#I shall revisit this another day

[baklavagyna]

a little gaggy warmup for today before work on commissions. i would like to spend more time on this but its supposed to just be a warmup so it shall be revisited another day teehee

based on this makeup i found on ig and have been obsessed with for like 8 months

[innercircleweekofficial]

*✧･ﾟ:Prompts*✧･ﾟ:

🎨: Charlie Bowater

Here are the prompts! Can't wait for all the amazing content you guys will create for our favourite group 🥰.

You can participate in any form, such as fanfiction, fanart, moodboards, playlists, etc. We only want to celebrate the Inner Circle and the joy they have brought us these past few years 🤍.

You can also find us on Instagram. When posting your submissions there, we'd love for you to invite us to collaborate!

If you haven't read the rules of the event you can find the post right here.

Day 1: Court of Dreams/Home ->

"And what is this court?" I asked, gesturing to them. The most important question. It was Cassian, eyes clear and bright as his Siphon, who said, "The Court of Dreams." ~~~ Each member of the Inner Circle struggled as children to have a home of their own. Luckily they found one another and now, they are each other’s home. How do you see them as a family together?

Day 2: Warriors/Power(s) ->

The Inner Circle is known to be a powerful group—if not most—in Prythian. Shall we revisit them conquering the struggles of war? How do you see them using their skills? How do you see them coming into their powers?

Day 3: Past/ Future ->

Throughout the books, we've learned little pieces about the Inner Circle members' pasts. Like how the bat boys grew up together in a war camp, or how Mor was a dreamer in Court of Nightmares. How do you see their younger selves' interactions? How do you think they all met? Or how do you see their future be like? How do you see them being a family with the newest addition- Nyx?

Day 4: Headcanons/Shenanigans →

"Cassian, considering the fact that the last time you visited, it didn't end well-" "I wrecked one building-"... "The last time Amren and Mor got into it, they left my favorite mountain retreat in cinders." ~~~ Share with us your headcanons! What are these people up to behind the scenes? What mischief do they get into?

Day 5: Masks →

Inner Circle members are infamous for their cruelty among the rest of Prythian. They all wear various masks as a protection of their home and people. How do you see them when they don't have their masks on? Or what sort of mask would they slip on to protect, and how much of those times wasn't merely an act?

Day 6: Winter Solstice/Holidays →

"It's a special holiday here as well, right?" I asked casually. "Not just in Winter and Day." And Spring. "Oh, yes," Nuala said... "We love it dearly. It's intimate, warm, lovely. Presents and music and food, sometimes feasting under the starlight ..." ~~~ In the novella -A Court of Frost and Starlight- we've got a glimpse of the centuries, the Inner Circle has been celebrating their traditional holidays! Who would they invite? What present would they give each other? It could be winter solstice or any other holiday, it's up to you!

Day 7: AU/Free Day →

What other universes do you see Inner Circle in? How would their dynamic work? This is a day to truly embrace your creativity and imagination. We can't wait to see what you guys will do this day!

PS: If there's any question regarding the event, you can contact us through our ask box or DMs.

[kisses-for-you]

Blood - Vlad Tepes

Dracula X Fem!Reader

Summary: You hate being a vampire and you don't believe anyone can change your mind. But can Vlad do the impossible? Or will he fail?

Word Count: 1,134

Vlad slowly opens the door to your shared bedroom in his grand castle and his eyes stop on your small, frail body laying in the bed. Vlad observes your weakened state. He can't help but notice the sickly paleness of your skin and the fatigue in your eyes. His gaze now holds concern as he decides to address what's been bothering him lately.

"Why do you persist in these inefficient methods, my dear?" Vlad questions, his voice a velvet whisper. "You must drink blood to thrive, yet you deny yourself."

You almost physically recoil from the mere suggestion, fear etched across your face. Just the thought of consuming the blood of another human being sends shivers down your spine.

In the dimly lit room, Vlad approaches you, his presence commanding yet strangely gentle. "My love, you need to embrace your true nature," he urges, a hint of desperation in his voice. As he reaches out to caress your cheek, you can feel the familiar warmth of his touch, giving you a sense of comfort.

You meet his intense gaze, torn between your human morality and the undeniable reality of your weakening state. "I cannot, Vlad. I did not choose this fate, and I shall not inflict suffering upon others due to it," you protest, your voice wavering.

As Vlad contemplates your words, a conflicted expression crosses his immortal face. The tension in the room thickens, accentuated by the flickering candlelight. "I understand your moral quandary, my dear, but you are withering away before my very eyes," Vlad murmurs, his crimson eyes reflecting both love and worry.

After a moment of pure silence, you decide to speak up, your voice slowly getting quieter as a result of your lack of energy. "Why can't you see that this is not about morals? Vlad, I truly loathe what I have become. And if I must continue to live like this... then I harbor no desire to continue living."

Vlad's eyes darken with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "You do not mean that," he mutters, unable to comprehend that his wife, the love of his life, would feel such a thing as this. You love him, despite the fact that he is a vampire, yet you despise yourself for the very same thing.

"I love you, Vlad. However, I do not wish to continue this conversation for any longer. I am far too fatigued and simply desire some rest," you say, hoping that he will finally stop talking about this. Yes, you hate yourself for being a vampire. You didn't choose this life so why should you make others suffer for it? Animals, humans - it isn't their fault that you are the way you are so you will not inflict harm upon them simply to sustain yourself.

With a deep sigh, Vlad reluctantly nods, his expression a mix of resignation and concern. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, "Rest, my love. We shall revisit this discussion another day."

He gets up to leave but you reach out, grabbing his hand. "Can you stay with me?"

"Of course, my dear," he responds softly, settling beside you. You lay your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating. He wraps a protective arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

As you drift into a troubled sleep, Vlad remains by your side, watching over you with a worried gaze. After some time goes by, Vlad carefully gets up, making sure not to wake you. He leaves the room and returns minutes later with a vial of blood in hand. Vlad carefully approaches your sleeping form and with a tinge of guilt, he administers you a small dose of blood, hoping it's enough to keep you alive until he can find some way for you to drink blood without harming others.

Silently, he curses you and your stupid morals; if it wasn't for them, you wouldn't be suffering like this. But he knows he can't change the way you are so all he can do is try to find a method to sustain you without resorting to the traditional vampiric ways.

He heads to a different part of a castle where he immerses himself in ancient scrolls and tomes, seeking a solution. Vlad can't bear to see you so weak for much longer. He knows that if he doesn't find a solution, the fate that awaits you is something he doesn't even want to consider a possibility. He can't fathom losing you.

The next morning, you wake up to find the room filled with an eerie silence. Vlad's absence is palpable, and a sense of foreboding settles over you. As you explore the castle in search of him, you suddenly feel very dizzy. You lean against the wall for support but it's not much help. After a couple of seconds, your vision goes black and you faint, your body falling to the floor.

Vlad hears the sound of your collapsing body and within seconds, he's by your side. He finds you unconscious on the floor, and panic grips his undead heart. His eyes are wide with worry, concern etched on his face. He gently lifts you, cradling you in his arms. The guilt gnaws at him; he wasn't able to help you in time, and now you're paying the price.

"I should have been faster," Vlad whispers to himself, regret coloring his words. He carries you back to the bedroom, placing you on the bed with utmost care. As Vlad lays you on the bed, a mixture of guilt and determination fills his crimson eyes. He gazes at your unconscious form, vowing silently to find a solution before it's too really too late.

With a heavy heart, Vlad continues his relentless search, the castle's ancient texts and hidden knowledge becoming his refuge. Days turn into nights, and Vlad's desperation intensifies.

But in the end, it just wasn't enough.

In your final moments, Vlad kneels by your lifeless body, grief-stricken. His crimson eyes, once vibrant with determination, now reflect the emptiness that consumes him. For the first time in years, he is truly alone. He clutches your lifeless hand, feeling the chill that has now replaced the warmth he once cherished.

As Vlad gazes at your lifeless form, a single tear slips from his eyes. "I'll love you forever, Y/N Tepes," he whispers, wishing you were actually here to hear his words. But you're not. And Vlad feels that it's all his fault. It's all his fault that the love of his life died. All his fault that you're no longer here. He wishes he could bring you back, but this isn't some romantic fantasy where you can just magically come back to life; this is reality.

[nervousladytraveler]

Promps again😊 Too hot to cuddle

Oh @veryflowerobservation, what have you done? This started off a small thing then turned into a proper story. Well almost proper--it's not done yet. But here's where we are so far. From the Poldark Like Someone/Rose in December universe (maybe called "Plans and Proposals"?) And it's pretty darned hot here this week so I feel like I did some "field research" but alas I did not have Ross to help me.

Thanks again!

---

“Well, well! Such progress!” Ross said as he came up behind Demelza in the kitchen garden–or to be precise, the plot that had been a garden at one time and was once again in the making. He hadn’t meant to sound patronising but the look she shot him made him fear she might whack him with her spade.

“I had forgotten how god awful this soil was here. Packed hard but also sandy and now full of weeds. And stones.” She stooped to pick up a rather large one then threw it over her shoulder. Farquahar, their six month old puppy ran to chase it then lost his focus when a moth flew by. That he’d remained outside this long was unusual. He had a dislike of getting his paws dirty, a rather unfortunate trait in a dog, much less a dog that resides on a farm.

“We could move your garden elsewhere,” Ross suggested practically.

“No, tradition says this is where the Nampara garden lives. Your mum had it here, I had it here years ago, this is where it shall remain as long as the Poldark name is on the land deed.

He smiled. She wasn't really cross with him, just frustrated with her task–a task she rather adamantly took on herself. 

Ross still found pleasure in all of Demelza's moods–even when she was fractious or even a little impatient. It meant she was real and that their relationship was genuine and not confined to safety at the surface. 

Anyone could be sweet and accommodating for the first few months of love but at some point, if they were honest with one another, disagreements should in fact occur. Their quarrels weren’t dramatic, it turned out. They laughed off the times they didn't see eye to eye and never let the sun set on a row. Ross should have expected as much since that had been the case with them years ago. Well, at least that had been their playbook for most of the time they were together until …

Best not to think of that.

Instinctively Ross moved towards Demelza to ease his mind. He managed to land one kiss on her neck before she wriggled away.

“No, that's enough of that, Ross. Not now,” she said and stepped back before he was able to wrap his arms around her. “It's too hot to cuddle.”

“It's never too hot to cuddle,” he said, his arms still outstretched. Another sidewise glance from her told him what she thought of that.

“You might regret those words, Ross. I’m stinky as hell,” she said and crouched to pull out a clump of Ribwort plantain, then thought better of it. “These are supposed to be good for bees.” 

“I happen to like your stink,” he countered.

She sniffed her t-shirt sleeve then wrinkled her nose dramatically to prove her point. “Seriously, I'm even makin’ myself sick. As soon as I'm done here I'm headed straight for the shower. Then we can revisit your proposal.”

“I can run you a cool bath now if you'd like.” He’d meant to sound supportive but immediately saw he was distracting her.  

“I'm nowhere near done for the day but if that ever happens, I’ll use the outdoor shower.” She struck her spade back into the packed soil. 

The outdoor shower was an inspiration he’d had when the (new) North Barn was being built. It made sense to have a place where one could clean up before heading indoors, whether one had been in the field or at the beach. It was a vast improvement from the previous set up in the yard.

Good god that water was cold, he thought, recalling the rubber hose and rusty old sink.

“Fucking hell!” Demelza bent over to pick up another rock. “Who’d have guessed that nature would so fiercely take back an unattended garden. I mean it hasn't been abandoned that long, has it?”

Only six years.

He made some half-hearted attempts to keep it going after she left–out of spite really–before he finally let it go to rack and ruin.

“Demelza, love,” he said, suddenly feeling very guilty about his role in the garden’s current state. “Please, let the lads do this. They’ll be done in the hopyard in an hour and can even come through with the tractor…”

“No!” she said, then laughed when she heard herself. “Sorry, no thank you. I can do it–I want to do it.”

“Do you?”

“Well, the growin’ things part yes but not really the wrestlin’ with the rocky earth part. But I simply won't be one of those pretentious weekend gardeners. The ones who have the whole thing set up for them by someone else and then just show up to pluck a weed or two and prune the tomato vines and call themselves ‘avid gardeners’...”

“Tomatoes? Is that your plan?”

“Maybe.” 

“No one is doubting your commitment, Demelza,” he said. “Unless you are.”

“No, it's not that. But you should know…well, I'm not really into havin’…” She paused, carefully picking her words.

“Into having…?”

“Help,” she said. “I mean hired help. Like servants.”

“Come on! Michael and Sean aren't…”

“Yes, they are, Ross. And havin’ once been the hired help myself, I’m not really comfortable havin’ someone else in that role workin’ for me. No offence, Ross. And no judgement–I know your family has had help for generations and it is needed on a farm but…”

“Isn't a garden part of the farm? The idea is to grow things, is it not?”

“Not a kitchen garden. It's more like an extension of the house and…it just isn't for me.”

“Demelza, sure you were the help at one time, but you were also more than…”

“Watch out, Ross,” she laughed. “I don't think you want to follow that thought to its logical conclusion of just what more I was….”

He nodded solemnly (point taken) but her smile suggested she was teasing more than warning.

“Look, love, don’t try to downplay it. I was a servant—farmhand, maid, cook, whatever the role. I was in service. And it's part of who I am–what I was. Just as you once were a soldier,” she said softly. “These things made us who we are now.”

“Okay, I see that. I’m sorry if you felt I was trying to erase an essential part of your…”

“No worries,” she brushed it off. “Just no servants for me.”

“Got it–but what about a cleaner–occasionally?”

“Oh good lord. With just the two of us? I think we can manage!” she snorted. “Although…” Some new thought seemed to pass through her mind. “Maybe, if we were havin’ a big do–like a special party or celebration or somethin’—we could have someone come through, just the once.” 

“Cleaner for special occasions only. Duly noted,” he nodded. “But no housekeepers, footmen, butlers, valets,  cooks…”

“Cooks?” she laughed. “That's ridiculous! Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Maybe–again a big do–like a catered event for more than twenty people–we'd need help with that.”

“And maybe before this hypothetical big do, we’d need to hire on a gardener to tidy up in the yard?” he laughed. “I mean, is the party outdoors?”

“Don't you think it would need to be? If it's like fifty people?”

“I thought you said twenty?”

“I said more than twenty. And we could certainly accommodate fifty–or more–out here. But yes, maybe a temporary gardener so that you don't spend all day trimmin’ the shrubs and then be too knackered to play the host. Plus you'd need to keep your nails clean and all that.”

“What kind of party is that where people are scrutinising my grooming? And I always wear work gloves, don’t you know?” He gave a teasing glance to her own hands, gloveless as usual. “But you seem to be giving this “do” some thought.”

“Hypothetical do. Strictly hypothetical,” she smiled. “But I do mean it–no hired help in the house, day to day.”

“Noted.”

“Maybe a childminder–workin’ folks need that obviously–but no proper nanny per se and no live-ins!”

“Oh?” He raised a brow. This was new. He wasn't sure where she was going but she seemed to have leapt ahead of hypothetical outdoor catered parties for fifty (or more) guests on to a more distant future. He considered prodding her into offering more information then decided to wait her out.

“I wonder… just because all was fertile here once doesn't guarantee it is now…Do you think we’re startin’ this too late?” she asked, pausing again and this time leaning on her spade for support. 

“Too late for what?” 

“A garden, of course.” She looked at him like he’d just asked the most idiotic of questions. “Surely it would have been better to start in April or even May. But now? It's so hot…”

“The heat isn't helping but since you're buying your plants already started from the garden centre, I think you’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “And we both know, you can coax anything into growing.”

“Seeds! Of course I’d need good quality seed...but that’s for next year…” Her head snapped up as though she’d made up her mind. “Okay, Ross you can help me.”

“What?” He was struggling to keep up. 

“You can help me dig, if that’s what you're offerin’...”

“Yes,” he laughed. “I’ll gladly help you, just let me go change.” Then he paused to ask the question on his mind. “Demelza, what do you mean by ‘that’s for next year’?”

“That next year I’ll do this garden properly and try my hand at growin' plants from actual seeds,” she said. “What do you think I meant?”

"Nothing. Just know that whatever your plans--for the future--I support them."

"Even if I give them up half way through and bunk off to go swimmin' instead?" she laughed.

"Swimming?"

"Yes," she said. "Forget the garden for now. Let's go down to Hendrawna. Days this hot just beg for the sea."

"Well, Madame," he said, "I accept your proposal."

[headcanonsandmore]

'Stand and Deliver!', Chapter Seven

Summary: In the aftermath of Tegan kissing the phantom (Nyssa) on the cheek, the parsons daughter struggles to hold back her feelings for Tegan. However, Tegan's visit to the parsons house the very next morning may just make things more difficult. And when will Tegan realise that the woman she loves and the mysterious masked figure are one and the same? Read on, dear readers, and find out…

~~~~~~~~~

My apologies for the delay with this chapter, everyone. Things have still been pretty busy IRL, but I hope you enjoy this chapter despite the wait.

~~~~~~~~~

Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

‘Nyssa?’

Nyssa Traken heard a knocking at her bedroom door. Dimly, she opened her eyes.

The dim light of the winter sun was peaking gently through the curtains. With a yawn, she sat up in bed, shivering slightly at the sudden cool air against her hands, neck and face. She was glad of the hair covering that she wore to bed.

‘Good mo-or-rning, father,’ she said, stifling another yawn. ‘I must have overslept.’

‘No matter,’ said Tremas, through the door. ‘It is barely eight in the morning. I’m surprised; you went to bed fairly early.’

‘Oh,’ Nyssa started. ‘Yes, I suppose I must have worn myself out yesterday.’

Well, that was true, in a way. Although not in the way her father thought.

Tremas suggested she get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast, and Nyssa agreed. As she heard the sounds of her fathers’ footsteps grow quieter down the corridor, Nyssa gave another yawn and climbed out of bed.

She crossed the room to a small table, on which was placed a large bowl and a jug filled with water. She emptied the contents of the jug into the bowl, and duly washed her face, taking care not to press the soap too closely against her skin. Her father, being a clergyman, could not rationalise the buying of gentle soaps. Nyssa didn’t mind.

Besides, the coldness of the water helped to ignore the beating of her heart as she remembered the events of the previous evening.

She pressed a hand gently against the spot of her cheek where Tegan Jovanka’s lips had touched, and felt her entire face flush. Her heart beat frantically through her chest, and she was suddenly aware of a warmth sparking gently between her thighs, which she did her best to ignore.

Nyssa raised a hand to her forehead, feeling the rush of heat across her skin, and dearly wishing that her mind would stop revisiting the moment when Tegan Jovanka had kissed her.

Kissed her.

Tegan Jovanka had kissed her.

Good grief. Tegan; an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a very flattering skirt.

Nyssa’s mind drifted to a sonnet by William Shakespeare that she had once read;

“Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

 Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summers lease hath all too short a date.”

But perhaps that sonnet did not match? No, she decided, it did not. Nyssa’s mind quickly jumped to one that did;

“Let me confess that we two must be twain,

Although our undivided loves are one,

So shall those lots that do with me remain,

Without thy help, by me be borne alone…”

Nyssa let out a sigh, before removing her nightdress and continuing to wash herself.

About ten minutes later, she had finished washing and had gotten dressed. Pulling a brush gently through her long brown hair, Nyssa sat on her bed, listening inattentively to the sounds of the robins chirping in the bare trees outside her window.

There was another knock at the door.

‘Miss Nyssa?’

‘Good morning, Vicki; please come in, I’m dressed.’

The young girl entered the room, closing the door behind her.

‘I thought it best not to wake you when I left the room earlier. You have slept in quite a long time this morning.’

‘I think I must have been worn out from the events of yesterday.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t believe this; I just popped into the village shop for some things and -would you believe it- apparently Miss Tegan was rescued from a robber by the phantom last night!’

Nyssa froze for a split second, hand curled around her brush, before continuing.

‘Good grief, is Tegan well?’

‘Very much so, but her parents were so glad to have her safely returned home.’

‘I’m not surprised. They must have been worried sick.’

‘The phantom seems to like Tegan a lot, don’t they.’

‘I suppose,’ Nyssa said. ‘Tegan seems to like them a fair amount too.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘O-oh, nothing. I think I ought to head over to the inn later to welcome Tegan home; would you like to accompany me?’

‘Thank you,’ Vicki said. ‘But I think Miss Tegan would appreciate that more from you than from me?’

‘W-what do you mean?’

Vicki smiled.

‘You two are close friends, after all. She would want to hear you are relieved that she is returned to Crofters Lodge safe and sound.’

‘Oh. Yes, I suppose she would be.’

Vicki smiled, and left the room, the door closing gently behind her.

Nyssa thought to herself. Yes, she and Tegan were close friends, weren’t they. They had been close since they were children and, while Tegan had been away, Nyssa had missed her dearly. She knew that Tegan had missed her too although… she feared that it was not in the same way. Not to the same extent that Nyssa had missed her. And, while she hoped that maybe Tegan’s feelings to her were not simply that of a platonic nature, she also feared that she was simply over-thinking. Over-analysing. Like she always seemed to.

She hoped that Tegan would be glad Nyssa was relieved for her being safe. In fact, she knew that Tegan would be. Tegan -kind, sweet, wonderful Tegan- would absolutely be glad.

And yet… and yet…

She’d prefer the phantom, though, wouldn’t she? Nyssa thought, sadly, as she tied her hair-covering under her chin and picked up her pinafore to wrap around the front of her dress.

*

The door opened.

‘Good morn-Tegan!’

Nyssa’s face flushed a deep shade of scarlet. The parsons daughter put a hand up to cover her mouth in astonished embarrassment. She was wearing a pinafore around her dress. Around her head was neatly tied a scarf, out of which a few strands of her curly brown hair were dangling. Her forehead was covered in perspiration. She had clearly been in the middle of cleaning.

Standing a couple of feet away from the door, Tegan stared at her in confusion.

‘Good morning, Nyssa,’ she said, inclining her head to one side. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’

‘U-unwell?’

‘Your face… it’s bright red.’

‘O-oh, no; I’m fine, thank you!’ Nyssa exclaimed, with a nervous laugh. ‘Just a little warm from my chores. H-how can I help you, Tegan?’

‘Er….’ Tegan said, momentarily bewildered. A flustered Nyssa was not something she was used to dealing with, although she had to admit the effect was not unpleasant. ‘My mother thought Vicki could do with some home-cooked baked goods; bit of a comfort for her, you see.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely!’ Nyssa said, with a smile that brought the dimples to her cheeks. ‘Er, please come in.’

Tegan stepped inside, and Nyssa closed the front door. Following the younger woman along the short corridor to the kitchen, Tegan reflected that, while the pastors home was not especially large, it was certainly comfortable nonetheless, with well-made curtains covering the windows and a pleasant sort of smell.

The two young women entered the kitchen, and Tegan placed the large basket she was carrying onto the decently-sized kitchen table. She then opened the top of the basket, and duly began to unpack the wares that her mother had placed inside.

‘Oh, let me help you…’

Nyssa came to stand beside her, and reached towards the top of the basket at the same moment Tegan did.

Their hands bumped softly together, and Nyssa seemed to freeze. Tegan stared at her, in amazement, as the parsons daughter began to flush once again. With a sudden start, Nyssa pulled away, blinking quickly.

‘M-my apologies,’ Nyssa stammered, seemingly unable to meet Tegan’s eyes.

Tegan set the pastries down on the table, and turned to Nyssa, taking a step towards her. She reached over and placed a hand on Nyssa’s forehead.

‘Nyssa, you’re burning up!’

‘N-no, I’m perfectly fine,’ Nyssa stammered, pulling away again.

‘I didn’t think you’d be this flustered just remembering our dancing!’

‘O-oh, well I suppose I don’t dance very often,’ Nyssa said, rather quickly. ‘I’ll be fine in a moment. Anyway… Vicki told me that the phantom rescued you from a robber last night.’

‘Er… something like that,’ Tegan said, with a shrug. ‘They were a gentleman about it.’

‘I’m sure they were, Tegan. Besides,’ Nyssa said, with a smirk. ‘I doubt the phantom would be able to stand up to your temper if they tried to push their luck.’

‘Cheeky but accurate,’ Tegan chuckled.

‘Are you… well, Tegan?’

‘I am,’ Tegan said, smiling. ‘But I appreciate your concern, Nyssa. You’re too good for this world.’

Nyssa’s face seemed to flush again. Once again, Tegan was struck not only by how beautiful Nyssa looked when flustered, but also by the delight she felt that she was responsible for it. She could get used to this, all too easily.

‘I bet you’d rather be with the phantom right now,’ Nyssa said, with a little sigh that seemed to escape her lips without her realising it.

‘Don’t be daft,’ Tegan said, with a sudden fierceness. ‘You think I’d rather be in danger on a rainy night instead of here with you? Come off it, Nys…’

Tegan leaned over and wrapped her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. Nyssa seemed to freeze for a second, before relaxing and leaning into Tegan’s touch, head resting slightly against Tegan’s head. Her eyes fluttered shut.

‘I know,’ Nyssa said, softly. ‘But still; it’s more exciting with the phantom than with the pastors daughter, isn’t it.’

‘Dangerous, yes. I don’t know if I’d want to make a habit of it. Whereas I do like making a habit of being around you, Nys. You… you know that, right?’

Nyssa smiled, dimples showing in her cheeks.

‘That means the world to me, Tegan. Even if…’

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Just… thank you.’

Tegan couldn’t help but wonder if Nyssa wasn’t telling her something. Almost as if…

But, no, Nyssa wouldn’t know that. She certainly wouldn’t have known that Tegan had kissed the phantom on the cheek.

Tegan felt a wave of guilt erupt in her stomach. What had she been thinking? Was she really so miserable pining after Nyssa that she had decided to randomly kiss a highway… person of questionable gender?

But it wasn’t as if she could ever kiss Nyssa, after all. What did she have to lose?

Tegan rested her head against the side of Nyssa’s. Moments like this were probably the closest she would ever get to… well, she knew exactly what. Soon enough, Nyssa would be married to some man and Tegan would be stuck having to bury her feelings completely for the rest of their lives. It wasn’t fair.

Oh, damn it to hell!

Tegan turned her head and, before she could talk herself out of it, pressed a kiss to Nyssa’s cheek.

It was barely more than a touch, but Tegan felt that -for all its brief second of lips on skin- she could happily live in that moment for the rest of her life.

Nyssa seemed to freeze slightly but did not otherwise react.

‘Any… particular reason for that?’

‘Er… do I need one?’

Nyssa’s mouth widened into a large smile that showed off her dimples.

‘No,’ she said, softly. ‘I suppose you don’t. But… thank you, anyway.’

 ‘You’re most welcome,’ Tegan said, returned the smile in kind.

The two of them stood companionably for a moment before Tegan realised that it was maybe a little too long to be stood like this. With regret, she removed her arm from around Nyssa, and looked around the room, searching for something to converse about.

There was a small portrait hanging on the wall. It was a charcoal piece, displaying a young man. He had Pastor Tremas’s eyes. Tegan recognised him dimly from their childhood.

‘I thought I knew that face,’ she said, gesturing to the portrait with a tilt of her head. ‘He moved away a few years before I did, didn’t he?’

‘My brother, Turlough,’ Nyssa replied, with a nod. ‘Yes; he currently lives in York.’

‘Is he still as annoying as ever?’

‘Tegan!’ Nyssa exclaimed, but with a laugh that removed any sort of reproach. ‘Well, I never found him especially annoying.’

‘You’re lucky, then; most siblings continue it their first duty to be a source of irritation for each other.’

Nyssa gave a giggle, cheeks dimpling. Tegan smiled in return, enjoying the merriment on the other young woman’s features. Rather nice features, as she well knew. Yes, she definitely felt happier with the world when Nyssa Traken was laughing at a remark she had offered.

‘Works in the clergy, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ Nyssa said. ‘Father wrote him a letter of recommendation. I believe he is hoping to be given his first parish soon.’

‘I still can’t believe you two are siblings,’ Tegan said. ‘He’s got your fathers eyes but you barely look alike.’

‘Well, father has always told us that I take after our late mother.’

Nyssa gestured to another portrait that was hanging on the wall. Again in charcoal, but this time of a woman in her thirties. Like Nyssa, she had a rounded face, curly hair and kind eyes. The portrait was dated from roughly ten years before.

Tegan ignored the spasm of guilt that beset her stomach. She knew that Nyssa’s mother had died some years back, and that Nyssa would feel no ache that the subject had been brought up. But she couldn’t help it.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have-’

‘Oh, please don’t apologise,’ Nyssa said, with a smile. ‘Her memory is a blessing.’

‘I think she’d be so proud of the woman you’ve become.’

The words were out of Tegan’s mouth before she could stop herself, and froze as Nyssa’s eyes widened. A slight blush appeared on Nyssa’s delicate features, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth.

‘I…’ she started, before pausing again. ‘Thank you, Tegan. I… I like to believe she would too.’

There was a very dense pause as the two young women stared at each other.

‘Y-you’re welcome,’ Tegan said, words tumbling over her tongue. ‘Most welcome.’

Nyssa smiled, before turning her attention to the large hamper.

‘Your mother had outdone herself once again.’

‘And she knows it,’ Tegan chortled. ‘But I will pass on the compliment. I hope Vicki enjoys them.’

‘I’m sure she will. I think she’s settling in nicely.’

‘Let’s hope so. Lethbridge-Stewart seems to be making rather a lot of hubbub in the village,’ Tegan said. ‘It can’t be easy for Vicki, hearing so much talk of highwaymen.’

‘Yes, I have heard that he’s ruffled a few feathers.’

‘I’d have thought that you’d be supporting him, Nyssa,’ Tegan said, with a smirk as she nudged the younger woman playfully with her elbow. ‘You weren’t exactly fond of the phantom a while ago.’

‘Well…’ Nyssa said, with a smile that brought out her dimples again. ‘The phantom has saved your life a few times since then, so I suppose I’m a little more forgiving now.’

‘Rather fond of me, then?’

Nyssa’s cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.

‘You could say that, yes.’

Tegan ignored the happy jump of her heart.

‘Hello, Miss Tegan.’

The two women jumped apart, as Vicki entered the room. The young girl didn’t seem to notice this response, and instead craned her neck to look into the basket.

‘Oh, are these from your mother, Miss Tegan?’

‘Yes,’ Tegan replied, feeling a little out-of-sorts. ‘How are you settling in, Vicki?’

‘Very well, thank you, Miss Tegan,’ Vicki said, with a short curtsey. ‘And my thanks to your mother for the wonderful cakes.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Nyssa said, picking up the basket. ‘I best put these in the pantry before they go dry.’

She then quickly left the room. Tegan found herself staring after the parsons daughter, her mind full of Nyssa saying that she was fond of Tegan.

‘How is Dan the donkey?’

Startled, Tegan turned to stare at Vicki.

‘I- sorry?’

‘Dan the donkey. You introduced Miss Nyssa to him on the night of the dancing, yes? He seems a very sweet creature.’

‘Nyssa told you about that?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course. Well, Miss Nyssa mentions you a lot, you see.’

‘Er… does she?’

‘Yes,’ Vicki said, with an emphatic nod. ‘She often mentions your kindness, your compassion, your generosity, and the like.’

‘I… I see. Well, that’s very kind of her. She is a wonderful woman herself.’

‘The two of you are very close, it seems.’

Tegan froze slightly. But Vicki’s tone was one of cheerful frankness; she did not seem to mean anything subtextual with her words.

‘Yes,’ Tegan said. ‘We’re very close friends. I did miss her so when I was living in London.’

‘By the sounds of it, she missed you a lot too. I heard her the other day talking about how beautiful you were-’

‘Yes, thank you, Vicki,’ Nyssa said, bustling back into the room. Her cheeks were flushed again.

‘Thank you, Nyssa,’ Tegan said, looking at her with a soft smile. ‘I think you’re very beautiful too, but you already knew that.’

‘I… yes, I did know that you see me as such,’ Nyssa said, giving a very shy smile in return. ‘Thank you, Tegan.’

Vicki’s eyes flicked between the two older women, and her mouth hung open slightly.

‘Oh,’ the young girl said, softly. ‘I… I see.’

‘See what, Vicki?’ Nyssa said, raising an eyebrow as she turned to look at her.

‘Er… just that yourself and Miss Tegan are very close.’

Nyssa’s eyes met Tegan’s, and a small blush appeared on her cheeks.

‘I like to think so, yes,’ she said, with a smile.

‘I best… get on with my chores, in that case.’ Vicki said, quickly.

‘Chores? Vicki, I’ve already said that you don’t need to worry about that. I’ve already taken care of the-’

‘Nice to see you again, Miss Tegan,’ Vicki said, with a smile, before hurrying away.

Nyssa stared after the young girl in bewilderment.

‘Why do you think she did that?’

‘Er…’ Tegan mumbled. She had a distinct impression as to exactly why Vicki had just hurried away, leaving the two of them alone. And it terrified her; was she that obvious?

Yes, she probably was, given that Benton knew as well.

‘P-probably just nerves,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘She is still settling in, isn’t she.’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Nyssa said. ‘Well, she is approaching womanhood; I remember being that age.’

Tegan also remembered Nyssa at that age. It had been roughly the same time she knew that she herself would never fall for a man. Funnily enough, the two realisations had happened at the same time. Not that Nyssa needed to know that.

There was a knock at the door, and Tegan could hear the sounds of Vicki hurrying along the corridor to answer it. With a chuckle, Nyssa turned and headed out of the kitchen. Tegan took a deep breath and followed her.

*

Lethbridge-Stewart stepped through the doorway. He was followed by Benton, who grinned cheerfully at the three women.

‘Good morning, sir.’

‘Thank you, Miss Traken,’ said the older military man, with a curt nod. ‘I’ve come to speak with your father; top secret, I’m afraid.’

‘It’s about the highwayman activity, isn’t it?’ Tegan said, folding her arms and giving a chuckle.

Benton stifled a chortle as Lethbridge-Stewart frowned.

‘Miss Jovanka, I really think you ought to wait with Miss Traken while myself and Benton discuss the matter with the pastor.’

‘And do my needlework?’ Tegan said, raising an eyebrow. ‘You don’t know much about women, do you?’

‘She does have a point, sir,’ Benton added, cheerfully. ‘Tegan and Miss Nyssa are residents of the area, after all.’

‘It’s not open to discussion, Benton,’ Lethbridge-Stewart replied. ‘I can’t very well be revealing my plans to anyone who wants to- ah, Pastor Traken, just the man I wanted to see.’

Nyssa’s father had appeared, looking curious.

‘Good morning, sir,’ he said. ‘How may I be of help?’

‘I wish to discuss certain confidential matters with you, concerning my plans in the area-’

‘It’s about the highwayman activity, father,’ Nyssa interrupted.

Lethbridge-Stewart’s moustache quivered with irritation as both Tegan and Benton smothered their giggles. Nyssa, keeping her face calm, met Lethbridge-Stewart’s eye.

‘Oh, very well,’ said Pastor Traken. ‘Please, come through to my study.’

Benton sent an apologetic look over his shoulder at Tegan and Nyssa as he followed the other two men along the corridor.

‘I want to find out what’s happening,’ Tegan said, quietly. ‘Nyssa, is there a way of being able to eavesdrop?’

‘Eavesdrop over my father’s study, while he is discussing things with guests?’ Nyssa smiled knowingly. ‘Well, that would be a violation of their privacy, wouldn’t it?’

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have-’

‘We best climb up into the attic; there’s a small gap between the study roof and the rafters.’

Tegan grinned.

‘You’re brilliant, you are.’

Nyssa giggled.

*

It was only when climbing under the rafters that Tegan realised the inherent danger of the situation.

In a dark, constricted area with Nyssa, where the only sounds were their own belaboured breathing.

The tiny gap inbetween the thatched roof and the room below was barely big enough for the two women to fit. Both of them had needed to kneel down on the spot, their faces now barely a few inches apart, their legs bent out at awkward angles on the ground. Tegan’s heart stammered as the warmth of Nyssa’s thigh pressed against her own.

Tegan’s shoulder was pressed against Nyssa’s, and she could have sworn that the younger woman seemed to melt into her slightly at their increased proximity. It was too dark to properly see, but a delicate blush seemed to have enveloped Nyssa’s features again. Her eyes fluttered slightly, long lashes batting. Tegan swallowed, thickly.

‘Nyssa?’

‘Fine,’ Nyssa whispered back, both of them careful not to speak loudly for fear of being discovered. The sudden deepness of her voice caused… certain thoughts to flash momentarily through Tegan’s mind. Thoughts that normally appeared during half-consciousness in the depths of night.

Tegan blinked quickly, ignoring the tremble of her inner thighs as a flash of heat surged through.

‘Well, Pastor,’ Lethbridge-Stewart was saying, in the study below. ‘I’m sure that my movements in the village are something of a mystery to you.’

‘No,’ replied the Pastor. ‘You’re investigating whether the phantom could be a villager, yes?’

There was a pause, and Tegan could have sworn that she heard Benton suppress a giggle.

‘Might I enquire,’ continued Lethbridge-Stewart. ‘How you came to know this?’

‘I’m afraid you have underestimated the power of gossip in a small, isolated village,’ chuckled Pastor Traken. ‘You are perhaps forgetting that my daughter is close friends with the daughter of the local innkeeper?’

Lethbridge-Stewart let out a harumph of irritation.

‘Nevermind, sir,’ said Benton, cheerfully. ‘You’re new to the area; Crofters Lodge is very different to London, after all.’

‘Yes, thank you, Benton,’ replied the military man. ‘Honestly, I didn’t think I’d need to worry about my movements being tracked by a bunch of-’

‘Very intelligent and capable young women,’ Benton finished. ‘We’re all very proud of them, aren’t we, Pastor?’

‘Oh, very much so,’ Nyssa’s father added. ‘My Nyssa is a wonderful young woman, as is Tegan.’

‘Yes, well…’ Lethbridge-Stewart mumbled. ‘Be that as it may, if we can return to the topic at hand…’

Nyssa giggled into Tegan’s ear.

‘This… phantom,’ Lethbridge-Stewart was saying. ‘When did he begin to appear?’

‘A while ago,’ Pastor Traken answered, slowly. ‘At first, we mainly heard rumours of a masked man protecting the local villagers from highwayman on the common. That would have been about… oh, a year and a half ago? But who knows how long the Phantom has been “operating” on the common, so to speak.’

‘Hmm,’ -Lethbridge-Stewart seemed to be writing this all down- ‘And the phantom only targets those of a certain social class?’

‘From what we can gather, yes. They are… something of a Robin Hood figure, I believe. Only the very wealthy are robbed by the phantom.’

‘Strange.’

‘Not that strange, sir,’ Benton added. ‘The Phantom does seem to have something of a code of honour. They avoid killing and seem to be… something of a gentleman with how they interact with the villagers.’

‘A gentleman highwayman?’ -Lethbridge-Stewart let out a derisive snort. ‘Benton, when you’ve seen as much of life as I have, you’ll come to see that a criminal is a criminal, no matter what… pretensions they may have. This phantom will be prosecuted to the full extent of the life, for armed robbery and theft.’

‘The phantom did save the life of my ward,’ Pastor Traken said, with something of a hurt tone of voice. ‘Surely that can be taken into account.’

‘Perhaps,’ Lethbridge-Stewart replied. ‘I will grant you, that is unusual for a highwayman; to do so with no thought of reward.’

There was the sound of the men getting to their feet.

‘If I may say so,’ said Lethbridge Stewart, ‘Miss Jovanka seems to be something of a bad influence on your daughter.’

‘I say so too,’ Nyssa whispered, into Tegan’s ear. ‘You do get me into mischief, do you not, Tegan?’

A shiver went up Tegan’s spine, and she bit her lip to stop herself from giggling, both from merriment and from nerves.

‘I think you’re being rather harsh, my good man,’ Pastor Traken replied, genially, from the room below. ‘Miss Jovanka has been a good friend to Nyssa for many years. Do you know that she invited Nyssa to the last dance at the inn? My Nyssa is something of a shy girl, so I was glad to see that she has such a good, warm friend to call her own.’

Tegan ignored the well of her heart at the pastors praise.

‘Very true, pastor,’ Benton added. ‘Tegan has always held Nyssa in great regard, and I am positive that regard is returned in kind.’

Tegan gritted her teeth. That settled it, she was going to murder Benton.

Nyssa’s enormous smile, despite the darkness of the passageway, was pretty evident to see.

Well, on reflection, maybe she should postpone Benton’s imminent demise.

‘Good day to you, sirs.’

‘And to you, Pastor.’

‘Benton, my boy,’ Pastor Traken continued. ‘Mrs Jovanka is not still trying to have you and Tegan engaged, is she?’

Benton gave an amiable laugh.

‘Thankfully not, sir; I wager Tegan would sooner marry Nyssa than marry me.’

‘Well, if the church was able to, I would certainly not object to performing the ceremony for Tegan to wed my Nyssa…’

The door closed as Benton and Pastor Traken left the study.

Tegan felt her pulse rate rise. Why had Benton mentioned her marrying Nyssa? And to Nyssa’s father, no less?

‘Marrying me, eh?’ Nyssa whispered. ‘What a thought, isn’t it, Tegan?’

‘Y-yes…’

Calm down, calm down, Tegan told herself, frantically, this doesn’t mean anything. Nyssa is just being merry, that is all. A merry joke, between two friends! Two friends who… have admitted that they both find the other beautiful and wonderful…

Rabbits!

‘Tegan…’ -Nyssa spoke, close to Tegan’s ear. ‘I… I need to…’

The innkeepers daughter froze, her blood pounding in her ears. Goosebumps erupted up the back of her neck, and her thighs shivered. The small space between them seemed to shrink, and Tegan was suddenly aware of how much of Nyssa was pressing against her in the small confines. Her heart hammering against her chest, Tegan’s mind reeled.

‘N-Nyssa?’

Indecision seemed to flash across Nyssa’s face, and Tegan was struck suddenly with a desire to wrap her arms around the younger woman, holding her close and tenderly. But before she had time to act on this sudden impulse, there was a cough from nearby.

‘Er… is this a bad time?’

Both Tegan and Nyssa startled, heads turning sharply to the source of the intruding voice.

Vicki was staring at them, with an apologetic grimace.

‘Sorry,’ the young girl said, looking between the two older women. ‘I didn’t mean to break up an intimate moment but-’

I-intimate moment? Tegan knew that her cheeks had flushed bright red, but she could do little else but stand, agape. Luckily, Nyssa didn’t seem to have noticed.

‘No need to apologise, Vicki,’ Nyssa said, climbing to her feet. ‘What is it?’

‘I thought I best let you know before Pastor Traken came back upstairs.’

Nyssa nodded, and reached out a hand to help Tegan to her feet, the two women walking -hunch over- towards the door where Vicki stood.

‘I’ll just make sure my father doesn’t notice our presence,’ Nyssa said, gently easing past Vicki and heading out of the passage, with barely a backwards glance at Tegan. The innkeepers daughter could have sworn, however, that a slight tremble shook Nyssa’s hand as she hurried away.

‘Are you well, Miss Tegan?’

Blinking quickly, Tegan turned to answer Vicki’s question.

‘Er, yes; thank you, Vicki.’

‘Think nothing of it, Miss Tegan,’ Vicki said, with a kind smile. ‘Besides, I know how much you and Miss Nyssa care for each other. I thought you might like some time to yourselves.’

‘W-what?’ Tegan stammered, eyes widening. ‘What are you-’

Vicki leaned forward and clasped Tegan’s hands in her, in something of a sisterly fashion.

‘I’m hoping for the best for you both,’ she said, grinning. ‘And wish you both all the happiness in the world.’

Tegan stared at her, agape, as the young girl squeezed her hands once more before dropping them and darting away with a parting grin.

Nyssa’s head reappeared through the door a moment later, looking at Tegan with a quizzical look after she noticed Tegan’s expression.

‘Tegan?’ Nyssa said. ‘Whatever is the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ Tegan replied, with a small smile. ‘Has your father noticed we were gone?’

‘I don’t believe so, no,’ Nyssa said, with a giggle. ‘Let’s hope he never suspects I had a young lady squished in with me inside such a small space; he’ll be rather surprised.’

‘Given that he seemed to have no qualms about me marrying you, I doubt he’d been that surprised.’

Nyssa’s face turned a beautiful shade of pink, and she giggled again, nudging Tegan with her shoulder as they headed back downstairs.

‘T-Tegan,’ Nyssa said, voice catching slightly as she -tentatively- looked under her eyelashes at the innkeepers daughter ,‘would you like to stay for lunch? We’d be most pleased to have you…’

*

Tegan climbed into bed that evening, tired but happy with the days events, her mind cheerfully recounting the emotions of being stuck inside that cramped space with Nyssa.

She ignored the heat prickling between her thighs, and turned over. It was no good thinking about that sort of thing, especially when it came to Nyssa. No matter that Tegan had been pressed up against her in all sorts of way that her mind refused to forget. No matter that Tegan’s unconscious mind would surely keep reliving those memories in her sleep. No matter that Tegan’s heart pounded as she remembered the huskiness of Nyssa’s breath against her skin.

No, instead she would focus on Nyssa without the physicality. There was surely nothing wrong with that. She tried to focus on having lunch with Nyssa, and the happy hours they had spent afterwards, discussing Ben and Polly’s engagement. It had been a wonderful afternoon, filled with many laughs. A few times, Tegan had found herself just gazing happily at Nyssa as the younger woman laughed at a remark Tegan had made, hand pressing softly against Tegan’s palm.

Nyssa, and her wonderful, kind smile.

Nyssa, and the soft dimples in her cheeks as she laughed.

Nyssa, and the delicate softness of her skin against Tegan’s.

Nyssa, and her gorgeous grey-green eyes.

Grey-green eyes… eyes…

Grey-green eyes?

Tegan turned and sat up in bed, her mind suddenly stumbling over itself. No… wait… hang on…

Grey-green eyes. Where had she seen such a pair of grey-green eyes before?

Her mind reeled, playing up the times where her own eyes had met that same shade. It had happened so often since she had arrived back on Sutton Common.  With the first being a pair of those grey-green eyes staring at her from behind a black mask.

The phantom.

The phantom had grey-green eyes. Very special grey-green eyes. The same exact shade of grey-green eyes.

The phantom, whose cheek had been of the same softness as the next person that Tegan had kissed on the cheek, the very next day.

Tegan fell back against her pillow, mouth hanging open as the pieces snapped together in her head. Her heart hammered against her chest, and her eyes widened in shock, in a horror mixed with a strange kind of giddy exhilaration. Her hands raised up to her mouth, covering the squeal that threatened to erupt.

Nyssa.

The phantom was Nyssa.

~~~~~~~~~

Dun-dun-dun! And Tegan finally twigs!

You have no idea how nice it is to finally write Tegan discovering the identity of the phantom; at one point, I did seriously consider having her not realise until later on, but I just couldn't bare it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter; rest assured that things will begin to progress from here! Stay tuned!

[floatingxendlessly]

Day 13, what if we held hands for the first time?? owo

I LIVED!! This business week was a rollercoaster! Went from good, to bad, to alright, to worse, then depression, then good again 👍 I'm not too proud of this one, cuz ✨️proportions✨️ This is another idea I wanna revisit this later, but just to add another day, here's day 13. The schedule's off-track, but it shall be finished (>o<)/

[papermatisse]

As You Are || C.BG

♧ pairing: regency!choi beomgyu x reader

♧ genre: angst, fluff

♧ word count: 6.7k

♧ warnings: depression, historical anecdotes, misogyny

♧ synopsis: a lady is expected to wed early, lest she grow out of a desirable age before meeting her significant other and producing offsprings. so what happens to someone who manages to surpass this narrow age range without having married?

♧ (a/n): hello! this is an old fic of mine I wrote for my friend biaswreckingfics on her birthday! I was revisiting some older works, stumbled upon this forgotten fic, and decided to bring it back. since it was written for my friend in mind, her features are taken into consideration (so tall reader). hope you like it!

check out my friend's works as well! she has a new sangyeon fic in the making!

main masterlist

It is a rather saddening truth, that a woman's worth is determined by her eligibility in finding a suitor worthy enough to bring honor to her family name. Because of these circumstances which our protagonist finds herself in, girls are raised to be the perfect contender in the ruthless competition of matrimony. Childhood seems to end in a single breath, and by the next inhalation, they've traded their dolls for cooking utensils and sewing kits, training for their inevitability. This is how it is, and this is how it shall always be. And yet some just seem to never quite grasp these universal truths.

From the moment she gained sentience, it seemed as though (y/n) was just another breed entirely. The kitchen became more a wasteland than anything else. Her embroidery could be identified by the specks of crimson blood adorning her incomprehensible cross stitch. The laundry would somehow return more filthy than when it had first been collected. It's known that girls are naturally taller than boys at a young age, though (y/n) continued to surpass the boys of her age group in height, her legs extending to the point that she deemed it superfluous for her to continue her waltzing lessons with such clumsy, gangly limbs—at least that's what she insisted, pushing aside the fact that she never really understood the basic maneuvers in dancing even before she had grown so tall.

Indeed, (y/n) seemed to be a lost cause. And after seven failed suitors, her mother finally gave in and accepted the fact that her first born daughter was to be an old maid till the end of her days. And so here lied (y/n), writing away in the privacy of her room, her one safe haven from the pressures of society and the expectations of her family. Seated at her desk, freshly inked quill in her hand as she jotted down her stories, the chill air of autumn seeping through the window she faced, and the only sounds filling her room was the scraping of her writing implement against the smooth parchment. If only this could forever be her world. Away from those inhibitions which plague her life, left alone with just her thoughts in tranquility. Though this peace lasted for no more than a few moments before she heard the telltale light footsteps descending down the stairs, followed by the familiar rapping at her door. And as per usual, (y/n) hadn't but a moment to gather her thoughts before the door was pushed open, and in came (y/n)'s youngest sister.

Their family consisted of three girls. There was the eldest, that being (y/n), of course.

The second eldest was named Eleanor, meaning light-hearted and shining. She was soft spoken with a melodious lilt to her voice which seemed to enrapture anyone in the room. So it wasn't a surprise that she was the first, and so far the only one, of the three to be married.

The youngest was called Aurelia, a name which carried as much grace as she displayed. Golden one was what it meant, and she seemed to naturally fit into this title bestowed upon her. Refined in how she acted and portrayed herself, and she was as delicate and dainty as a lisianthus.

And as elegant as her name dictates, Aurelia came waltzing into the room, her steps as light as air and a bright smile adorning her face.

"Oh, (y/n)," she sighed. "I couldn't be happier than I am at this very instance."

"And why's that?" Aurelia all but collapsed onto her sister's bed, yet another story escaping past her lips.

"I had yet another wondrous rendezvous with Beomgyu."

Of course. Yet another spiel regarding her potential fiance. Why had she even bothered to ask? All Aurelia talks about these past few weeks is Beomgyu. He was the son of a Lord, and a gentleman among men. Though (y/n) wasn't aware of the circumstances in which they first met, Aurelia insists it was love at first sight, and that she had finally met the man she wished to spend the rest of her life with. As absolutely delighted as (y/n) was for her sister, she couldn't help but feel that familiar twinge of envy within her. That she supposedly wasn't suitable enough for the happiness which comes with sharing your life with another soul, a natural phenomena which has been occurring since the dawn of man. The thought that her ancestors, whom all married and given birth to her other relatives, have managed for so long only for her to be the end of their efforts.

"And as we walked through his estate's garden, he told me that I was fairer than any flower could ever possibly hope to be."

(y/n) controlled her expression, wanting so desperately to cringe at the repulsing display of affection, choosing to hum in acknowledgement. Who in their right mind has the gall to say such outlandish words as that?

"Aurelia!" Their mother's voice sounded from the first floor, garnering both of their attentions. "It seems you have a guest." Aurelia all but bounded off the bed and down the stairs as (y/n) slowly followed after. As she neared the steps, she could hear the shrill tone of her sister's excited voice, as well as an unfamiliar male one responding. Once (y/n) rounded the corner where the steps now faced the front door, she could see the source of this additional person. "(y/n), come meet our guest."

A man stood at the entrance of their abode, greeting their mother whilst having his arm entrapped in Aurelia's embrace. As he turned to face her descending the stairs, (y/n) felt her heart stutter in surprise.

Never before has she seen a man as ethereal as he. He seemed to not only easily tower over her disappointingly short sister, but also herself, a rarity in her community as she is usually the one to have to lower her gaze upon meeting a person. His hair was rather long, brushing against the back of his neck as well as curtaining much of his ears and forehead. Beneath the veil of brunette locks, however, lay a set of round eyes, deep yet as saccharine as the shade of chocolate they obtained. His nose was tall and straight, sloping down into a rounded tip which further softened his already rather youthful appearance. His rose-like lips spread into a jovial grin, round eyes crinkling endearingly. (y/n) felt absolutely stupid as he introduced himself, bowing his head ever so slightly in a respectful manner.

"Good evening to you, Lady (l/n) . I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

"As am I," (y/n) warily spoke, attempting to keep her facade. Hoping to not reveal how genuinely awestruck she was to see such a handsome man. "To you, of course. Not my own acquaintance."

At this, Beomgyu burst into a fit of enthused laughter, intermingling with Aurelia's giggles from below them both.

"Isn't my sister such a delight!" Aurelia squeezed his arm to gain his attention, causing the two to drop their heads to acknowledge her. "Let's all have tea together! I know you only came to drop off my gloves, but I'd love for two of my favorite people to be familiar with one another."

And so there they sat in the parlor, an otherwise peaceful encounter if it weren't for (y/n)'s inner panic. She had never been good at etiquette, and never had to really use her limited knowledge, as she remained in her room rather than becoming a socialite much like her sisters. And so she kept a careful eye on Aurelia, attempting to follow her lead as best she can, concentrating so intensely that she had completely abandoned the conversation at hand.

"Would you agree, (y/n)?"

"Pardon?" She raised her head to where the two across from her sat staring back at her. "I apologize, my mind was elsewhere."

"Oh, that's entirely understandable, and also kind of takes us back to the topic at hand." Aurelia smiled once more, cradling her teacup and saucer close to her. "In which I was explaining how difficult it is to combat what your body naturally desires. For instance, the way your body just seems to follow along when a familiar tune plays," she slowly raised the teacup to her lips, "or perhaps correcting muscle memory." As she sipped her tea silently, her eyes traveled up to (y/n), though failing to meet her eyes. Instead, her gaze landed upon (y/n)'s hand, holding her teacup as well, though without a saucer, as well as extending her pinkie. She quickly tucked the finger back against her palm, just like her sister, which placed the joy back unto her face. "Isn't this delightful!"

"Indeed," (y/n) sighed out, tossing her head back and finishing off the tea in her cup. When she placed her dishes unto the table between them, she looked over once more to the two. They both had smiles across their face, though Aurelia's was in an attempt to hide her shock at (y/n)'s crude etiquette while Beomgyu's was pure, unadulterated enthusiasm, having to duck his head down at one point to conceal his amusement.

"If you'll excuse me," Aurelia stood up, hands neatly folded in front of her. "I need to powder my nose." Once she exited the room, Beomgyu burst into laughter once more, a sound unlike anything (y/n) has ever heard. It was full of vigor, uncaring of his environment, and just absolutely buoyant. It was so different to what she had heard from the front door before. This felt genuine, perhaps the first dose of honesty she's experienced from another person.

"Pardon me," Beomgyu wiped at his eyes, as if having shed a tear from his moment. "I've never seen Aurelia so close to snapping, that was absolutely hysterical."

"You're not offended?" (y/n) asked, softly chuckling in disbelief at the display before. Beomgyu lost the rigidity in his spine, now strewn back on the sofa cushions like a ragdoll.

"By what? Your lack of etiquette? I thought it was quite hilarious, in all honesty." (y/n) leaned back on the sofa as well, following the casual demeanor he was now exuding.

"Well, most people do indeed think my etiquette is laughable, though not in the good way."

"So be it. Etiquette is vexing in itself. I've never been a fan of learning it."

"Neither have I." He glanced over upon hearing her response, the edges of his lips twitching up ever so slightly. Though they remained silent afterwards, there seemed to be an air of comfort shrouding them, a feeling which (y/n) thought only possible in her own fiction. To be so aware of another person, entrusting of them, that the barriers which had been forticated for as long as she could remember began to slowly crumble, brick by brick. To voluntarily lay out what she's kept to herself for years, and to look at another person and not find ulterior motives beneath their mask of regality, concealing any and all signs of their humanity as they paraded about in luxury and grandeur. It felt so... relieving to (y/n) to have found another human amidst a world of mannequins.

Though once Aurelia returned, the masks were once more put up, backs straightening as she made her way back to her suitor.

That's right. Her suitor. The thought pained (y/n) in a way, though she brushed it off, savoring the last few moments with her new associate before he had to return to his own estate.

"Thank you for the tea," Beomgyu stated, bowing once more as Aurelia returned his gesture with a quaint curtsy.

"Thank you for the company." He then turned to (y/n), that same gentle smile from before gracing his features as he bowed his head to her.

"It was an honor to meet you."

"And you, as well." With one last nod of his head, Beomgyu departed.

"Isn't he just the sweetest soul you've ever met?" Aurelia squealed as she closed the door. And though she had already walked away from the foyer, (y/n) stood for a moment more, face heating up as she couldn't help but agree with her sister's query.

Days had passed, and the autumn chill had devolved into the winter cold. (y/n) spent most of her days bundled in blankets beside the fireplace, going through book after book in her collection. She could barely even turn the pages from her numbed fingers, let alone attempt to continue her writing. And beside her was her sister, similarly wrapped in a plethora of coats and layers, though the one difference between the two was the rather apparent distaste of the temperature on (y/n)'s part. Aurelia reveled in the cold, absolutely abhorring the sweltering heat of summer, and though she very easily became freezing with just the briefest of breezes, she still loved the frigid sensation which overwhelmed her body.

Which is why (y/n) now found herself away from her beloved fireplace, left shivering out in the unforgiving frozen hellscape because her sister wanted to celebrate the first snow. To make matters worst, Beomgyu stood beside (y/n), watching Aurelia frolic in the snowy landscape to her heart's content.

(y/n) was still shaken from her encounter with the man prior. She had assumed the event would have been long forgotten after a good night's sleep, though that did not come easy, as the boy had found a comfortable spot at the forefront of her mind.

She felt disgusted with herself. How easy it was to conjure the sounds of his laughter, like a lullaby placing her in a state of tranquility. How the coy grin he wears so often manages to set her heart aflutter. How she was so capable of etching his face into her memory. The guilt she felt every time she closed her eyes and envisioned him looking upon her with those doting eyes of his.

This was her sister's suitor. She needed to ground herself. Settle back into reality. Move past this sudden infatuation she has with him.

"I've always despised the cold." Beomgyu broke her out of her thoughts. She turned her head to see him looking down at her, that smirk on his face once more.

"So have I."

"Oh, so it doesn't run in the (l/n) blood?" (y/n) chuckled at this, shaking her head and turning back to Aurelia, already beginning to make a snowman.

"Absolutely not. My sister and I have both loathed winters."

"There is indeed beauty to a winter, though I agree. That beauty is rather surface level, and the further in you dig, the more suffering you'll uncover."

(y/n) huffed out a breath, watching it condense into a wispy cloud before fading away.

"Indeed."

A comfortable silence fell upon them once more as they watched the snowman slowly come to life. Naturally, (y/n) seemed to lean closer to Beomgyu, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves and seeming to lure her to him. Though she must've been rather obvious in her pursuit for warmth, because Beomgyu cleared his throat, startling her away from him.

"Here." He reached up and began unraveling the scarf around his neck, causing (y/n) to shoot her hands up and grab his wrists.

"No, please, keep it on."

"I insist. I would hate to hear that you became sick after this." He continued in removing his scarf, but (y/n) persisted.

"Well, I would equally hate to hear you have gotten sick." Beomgyu paused, widening his grin as he faced the snow beneath him. After a moment, seconds after (y/n) believed she had won the battle, he turned to her.

"Then it's only fair I at least share my scarf with you."

(y/n) stared at him incredulously as he offered the loose end of his scarf, though after she remained frozen in her place, Beomgyu reached over her, gently wrapping the other end around her neck. He had grown significantly closer to her, his nose almost skimming the skin of her forehead. The warmth of his breath fanned against her face, and she hoped that he'd assume the blush creeping up on her cheeks was nothing more than a result of the bitter winds.

He stepped back once he completed his work, though not far at all, laughing as the material tugged them back together, shoulder to shoulder. His scent was imbibed in the knitting, a warm sensation of cedar and coffee, seemingly swarming her in a sense of solace. Another glance to Aurelia, and it seemed her snowman was very nearly done, having donated her own scarf to him. She began making her way back to them, and (y/n) panicked, attempting to convince herself to remove herself from Beomgyu, though staying perfectly still as she approached.

"(y/n)! May I borrow your mittens?" She asked, supposedly unbothered by the display before her. As if by muscle memory, (y/n) shed her mittens, handing them over to her sister, who gratefully accepted them and made her way back to her creation. Though the mittens themselves weren't doing much to protect (y/n) from the cold, she still missed the near damp material that she believed was keeping her warm. Before she could even slip her hands into the pockets of her dress, a warm hand suddenly enveloped her own, tugging her closer to snatch the other one as well.

"What are you doing?" (y/n) questioned, the rosy tint of her cheeks increasing tenfold as he rubbed his palms against her clasped hands.

"Preventing you from getting sick." He explained. Before she could refute him, he raised their conjoined hands, breathing out unto her skin. The heat traveled up from the pads of her fingers directly to her chest where her poor heart seemed to thud away in nervousness. As if to make matters worst, he leaned in ever so slightly, eyes still trained on his task between them. "I like the way your hands fit into mine."

(y/n) yanked her hands away in a panic, staring back at Beomgyu who proceeded to only laugh fondly at her actions. Just as she untangled herself from his scarf, Aurelia returned, smiling brightly at the two of them.

"I've completed him! Let's have tea now." She linked her arm with Beomgyu, who shot (y/n) another glance before turning back and continuing his walk with Aurelia.

For weeks, it continued on with interactions such as this. Beomgyu approaching (y/n) only to have her scramble away in fear. Whenever Aurelia was busy, whether that be out shopping or spending time with the other ladies of high society, (y/n) found herself in the company of Beomgyu.

What had first begun as coincidences, him visiting only to be met with the absence of Aurelia, soon became frequent occurrences, to the point that it'd almost seem like he was only visiting on days he knew she'd be gone. He also had begun just automatically asking for (y/n), not even attempting to see if Aurelia were present.

What once was simple home visits became full fledged outings as Beomgyu insisted on taking her out once the snow had dissolved away. Though the air was still crisp and the threat of snow still lingered, it already seemed like winter's grasp on the land was begrudgingly weakening by the day.

So now here she sat in a rowboat, gripping a parasol as Beomgyu gently rowed them down the river. Though she had at first refused, Beomgyu continued to regale her with the forecast, telling her she'll never see a day as beautiful as this one. That he wanted ever so badly to share this splendor with her. At this point, (y/n) knew she was developing feelings for the boy, and she sensed he knew this and was using it against her. Yet her grumbling has all but ceased as she basked in the glory of the day.

It seemed as if spring had decided to make a brief appearance in January. The sun was out, its rays seemingly encompassing the earth in a golden haze. Sage greenery greeted her with every turn of her head, aside from the clear water below her that murmured with every jostle of the boat. And even as nature displayed its grandeur in such a way, her eyes still lingered upon the one who dragged her out of her house.

It was quiet between the two, with only the trickling sounds of water surrounding them, and yet (y/n) has never felt so at ease. Her heart ached at the thought of Beomgyu. How close, and yet so impossibly far from her he was. Because no matter how much she yearned for his touch, his affections, his everything, he was still and always will be her sister's.

These thoughts still lingered in her head, even as Beomgyu brought the boat back to shore and helped her out with the offer of his hand, she felt the immense guilt clutching at her, refusing to release her as long as she still saw him in such a way.

She glanced down, seeing how he was still holding her hand as he led her away from the shore. He often did reach out for her at times, and though she'd occasionally allow him to, she'd also pull away if it lasted too long. Though at this very moment, she couldn't find it in herself to slip away from his touch. As if noticing this, he stopped walking, turning around to face her.

His eyes were so soft, that same gentle brown she was becoming more and more obsessed with. Warm and smooth like melted chocolate, as if she could dive in and never resurface, though she wouldn't ever complain. The corners of his lips pulled up in a smile, and the grip he had on her tightened ever so slightly, as if hoping to keep her from slipping away again.

"What are you thinking?" (y/n) asked, snickering at Beomgyu's sudden expression. He paused for a moment more before exhaling through his nose in a subtle laugh.

"It's just much easier to look upon you," he whispered, though they remained the only ones in the general vicinity. "Yes, you do indeed give my neck some relief from craning downwards always," the two of them shared a giggle before he proceeded, "but I also find you... incredibly charming."

"Charming, you say?" (y/n) questioned, continuing to walk forward and cease the conversation, though Beomgyu still held her hand, not allowing her to abandon his touch.

"Charming. Fascinating. Endearing." He pressed on, tugging her in a way which caused her to spin back and face him. "Unique. Ambitious. Genuine." He stepped closer to her, so close she could once more feel his breath against her skin. "Lovely. Beautiful." His forehead leant on to hers, noses brushing together. "Flawed in the most perfect of ways." His voice gradually dropped until it was no more than a murmur under his breath, though his words revolved around her, muddling her mind with inner conflictions that all seemed to corrode away with just the mere thought of him and the way his hand was now resting on the side of her neck, thumb brushing against her cheek as he leaned in more and more.

She lowered her head, feeling the warmth of his lips brush against her forehead as she narrowly evaded his kiss.

"We can't." Beomgyu remained quiet for a second more before quirking his head to the side, attempting to meet (y/n)'s gaze now trained on the grass between them.

"We are both capable adults." She squeezed her eyes shut at how casual he was taking the situation, cursing him as she was forced to suffer the past few weeks because of him.

"I can't."

"Why not?" At this, she tossed her head back up to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion as he continued to smile.

"Are you mad? My sister adores you."

"Yes, she does." He confirmed with a nod.

"I will not hurt my sister's feelings in such a way." Beomgyu's expression faltered, his smile vanishing as his eyebrows lowered in confusion.

"And what of my feelings? Am I to be condemned to her side 'til death knocks upon my door? Are my feelings not any of your concern?" He squeezed the hand still in his, pressing his forehead once more onto hers. "I adore you, (y/n). You're correct, I am mad. Mad to have once believed for a second that I could marry Aurelia after having met you. Mad to have thought I could lock my true feelings away. Mad to have fallen so deeply, endlessly in love with the one person out of my grasp." Moisture welled up in her eyes, her lips quivering as tears freely cascaded down Beomgyu's face. "(y/n), I am so madly in love with you." With shaky hands, he lifted her own to his face, pressing his lips unto the vein of her wrist before laying his head in her palm, his eyes remaining shut as his tears had begun soaking into her gloves, the moisture which seeped through sending jolts of anguish through her. Her body wracked with silent sobs, never before having endured such a painful experience. She wanted so badly to accept him, to kiss his tears away, embosom him to her and reassure him that she wouldn't ever leave his side. And yet, she found herself retracting from his touch, despair shuttering out of him in a broken, defeated sob which cracked her heart like glass against the floorboards.

"I can't."

She hadn't known what was left in her, what had compelled her to continue forth with this narrative she was keeping to. She hadn't known what motivated her to turn and walk away, abandoning the boy who willingly gave her his entire being, leaving him as but a shell of his former self.

At some point, she knelt down on the ground, knowing she was out of his sight, though still close enough to hear his cries which filled the atmosphere. Her body quaked with emotion, stomach churning like snakes twisting and coiling, Her jaw had dropped, though no noise left her, caught by the lump which formed in her throat. Her body wept for the boy she had let go, and though every fiber of her being seemed to claw away at her, demanding she turn back for him, she proceeded to drag herself back home.

The next few days had been torturous. As if tormenting her already darkened mind, the snow had returned, though rather than the fluffy whiteness she had spent with Beomgyu, it was practically black outside. The winds beat against her window, demanding entry as she fought her demons. She couldn't even will herself to lay beside her sister beside the fireplace. Her dear sister.

Aurelia was constantly checking upon (y/n). She didn't know what seemed to plague (y/n), though she persisted in taking care of her. Collecting every blanket in the house and layering them all on top of her. Bringing her food and insisting she eat. Even pulling aside her writing chair to keep her company, away from their precious fireplace just to ensure (y/n) wasn't lonely. As sweet as this all was, (y/n) couldn't help but ask her to leave her be for the time being. The mere sight of her sister reminded her of what she had done those few days ago.

Due to the storm, luckily, Beomgyu hasn't visited, allowing (y/n) some comfort in knowing he's most likely safe and warm in his own home. Her heart ached, the last image of Beomgyu being his most vulnerable, broken self. She knew she'd eventually see him again, but she dreaded that moment. She still loved him. She couldn't face him. Not like this.

More days passed, and the snow seemed to lighten up a bit. However, the mood of the house seemingly shifted whilst she was locked away in her room. The halls were quiet, the parlor empty, it seemed the only life in the house was the few servants moving to and fro.

No Aurelia in sight.

It had only taken a day for one of the maids to answer (y/n)'s questions. Aurelia had received a letter and hasn't come out of her room since. She rarely ate, rarely ever moved from her bed. It seemed the depression which had struck (y/n) had transferred to her younger sister. And so here she stood, at the top of the stairs leading to the attic where Aurelia resided. She knocked, though there was no answer.

"Aurelia?" She called out, knocking once more. Nothing. She bit her lip, clenching her fist in anticipation. "Aurelia, I'm coming in. Okay?" Silence.

She pushed open the door, greeted by the cold air which struck her upon entry.

Having been further from the main area of the house, this room was always the coldest, though Aurelia had insisted she was fine there. Even after Eleanor had moved out, she said she didn't want to tamper with Eleanor's childhood room. Always so considerate of her sisters, yet had been left on her lonesome.

The air was still, a stale scent lingering as if the room had been left empty, though the lump under the bed proved that false.

"Aurelia?" (y/n) whispered out, approaching her sister's limp body. Her shoulders moved steadily, as if in deep slumber, but her eyes remained opened, red rimmed and puffy, the only sense of color to her otherwise pale complexion. Her hair lay lifeless over her, her lips chapped from the frigidity encasing her. (y/n) brushed back her hair, wincing at how cold her skin was. "Aurelia, what's the matter?"

The only indication of her having heard the question in the first place was the shutting of her eyes and a slight shift in her blankets. Nothing more. (y/n) stood up, ready to go retrieve the necessary items to take care of her before she saw a letter lying haphazardly on the center of the floor.

(y/n) went to pick it up when she suddenly froze. The first word to have caught her eye as she got closer.

Beomgyu.

She gulped, crouching slowly to pick up the letter, hands shaking as she grew closer. The edges of the parchment were crumpled, and a few letters blurred with water damage, though the contents of the letter were still apparent.

A breakup letter.

His penmanship was sloppy, word choice even worse, and though the letter was absolutely a travesty, worthy of hatred from any person who received it, (y/n) couldn't help but feel her heart wrench at his words.

I've fallen in love with another. And I cannot find myself marrying anyone else. Nor would that be fair for you to have to manage me, a hopeless case. I sincerely apologize.

"He didn't love me." A voice croaked behind (y/n), gravelly from lack of use. When (y/n) turned, she was greeted by the same image as before, unmoving as she continued to speak. "What had I done wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong." (y/n) insisted, shuffling on her knees back to Aurelia's bedside. "None of this is your fault." (y/n) rubbed her hand along her sister's forearm, both in an attempt to relieve her and warm her. "Emotions are a complicated manner. Some may spend their lives devoting themselves to their loved ones, while others will merely accept said love and be on their merry way." Aurelia remained quiet for a second until speaking.

"What does Beomgyu's love feel like?"

(y/n)'s blood ran cold, perhaps even colder than the state of the room itself. Aurelia rolled over, her empty, sunken expression now facing her. She stared expectantly, awaiting the answer from the only person in the world who could answer it. And though (y/n) felt the compulsion to play it off, pretend she hadn't any idea to what her sister was eluding to, she could see it would've been redundant, as Aurelia knew.

"He unquestionably gives his entire heart when in love," (y/n) began, unsure why Aurelia would want to torture herself more, though still abiding to her request. "Thinks more of the other than himself. The simplest way to appease him is to allow him to show you his devotion, whether that be accepting his every word or just merely giving him a hand to hold." (y/n) allowed the memories of Beomgyu she had been forcing back to play once more in her mind, tears returning to her own eyes at the thoughts of the sweet boy she had met this winter. "He's someone that, although he can be insufferable at times with his shenanigans, you wish to spend your every waking moment with him until your last breaths."

She gazed back at Aurelia who observed her with hollow eyes, absorbing every word spoken. Though she remained still, (y/n) could practically see the gears turning in her head.

"You refused his love on my part, and so I now insist you reciprocate his feelings for my sake," Aurelia grumbled, groaning as she pushed herself up. (y/n) helped her along the way until she was now in an upright seated position.

"What do you mean?" (y/n) asked, breaths became more shallow as she anticipated her sister's intentions.

"Well, who am I to come between true love, wouldn't you agree?" She spoke in a dry chuckle, placing her hand atop (y/n)'s. "Go on. You deserve to pursue your happiness. Thank you for everything." As brief of an encounter as it was, (y/n) felt the emotion seeping from Aurelia, the acceptance hidden beneath her layers of apathy.

So (y/n) found herself trekking through the snow, coat upon coat protecting her from nature's assault upon her. Though the further in she got, and the closer she was to her destination, the lighter the snowfall seemed to get, as if the forces of the universe were cheering her on in her endeavor. She ignored the ache in her feet, the shake in her arms, the numbness upon her face. When the manor had come into view like a beacon in the night, she pressed on, huffing as she attempted to increase her speed through the tracks of snow in her way.

She flinched as she knocked on the door, unsure if she were too loud or too soft, though before she could attempt to knock again, the door swung open, revealing a startled maid upon seeing her—a tall figure encased in snow and fabric, seemingly a creature crawling forth from the shadows. Before the maid could truly process what was before her, a voice from behind startled them both.

"Who's at the door?" (y/n) peered in through the crack of the entrance, spotting Beomgyu approaching the two. She called out to him, voice muffled by the five different scarfs wrapped around her neck. And with only a glimpse at her eyes, Beomgyu widened his own, reaching for her sleeve and tugging her in. "Heavens, what in the world are you doing parading around in this storm, you could've died. You could've gotten lost and I wouldn't have been able to find you. That's rather reckless, you should know better, you're an intelligent wom—"

"I love you," (y/n) interrupted as Beomgyu had peeled off her final scarf. He froze in his spot, blinking away his shock at the sudden confession.

"You what?" He asked, voice low, afraid his volume would startle her off and shatter this dreamlike aura.

"I love you. From the moment I first heard you laugh to right now, and until death knocks upon our doors," she laughed in reference to his own words, shuffling closer to him as he warily raised his arms to drape around her. "I love you, Beomgyu. I love you with as much love contained within me and then some."

"(y/n)," He laughed in disbelief, tears already escaping his eyes, pure wonderment at the situation at hand. "(y/n), I love you."

He leant in, finally pressing his lips to her own. His warmth overwhelmed her, starting from his touch upon her frozen skin to the depths of her heart slowly healing from his absence. He cradled her to him, as close as he could with the fabrics built between them. Even as her ice like fingers pressed against the nape of his neck, he continued to push on, the two pouring into each other the adoration they had been abstaining from revealing, reveling in the light airiness of their now reciprocated feelings. Even as they pulled away, noses nuzzling together, embracing their first few moments as a couple, (y/n) could feel her heart throbbing in joy.

She'd finally found her one true love.

[mooreaux]

Oh no, please can we know more about Cleantha and her story?

so fun fact, dm dropped at the VERY end of the session that Cleantha's soul... didn't go to the afterlife. She's now trapped with the Elder Gods in the Dreaming where her love, Val-anquoon forces them to stay sleeping. The irony of this is not lost on her. He can't go in and get her because that would mean waking them all up and the end of life as we know it. My dm has told me this is not the end of her story thank GOODNESS

BUT if u would like to know more about my witchy gal, I shall tell you under the cut!

Lady Cleantha Mondegreene is the third child of Lord Overwood and Lady Yuliel Mondegreene (technically she is the half elven bastard from Overwood's lapse in judgement with a human at a brothel one night... but Yuliel accepted her as a daughter anyway.) She was born in the city of Caliphas in Ustalav, and had a mixed bag of a childhood. Being half elven in a very well to do pure elven family isn't always the best. But she made up for it with her intense studies at the local university.

She was always interested in the stars, and other planes. She had tutors, teachers, and other scholars who taught her all they knew and still she wished for more... Hence the budding interest in the dark tapestry and all the knowledge it held. She began to learn dark magics and witch craft to further her studies, all the while lapsing further and further from social circles, her family, and the world itself. She drifted so far that she barely noticed when her parents were killed. When her sister was married off to a brute, and when her brother left the city for other pursuits.

What she did notice was that her peers turned on her once her family was gone. She dove too deep into forbidden knowledge, and they called her cursed. When the day came that she looked up from her reading in the university library and found a group of them waiting for her. She quickly realized the knives in their hands were meant for her, and ran. They caught her quickly, and stabbed her in the back. She thought she was done for.

But that was when she met her love. At first he appeared in the shape of a man, but there was a blur about the edges of his person that made it clear he was much more. Cleantha did not know what happened to the students attacking her, but she found herself alone with this stranger. He took her home, bandaged her up, and offered her the knowledge she'd been seeking if she would make a pact with him. To be sealed with a kiss.

It was only later she found out that all the elves had vanished from the city. From the country. From the world. That they were slaves to the mind flayers who were invading from the Underdark. And that the man who had saved her life called himself their leader.

I've rambled long enough! Much much more happens after that. A whole year's worth of a campaign leading up to her death at the hands of one of her own friends. A tragic irony considering the campaign started in that library where yet another peer made to stab her in the back...

Thank you so much for asking! Making content about her will essentially be the way I keep her alive in my mind until the campaign in the future where we revisit her character!

[photogirl894]

Hi ! I hope you're doing well and that you're taking care of yourself 😊

I was wondering if I could drop a request 😊 I ABSOLUTELY LOVE your headcanons of Tech and Hunter as dad's with a pregnant S/0 and I was wondering if you could do one with Crosshair ?

If not that's totally fine 😊 have a nice day and take care of yourself 😊

I'm so happy you love those headcanons! 😊 I revisit those ones a lot, especially the one of Hunter, no surprise 😜

Ooh but with Crosshair...let's dive into that one, shall we?

Crosshair with a pregnant S/O...

You getting pregnant was definitely not something he had planned on and at first, he wasn't happy

After some coaxing from his brothers and having them remind him of how much he really loves you--not to mention reprimanding him for if he chose to leave you--he eventually came around

He was very nervous and unsure of what to do when you first talked things over, but you assured him that you would figure things out together

Even though he felt he hadn't the faintest idea of how to raise a child, he promised to do whatever he could to ensure you'd be happy

He sometimes would forget you were pregnant and would wonder why you were acting so strangely from time to time. Once you reminded him of it and that you were going through a lot of changes, he'd drop his usual snark

If he didn't know what was wrong with you or how to help, he'd just get Tech to figure it out, but would stand off to the side so he could hear what was going and how to help

He thought it was weird when you first asked him to feel the baby's kicks and was reluctant at first, but you took his hand and placed it on your stomach. When he felt the kick, it took him by surprise and it's what finally made it really click for him that there was another being growing inside you...and even though he wouldn't admit he liked it, you could see it in his eyes

You'd tell him you hoped the baby would be strong and brave like his father, which would make him smirk with pride

The day comes when your water breaks and, like the soldier that he is, Crosshair is calm and ready to go, remembering the plan you both put into place for when the time came. Luckily, his brothers are also there to help.

The delivery is a bit harder for you, so it takes longer and he's starting to get nervous, wondering if you and the baby are going to be okay. Hunter and Wrecker have to keep him calm and reassured that everything's all right

Finally, he's able to go in and see you...and your newborn son (unlike a lot of the other Batchers, I see Crosshair being a father to a little boy)

He's nervous to hold the baby, but once he does, he is full of pride at the small child he helped create in his arms

Calls him "his little rascal"

Then, for perhaps the first time in a while, he gives you the most loving kiss and tells you how grateful he is for you and that he looks forward to raising a son with you

He jokes that he's going to train your boy to be a sniper one day...but you remind him to let your son be a child first, which he reluctantly yet gladly agrees to

Great, now I'm getting all giddy about Dad Crosshair 😆 I just love this!!

[sparkiekong]

Kong's 2024 Halloween-a-thon - 31 days of spooky movies

I didn't get a chance to post it before Halloween, but I did watch another 31 days of Halloween movies. Here's the list if you want it.

The ones that were really good...

Maxxine

Trap

Fantasy Island

Honorable Mention - Edge of Sleep - Cause it was episodic and I think it could have played better as a full fledged movie.

Honorable Mention - Freefall - For the possession take. Very creative ideas.

As always, if you have specific triggers check out doesthedogdie for a list of what maybe in the movie you choose to watch.

I Saw the TV Glow – 20 mins boring as shit - Max

Bodies Bodies Bodies - Not good, not bad… forgettable. - Max

They - 20 mins boring – Max

The First Omen – Hulu – Underwhelming

Fantasy Island – Hulu – Decently good unique take on an old tv show

Succubus – interesting wanted more but got less

X-Files – I want to Believe – SUCKED - VUDU - I'm disappointed in you X-Files. That movie is worse than spiderman 3 (the one who shall not be named.)

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice – not terrible, very 1980s vintage

Mr. Crocker -hulu – just bad and lame really, bad parents and bad children being haunted by a kid show host who was I think into some horrible pedo things.

Hold your Breath -hulu Forgettable

Slayers – Hulu – if slaying were dumb, this is the movie for it.

Gaia – Hulu – Boring survivalist / horror /suspense with none of what it said it was supposed to have.

Little Monsters – Hulu – Comedy Horror with not much comedy – Kids and teacher and lazy white guy survive zombies

2019 The Grudge – Hulu – Decent creep factor, kid death

Handling The Dead – Hulu – bored

The Accursed – Revisited this one from 2022 to see if anything had changed in my previous review. I felt like I missed a lot of the point because I wasn’t aware of the culture it was representing. Was better the second time I watched it after reading up about culture.

Amulet – Hulu – Boring

Agnes – Hulu – A promising flop

The Free Fall – Hulu – Fairly decent take on possession.

The Edge of Sleep (Prime) – Mini TV series – Markiplier plays Dave a guy who’s got parasomnia. Really fairly good. I was expecting something a bit different but was pleasantly surprised.

Salem’s Lot remake - max – so so, vamps looked pretty cool

Maxxxine – max - Really good addition to the franchise that is Maxine Minx

Trap – Max - Really good. I expected a flop... but Josh Harnett made this movie great.

Return to Salem’s Lot - Max – Sucked – 1980s.

Poltergeist – Max - the original one, eh… probably pretty scary for the time.

They Live – Vudu - 1988 Roddy Piper sees aliens with glasses that want us to obey. Maybe scary back then, but not so much now.

Pheonix Forgotten – Vudu – Found Footage Style- Not my fav type of spookie.

Dark Skies – Vudu – Decent Aliens

Mouse Trap – Peacock - cheesy as all fuck, but it was hilarious in how bad it was. Steamboat Mickey goes mental and teens win. It's so bad that it almost spun 360 to make it good again... almost.

Blood and Honey 2 - Peacock - The person who thought these up is brilliant at twisting the most beloved Pooh of the 100 Acre woods... but Jesus fucking Christ it's brutal. So brutal it'd make Jason blush. Don't watch it if you love Winnie the pooh. It's triggering and it will taint your vision of them. Bad movie, loved the brutality and the creativity that went into it and tied it to the first in a crazy good way that makes sense, but can't like the premise about children.

AVP universe - Vudu - starting with Predator (Arnold movie) all the way through Aliens in chronological order. It makes so much more sense to watch them in their (in movie historical order). Lots of interesting lore, lots of gore, lots of tiny clothing... So far I liked Predator, Alien and Prometheus. The rest were ok on their own, but made better because of how much they tried to tie them in. Still not finished with these, but finished enough to post.

[grandhotelabyss]

Any thoughts on Byatt, on the occasion of her passing?

I read Possession one summer when I was in college and thought it was extraordinary. (Intimidatingly so, which may be why I never read another of her novels, though Possession is generally said to be her best.) I need to read it again. I can't believe it never came back into fashion with the dark academia trend. Maybe it's too brainy, or maybe it's that the (mostly) heterosexual romance lacks yaoi potential à la Dorian Gray, Maurice, and Brideshead Revisited. For anyone unfamiliar, Possession is about two late-20th-century British academics investigating the lives of two fictional Victorian poets (one loosely based on Robert Browning, the other on Christina Rossetti), and both pairs' possible love affairs with one another. Byatt narrates in a sprightly comic style with no little lyric potential, derived, I now see, from her great models George Eliot and Iris Murdoch, but she also parodies every other kind of relevant style with Joycean or Nabokovian aplomb, giving us jargony feminist essays, image-jeweled Victorian fairy tales, fulsome 19th-century correspondence, jagged Browningesque dramatic monologues, dreamy Pre-Raphaelite ballads, and more. The climatic vindication of writing and reading as almost prophetic activities, this against the reductively ideological approach of the Theory era Byatt was writing within and against, should be carved above the lintel of whatever English departments remain:

There are readings—of the same text—that are dutiful, readings that map and dissect, readings that hear a rustling of unheard sounds, that count grey little pronouns for pleasure or instruction and for a time do not hear golden or apples. There are personal readings, which snatch for personal meanings, I am full of love, or disgust, or fear, I scan for love, or disgust, or fear. There are—believe it—impersonal readings—where the mind's eye sees the lines move onwards and the mind's ear hears them sing and sing.

Now and then there are readings that make the hairs on the neck, the non-existent pelt, stand on end and tremble, when every word burns and shines hard and clear and infinite and exact, like stones of fire, like points of stars in the dark—readings when the knowledge that we shall know the writing differently or better or satisfactorily, runs ahead of any capacity to say what we know, or how. In these readings, a sense that the text has appeared to be wholly new, never before seen, is followed, almost immediately, by the sense that it was always there, that we the readers, knew it was always there, and have always known it was as it was, though we have now for the first time recognised, become fully cognisant of, our knowledge.

I was pleased to see a long story by Byatt, "The Thing in the Forest," in the Norton Introduction to Literature, which I used the one time I taught the class of that name, in the ill-fated spring semester of 2020. If you've never read Byatt, this story or novelette is a good place to start. It does a lot of what Possession does in miniature, synthesizing witty metafiction, aestheticized fantasy, and moving historical reality into a work of the latter-day Romantic imagination.

I also want to recommend Imagining Characters, an under-discussed book of conversations between Byatt and the Brazilian psychoanalyst Ignês Sodré about six novels: Mansfield Park, Villette, Daniel Deronda, The Professor's House, An Unofficial Rose, and Beloved. (I've still never read that Murdoch, I confess.) This book is probably why I think of Mansfield Park, Villette, and Daniel Deronda as forming a loose trilogy of 19th-century "problem novels" (like Shakespeare's "problem plays") that challenge any cheap 20th-century talk about the complacency, sentimentalism, meliorism, or all-around naiveté of "bourgeois realism." Plus Sodré and Byatt are superb readers, and it's a pleasure to "listen" to them in conversation.

The Paris Review unpaywalled their interview with Byatt today. I'd never read it before. She says much of interest; she even criticizes Kazuo Ishiguro in the same terms as I have, for writing international literature by subtracting specificity, though she later praises The Unconsoled for its insight into the psychology of the artist. She seems ambivalent about realism, constantly invoking fairy tales, even saying this about Murdoch—

I think Iris learned a great deal from the French surrealists, and then somehow went and sat in Oxford and became a slightly less interesting novelist than she would have been if she had stayed in contact with the world of Beckett and Queneau—she would never have gone into Sarraute-like writings. I think she developed a theory about the virtues of Jane Austen that wasn’t all that good for her.

—and this about herself:

If you asked me what I wish I’d written, I would say Borges’s “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote.” That is a completely pointless postmodernist structure of total beauty that nevertheless has a profound point.

The interviewer notes her nonconformist heritage, what links her to George Eliot as well as to Lawrence and to Leavis. She acknowledges it, but notes as well another way, even within the deep English Protestant imagination:

There’s a Spenserian aspect of Milton that I love. It’s the exotic. It’s the extraordinary metaphors. It’s the luscious sensuousness of him. It isn’t the stern puritan. I think I made something of Spenser that was the presence of stories about unreal things in a serious, real world.

"The Last Spenserian." There are worse epitaphs. Now I just need to read more of her novels.

[dollarbin]

Nickel Bin #11:

Uncle Tupelo's Sauget Wind

I see my famous brother, who refers to me in true Three Amigos's style as infamous, which surely does mean more than famous, is currently busy on DoomAndGloom revisiting Tweedy and Farrar, so let's set the record straight here in The Dollar Bin by testing your own knowledge with a little true or false action:

Sharpen your pencils, Dollar Binners. True or false:

I was introduced to the band in 1993 by my 20-something counselor at Journalism Camp after she heard me cranking Live Rust.

A few months after camp I stood on a freeway off ramp with a handmade sign waiting for that same counselor to pick me up and take me to the band's only LA show during their final Linda and Richard Thompson impersonation acrimony tour.

She, like everyone else at the camp, was an actual, real journalist when she wasn't volunteering with high schoolers like me. I learned after the fact that, unbeknownst to us campers, she and the rest of the staff got fairly drunk most nights while we campers slept off another hard day of pounding out stories on actual typewriters. You got that right: I spent two weeks of my youth producing copy on a typewriter.

She'd interviewed Farrar and Tweedy after the release of the band's last record. She described Tweedy as bubbly and Farrar as monosyllabic. She complained to them about Anodyne's lack harmonica; they, in turn, looked at her with speechless wonder.

At the show she stood in the back like a grown-up. I rocked the front row, screaming and riding the rowdy LA alt-country crowd surge while Tweedy grinned and Farrar seethed. Afterwards she reported concern for my well being.

I still have my t-shirt from the concert.

Well, what do you think? True or False?

Okay, obviously not all of that is true. Number 6 is a lie: I wore that shirt out in a few short years; eventually my wife demanded that I throw it the hell away and I humbly did so, saying, "yes wife, I shall wife, right away wife."

The rest of it? Gospel truth, people. Journalists, like Uncle Tupelo, are gnarly.

Anyway, let's celebrate the band's epic greatness by listening to a song that sums up perfectly, in just three and a half minutes, everything vital about Uncle Tupelo.

Sauget Wind features Farrar's trademark baritone sorrow. Plus there's plenty of jangle from the guitar, a sighing accordion appears, there's spacious depth in the mix because Tweedy is not a show off and, twice in the song, it sounds like a jumbo jet airliner crashes directly into the studio.

The most Tupeloish fact about this song is that it's an outtake: Jay and Jeff left it altogether off their second record. Not good enough, apparently. But it's good enough for me every day since.

Unlike Farrar, I know exactly what I'm breathing for: the never ending search for more previously unknown-to-me Dollar Bin bands like Uncle Tupelo. They're out there people, just waiting for us to take note.

After all, listen the latest Rosali record... It's Neil and Crazy Horse meets Tupelo meets Joni. I trust teen journalists everywhere are taking note...

[roses-in-antarctica]

Stupid insane Monkey Wrench theory that I may or may not turn into an AU based on this ss that caught my eye

Everything here is copied and pasted from Discord because I was going OFF with this thing bro like damn

Me: Who the fuck (referring to the ss)

I’m staring at the picture frame it’s sitting on

Friend: I'm not 100% sure on the photo tbh? Might be something in the future or maybe it's a cameo I'm not sure of

Me: It apparently gets destroyed im assuming- so yeah I guess we won’t really know :(

My money is that it has to do with Scratch and Scritch, I mean why else would he of kept it? (Aside from the fungi splatter that gets caught on it)

Friend: It could also be the remains of the ship that was infected by the fungi! Maybe it's a photo of the couple there & Scratch & Scritch wanted to keep it to sell

Me: I gotta look into their backstories real quick. If it is what I possibly think it is, I’m going to go ballistic

*Theory starts here*

I didn’t get much on the wiki but i have an insane fucking theory that Scratch and Scritch are possibly just ex human scientists who have placed their consciousness in the bodies of lab created anthro like cats. That’s their old ship that they most likely abandoned, and aside from leaving a ton of things behind and having it possibly ransacked by the Space Pirates— they revisited the ship to possibly loot off whatever they could possibly find that’s left

However their little exploration was cut short due to running into the Agari who must’ve found refuge in the abandoned ship. Thus leading Episode 3 to unfold, and leave Scritch and Scratch with one less memory of their past lives they can no longer return to. The girl in the middle I have no idea who it is

But my first instinct instantly jumped to Kara

Like Kara, Scritch, and Scratch were all just a small team of scientists exploring the unknown and shit just went fucking haywire. Scratch pretends like nothing happened while taking on this punchable salesman persona (that he drops rather quickly sometimes due to his temper)

While Scritch and Kara don’t dare speak in general because of it. Scritch was already most likely mute, but his interactions with his brother are much more distant now. He doesn’t really get a second word, nor does he fight it anymore. He simply complies even if it’s unethical, he is simply doing what he is told, waiting for the day to probably get a chuckle out of Scratch’s stupidity.

This is like the dumbest thing I have come up with because my friend confirmed that Zeurel had already confirmed that Scritch and Scratch are just silly little alien cats but MAN. My brain + anything that hits at anything? I cannot resist dropping my stupid little ideas <3

Anyways Here is an au variant of an oc of mine to fit the Monkey Wrench universe :3

I shall ramble about Zane another time mwahahaha

[moonjxsung]

If it makes you feel better, I shall swear on holy moly melted berry tanghulu, if you were a proper writer writer (books kind, goodreads kind), I would never stop showing you up pookie. You're a fucking great writer.

Sorry for the spam but we don't take any star slam in this household. 🫡

🧁

NOT THE MELTED TANGHULU…. THAT’S A BIG PROMISE 😦

You are tooooo kind wtaf I LOVE YOU 🥹☹️🫶🫶🫶🫶💖💓💓🩷💕 I will be sure to tell you guys if I have any plans to formally publish in the future! There are a very select few people in my life who know that I write (my entire family being the latest I broke the news to) and I have been urged to reach out to a publisher for some of my non-fandom related content for sooo long now but admittedly it also scares the hell out of me 😔

I have a large archive of work that is non-fandom related and I would definitely consider getting it formally published later down the line once I’ve properly revisited it again! I wrote an entire book after my ex boyfriend cheated on me and a few people in my life read it and heavily urged me to publish it but I never got around to reaching out to a publisher bc I was too busy with college. And another book I wrote details my account of living with religious ocd and just goes through this entire account of what it’s like being atheist but struggling to come to terms with divinity after this very specific event I experienced in college. It’s hard to explain but everything I’ve written has been very cathartic to produce and hopefully one day they see the light of day like my fanfic has 🫶

I LOVE YOU thank you for your support always it fr means the world to me. I’m virtually baking you cupcakes rn 💓🩷💕💖💗

[isay]

Bondathon contd: Spectre

I’m going to admit I have been unnecessarily harsh on Spectre in the past, this rewatch may have put that right.

It’s actually up there very close to Skyfall, Daniel Craig is slightly less humourless than before and it rips along at a good lick throughout, if there are any weaknesses it’s probably Lea Seydoux who doesn’t quite seem to be the right choice for Madeleine Swann (which is a nice little Proustian touch in itself) although she’s less irksome that Christoph Walz who does that annoying smirk thing he always seems to bring to a role, which frankly says less sinister and more annoying cunt with a complex, in this case daddy issues and sibling rivalry. (Which probably puts me in contention to be a Bond villain, I already have the facial scars.)

Those things though are less the reason why I’ve never rated this as highly as Skyfall, the reason for that is simple, the theme song is crap. And that’s a shame because there is a lot to like about this film, including a tremendous opening sequence with a great Goodfellasesque single tracking shot through Mexico City during the Day of the Dead festivities, and Ralph Twistleton Fiennes taking over as M. It’s worth another view for those things alone, just can we have a version that has Radiohead’s dirge instead of Sam Smith?

Tomorrow: Die Another Day…

Only kidding I don’t think I could ever bear to watch that again, I shall of course be revisiting No Time To Die, a film I had mixed feelings about when I finally got to see it after the pandemic.

[cosmiccannibalcamille]

YOUR September Horoscope

Somehow we’ve found ourselves in month nine of 2024, celebrating the 9th new moon of the year. That’s right, it is officially September. How we got from January to now, I’ll never know, but what I do know is that this month has its fair share of planetary transits. And there is at least one planetary transit that is guaranteed to shake up your world even more than the realization that summer is nearly o-v-e-r. 

     No, it’s not Uranus retrograde, which kicks off the month. It’s not even the Virgo new moon on Sept. 2 (aka today) or eclipse season, which starts Sept. 17. It’s Pluto retrograde in Capricorn. That’s right, the outer planets—Uranus, Saturn, Neptune, and now Pluto—are all in retrograde motion, meaning the universe is hitting rewind on some unresolved issues. If you thought you had tied up loose ends, think again. This month is all about revisiting the past, making necessary tweaks, and maybe even giving the cosmic middle finger to anything that’s holding you back. 

     These retrogrades have already impacted me! My book release for Jupiter Returns has been pushed back a few days, but it is very nearly finished and I CANNOT be more excited. (Seriously, as we’ve finalizing edits and formatting for the novel, I’ve just fallen more in love with it. It’s hilarious! It’s heartfelt! And it’s soooo much fun!! I’ll be posting another chapter of the novel THIS WEEK). Anyway, that’s the general gist of September. Here’s the actual astrology:

Sept. 1 - Uranus stations retrograde, 27°

Sept. 1 - Pluto Rx re-enters Capricorn, 29°

Sept. 2 - Virgo New Moon, 11°

Sept. 4 - Mars enters Cancer

Sept. 9 - Mercury enters Virgo

Sept. 17 – Eclipse season begins with Lunar Eclipse in Pisces, 25°

Sept. 22 - Sun enters Libra

Sept. 22 - Venus enters Scorpio

Sept. 26 - Mercury enters Libra

     As you can see, I have not gone into great, GREAT detail about each and every planetary transit happening this month; I save such things for the weekly forecast. However, because this month essentially starts on a new week, I’ll go into those details as I explore the major astrology in the works. That said, let’s dive in, shall we?

Sept. 1 - Pluto & Uranus Rx

     On September 1st, Uranus joins the retrograde parade, staying in reverse until January 2025. This pulls focus to the Taurus part of your chart, and all the ways you are still yearning to either shake things up, wake things up, or rebel against the status quo and do things differently. Also happening on Sept. 1, Pluto re-enters Capricorn for one final hurrah before it takes up permanent residence in Aquarius on November 19th.

     Pluto’s last lap in the 29th degree of Capricorn is like a final exam on the lessons of stability, power, and transformation. The 29th degree is a fame degree, a critical degree, and an anaretic degree. You might be reckoning with something BIG. (Your horoscope for Anaretic Pluto Retrograde in Capricorn drops this Friday!)

     Expect some pushback this month, especially when it comes to transformation. The status quo isn’t going down without a fight, so brace yourself for some serious resistance—whether in your personal life or the world at large. But remember, this is the turning point. Are you ready to step into the new world, or are you clinging to the past like a millennial with a flip phone?

Sept. 2 - Virgo New Moon

     Feeling a little sluggish? You’re not alone. The New Moon in Virgo on Sept. 2 is all about getting your life in order, but with Mars in Gemini squaring Neptune Rx in Pisces, it might feel like you’re trying to organize a sock drawer while underwater. The vibe is sober, maybe even a bit blah, so make sure you’re taking care of yourself—physically and mentally. It’s all about balanced living right now, so eat your veggies and keep your energy levels in check. You’ll thank yourself later. Get YOUR Virgo New Moon horoscope here. 

Sept. 7 - 14 - Mid-Month Musings

     September 7th to 9th is when things start to get interesting. Mercury in Leo squares Uranus in Taurus, and the Sun in Virgo opposes Saturn in Pisces. Translation: your curiosity is piqued, and you’ve got the discipline to tackle those big, overwhelming tasks you’ve been avoiding. New solutions might come out of nowhere—be open to them. By the 9th, Mercury slips into Virgo, urging you to methodically sort through whatever insights you’ve just stumbled upon.

     By September 12th, the Sun squares Jupiter, and Venus trines it on Sept. 14. This is your cosmic green light to finally tackle those projects you’ve been neglecting. Want to bring some beauty and harmony into your daily grind? Now’s the time. Just don’t go overboard with the indulgences—Jupiter can be a bit of a glutton.

Get the FULL SCOOP on the astrology of September (including your HOROSCOPE) on The Cosmic Almanac