be surprised in 20 years he was the butt of a similar one. Both of them hated the job and both worked tirelessly forward. So he supposed it just couldn’t be helped.

The funeral was huge. Kage and shinobi from all villages came to pay respects to the woman who saved the lives of thousands in the war and who’s leadership had come to bring together all the shinobi nations in peace. Each Kage made a speech that was some variant of this narrative, standing in a noble line to the side of her portrait, large enough for the entire gathering to see. On the end, flanking Kakashi, was the only non-hokage, Sakura.

Her frame was small. Smaller than most of the Kage lined beside her, but it was sturdy and unshakable to Shikamaru’s surprise. She wasn’t crying. So often he’d seen Sakura break down, over teammates and Sasuke and strangers, but now of all times her face was dry. She looked strong, respectful, at peace. A mirror of Tsunade’s portrait on display. The perfect apprentice.

“Wasn’t she the one that found her?” Temari asked. She’d followed his gaze to Sakura’s form.

“Ah,” he affirmed, not sure what else to say.

“Must have sucked,” Temari said, and for some reason this made Shikamaru a little irritated.

Sucked. Sucked? Shikamaru knew first hand how much it sucked seeing your teacher die in front of you and having no way to stop. Sucked didn’t even begin to describe it.

Sakura had worn that face when she’d marched into the Hokage’s office, like it was any other day. She didn’t look dazed or broken, but she wasn’t smiling her normal cheery smile.

This was the only clue she’d give as she squared off in front of Kakashi’s desk and said plain as day, “Tsunade passed away this morning. We should begin making arrangements before word gets too far.”

Both him and Kakashi froze.

“Mah, Sakura. That’s not a very funny joke so early in the morning,” Kakashi recovered more quickly than he had.

“It's not early. Its noon. It's not a joke.” She didn’t snap and this shook Shikamaru more than if she’d stormed across the room and slapped her Hokage across the face. Normally she’d snap. But this was just a tired statement of fact after fact.

“How did it happen?” Shikamaru asked, still in shock. He remembered Tsunade barreling in just a few days ago, informing, not requesting, her leave from the hospital for retirement. Kami knows I’ve earned it.

Sakura’s clear gaze turned on him and he felt the weight of his body acutely. Maybe it was that lack of smile.

“A heart attack. It was quick. She was gone before she could feel any pain.”

Kakashi swiveled in his chair, peering out the window at the cloudless blue sky. Not appropriate weather for news like this.

“I see.” Is all he said. Processing, Shikamaru guessed. “Didn’t even get a chance to retire.”

Shikamaru stifled the dry, ironic laugh itching at his throat. Or maybe he just needed a cigarette.

“No,” was all Sakura said.

“Who else knows?” Kakashi now all business.

“Just me and a nurse I trust to stay quiet until an announcement is made.”

Shikamaru felt the floor warp a little. “You were there when it happened?”

This time she did smile. Yeah, isn’t that just the darnedest thing? “Yes. I did everything I could to save her, but there was nothing I could do.”

He knew she wishes there would have been.

“Where is the body” Kakashi asked. Shikamaru winced. The body. Such a careless way to say it.

“It's already been taken care of.” Sakura lowered her eyes to a knot in the wood flooring.

Kakashi let out a weary breath and Shikamaru could tell he wished it wouldn’t have been Sakura taking care of it.

“Sakura,” Kakashi still looked out the window, “We can take this from here. Take some time off and see one of the counselors or be with your friends.”

“With all due respect, there much to be done at the hospital with Tsunade’s departure. I’ll continue working, Hokage-sama.” She bowed stiffly, the Tsunade’s departure hanging in the air. Departure, like she’d just left for retirement and that was that. Shikamaru wondered if that’s what Sakura was thinking. Just that she’d left like planned and she was supposed to carry on. The good little apprentice.

A long moment passed. A battle of wills.

“No,” Kakashi finally said. “You need time to grieve.”

Finally, some of the fire comes out in Sakura. “So do you, but you’re not taking time off, are you? We both have jobs to do here – important jobs - and I’m not going to sit on my ass eating icecream and crying into teddy bears while her hospital goes to shit -”

“Sakura this is not negotiable.”

“I’m fine.” And she does sound fine. “I. Am. Fine.”

They exchange a look loaded with history Shikamaru isn’t privy to. He watches for a moment, then two, wishing he could shrink away and become shadow.

“Thank you,” Sakura says tightly and walks out of the room. If Kakashi gave any sign he assented, Shikamaru didn’t catch it.

“Was it really a heart attack?” Temari says in the present. Shikamaru blinks twice, extracting himself from the memory.

“Ah,” he grunts in confirmation, wishing she’d drop it.

“Seems like it’d take more than that to take her out.” Temari speculates. Again, he’s irritated by her casual tone over the matter. “I mean, she was literally blown apart in the war and she still survived that. The woman was tough as they come. Seems like a little heart attack –,”

“Drop it.” Shikamaru barks, surprising himself. He’s not one to ever take a tone with her, not one to lose control over anything. But the past week has done something to him though, dredged up old memories of Asuma lying still and cold and it frays him at the edges.

Temari opens her mouth to snap back, ever strong-headed, but he interrupts, eyes turning toward Sakura’s steady form, his mind flashing between now and then.

“If Sakura says that’s what happened. That’s what happened.” It's too much trouble to think further than that. So he believes it. He has to. “She did everything she could, so just drop it.”

For now, she does. But he’d be an idiot to think the discussion was completely over.

**

Sakura

Tsunade was dead. Her teacher was dead. The teacher that believed in her and saw in her what Kakashi and all the rest hadn’t was dead. And she’d just walked into Kakashi’s office and lied through her teeth about every single part of it.

Tsunade didn’t die quickly and painlessly. It took several minutes for her spirit to finally untangle from her body and move on. Sakura watched it all happen.

It did happen suddenly. One breath she’d been discussing retirement plans then next – well. Sakura’s stomach turned. She hurried into the ladies' room and hurled her coffee up.

It’d been horrible. Nothing like Sakura had ever seen. And when it was over, nothing remained of the teacher she knew and loved. The image of Tsunade old, shriveled, blackened – Sakura dry heaves into the toilet again - wrong. So, so wrong and it wasn’t supposed to have happened like that. Sakura presses her forehead into the cool rim of the toilet, not caring how dirty might be. She deserved it. Tsunade didn’t.

Knowing how vain her teacher had been, she’d taken care of it. All of it. So that her teacher would have the dignified death she deserved. She had destroyed any evidence of the truth all on her own. And Sakura would carry it, her secret, until her dying breath.

[tooruluv]

Kei Tsukishima x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ they were the sun and moon, destined to be together but only ever totally meeting once every hundred years or so. ❞

description: in a world where you only see color when you're in love, you've grown frustrated of the greyscale. but falling in love with someone you barely know was never something you planned. and, him not returning the feelings definitely wasn’t planned.

genre: soulmate au... except not quite. everyone is born colorblind. you can only see color once you fall in love (and it grows brighter until you see full color as the love grows). however, that doesn't ensure a lasting connection. it simply means that love exists in that moment, until it doesn't.

word count: 1,855

warnings/notes: i would like to say that the "soulmate au but only when you're actually in love" thing is not my idea! i don't know who's idea it was, and i'm sure it was created by several people, but i just wanted to tell you all that i wish i was that creative but, unfortunately, i am not. so! i wanted to give credit where credit is do! moving on to the fic! <3 enjoy, loves

tag list: @vhskenma​ @elianetsantana​ @mini-eggs-reads​

| next

masterlist

“ you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you ” - can’t take my eyes off of you, frankie vallie

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

Kei Tsukishima did not believe in falling in love. Sure, he believed in loving things, but being in love sounded absolutely ridiculous. The entire basis of love, relationships… it just never made any sense to him.

You, on the other hand, very well might have your heart placed on your sleeve. You had a million crushes, a constant new person in your focus. The thing was, you had never seen color.

Color only came to those who fell in love. Through those crushes, through those varying false relationships and games of spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven, you had never actually fallen in love.

It was becoming frustrating.

While Tsukishima was perfectly content in living in a world without love, in the same greyscale life he had always known, while you were drowning trying to find someone to hang onto.

What strange friends you were.

Well, not friends, per say. But acquaintances for sure. A comfortable relationship between the two of you full of eye contact, your flirtations, and his constant coming into your coffee shop.

If we had to name a beginning, it started the first week of the summer.

You were working at a coffee shop, this little place called Blu. It was a simple corner shop, squished in between two other buildings. You just wanted a summer job to pass by time and get some money, nothing permanent.

Until, one day a tall boy with glasses walked into the place.

He looked bored out of his mind as his eyes scanned the menu above your head. He didn’t say anything when you greeted him (“Welcome to Blu! What can I get for you today?” in your best customer service voice), nor did he say anything when you handed him his coffee. He only spoke to you once, a monotone “I’ll take a black coffee” when he ordered.

You were absolutely infatuated.

One, because who orders a plain black coffee in the middle of the summer? And two, he was cute.

He had to be your age, you decided. Though most kids your age would never get a plain black coffee, and he was pretty tall, he had the youth you did. You just knew.

“Kei!” you called for his order. He didn’t even look into your eyes.

This was a repeat occurrence throughout the rest of the summer, every morning. Sometimes he would say something more, like add a little “Hello.” before ordering. Or he would steal glances at you, and there would be a staring contest for a moment or two.

Occasionally, he even muttered “thank you” when you handed him the mug. Call it what you want, but you called it “progress”.

One particular morning, he was dressed up. You didn’t know what for, you didn’t know much about him as it were, and all you could do was admire. He was stunning in a dark suit, the greyscale doing nothing but bring out how handsome he looked in it.

“Well, don’t you look ravishing today?” You flirted, already moving to get his black coffee. “The usual?”

He gave a small nod, not reacting to your compliment. He had his hands in his pockets, and a dangly earring in one ear.

“Well, here you go.” You handed him the mug. “One plain black coffee for Kei. Don’t spill it on yourself.”

“I would never.” He said. His voice was still monotone, but you caught it. A small quip in the corner of his lip. You almost got him to smile.

However, most mornings it was the same thing. He would come in, order a black coffee for “Kei”, and sit near the window and scroll through his phone through sips. You would watch as the sun created lighter greys along his skin and hair, you would watch as the glare gleamed off of his glasses.

Oh, how you wished you could see the color of his hair.

And, one day, you did.

It was a usual summer day. Autumn was approaching fast, so cool wind started to battle against the sun. But he came in nonetheless; Kei, with his black coffee. Except, this time was different.

“Welcome back, stranger.” You greeted, smiling as bright as you could. You didn’t even ask him what he wanted, you were already getting the black coffee ready behind the counter.

“I’ll take a black coffee.” he said, monotone and normal.

But, it wasn’t normal, not even the slightest bit. Because when you looked up to hand him his coffee, you were met with an array of colors.

You had to blink a few times, just to make sure that you were seeing what you were seeing. The colors were faded, newly forming, but they were still very much there. He had light yellow hair. No. “Blonde” was the word you were looking for.

He was frozen too, just standing there. But then you realized that you were just staring, his coffee in your hands. He must’ve thought you were insane.

“Kei, can I ask you something?” you asked, not wanting to hand him his drink yet. You weren’t one to let your questions go unanswered.

For a moment, he blinked at you. He definitely had to think you were insane. “What?”

“Do you see color?”

If you saw color as you looked at him, you hoped that maybe… maybe he saw color when he looked at you.

“No.”

Right. Of course not.

“Okay. Thanks! I was just wondering.” you handed him the mug, plastering a fake smile on your face (partly for the sake of customer service, and mainly to cover your disappointment). “Enjoy!”

He gave you one last look over, one last glance, before going to his usual spot by the window.

The thing was, you were hoping that he did. You know how ridiculous it sounded, being in love with someone who only spoke a couple of sentences to you. But you couldn’t deny that spending the entire summer excited to see that one person at work… it made sense that you would be.

You just weren’t expecting the colors to arrive right before you leave the job. The perfect time to fall for someone you will probably never see again once you leave and return to school and sports full-time.

Love really does come when you least expect it.

For the rest of that day, you spent your time finding as many colors as you could. You didn’t want it to go away, though it was a likely chance. The colors go away when the love does.

You had to look up what some of the colors were. It was strange to be taught the colors without ever seeing them, and your parents had explained how some colors look, but it was completely different. It was like each of them had their own feeling.

But, even then, you only witnessed the faded versions of those colors. The sky was a pale blue, hidden by the grey clouds. The grass was almost yellow, and the shop you worked at was a soft brown. Everything was still hidden by the greyscale you were accustomed to. And you couldn’t help but want to see more, see them in their full color.

Maybe falling completely and utterly in love would be an amazing thing.

It was comparable to the sun and moon, the relationship between you and Kei Tsukishima. You danced around each other, hoping to chase the light the other brought.

When you worked the next morning, your usual boy didn’t show up. Your eyes searched for him every time the small ding of the bell above the door announced someone entering. But it was never him.

Sighing, you ended your last shift there. Maybe you would come back as a customer, order a drink that has way too much sugar, and sit in his spot in hopes he would show up and sit with you. Or maybe you would run into him on your way out.

Or not.

As you hung up your apron for the last time, gave your manager your nametag and said your last goodbyes to your favorite coworkers, you accepted the fact that the colors would leave soon. They very well couldn’t stay if you end up falling out of love with a boy you would never see again.

It had been months.

Months, and the colors didn’t leave and didn’t grow any brighter. You were stuck in a world where everything was filtered to be faded, and you were growing annoyed.

“Just fucking go away already.” you spoke to the universe.

You would rather live in a world without color than live in a world of almost.

“Everyone!” Daichi called for the team to join him. They obeyed. “Now that Coach Ukai is our official coach, he’s come up with an idea. I think it’s pretty good, so hear him out.” Daichi announced. He turned to their coach, letting him speak.

“Alright, guys.” Ukai crossed his arms. “We have some tournaments this weekend. So do some of the other sports teams, specifically the girls volleyball teams and the softball and baseball teams.”

Tsukki was bored. What did softball and baseball have to do with volleyball? Their season isn’t for months, anyway. They have plenty of time before actual games.

“So, I’ve talked with the softball and baseball coaches and they think that it’s a good idea for us to team up for some fundraising things the next couple of weeks so we can get buses.” Ukai explained. “And, on top of that, someone from the softball team said that they would help us with volleyball practices after softball, since we typically end later than they do.”

“Wait, softball?” Tanaka gaped. “So a girl’s gonna be helping us?”

“A girl already does help us, dumbass.” Tsukki rolled his eyes. Kiyoko did too, but subtly.

“Yeah, she’ll be here in a couple of minutes so I wanted to give a warning.” Ukai said. “She’s in her first year, too, but I expect respect. Alright, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get on with practice.”

Okay, cool. Now back to practice. The reason they’re there to begin with.

They practiced for a bit, going through drills and did a bit of half-assed running (which Tsukki still never understood, why would he have to run miles if he’s just a blocker?). Until a girl walked in.

It was you.

You were here, at Karasuno, at his practice.

You walked in, still in your softball practice uniform. Every time that he had seen you during the summer, you never had your hair down. But, when you walked into the gym and greeted Coach Ukai with a smile, your hair was down and messy from the wind.

Everyone else had noticed Tsukki had stopped in his tracks and dropped what they were doing, turning their heads to see what he was looking. Or rather, who. Now you had the entire team’s attention.

That was when you caught his eye.

His breathing stopped. And so did yours.

[hiccanna-tidbits]

SURPRISE BITCH I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU SAW THE LAST OF SAPPHIC JACKUNZEL

ABSOLUTELY NOT

FEM!JACK AND LESBIAN RAPUNZEL MY BELOVED

Anyways I was absolutely obligated by law to make a sequel to this at some point! I was wondering what kind of ballgown fem!Jack would wear to a fancy party or some other special event, and then this happened. Rapunzel wears lavendar/lilac when she dresses up nicely, of course!

***

“Come on, Jaina! You can come out now.”

“No!” An annoyed voice drifted out from behind the floral-painted changing board. “I just look so...so glitzy. I can’t deal with this.”

Rapunzel sighed deeply, leaning against the wall and running her fingers through the lavender chiffron of her skirt. “This whole thing was your idea. Don’t back out on me now.”

Jaina must have thought Rapunzel was blind if she didn’t think Rapunzel noticed the way the white-haired girl had always paused at the door to the closet, staring longingly at Rapunzel’s collection of dresses. They weren’t anything particularly special--mostly just casual wear, with a few nicer gowns that she had gotten as past birthday gifts. Nonetheless, Jaina looked at the bright, rippling waves of pink, green, purple, and blue like they were an especially tantalizing chocolate cake.

Rapunzel supposed it made sense that Jaina was drawn to them, since her normal look was not exactly the most colorful. Every time Rapunzel saw her, she had on the same plain brown dress, wrapped around the middle and the bottom of the skirt with dark red bands. She had a cape that she wore with it--one that she never failed to wave wildly about when she was being excessively dramatic, but was nonetheless equally brown. The most color she ever added to it was a dark blue sweatshirt she wore over her dress from time to time, although even that was fairly modest.

Still, it had come as a surprise when they’d been lying on Rapunzel’s bed, deciding on a lunch recipe, and Jaina had made her suggestion apropros to nothing.

“We should play dress-up with your nice clothes sometime. You know, just for the hell of it. It’s not like you’ll actually be needing any of that stuff for castle balls, so we might as well.”

And here Jaina was now, inexplicably nervous about Rapunzel seeing her in the fancy outfit she had requested to wear.

“Come on, Jai,” Rapunzel said, her voice softening. “I’m sure you look wonderful.”

“No, I’m--it’s weird! I don’t know!” Jaina’s voice cracked slightly, showing the first trace of fear. “I’m not supposed to look glamorous. I’m a little shit.”

Rapunzel shook her head. “You are not a little shit. No matter how much you try to be.”

“Hey! Take that back!”

Rapunzel giggled. “Well, the Jaina Frost I know would never be so much of a coward that she can’t handle her best friend seeing her in a different outfit.”

“Okay, okay! I’m coming out.”

As soon as Jaina stepped into the light, Rapunzel had to remember how to breathe.

Her skirt, billowing around her like the stream of a fountain, was a deep blue--like the very last glimmer of twilight before giving way to inky black. Silver-white glitter was dusted across the dark folds, glinting like stars. It trailed up to wrap the bodice completely, making Jaina look like she’d been dipped in moonlight.

Her hair was no surprise--Rapunzel had helped her to do it earlier. Rapunzel had weaved the braid crown now trailing over the tops of Jaina’s ears, and curled it into a rippling bun hanging from the back of her head. The braids were secured in place by a delicate line of silvery ice leaves--a little adornment Jaina had added for flare.

Nevertheless, seeing it together with the dress...

Jaina was gleaming, brighter than any of the lanterns Rapunzel had ever seen on her birthday. Brighter than the moon itself.

For a long moment, Rapunzel couldn’t speak.

“Do I look that stupid?” Rapunzel snapped out of her stupor at the sound of Jaina’s mumble. Her friend was looking anywhere but at her, cheeks slowly deepening to a bright pink.

“No, no!” Rapunzel shook her head rapidly, lifting her hands to try and reassure her friend. “You look--I just--I wasn’t ready for it. You look really beautiful, Jaina.”

“You think so?” Jaina’s voice slipped into uncharacteristic timidness--a timidness Rapunzel hasn’t heard since she kissed Jaina for the first time.

They had exchanged a few kisses since. They'd both been certain they liked it, and they hadn’t seen any reason not to try again. Every time, Rapunzel’s stomach felt like it was zipping around at great speeds, and she often wondered if she’d find herself floating up into the air like Jaina could.

Still, they had never talked about what it actually meant. Jaina had never brought up the topic, and Rapunzel had never asked.

She supposed some part of her was terrified to find out. Some part of her was terrified delving too deep into this would drive a stake into the only (human) friendship she’d ever had.

Rapunzel’s smile widened. “I know so.”

“It’s just...” Jaina bit her lip. “When I rose out of the ice, I wasn’t wearing--well, I wasn’t wearing anything like this. I don’t really know who I was before I was Jaina Frost--or if I was ever even technically human--but if I was, I sure as hell don’t think I was one of the fancy, well-off ones. I guess it just feels...wrong to wear stuff like this. Like I don’t belong in it.”

“I can’t see how,” Rapunzel argued. “You pull it off spectacularly. If anyone was made for that dress, it’s you.”

“I don’t know.” Jaina’s eyes darted around uncertainly. “It just feels like I don’t deserve to wear something this nice. Like I’m breaking some unspoken elegant clothing rule.”

“Well, you’ve never been above a little mischief.” Rapunzel smirked. “Seems like that would be right up your alley.”

“Yeah. Actually.” Jaina broke into a smirk of her own. “Maybe you’re right.”

She whooped and spun around, skirt fanning out like waves of night sky. Rapunzel felt her chest start to rise up like a drifting bubble.

Jaina really was far cuter than she had any right to be, and it frustrated Rapunzel to no end. It set all manner of emotions loose in her, many of them unbearably confusing.

“Yeah!” Jaina crowed, pumping her fist in the air. “The world is not ready for how fancy I am!”

Rapunzel couldn’t help but laugh. “No, no they aren’t!”

“For the record, though...” Jaina turned back to her, smile growing a little more shy. “I still think you look better.”

Rapunzel’s hand strayed to her hair, sprigs of wildflowers Jaina had picked sticking out of the loose braid. “Thank you. Although credit where credit is due--the flowers were your idea.”

Jaina giggled. Evening sunlight streamed in through the open window, washing the little circular room in extravagant gold. Lit from the back, Jaina’s hair glowed softly, making her look like some kind of ethereal princess.

Struck with a sudden idea, Rapunzel smiled and strode forward, extending a hand.

“Excuse me, beautiful lady. May I have this dance?”

Jaina spluttered, suddenly unable to form a complete sentence. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink to rival some of Rapunzel’s best dresses. “Huh, wh--wha--”

“Wait, wait! I know how to make it even better!”

Without waiting for Jaina to collect herself, Rapunzel rushed over to her dresser. She grabbed the enormous flower vase in the center (Mother had picked her an especially extravagant collection and brought them as a gift the other day) and quickly sifted through it, grabbing out several and gathering them into a bunch.

She sauntered over to Jaina, holding out the bundle. Petals drifted to the floor behind her, snowy white and deep blue rimmed with cyan.

“For you, fair maiden.”

Jaina blinked. “You matched my dress,” she said stupidly. “And my hair.”

Rapunzel smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to match mine. Mother didn’t bring me as many daffodils as she usually does.”

Jaina stared at the flowers, expression unreadable. Something inside Rapunzel wilted.

“Do you--do you not want them? I mean, you don’t have to--”

Without warning, Jaina snatched the bouquet away, glowering at her. Apparently, she had been very concerned Rapunzel was about to change her mind.

Jaina leaned down, slowly inhaling and taking a long whiff of the faint floral scent. Suddenly she flung her arms into the air, sending the flowers careening up the the ceiling and floating down in a lazy, drifting rain.

Rapunzel glanced up at the scattering bouquet, and then back at Jaina. “What--”

“I was just setting the mood.” Jaina smirked. “Of course I’ll dance with you, idiot.”

Beaming, Rapunzel held out a hand again. Jaina slid her own on top of it, and they sauntered to the top of the stairwell with petals fluttering down all around them.

As they reached the small landing, Rapunzel felt her eyes dart to Jaina’s. Her friend’s eyes had slipped shut, lips curled up in a soft, tranquil smile.

Another idea seizing her, Rapunzel let her hand drift off of Jaina’s. She reached down, slipping one hand onto Jaina’s thigh and the other onto her lower back and scooping her up like a bride.

“Wh--RAE!” Jaina spluttered, legs dangling helplessly over Rapunzel’s arm and cheeks turning redder than some of Mother’s best gowns. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sweeping you off your feet!” Rapunzel beamed proudly. “You know, like the knights do in the stories?”

“Put me down!” Jaina huffed. “I’m not a damsel in distress!”

“Very well, if you don’t want to get a free ride down the stairs.”

As Rapunzel started to lower Jaina to the ground, she felt a hand swat her stomach.

“No, don’t actually! I’m just not used to being pampered. I usually have to take care of myself.”

Rapunzel looked down at the girl resting in her arms, and her heart suddenly broke.

Maybe this was the first time someone had been this soft with Jaina in over a century. Or three.

“I could take card of you, you know,” Rapunzel said softly. “If you let me.”

In response, Jaina rested her head against Rapunzel’s side and laid a timid hand on Rapunzel’s chest. “How are you even able to do this, anyways?” she grumbled.

Rapunzel giggled. “Pulling your mother up the side of an 80-foot tower every day for over 10 years doesn’t exactly leave you with weak arms.”

Jaina smiled weakly up at her. “Good point.”

“Can I--can I carry you down the stairwell?” It was almost embarrassing, how much eagerness Rapunzel felt creeping into her voice. “Like I see the princes do with the princesses in the pictures in my books?”

“Ew!” Jaina snorted. “Like I’d want some snobby king-to-be anywhere near me.”

“I know, but I don’t think you have to be a prince to do it,” Rapunzel retorted, voice rising into a slight whine. “Come on! They always look so happy in the pictures. I thought maybe we could be happy like that, too.”

Jaina pressed the back of a hand to her forehead and let out a dramatic sigh. “Very well. If you must.”

Jaina Frost wasn’t heavy--she was as light as winter wind, even with Rapunzel having to balance her way down the stairs. From the way she was nestled into Rapunzel’s chest when they reached the bottom, the blonde concluded that Jaina couldn’t have minded too much to be carried like a delicate princess--even if Jaina’s cheeks were now more scarlet-tinted than Rapunzel had ever seen them.

“Now, I know it’s tempting, but don’t fall asleep here,” Rapunzel teased. “We still need to dance.”

Jaina grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for anything. As much as I am enjoying these big, strong arms of yours.”

“Don’t worry, you haven’t seen the last of them.”

“Wait, hold on, Rae. Let me add a finishing touch.”

Jaina lifted a hand and a blue-white beam shot out, zipping toward the tower roof. It hit the ceiling with a small crack, and a gleaming white chandelier sprung from the boards. Rapunzel watched in wonder as thin rings of ice grew down in concentric circles, rimmed in dangling white bulbs and curved icicles.

“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

Jaina beamed proudly. “No castle ball’s complete without an over-the-top ceiling light, right? Now we’re ready to go.”

Rapunzel started to lower her arms, and Jaina leaped out of them like a spring hare. Her dress swirled around her as she turned to face Rapunzel, this time being the one to extend her hand.

“May I have this dance, Princess Rapunzel?”

Rapunzel laughed, and took Jaina Frost’s hand. “You flatter me too much. But yes.”

They took the floor, and they moved like liquid. Jaina took the lead, surprisingly confident for someone who had been blushing up a storm mere minutes ago. For anyone watching, it would have been impossible to tell that for countless decades, Jaina’s only dance partner had undoubtedly been herself. She spun and twirled and twisted and leaped, and at first Rapunzel felt herself breathing hard as she tried to keep up. At one point, Jaina even grabbed a rose from a vase on the windowsill, frosting it over before tossing it up to hold in her teeth. (Rapunzel seriously doubted the move was meant for anything other than showing off, but she didn’t mind.) It didn’t last long--during one particularly long twirl a few minutes later, Jaina snatched the rose from her mouth and flung it out the window in only the most overdramatic sweep of her arm.

It didn’t take long for Rapunzel to get the hang of the movements, though. In barely any time she was spinning around as fast as Jaina, weaving about the room with similar grace. They joined hands and let go again, pulling together and apart only in rhythm to a soft tune Rapunzel hummed. From time to time, Jaina stopped to twirl Rapunzel under her arm. Rapunzel, in a few moments of daring, dipped Jaina steeply toward the ground before pulling her up again at the last second.

For a long while, the dance was bouncy and energetic, rippling across the floor lit by nothing but the gleam of dying sunlight off of Jaina’s chandelier and the soft glow of summer fireflies drifting through the window. It could only be so long before the girls’ feet grew tired, though, and the tempo slowed down until they were just holding each other and gradually swaying from side to side.

There was moonlight in Jaina’s smile, and her eyes were softer than Rapunzel had ever seen them. When she spoke, Rapunzel was entirely unprepared for it.

“I’m in love with you.”

Rapunzel didn’t stop dancing. She couldn’t, too caught up in the rhythm of their movements. Still, she was sure her eyes flew open wide enough to rival those of her bulging-eyed chameleon companion.

It was a strange thing to suddenly (and dramatically) declare. Rapunzel wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Well, of course we love each other,” Rapunzel said. “We’re friends.”

“No, I mean...” Jaina sighed. “I’m in love with you like the fairy tales. Like the princes who carry the princesses down the stairs. Like the big, elaborate royal weddings with 16-layer cakes. I’m in love with you like...I’d marry you, if I could. If you wanted to.”

The words enveloped Rapunzel like a snowstorm.

She was silent for several moments, trying to sort out her racing thoughts. Jaina loved her. Jaina loved her.

So that’s what all the kisses meant.

“Mother says girls don’t marry girls,” was all Rapunzel managed to get out. “I asked her about it when I was 10.”

“I know they don’t.” Jaina’s voice hardened. “I don’t care.”

“But will it--” Rapunzel’s voice broke, sudden anxiety gripping her. “Will things have to change? Will we not be able to be friends like we used to be?”

Jaina smiled, seeming to relax a little. “Nothing’s going to change, except that I’m giving you the opportunity to kiss me more frequently, if you’re interested. And we don’t have to be weird about it when we do.”

Rapunzel looked over Jaina. The snowy hair. The crystalline dress. The sparkling, mischievous eyes. The skip in her step and the lightness of her laugh. The energy that followed her when she zipped around Rapunzel’s room and painted tapestries of snowflakes in her wake. The way she stumbled through Rapunzel’s bedroom window with her arms overloaded with books, all on Rapunzel’s favorite topics. The way she’d practically shout “You’ll never be bored again!” while chucking the entire pile at Rapunzel.

The way she made Rapunzel feel like she had everything she could possibly want without even setting one foot out of her tower.

Rapunzel smiled, because now that she thought of it, there was no other possible way she could have imagined this going. It was clear as the stars on Jaina’s skirt, and everything clicked into place at once.

“I’m in love with you too,” she murmured.

Rapunzel pulled Jaina in, and kissed her slowly in the blinking shimmer of fireflies.

***

They sat on the windowsill well into the night--legs brushing, hands interlaced, Rapunzel’s head coming to rest on Jaina’s shoulder. The fireflies, still flitting about the summer evening, were backlit only by the faint light of a rising moon. Rapunzel gazed off into the dark treetops, sighing.

“They’re so beautiful,” she murmured. “I wish I could see them closer up. The fireflies, the trees, the lanterns...everything.”

“You know I’d take you if you wanted,” Jaina reminded her. “I’m always up for a little jaunt. And honestly, the whole world’s out there waiting for you. Seems like kind of a waste to hide from it in here, especially when I’m sure you’d love it.”

“I know. But Mother--”

“--doesn’t have to know,” Jaina finished. “Didn’t she go to some neighboring kingdom for that one special kind of perfume, anyways? You told me she won’t be back for a couple days.”

“Right. But...” Rapunzel bit her lip. “It’s dangerous outside.”

“Anyone gives you trouble, I can just fly us away. Remember?”

Jaina pulled away, leaving Rapunzel looking after her with a pout. She stood up, delicately stepping off of the windowsill and into the open air. Smirking, she turned and offered Rapunzel a hand.

“Ruffians and thus are very unlikely to have means of following us into the sky, you know. Care for an adventure?”

Rapunzel looked away. “I don’t know. I love so many things here. I mean, this is my home, I can’t just--”

Jaina snorted. “Come on, you don’t seriously think we can roam around in these fancy clothes forever, do you? We’re going to have to come back at some point to change. I’m not kidnapping you.”

Rapunzel stood up, eyeing Jaina’s outstretched fingers. “I guess not.”

She had to admit, she was tempted.

“Home will still be there when you want to come back to it,” Jaina said. “But there’s a whole world out there to see, too. And I want to show you everything.”

Rapunzel smiled, and finally took Jaina’s hand. “You have me back by noon tomorrow, or I’m never letting you wear my dresses again.”

“Deal.”

They were lost to the night, and the tower was left empty.

***

Since Jack/Jaina was clearly on the poorer side as a human, I HC Jaina (and by extension Jack too lol) as being a bit (initially) uncomfortable with putting on formalwear, if only because her subconscious is kinda going “Is this allowed??? IS THIS ALLOWED???”

It was actually kinda hard thinking of a fancy dress with icy/winterey vibes that hasn’t already been claimed by Elsa’s outfit lineup D: GOD DAMN IT ELSA YOU DON’T GET A COPYRIGHT ON ICE DRESSES

Rapunzel and any iteration of Jack Frost bonding over how much they love to dance is just something that can be so personal ;____; I mean, Jack spent the intro to his movie spinning and leaping all over the place, and Rapunzel started a huge-ass dance in a town square, so like...am I wrong??? THESE FUCKERS LIKE DANCING

I feel like since Rapunzel grew up so sheltered, she’d be pretty naive when it came to differentiating between different types of love. Like someone tells her they love her romantically and she’s like “well of course we love each other!! We’re friends!!!” and...it takes a bit for her to realize that romantic love is a whole different Vibe sometimes XD The fact that girls romantically loving other girls is most likely not commonplace in 18wheneverthefuckTangledtakesplace definitely doES NOT HELP lol

Pic credits available upon request!

[aminiatureworld]

In My Dreams V

Characters: Zhongli, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,492

Warnings: None

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: This one is probably the one that deviates most from the original prompt. Still I enjoyed writing it a lot, and I hope you enjoy reading it.  

This is the end! Thank you for reading and for your patience and I hope you enjoyed!

Zhongli

There was a young man standing in front of you. Standing in sharp contrast to the darkened landscape around him he naturally drew your eye. You stood facing him, making no effort to approach him. You weren’t even sure you’d be able to if you tried.

The morning sunlight burst forth suddenly from behind you eyelids. Blinking heavily you let out a groan, turning over and smashing your face into the nearest pillow, willing yourself to go back to sleep. A familiar chuckle sounded next to you as a kiss was planted on your cheek.

“You cannot evade the day forever my love. There is much to be done.”

“Five more minutes…”

“If I let you sleep five more minutes then it will surely turn into at least an hour. Besides, did you not tell me once that five minutes was hardly any sleep time at all?”

“Maybe.” You grumbled.

Sitting up you shielded your eyes with your hand. Though you appreciated the heavy curtains that kept the light out in the morning, you had to admit the adjustment every day could be difficult. Especially when your dreams had been so muted. What had you been dreaming of again? Random thoughts flower in and out of your head. Sometimes about a dark landscape. And maybe a person? You supposed it didn’t really matter.

Gathering your clothes you strapped your adventuring belt across your waist. Frowning at the weight of one of the bags you reached your hand into the satchel. Your fingers found rough stone, and when pulling the offending object out you found yourself face to face with a sort of mineral you’d never seen before.

“Hey, Zhongli?”

“Yes my love?”

“Tell me, have you ever seen this before?”

As you held the crystal out to Zhongli you could swear a flicker of darkness shadowed his eyes. Walking over to take the mineral out of your hand he turned it over gently, an expression of stony focus coating his features.

The crystal seemed to glow slightly. Reddish in hue it seemed to have been shot through with gold, if that was possible of a rock. The rusted red color was opaque, and the features of Zhongli’s hands faded into shadow underneath the mineral. Yet still it seemed almost delicate, the golden glow giving it a sense of fragility that undermined its general heaviness.

“This mineral, it is very strange. It reminds me of something I saw once, long ago, but the makeup is different. I cannot even be sure it is not a combination of various minerals. How very strange.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong?” You asked, surprised by the quiet intensity in Zhongli’s words.

“I doubt it very much. Thankfully I doubt that a single odd crystal could shake the foundations of Liyue. Still, it is very strange.” He rolled it over one more time before looking back into your eyes, stare deadly serious. “Do you mind if I keep this for a little while? I promise I shall return it, only there is one thing I wish to enquire after.”

“Of course you can! What’s mine is yours and besides, I don’t have any particular attachment to it. I found it on the ground somewhere.”

“Thank you my love.”

Zhongli leaned over to give you a soft kiss. You sighed happily, glad to be immersed in his proximity. Still a piece of you wondered at the look on his face, and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The day passed quietly, with no interesting rock discoveries or sudden natural disasters in sight. You’d almost forgotten about the whole rock deal in fact, too busy with the sudden uptick in geovishaps on the plains of Liyue to think about much else. By the time you arrived home that evening your thoughts were filled with nothing other than some rest and time with the one you loved most.

“I’m home!” You announced loudly, taking your shoes off and hanging your pack in its usual spot.

“Welcome back my love.”

“Did you have a good day?” You called out, walking through the hall into the living room. Zhongli was sitting in his usual chair, back facing away from you. Walking over you leaned forward, kissing his cheek before going to face him.

The expression of quiet worry on Zhongli’s face quickly pulled you out of your reverie. Sitting down on his lap you pushed the hair out of his eyes, examining him for any fatigue.

“Is something wrong? Did Hu Tao give you a hard time?”

“Work was fine my love, do not worry. It is only the gemstone you gave to me, it… it is very strange.”

“Strange how?” You asked, a chill running down your spine.

“Only that it is quite unique, so unique in fact that I have never seen a mineral or crystal formation like it. As I said there was once a mineral similar in nature, but the means to that mineral was long ago destroyed, and the formation was different.”

“Was the other mineral dangerous?”

“Not intrinsically. Nor can I sense any intrinsic danger from this mineral. Still, I think you ought to keep it hidden for some time. Citizens would surely be curious, and until I can be sure that this symbolizes no threat to Liyue I would not speak of it.”

“Did you notify the Qixing?”

“I informed Ningguang about it today. I trust that she will come to a decision in regards to any monitoring by the Qixing. Still, there are a few things I wish to observe.” Glancing up at your face Zhongli softened a bit, smiling slightly. “Do not worry my love, I am sure there is nothing to fear.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” You replied. But the sense of mundane bliss that had coated you was now shattered, and you found threads of anxiety tugging at your brain, threatening to consume your thoughts and lead you down the path of worrying.

The young man was back that night, once more faraway and unapproachable. This time however his hand was stretched out, palm up, as if waiting for something.

“What do you want?” You called out. There was no reply.

Suddenly the side of your nightdress grew heavy. Reaching into your pocket you pulled out the gemstone, shining faintly in the dark.

“This? What is it?”

The young man smiled, eyes glinting.

“That is the truth?”

You blinked, eyes useless in the dark that still enveloped the world. What time was it? You lay on your back, listening to the soft sighs of your partner, the noise mixing with the soft sound of birds chirping; soon it would be daytime. You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. You’d been dreaming about something, what was it? It was somehow familiar, as if you’d dreamt it before, though surely it wasn’t a normal recurring dream, as you couldn’t seem to remember it. Still, it had made you uneasy, though you weren’t sure why.

Rolling over to face your partner you closed your eyes. No use thinking about it now. What you couldn’t remember you couldn’t remember. Besides, all you wanted to do was sleep.

The morning came far too soon, and with it the knowledge of a busy day that stretched out before you. Blinking away your fatigue you kissed Zhongli an absentminded goodbye before dragging yourself out the door. Collecting your commissions with equal sluggishness you ignored the stares from other Guild members, the quiet concern of Katheryne as she asked if you had slept alright.

Thankfully the day was gorgeous and the workload relatively light. Leaning against a rock, letting the grass of the Liyue plains tickle your hand you stared up at the blue sky. Absentmindedly you wondered again about the dream. What had it been about? Closing your eyes you tried to call it back. The lazy afternoon sun shined down upon you. Soon you found your thoughts melding together and before you knew it you slipped off into sleep.

There was a young man standing in front of you, eyes stony, smile superficial. You glanced around, confused by the black landscape in which you found yourself. This must be a dream. And yet it seemed so familiar that you were sure you’d dreamt this before.

“What do you want?” You called out. Something flickered in your memory. The gemstone, and the fact this young man had reached out for it.

“The truth.” The young man’s smile grew wider, somehow distorted and foreboding.

“What do you mean by the truth?”

“The truth that they wish to hide. The truth that only they can speak.”

“Who do you mean by that?” You felt panic rising as the dream weighed heavy on you. “What do you mean?”

But the young man said nothing. He merely smiled. Suddenly the black seemed to shatter like glass, falling onto your head and drowning you in pitch.

You lurched forward, breath harsh in your lungs. Standing up you glanced around wildly. That dream, what had that dream been? Searching your pockets you stopped, realizing that Zhongli had never given the crystal back. The memory of your dream, combined with the knowledge that the subject must’ve been the same as the one the previous night, left you stunned. More than shock however you felt panic, pure panic at what you’d just experienced. What did that young man mean? What did he want?

You picked up your equipment, not bothering to organize anything. Making your way down the slopes, the nearest waypoint over the crest of a rocky hill, you could think of only one thing. Zhongli, you had to tell Zhongli. Only he could tell you the answers, only he could stop this panic from consuming you. Looking up at the still blue sky you found yourself releasing a prayer into the wind. Please let everything be alright, please let nothing come crashing down.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was a surprisingly comfortable space, decorated to match the appearance of a tea room rather than a place where the dead were prepared for their final departure. Normally you appreciated this strangely homey atmosphere, so eagerly and carefully cultivated by Hu Tao. Today, however, you felt only urgency. Making your way down the familiar corridors you yanked the door to Zhongli’s office open, praying that he would be inside.

The sight of your love at work was always compelling. Though seriousness and concentration marked his features, the quiet passion for history and tradition could also be seen, softening his gaze and turning what might have been an unapproachable figure into one of surprising comfort. Glancing up at the sound of the door Zhongli smiled softly; a smile that quickly morphed into a frown as he took in your agitated state.

“My love, what is wrong?”

Zhongli stood up, making his way over to you. Dropping your equipment on the floor you launched yourself into his arms. Breathing in his comforting presence you felt your heartrate slow slightly, the shaking you hadn’t even been aware of subsiding.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli’s voice was soft and full of worry.

“I, I don’t know,” you took in a shaky breath, relaxing as Zhongli wrapped his arms around your waist, “I fell asleep while on a break and I dreamt something very, strange.”

Recounting the dream you watched as Zhongli’s eyes darkened. When you were done he pulled you into a tight hug. Carding his fingers through your hair you felt his arms tighten around you, a silent affirmation of his worry.

“I don’t know what to do,” you murmured into his shoulder, “I know it’s just a dream, but it seems so real, so frightening.”

“It will be alright my love. I promise, nothing ill will come to you, or to the people of Liyue.”

“I wonder what he meant,” you shivered slightly, “I wonder who he meant by ‘they’.”

You weren’t sure if you’d truly felt Zhongli freeze for a moment, so focused were you on the emotions that roiled inside your heart.

The young man seemed angrier than he had previously. Glaring at you from across the darkened landscape he shook his head in what seemed to be disgust.

“You didn’t confront him about it.”

“Confront who?” You asked, defensiveness mixing with the panic welling up once more inside of you.

“The hypocrite. The one who claims to love humans while crushing them under his heel.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You do! You’re simply a traitor. You betrayed me, you betrayed the rest of our family. You’ve cursed yourself.”

“I haven’t betrayed anyone!” You heard the pitch of your voice rising. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You could’ve made us so happy. You could’ve continued our legacy. Instead your cursed us, instead you cursed yourself. You’re just like them, you’re just like the people who killed us!”

You jolted awake, gasping as you threw the coverlet off you, the heat oppressive and sticky against your sweat drenched skin. Sitting up you forced air into your lungs, breathing in and out, trying to match your rhythm with Zhongli’s, who slept quietly next to you. Gazing down at him you turned the words of your dream back over in your head. “You’re simply a traitor… You’ve cursed yourself.” The words were vague, but you felt a cold sensation creep over you, the unspoken sound of pieces fitting into place and fear clouding your mind.

The next day you could barely drag yourself out of bed, having spent the rest of the night sitting on the floor as thoughts raced through your head. Though you were sure Zhongli had asked you about your current state you couldn’t truly remember any conversation, and the trip to the Guild seemed longer than usual as you found yourself making wrong turns and bumping into various walls.

The commissions of the day certainly didn’t help. Ordered to chase a few Fatui members out of Liyue, or at least stop them from attacking every adventurer in the City, you felt your stomach dropped as you realized the location was that of where you’d found the fateful stone. Climbing over mountain ridges and dodging the occasional hilichurls camp you felt your limbs dragging underneath you. Though there couldn’t have been more than a few meters between you and the Fatui members it felt as if there were actually miles.

The situation only got worse when you finally scaled the last crest, pulling yourself up before two Hydro Legionnaires and an Anemo Vanguard. Summoning your claymore you felt as if your weapon had gotten heavier, and your steps were awkward and unsure as you charged the all too prepared Fatui members.

You swings sliced through the air as if it were made of gel, your steps stumbling and unsure. The Skirmishers dodged your strikes easily, laughing openly and jeering at you to make another dive towards them. You ignored their taunts, trying to focus on your breathing, on keeping your steps uniform and controlled. Still you knew that you were in over your head. You didn’t know what was going to happen, regretted that you hadn’t asked for help or simply requested a day off. Now however you were stuck, locked into a battle you knew you were going to lose.

Eventually the Anemo seemed to tired of your exhausted movements. Running up towards you, you felt your lungs burn as air rammed straight into your chest. Teetering on the edge of the mountain you felt yourself fall backwards. Seeing the sky above you, you let yourself scream. How could you have been so careless? How could you have failed so quickly? Closing your eyes you wished that you might faint. Whatever was at the bottom of this fall, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

However just as soon as your eyes closed you felt your fall broken. Snapping your eyes open you were met with the sight of Zhongli, face stony, eyes glowing preternaturally. Floating down softly he deposited you on a grass ridge of the mountain. Saying nothing he seemed to float upward into the air, aiming right towards where the Fatui were gathered. Sighing you closed your eyes once more, stilling the emotions that swirled inside you, the knowledge that you may have just escaped serious injury or worse. Slumping forward you felt tears at the edges of your eyes. You were tired. You were oh so tired.

“Are you hurt?” Zhongli’s voice was soothing, even in its urgency.

“I’m fine,” you opened your eyes to gaze up at your partner who crouched before you, “I’m just shaken.”

“I should have paid more attention to your physical state this morning,” Zhongli frowned, his smooth features contrasting the emotions that roiled in his eyes, “if I had not been here you may have died.”

“But you were here. Why?”

“This place, it was once a very important place of trade. I returned here to see if there were any lingering traces of that trade, those contracts. It is where I saw the ore that is mimicked in the mineral you found.”

“I see.” You paused, unsure if you wanted your next words released into the world. “Zhongli?”

“Yes my love?”

“The tyrant that boy in my dream mentioned, is that you?”

Zhongli was silent for some time, his deepening frown the only indication he had heard you. Finally he sighed. Sitting down next to you he gazed out onto the landscape, surveying it as he must’ve done all those years as Rex Lapis.

“The place that I mentioned, the origin of the ore from which yours takes its likeness, was a kingdom unlike the Seven which now dominate Teyvat. It was created only by humans, untouched by the hands of a god or higher being. It dabble in alchemy, created stones that could not be found anywhere else. And then, long ago, it was razed to the ground.”

“By who?”

“By the seven archons.” Zhongli’s features were still, his eyes giving away no tangible emotion, no sense of loss or satisfaction or hate.

“I see.”

“The people of the land scattered. Yet some would not forget the destruction of their kingdom. They banded together, creating the Abyss. They hold the old artifacts of their city dear, the prospect of revenge even more so. Their hatred of the Seven runs deep.”

“And the young man who is in my dreams is part of the Abyss?”

“It appears to be that way. Yet there is something about your descriptions, about the stone. The Abyss has never before been able to manipulate people’s dreams. There is something about that young man that is foreign even to them.”

“Yet he must believe in the Abyss very deeply.” You remarked.

“Indeed.”

Zhongli said nothing more, simply continuing to look out over the mountain. You wondered if he held any regrets for the place he destroyed, if he wondered what might come to pass should Liyue be subject to such a thing. Yet you couldn’t find it in you to chastise him. Somehow you knew, the wounds that he already carried would be little helped by your words.

“Thank you for telling me.” You leaned over to lay your hand over your partner. Finally breaking his stare Zhongli gazed at you, face still as ever, eyes tinged with an ancient melancholy.

“I hope I have not betrayed you, or the contract of our trust.”

“How could it be a betrayal if I never asked or knew about it?” You leaned over to press a soft kiss on Zhongli’s forehead. “I’m only glad you told me now.”

The ex-archon’s frame seemed to relax a little. Leaning over he cupped your cheek, brushing his lips softly against yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“What will you do now?”

“I’m not sure. Hope that whoever he was, that young man has given up on me I guess.”

“I hope you do not feel as if you have betrayed someone.”

“How can I feel betrayal for someone that I don’t know or don’t remember?” You shook your head. “I don’t know what that person is looking for, or what he expects of me. I do know you however, and what I do know is that if loving you has made me a traitor of something, so be it.”

Zhongli’s smile was one that reached his eyes, enveloping you in a silent warmth. As the two of you leaned against one another, gazing out upon the landscape shadowed in the afternoon sun, you let yourself finally relax. Questions still sifted through your head, but you let them fall through your consciousness, like sand through your fingers. You didn’t know whether Zhongli felt regret for what he did, whether or not he felt justified in the destruction he participated in. What you did know however was that you loved him.

And for now that was enough.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Being Fake Soulmates with Dr. Chilton (Part 6)

<- Part 5

Frederick Chilton x Reader | The Good Place crossover

Final chapter! Warning: The Good Place spoilers, and a timeline that makes perfect sense because Jeremy Bearimy, baby. 

2,800 words

“No way. It’s too dangerous!”

“I thought you said we were in this together?” Chilton quirked a brow, eliciting a petulant grumble. You crossed your arms.

“Or maybe you think I’m expendable, so you’re willing to take risks with my life. Afterlife. Whatever.”

Frederick Chilton, who was not, as originally advertised, your soulmate, nonetheless clasped your hand with gentle tenderness. I would never do anything to hurt you is what a normal person would say in that moment, and perhaps his eyes said it, somewhere deep in their searching pools of green. But Dr. Chilton had a repressed way about him, tending toward overly clinical just stating the facts (or the sarcasm). Anything but genuine, vulnerable, sentimentality.

He guided you by your hand to sit down beside him on the baroque loveseat in one of his many living rooms, studies, and salons. After you settled yourself on the velvet cushion, he leaned his shoulder against yours in that quiet way he showed affection.

“After reviewing the town records,” he said, “I believe we may be the only two humans in the neighborhood. Some of the residents are far too dull—Chidi Anagonye, the moral philosophy professor who spent his life writing a single manuscript, Jianyu the silent monk—while others are too perfect—Glen, that one who is constantly volunteering, Tahani, the philanthropist. Real people have flaws, secrets, hobbies. I can only be certain of myself and you.”

“How’d you figure out I’m real?”

“I didn’t. I simply refuse to accept the alternative,” he said with a sad smile, and you began to think Dr. Chilton was sentimental after all.

***

Their voices were muffled even with your ear pressed to the door of Michael’s office—not that it mattered much what they were talking about. You were just waiting for the signal, and at that moment, it came. Their footsteps and voices grew louder as Frederick and Michael approached, and the door handle clicked.

“—which is why cannibalism loses more good-person points than defenestration but fewer than chewing loudly on a crowded bus.”

“Fascinating. I never thought about it that way,” said Chilton, looking genuinely disturbed.

You flattened yourself against the wall next to the door, thinking thin thoughts as the pair exited the office. A tall houseplant barely disguised your presence, and if Michael had any kind of peripheral vision, he would see you standing there plain as day.

But Dr. Chilton spoke animatedly, fixing him with a challenging laser-stare as he asked a probing follow-up question. Locked in Chilton’s eyes, Michael failed to notice the movement just behind his left shoulder as you slipped through the closing door before it could latch shut.

Safe.

Michael’s office was quiet and filled you with serenity in much the same way a teddy bear is filled with stuffing: forcefully and by no will of your own. Like the welcome room with its happy green plants and happy green words on the wall assuring you everything is fine, the office peeled your defenses away. Cream-colored walls yawned out around the perimeter, punctuated with bright windows, a portrait of Doug Forcett (a stoner from the 1970s who guessed, on a mushroom trip, how the afterlife really worked), and various artifacts of humanity enshrined like museum pieces, despite seeming perfectly mundane.

At the top of the room was a large mahogany desk.

Yesterday, Chilton watched Michael put away files in the desk that he wouldn’t let him look at. Chilton was certain they were the key to unraveling the mystery, so he suggested working together—he would distract Michael while you sneaked in to find the files. It was risky, but it might have been your only chance of discovering what was going on, and if there was a way to escape.

You began poking through the desk and found stacks of papers in an unreadable alphabet. The only thing you could read were lyrics to a genuinely terrible song Michael was writing titled “Love Train to the Cosmos.”

The last drawer wouldn’t budge.

Yanking the handle didn’t work. Banging on the side with your fist failed to unstick it. It was locked. Locked drawers were suspicious. The answers had to be in there.

You eyed a mountain of paperclips lovingly displayed on a pedestal labeled “Human Things.” Snatching two off the top, you unbent and re-bent the stiff metal wire, and inserted it into the lock. Faint clicks sounded as you turned and finessed the paperclip, feeling each pin in the tumbler slide into place. Then you gently turned it, and—pop. The drawer opened.

A single manila folder stamped TOP SECRET in threatening red letters rested inside, as if waiting to be found. You picked it up and opened it, and your breath caught. They were reports on “The Good Place.” The Good Place in quotation marks. Reports about you.

A pleasant bing sounded.

Janet materialized in front of the desk. For once, she was not wearing a cheery smile.

***

Frederick Chilton had always been a selfish man. Any opportunity that could advance his career and put him in the spotlight, he would take it no matter who it hurt. “Unorthodox therapy,” he called it in his private chats with Dr. Lecter. They bonded over their shared interest in unorthodox research before he learned Dr. Lecter was a cannibal. That would have been a clue to anybody else that it was time to change his ways, but Dr. Chilton spent the rest of his years just as selfish and petty—more so, even, as his disfiguring injuries gave him more reason for spite.

He could never accept himself as he was.

By the time he died, Chilton was an intolerable asshole who paid back the world’s cruelty with his chronic foul moods and acerbic sarcasm. He kept everyone at a distance.

And yet, here, in death, he found himself worrying over someone else.

The sun was shining in the ever-blue sky, dappled by lush green foliage before reaching the two men as they strolled the neighborhood below. Michael was built like a sapling with longer legs than he knew what to do with, making Chilton nearly jog to keep pace. He had a warm smile and an outgoing demeanor—always flattering Chilton’s ego and asking for his guidance. But something malignant hid behind those smiling eyes, and Chilton’s mind kept rushing back to you, hoping you were OK.

He hoped that you were safe. Not that the plan was going smoothly. That you were safe.

There was a difference, and Dr. Chilton noticed right away that his twitchy nervousness was not wrought of self-preservation. It was a new type of panic—worse than fear for himself, which he never thought possible considering the amount of terror he had experienced on his own behalf.

To distract himself, Chilton threw himself into the role of Michael’s assistant, focusing on his task of supposedly identifying psychological issues causing problems with the neighborhood.

“Our interviews should go in alphabetical order, under the pretense of a survey—a sort of afterlife census—to avoid suspicion. It should be feasible, with only three hundred residents—”

“We know,” Michael said coolly. His voice dropped from the usual friendly, flattering demeanor, slipping off like a mask.

“You know how you are going to handle the interviews? It is imperative the subjects do not suspect they are being studied.” Chilton swallowed, knowing full well that he was talking to the real Michael for the first time.

“Don’t play dumb.” Michael smiled an entirely different type of smile, twisted and clever with no warmth in it. “We’ve been watching you, Dr. Chilton. We knew you would figure it out eventually. It was only a matter of time before you saw through a psychiatric study.”

Chilton’s interest piqued at the same time his blood went cold. He wet his lips. “Is that what all this is, then?”

The pair came to a stone bridge that arched gracefully over a reflection pool. Michael stopped midway across, leaned one of his long, pointed elbows on the railing, and cocked his head at Chilton.

“You haven’t figured it all out yet? That’s disappointing. You humans really are so dense.” His tone was so mean that Chilton took an unconscious step back. Michael only laughed and told him there was no point in running away. “But I think you’ll want to hear what I have to offer,” he promised.

Most of what you had been told about the afterlife was true, Michael explained. There was a real good place, and there was a real bad place where bad people were tortured for all eternity. But the bad place had a problem: it was boring! Humans get used to physical pain after the first few centuries, no matter how creative the punishment.

“Once you’ve flattened a thousand penises, you’ve flattened them all. I’m trying to do something new here. Innovate!” said Michael with an energetic swoop of his hand. “Emotional torture can cause the same level of discomfort, but in a more sustainable and (more importantly) entertaining way. That’s what this neighborhood is for—to study you humans and find out what makes you miserable.”

And then he offered Dr. Chilton something that grabbed his attention. The opportunity to design bad place neighborhoods.

“You are asking me to help implement psychological torture?” Chilton turned over each word cautiously.

“Oh,” Michael scoffed, “Don’t tell me you’re concerned about the ethics? Doctor, I’ve read your file.”

Chilton winced. He had done truly amoral things in the name of discovery—things it made him sick to be reminded of. Strange, though. In the past, he would have been proud to be treated as a peer by a psychopath. Not ashamed.

“Think of it, the glory, the prestige. You would be designing the afterlife for billions of souls. You will be remembered throughout eternity as the man who reformed the bad place!”

“And my soulmate?”

Chilton blurted it without thinking. It sounded so childish and naive, and sure enough, Michael shook his head and had a long chuckle at his expense.

“There’s no such thing! I thought you knew,” Michael slapped his knee. “I made it up so you would torture each other! But once again, I underestimated the human libido. You people all think with your genitals, it’s—it’s gross. Humans are gross.” He made a face. “That’s why I need your help to design a better system. With your understanding of the human mind, we can make condemned souls miserable for thousands of years.”

Chilton couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for this plan, and Michael frowned.

“If it makes you feel any better, consider this the humane option. The alternative is going back to scooping eyeballs out with melon ballers and replacing them with live bees. What do you say, doctor? Join my team.” Michael extended a hand, and Chilton eyeballed it.

“Can my soulmate—”

“Not a soulmate.”

“—come with me?”

“This offer is only open to you.”

“So they will be tortured? Alone? For eternity? In a system I help design?”

“Nothing you can do will change that. They are going to be tortured—the only person you can save is yourself, if you decide to help me.”

Frederick’s brow knit together. He thought about refusing. He really did. Abandoning you seemed unthinkable, especially after your promise to each other to stick together. But he was a selfish creature, and choosing to be punished wouldn’t protect you. If he was lucky, by teaming up with Michael, he could design a more comfortable torture for you one day.

“Maybe this will help make up your mind,” Michael said. “Hannibal Lecter.”

“Lecter?”

“He’s here. In the bad place. So far, he has been especially resistant to traditional torture. I thought you might have a personal interest in taking a crack at him?”

***

On a floating, room-sized projection screen, Frederick Chilton shook Michael’s hand. Your head fell forward, shoulders slumping. The screen flicked off and dissipated into the office air.

“This is the 764th time he has failed,” said Janet, giving a sympathetic simulation of a sigh. “We were sure he was going to make the right decision this time.”

You shook your head. “Fame and glory? Revenge? He’ll never refuse those. Trust me—he died because of them and still never learned his lesson.”

“That is what we’re afraid of. Some people never pass their tests. Fun fact!” she perked up, “Hannibal Lecter’s test is working at a Burger King where he can only cook Impossible Whoppers, and his 19-year-old manager calls him pee-paw. He gets reset every time he eats a customer. His longest record is twelve hours.”

When Janet found you snooping in Michael’s desk, you expected to be dragged away, never to see Frederick again. Instead, she explained everything to you—the truth.

A long time ago, the bad place was exactly how Michael described it—a place where souls were sent to have their orifices filled with spiders for eternity. Then he decided to try something new. Originally, he paired you with Dr. Chilton hoping you would drive each other crazy. But no matter what happened, you kept falling in love. You kept supporting each other, and taking care of each other. The same happened with his other human test subjects—they kept improving and becoming better people than they were on Earth. Eventually, Michael changed, too.

He redesigned the bad place to be a test—a chance for human souls to earn their way into the good place. At the end of each test, you either pass and go to the good place, or your memories are erased and you start over again.

“So, what happens to me now?”

“You passed. You can go to the good place now, and spend the rest of eternity in paradise. The real one.”

“And Frederick? He’ll be alone?”

Janet nodded.

“Put me back in. Reset me, and make me his soulmate again.”

“Are you sure?” Janet asked.

“I’m not going without him.”

“He would leave you behind. You just saw that.”

“That wasn’t fair. Anyone would accept that deal. I would accept that deal!”

“No. You wouldn’t,” Janet said. “You passed your test a long time ago.”

For a while, a heavy silence fell between you as you processed this. Finally, you thought of the only question worth asking. “How many times have we had this conversation?”

“762.”

“Well then,” you said. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“I do. But you retain a vague sense of your memories from previous tests. At a subconscious level, you might realize you’re tired of this.”

You smiled. A big, genuine one that balled your cheeks and creased the corners of your eyes. “That’s not how I feel at all. I think I love him more every time.”

Janet nodded, but gave one last warning before erasing your memories again. “If he never passes, you could be stuck here forever.”

“Stuck falling in love with that insecure jerk over and over again for thousands of years? Sounds like heaven to me.”

“I thought you might say that.”

***

The first day, you really wanted to punch his pretentious snobby face for thinking he was so much better than you.

The first time you laid eyes on Dr. Frederick Chilton, he was waiting behind a mahogany desk with an ancient hardcover book in his hands. Not reading it—waiting, posed deliberately to be discovered that way, and give the impression of intellectualism.

“This is your soulmate,” said Michael, introducing you.

Chilton took a step back after shaking your hand and looked you up and down critically, as if he were appraising livestock. And right away, you knew there had been a terrible mistake. Who the fork did he think he—

Fork. Fork! Why couldn’t you say fork?!

***

Bright light streamed in through the open bedroom window. The weather was always perfect here, except when some glitch made it rain caviar and jelly beans. Or that time Frederick had a vivid nightmare, and organs began falling from the sky. Every day, something horrible seemed to go wrong in the good place. Things that challenged you and pushed your soulmate to his limits.

But most mornings were like this. Quiet. A time just for the two of you.

Your fingers lightly stroked his chest, delving into the soft hairs that rose and fell with his steady breathing. You pressed a soft kiss to his skin, then another, tracing a line of them lower, over a jagged, raised line down his abdomen. His scars let you know he was waking up. This was the good place—he didn’t have to let them show. Usually, he chose to appear as a younger version of himself, before all the indelible trauma. But on peaceful mornings like this, he would let them show just so you could soothe them. He never thought he would be that comfortable with anyone. That he could trust anyone so much.

Every day, you both knew you could overcome anything, so long as you were together.

[ayellowcurtain]

Make me know you really care

Part 2

Robbe? Robbie, sweetheart?

Three muffled knocks, he feels that same strand of hair from earlier back to bother him again, tickling the outside corner of his eye. His neck is tight, and his arm basically dead underneath him, all his weight on top of it. Robbe moves the hand he can still feel to push his hair away from his eye.

Two knocks on the door and one attempt to turn the door knob and Robbe opens his eyes a few times, suddenly realizing it’s not part of his sleep, the noises and the voice calling his name. He pushes himself to turn and lie on his back, slowly moving his arm so the blood can run back to his tickling hand. The same plain walls, the same headboard, he is really back in his old bedroom. Last night really happened.

Milan is still at the door, his shadow - the dark cloud hair, the bright shirt and tall figure - clear on the glass but Robbe sees someone else next to him, not as clear, but clear enough for Robbe to recognize him, and he sits on the bed. Sander is there too, waiting one or two steps behind Milan. Robbe doesn’t need to see him to know he’s worried, thinking he went too far last night.

“Leave me alone, Milan.” He tries, aware that the same way he can see them well enough, they can see he’s sitting on the bed, very awake.

“Can you open the door, please? Or I’m gonna have to use the argument that you’re in my house…”

Robbe closes his eyes, still feeling like he didn’t sleep a single minute even though it’s bright outside, the sun almost disappearing at the top of the window.

His mouth is so dry and not smelling the greatest, he’s still using the clothes from last night, all wrinkled, a complete mess. He didn’t want Sander to see him like this, such a mess after that date that Robbe had to come back to the flat and sleep in his normal clothes. If it was the other way around, Robbe would worry if he found a sleepy, still smelling like beer Sander, sleeping on the same clothes he last saw him.

Robbe doesn’t try to make himself look any better while getting up, unlocking the door for the two but not enough that they’ll think he’s inviting them in. It’s not his bedroom but Robbe will act like it while he’s here. Milan has to mean his words when he told Robbe in the past that this would always be his room if he ever needed it back.

Sander is looking as perfect as any other day, clean, and with fresh new clothes too, the worry staying in his eyes, the way he frowns his eyebrows a little bit and the way he clenches his jaw but other than that, he’s fine.

“There he is!” Milan smiles and claps his hands excitedly, looking at Sander, and Robbe holds himself back from closing the door in their faces, “Good morning, princess.”

“How did you know I was here?” Robbe asks and regrets it instantly. His mouth is dry and bitter, and he doesn’t feel like talking to anybody right now enough to let them notice how terrible he looks and smells.

Sander is the one to explain, almost whispering as he looks at Milan. “He didn’t. But I stopped at your house and you weren’t there so I came here and I told him you were here.”

Robbe looks at him, afraid of who might have opened the door for him at the other flat. Sander finally looks at him again, reading his mind like always.

“He wasn’t there. But I guess his things aren’t there either…from what Jens told me.”

Well, he heard the message then.

The weird silence grows around the three of them and Milan connects the dots, opening his mouth in a wide and big 0.

“You broke up with your boyfriend?!”

Robbe looks at his friend and back to the ground, ashamed of himself for the way he did it. Nobody knows about the voice message, and Robbe is not sure how much he’s willing to tell. The break up is no news anymore so he nods his head.

“Oh, baby!” Milan pulls him by his shoulder, hugging him tight, his hands rubbing up and down Robbe’s back, turning them around so he’s the one looking at Sander and not Robbe. “He was such a loving, caring boyfriend, Sander. I know he’ll be fine, baby. And it wasn’t your intention to hurt him…” Robbe gently pushes Milan back, knowing he’s saying all of that to Sander, not exactly to him.

“Thank you…”

Milan looks from him to Sander, now standing a few steps from each other, nodding his head. “I’m gonna make some strong coffee for us, maybe go get some croissants for old time’s sake.”

They both watch as Milan grabs his coat on the hanger, waving goodbye as he leaves the flat to give them some privacy. Robbe looks around, the walls are ridiculously thin so they wouldn’t be able to talk any other way but Robbe is not sure if he wants to talk either.

Sander sighs, and Robbe sees him moving, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Some time ago I went shopping with Younes…”

Robbe frowns, and looks at him, not sure where this is going or how it has anything to do with him.

“He probably heard a lot of my thoughts about you, and us. So he thought that day that I needed to vent and he needed to go shopping. So yeah, we went out. And-“

Sander pulls his hands out again, opening one to show Robbe a ring. Suddenly he’s wide awake, as sober as one can be, very aware of everything they talked last night, or almost fought about. He steps aside, feeling dizzy and turns around to look at Sander and what he’s holding.

It’s a golden ring. It doesn’t seem new or cheap. Sander probably found it in one of the vintage shops he loves to lurk around. It’s beautiful, and Robbe’s triggered brain goes straight to that conversation they had years ago. About marriage and how Sander took it lightly, saying they were too young to give in to society’s expectations. He can feel Sander’s expecting stare on him, still looking at the ring, somewhere between terrified, amazed and hurt.

“This isn’t a wedding ring. It can be, I mean. Whenever you want. I’m just trying to say that I want it. To marry you, spend my life with you. If that’s what you want too. While we wait for the right time...this can be a promise ring.”

Robbe closes his eyes, trying to keep his nausea down on his body. For months while they were dating he thought about a wedding. Henever wanted some big event, with families and extended family they barely know. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

He wanted the day, whenever that was, to be very intimate and theirs, nobody else’s. Robbe wanted to wake up aware that it was the day, he wanted to make them some delicious, movie-like breakfast, to help Sander cook whatever he felt like cooking that morning, to kiss him, smile against his lips, look at him and see Sander’s bright, shiny eyes excited to live that day. They would put some nicer clothes on, hold hands and walk to the place where they could sign the paper and take a cheesy picture with it after they were done. It would be a blue sky type of day, not too cold, not too warm, they could easily walk to their favorite restaurant, eat whatever they wanted for once without worrying about how expensive everything was. This would be a special date so they would worry about money all the other days of the month.

“Robbe?” He finally looks up, being reminded that Sander is still very much there. His hand is back down next to his body, his index finger swinging the ring while he holds it with his thumb and middle finger. “It never crossed my mind to be with someone else but you. I’m sorry if I made it seem like marrying you wasn’t for me. Or just marrying anyone. It is if we’re talking about you and me. I didn’t think it was such a big deal to you at the time.”

Robbe sighs, staring at Sander for too long. He knows years have passed since that fight but while he’s here now, standing across from Sander he really feels the years that have passed. It feels like a lifetime ago and also just a moment somehow. Robbe always struggled when he started thinking about time. How fast it might pass and how slow. He doesn’t really want to get old but he also feels like he had pretty shitty times in his past.

He turns left and goes to the kitchen to make that strong coffee Milan forgot to make before leaving. He hopes Sander is following him.

The kitchen is still the exact same, and the coffee machine is still where it was when he lived here. He knows Milan’s bedroom and the bathroom look different because Milan, Senne and Zoe painted those while they were all in quarantine together. He came here a million times after that, the green color in the bathroom is starting to annoy him, actually.

He grabs two mugs out of the cupboard just above the coffee machine and puts them next to him, one ready to receive the first coffee.

“Do you still like your coffee the same way?”

Sander was at the kitchen door and it’s like the question is a permission for him to walk inside the kitchen, pulling a chair for him to sit. “Yeah. Burning hot, please.”

Robbe gives him his mug the second the coffee stops pouring and moves on to the fridge to find some milk for him to use for his coffee.

“And Ava?” He asks, grabbing his milk from the microwave, just warm enough not to ruin his coffee.

He can almost hear Sander saying what about Ava? but he doesn’t say that, thankfully.

“I broke up with her.”

Robbe pulls the other chair for him to sit, waiting a little so his coffee is drinkable.

“Does she know why?”

Sander lifts his eyebrows. “That I was about to come here the next morning to propose to you? No but she can probably guess it happened because of you generally.”

“Does she know anything about me?” Sander doesn’t answer with words but he nods his head, finishing his coffee already.

“She knows how much you mean to me, she knows we used to date. All those things. It’s hard for me to not talk about you, Robin.”

Robbe drinks a little bit of his coffee and adjusts his jacket, pulling the hood over his head again, feeling more comfortable this way, looking at Sander through his lashes, noticing how fondly Sander looks at him, with an almost smile right at the corners of his lips.

“You know Robin is not my name, right?”

Sander frowns. “Isn’t your name Robin IJzermans?”

Robbe snorts, and the front door is open and closed.

“Honey, I’m home!” He screams, and Robbe looks at the kitchen door, waiting for Milan to appear, making as much noise as he can thinking they would be making out at the kitchen counter or something.

He looks from one to the other in disbelief nothing is happening but he brushes it off, putting the plastic bag on the table for them to unpack.

“How many croissants?" Robbe pulls the heavy and deliciously warm paper bag and Sander pulls the coffee, and big nutella container.

“Three for each.”

“Better than Sander. He would only bring two every time.” Robbe steals a glance at him again and Sander is already looking.

“I always thought that would be enough of a hint but nobody ever left us alone, so I guess it didn’t work.”

Milan laughs, spinning around until he can lean against the sink, looking from one to the other, too curious to pretend for another second.

“And…?” He lifts his eyebrows.

Robbe stares at Sander for a little longer, unable to decide for the future but now it’s enough.

“We might get married at some point.”

Sander finally smiles shyly at that and Milan drops his shoulders like he’s disappointed.

“I wanted new news!”