#I think a third colour like green would help as an accent like how its often garnished with mint leaves etc. or powdered sugar

[phantom-bleu]

God ok i spent an hour on this got frustrated and then realised i DONT give a shit and dont need to finish it but like does anyone get the vision? anyone?

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

James (Paul McCartney x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello! I've decided I have to make a chapter fic for Paulie because I'm in love with him. There are gonna be at LEAST 6 chapters in this fic, so there will be plenty more coming! Stick around, like and comment, and let me know if you want to be tagged when I release more chapters of this!

I want to personally thank my editor @strawb3rri-le for helping me make these ideas come into fruition. Literally cannot do this without you <3

Summary: Paul meets a pretty girl in the library one day, and is elated to find out she is oblivious to who he actually is.

This fic is written in third person from Paul's perspective, which is kind of different to how I normally write my x readers, so it might be a little jarring to read at first, but I just wanted to try something a little different :)

WARNINGS: I'm not certain I wrote any curse words in this one, but I'll say there is just to be on the safer side. Mentions of mushrooms/ fungi; not drug-related, but I figured I'd add that because some people don't like them. I use Y/n like 4 times in here around the end it drives me nuts, but it has to happen. I don't think there's much else.

This one is pretty safe, if I could rate it lower I would, but I'll mark it at T just to be on the safe side.

Paul could have watched the heavy raindrops hit the window pane for hours and hours. the grey clouds drifting in the sky above brought nothing but heavy showers to the streets of London that dark afternoon...

But that's not what he came to the library for.

He came here for some peace and quiet.

He wanted to get some more songwriting done, but the apartment didn't seem to be the place for it that day, and everywhere else just appeared to be crawling with girls. As much as Paul liked girls, he didn't want to be noticed, because then his day would have simply consisted of him trying to escape the hoards that would have started chasing after him.

The library felt like it made the most sense. People were there to read, study, keep to themselves; not to socialize with others and be loud. As long as he found a little private area to sit, he knew he wouldn't be bothered at all. He also figured, if he couldn't come up with any song ideas, he had tens of thousands of books to refer to for inspiration.

And that was the situation Paul was in at that moment. He'd been sitting in his little study nook for a while now, just staring blankly at his notebook, or out the window next to him. Usually the words came flowing from his mind, translated by his hand and onto the paper, yet that particular day, nothing seemed to be inspiring him.

He rose to his feet after a while, notebook shoved under his arm as he wandered off into one of the aisles nearest to him. He wasn't looking for any book in particular. Sometimes he'd just pull one off the shelf, flip to a random page, and read a random sentence in the middle of the text. If it seemed to be interesting enough to inspire even a single line in a song, Paul would use it. If not, off to the next book.

He began to do just that, with older books with worn spines, and newer books with colourful covers. Unfortunately, even after the fourth or fifth book he pulled from the aisle he was in, no inspiration seemed to manifest from what he was reading. He sighed as he pushed the book he was holding back into its place on the shelf before he made his way to the next aisle over.

Paul began repeating what he was doing before, reaching for a book, and flipping through the pages. This particular book, he cut three separate times, and not one sentence seemed to draw any kind of innovation for his songwriting.

Once again, Paul shoved the book back onto the shelf. As he stared ahead at all of the different pieces of literature before him, one book in particular seemed to catch his eye. It was green, with gold accents on the bevelling as well as the raised parts of the spine. Without a second thought, he reached up for it, only for his fingers to come into contact with someone else's.

Paul drew his hand back and glanced to his right, where a young woman about his age stood. He held his breath, fully expecting an overreaction from her at his presence.

Instead, she smiled awkwardly at him, her hand also drawn back close to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were after that one," she explained gently, and Paul blinked, raising a confused eyebrow before looking back to that specific book. After a moment, he pulled it down off the shelf and examined the cover, the golden text embossed into the front cover reading 'Europe's Most Common Mushrooms, and Fungi: A Field Guide'.

"Do you like learning about Mycology as well?" She asked curiously, and Paul's gaze shot up to her face, eyes squinting a little at her question.

He was half confused on what she was honestly asking him, but he was also kind of surprised she wasn't pointing and shouting at the fact that she found a Beatle in public.

"... Mycology?" He asked back sheepishly, and her awkward smile warmed up a little at his question. She pointed at the book cover before responding with another question. "You know, the study of mushrooms, and fungi?"

Paul's eyes dropped back down to the book before cracking it open and flipping to a random page as he was doing with all the others. A beautifully illustrated picture of a mushroom with a porous underside presented itself to the young man, and his eyebrows furrowed at the image.

"That is a Boletus Edulis," she explained quietly to him. "It's a tasty gourmet mushroom found in Europe, as well as in North America."

Paul looked back up to her briefly before returning to the book and flipping to another page, a red capped mushroom with white spots being the next image to catch his eye.

"Ooh, and that one there is an Amanita Muscaria, also known as the Fly Agaric. It received its name back in the day because grinding it up and putting it in window sills and doorways would repel flies from entering your home."

"... You sure know your mushrooms, huh?" Paul asked carefully, rather impressed with the few bits of information provided to him by this stranger.

"It's definitely a good hobby to get into. Nothing beats going out onto the trail and foraging them for dinner." She paused briefly before adding, "I mean... the boletes are fine, but perhaps not the amanitas." 

Paul closed the book up again before taking a final glance at the front cover.

"I'm uh... sort of grabbing books at random, looking for something inspiring. There needn't be a reason to hang onto this if you need it," Paul explained, presenting it to her so she could take it, and her fingers accidentally brushed against his once again as she took it from him.

The graze was so gentle, yet Paul felt his cheeks warm up at the contact. She was awfully pretty, he decided to himself in silence as he watched the look of joy on her face appear when she flipped the book open herself. She stopped on a page containing a drawing of a white mushroom dripping black ink at its edges.

Paul couldn't help but double take the image. To think there was so much about the world he didn't know a thing about... it made him feel so small, and insignificant.

She must have noticed his gaze on the page, and figured she'd teach him about one more specimen. "These ones," she began, with a rather excited exhale, turning the book Paul's way so he could see, "are Shaggy Mane mushrooms. They are edible and good, as long as you haven't consumed alcohol for a few days prior to, and post consumption. Then they'd be quite toxic."

She smiled at the tidbit and looked up to Paul's face, nose crinkling a little. "Isn't that just the neatest thing?"

Paul couldn't believe what he was hearing. He never really thought about mushrooms before. Sure, he'd seen brown and white ones before in the grass, or growing on trees, but there was something about the way she relayed the information with such passion, that just made it so interesting to him. It was unlike anything he ever experienced before.

"... You have a very natural way of describing this sort of stuff," Paul expressed, nodding his head to her positively. "I honestly never realized there were so many different ones."

"Oh, what I've told you doesn't even scratch the surface of the world of Mycology," she explained, the smile only growing on her face, and Paul couldn't help but smile back at her.

"... I should really leave to let you continue on with what you were doing," she said after a moment. "I do appreciate you listening to my ramblings. I know I can sometimes get carried away with this sort of stuff," her smile fell away a little. "Not many really care about fungi, so it's nice to talk about my interests with someone who's willing to listen."

Paul's own smile began to falter, rather upset that such a pleasant conversation, with such a pleasant person, had to end so soon. He hadn't encountered such a normal discussion in so long. Not that a conversation about mushrooms and fungi was normal, but Paul felt it was just so refreshing talking about anything but him and his fame.

"... well, I rather enjoyed what you had to say," he admitted lightly, an undeniable blush flourishing from the woman's cheeks as she appeared to smile again, a little brighter than before.

"Well... thank you, again. You're very kind," she repeated, waving her hand kindly as she turned on her heel and wandered off to the next aisle.

Paul's eyes watched her round the corner, and he stood there in disbelief. There was so much for him to unpack in his thoughts in that very moment.

She had to have been one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen; minding her own business in a library by herself, and doing something she really enjoyed. Her intelligence on the subject showed through her excited rambling, which Paul could have listened to for much, much longer.

Her voice was so pleasant, happiness apparent in her words as she described every species effortlessly, as if she'd known it all since the day she was born. It left him wanting to hear more from her.

But the cherry on top of all of this, was that she didn't even acknowledge Paul as anything but another human being. Not some big musician with whom she obsessed over just because of his looks. For someone who remained so calm, and pleasant in conversation, Paul was certain she had no clue who he actually was.

And he loved that.

As much as fame brought excitement to his existence, Paul couldn't deny that the concept of a simple, normal life with someone who loved him for him, and not his popularity to the public, was something he seemed to yearn for more often as of late.

He loved the idea of being a nobody, especially to someone he wanted to be somebody to.

He looked over his shoulder to the empty space where that green and gold book once sat, deciding to reach for the one sitting next to it. It happened to be another book on mushrooms and fungi, but it had a lot more words in it than images. He flipped to the middle of the book and read the fist word he saw.

Symbiosis.

He felt dumb staring at the word. He knew there was only one person he could ask to inquire about what it meant. He glanced up through the bookshelves, eyes searching through the gaps of the works to find her.

She only happened to be in the next aisle over, scanning the book titles off the spines above her head carefully, too in her own world to notice Paul's obvious staring through the shelving units. She pulled a book down and read the summary on the back, Paul watching her eyelashes flit lower and lower as she absorbed the words like a sponge in water.

He noticed that as she read, her lips gently mouthed each word, and he soon found himself stuck in a trance. He observed how her tongue poked out between her teeth to mouth words with the letter L, and how her lips would press tightly together as she read words containing B, and M.

Who would have thought, Paul wondered, something so small could be so hypnotizing?

She made a small face of approval to the book before stacking it on top of the green one she was given by him, and she headed over to an empty table in the corner of the room. She faced towards the shelves, back to the wall so she could see the whole library from her spot.

Despite this, as soon as she made herself comfortable, she was solely focussed on the books, and her dominant hand wrote out her notes almost romantically, notebook pages filling effortlessly with information that brought her joy.

Paul was absolutely mesmerized by her movements. Screw the rain, he could have watched her for hours. He couldn't get over the little flick of her wrist when she ended a point, or the wonderful silent motion of her lips reading out the words.

She drove him mad in the best kind of way.

She flipped to the next page in her notebook, and Paul came back down to earth, realizing then just how creepy he must have appeared, standing close to the shelf, and peering through to the other side to watch the woman simply minding her own business from afar.

His shoes felt like they were filled with cement, but he worked up enough courage to slowly move towards her table, opting to stand by a nearby shelf and stare blankly at the spines as to not look so awkward.

What would I even say to her? was the only thought at the forefront of Paul's mind, the black mushroom book still in his hand, one of his fingers wedged between the pages to mark where that silly word was. He knew he was going to ask her about it, but he needed to smoothly segue into it, somehow.

This situation was rather a bother to Paul. He felt conflicted as to why he seemed so nervous about approaching her. He was a flirt, and he loved making girls feel giddy, why would this stranger be any different?

He was close enough that he could have called for her attention, but her focus was faithfully undivided, completely oblivious to Paul standing only fifteen feet away from her, trying to muster up the nerve to say something, anything.

After talking to her for only a minute and a half, and having parted ways for not even five more, Paul found himself deprived of her voice, longing to hear anything roll off her tongue, as long as it were to him. He was pining to have her attention so badly, but standing and admiring her from only a couple of steps away was only going to get him so far.

His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his pants haphazardly as he took a deep breath. He took one more second to nod his head positively for motivation, and he stepped out into the open, facing her completely. His heart pounded in his chest, but he pushed himself to take one more step forward. And that happened to be enough for her to notice.

The stranger raised her gaze up to Paul, the look of neutral concentration on her face softening into a pleasant smile.

Just that made Paul weak in the knees.

"Find anything inspiring yet?" She asked him in a friendly tone, eyeing the book in his hand as his thoughts flatlined. He didn't expect her to speak first. On the one hand, he was relieved that it indicated she was okay with talking to him, but on the other, it put him off-script, and now he had to actually use his brain to initiate discussion.

"I uh..." he struggled for a moment, glancing down at the book in his hand, as well.

"If I'm going to be quite honest... you talking about mushrooms so passionately was pretty inspiring. It's all I can think about."

The woman's eyebrows arched in surprise, a gentle dusting of pink spreading over her nose as she took in his words. She toyed her bottom lip between her teeth, and Paul couldn't help but drop his gaze for just a second to admire her mouth.

"You know, I'm really flattered that you said that," she expressed gently. "That means a great deal to me. Thank you."

Paul couldn't even feel his legs now, basking in her praise, as a flower would to the rays of sun on a warm spring day.

"... I couldn't help but grab another book like the one you're reading," he explained, lifting it up to show her, and the apples of her cheeks rounded as she smiled even wider. Paul hadn't ever recalled seeing such a beautiful face before.

"I... I saw a word I don't know. I think you're the only person who can help me." The confession made Paul feel a little self-conscious; he didn't want to seem entirely stupid in front of her, but she really didn't seem the type to make fun of him over something like this, and really damage his ego.

Without a word, she pulled the chair out next to her as a silent indication for Paul to take a seat, and he took the offer graciously. He set his notebook down onto the table, and then opened the book to where his finger marked the page cut. She leaned in a little to peer down at the text, and he pointed to the word, realizing only seconds after just how close she was to him. He could smell the faintness of her body wash, and it made his head swirl.

"... This one." He mumbled, watching her in his peripheral as she read the sentence in her head, and physically mouthing the words as her eyes tracked each letter.

"Ah, symbiosis. It basically means two different organisms are benefitting off each other in some way or another. We would be a good example of this, right now," she offered, tilting her head up to look at Paul, who's ears burned hot at the eye contact, but he kept strong and held it for as long as she wanted to look at him.

"You're keeping me pleasant company, and in return, I'm helping you learn about fungi." He thought her point was going to end there, but she quickly added on, "from a natural standpoint, fungi and trees have a symbiotic relationship. If it weren't for the millions of miles of fungal network underground, connecting all the living organisms together, plants wouldn't be able to communicate to each other, or convert their energy from one to the other to achieve optimal growth."

"So... everything would die without fungi?" Paul asked slowly.

"I believe so," she nodded her head. "They play a role in every step of a plant's life. Take a tree, for example."

She slid the green and gold book over to sit between them, and she flipped through the first few pages until she found a diagram of a tree's life cycle, pointing to the images as she rambled on.

"Fungi help them establish strong roots when they're young. Some fungi actually provide nutrients in the soil for the trees to use as energy to grow tall and strong."

She turned her gaze back to Paul. "Even at the end, if a mother tree is dying, she will begin to use the fungal networks below to disperse her energy to her kin, sacrificing herself so they can grow, instead. They use the networks underground to communicate in their own special way."

The young man appeared to be in a dream-like state, head in his palm as he looked on in favour of her words. But when he noticed she stopped speaking after a while, he blinked, finding she was smiling a little awkwardly again, as if she'd asked him a question.

"Hm?" He asked, propped hand dropping to the table. He felt rather guilty his attention diverted.

"... I'm boring you, aren't I?" There was a hint of sadness in her words, a weak smile at her lips, and Paul shook his head quickly.

"No, no! Believe me, I'm listening." He thought for a beat, face going warm again as he confessed, "I just... I really love the sound of your voice. You have a way with words, and I did get a little distracted by that." The young woman's face fell expressionless, and Paul continued.

"I may be rather daft on the subject, but there's just something in the way you talk about it that makes learning about it so much more enjoyable. Please, don't stop talking."

She opened her mouth to say something, but she shut it as she pondered what to respond to Paul with. Her face was flushed, and she was holding back a grin, which ultimately made Paul a little confident considering he was the one that made her flustered.

"... You probably say that to all of the girls you talk to," she finally replied, eyes casting down to the books to hide her blush, and he couldn't help but bite back a smile of his own.

"Well, none of the other girls I know are quite like you," he stated with poise, eyes still locked in on her, hands clasping together as he noticed her blush deepen, and a smile finally breaking through.

Paul then attempted to downplay such a strong interaction. Despite talking to her the way he wanted to, he didn't want her to be uncomfortable with how forward he felt he was being.

"What does your boyfriend think about your hobbies?" He asked. "He must be so proud, and fascinated by how passionate you are about all of this stuff, surely."

She looked back up to Paul, her smile weakening a little. "Boyfriend? Oh I uh..." she cleared her throat. "I don't... I don't have one of those."

Paul's eyebrows lowered a little. "... As in you just got out of a relationship?" He tried to clarify, to which she shook her head.

"As in I've never really... had one." She had a sheepish look on her face, cheeks now red out of embarrassment rather than flattery. Her response sent Paul's eyebrows shooting up in surprise, to say the least.

"... Never?" He repeated in disbelief. She pressed her lips together in a line tightly, shaking her head once again.

"This," she gestured to the books with her hand, "is my life. It has been my life since my early teenage years. Mushrooms and fungi are... strange, and because I like them, I guess that makes me kind of strange, as well."

Her self-dejecting statement made Paul feel bad. In his mind, someone like her not being taken, though washing the feeling of relief throughout him, didn't add up at all. Not even her fascination in mushrooms made her odd, in his eyes.

"... If it means anything to you, I think you're just absolutely lovely," he said, watching as her lip pressed into a little pout as she regarded his words.

"I'm telling you... every guy out there has no idea what they're missing out on."

Paul desperately wished he could read minds; especially hers. She didn't speak, and Paul assumed that the was simply trying to grasp for some words to say. If he were in her position, he wouldn't have known what to say, either.

"For once in my life, someone has actually made me speechless," she confessed, huffing a sigh as she rubbed one of her cheeks, as if that would have made her blush disappear.

"I want to tell you thank you, but that doesn't feel like nearly enough," she explained. "Honestly, your girlfriend is very lucky to have such a charming boyfriend. You have a way with words, yourself." Her comment made Paul laugh, but only once. Inside his chest, his heart was doing somersaults, but he was trying his hardest to keep his composure.

"What girlfriend?"

The woman gasped at his response. "You lie," she accused, yet Paul knew it was all in good nature by the smile on her face. "Even if you were, with a face like that, there's no way you don't have girls chasing after you all the time."

How the tables have turned, Paul thought; a little excited he found himself in the same spot as her only moments after he made the same mistake. Part of him wanted to respond to her with something witty, like "who says I don't?", but the other part of him didn't want that to arouse any questions that would segue into a conversation regarding his job.

He couldn't risk having her know everything, and fall for the idea of him.

"I guess I just... haven't found the right bird yet." He figured that was another truth he could hold by without entirely lying to this poor woman.

"That's fair. Well, whoever has the pleasure of ending up with you is a very lucky woman, indeed." Paul's cheeks darkened again, the compliment making his fingers feel a little numb. He noticed her eyes drifting to the window above his head before she suddenly closed her books shut.

"The rain's stopped. This has been a rather lovely conversation, but I do apologize. I must be leaving now."

Paul felt his stomach drop, and his mouth fell agape, watching worriedly as she gathered her belongings and rose to her feet.

"What-- you're leaving? Right now?"

He felt the same way he did back in the aisle when she cut the conversation short, full of disappointment that it all had to come to an end again.

"I was on my way to my parents' house before the rain started," she explained with a lopsided smile. "I'm helping my mother prepare for dinner tonight, but the rain was so bad, I figured I'd spend some time in here while I waited for it to die down. And I'm very glad I made that decision."

Paul nodded his head, realizing the last part of what she said alluded to making his acquaintance. He also found he couldn't be upset at such a wonderful gesture of kindness, her going to her parents'. "That is very sweet of you to do that for her," he said gently, standing up as well before she disappeared again.

"Before you go," he started, feeling hot beneath the collar as he tried to gather a little bit more courage to speak, her expecting eyes on him making him rather anxious.

"I would like to keep in contact with you," he paused briefly, "only if you want. I just... I've had a really pleasant time talking with you, and learning about your interests, and I would very much like to do all of this again."

Her cheeks rounded out again as her smile widened a little more-- Paul couldn't get over that damned smile of hers.

"You know... I would like that a lot," she finally answered, glancing down at her notebook before flipping to the last page and ripping it out. She folded it in half, and then tore it at the line, handing Paul one of the halves while she began writing on the other one. Paul watched with a pounding heart as she scratched out her phone number, and he began to do the same.

When they exchanged the papers, Paul examined the number she provided him, and then read the name she printed above it, a smiley face drawn next to it. he tried his best to concealing his excitement within.

"Y/n..." he mumbled thoughtfully, eyes casting back up to look at her. She laughed a little as she flipped the paper in her hand to show Paul, which only contained his phone number.

"That's me, but what am I to call you, exactly?"

This is where Paul found himself in another dilemma. He wanted her to call him Paul, but he also didn't want her putting two and two together if she recognized his name. He didn't want to entirely lie to her, either.

That's when a light bulb went off in his head. He realized the greatest loophole, and solution was staring him right in the face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Paul reached for the paper again, scribbling his name at the top. But he wasn't using 'Paul'; he decided he was going to use his real first name.

"You can call me James," he explained, handing the paper back to her. She surveyed the name at the top of the paper before looking back up to him.

"Finally, a name to a face," she hummed in content. She then offered a hand out to Paul, to which he took so they could shake and say their farewells.

"It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, James."

It was the first time in a very long time Paul had been called that by anyone. He figured he would have hated the sound of it leaving her lips, but instead, it made his heart flutter. His face felt hot again, and it was apparent y/n could see the flush of his skin, because she smirked a little.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/n. Please be safe." He finally let go of her hand, waving good bye as she did so as well, turning on her heel once again, and heading to the counter with her books to sign them out.

She slid Paul's phone number into her notebook as she walked away, and Paul just stood there for another moment as he watched her leave. He was was still feeling so many emotions now that he was alone, unable to help himself reaching back down to the piece of paper she gave him. He ran his fingers over her name and smiled a little to himself.

"Y/n..." her name was like a breath of fresh air to him. When he looked back up to catch one more glimpse of her, she was already gone. It made him feel a little empty, but when he noticed she left the black mushroom book for him, he felt just a little warmer inside.

Paul reached for the book, sliding her number into the pages, and deciding he was going to sign it out and try to learn a little on the subject. If they ever planned to meet in the future, he could try and impress her with some of the information he learned.

He didn't end up getting what he was looking for at the library, but he felt he was leaving with something he needed.

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A/A/N: Okay, I hope yous enjoyed that! Part 2 will happen as long as I have people requesting it. I have ideas, I'm just missing supporters<3

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[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. IV

The Royal Series Masterlist

"Your Highness," One helper tipped his head at you before, discreetly, glancing at Harry who was in awe by the surroundings.

"I'm taking Noir on a walk, can you please get her ready for me, Albert?” You asked with a smile.

"Of course, your Highness. I'll get her ready this instant." "And Albert,” you tilted your head, “Don't tell Granny about this unless she asks." You said, watching as he glanced at yours and Harry's intertwined fingers for a split second.

"Of course, your Highness." By nodding at him, he was off to get the white horse ready.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Harry asked, looking down at you.

You looked up at him and a smile instantly was drawn on your face, "I'm not."

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. "Your grandmother hates me, doesn't she? The Queen hates me?"

You sighed, stepping closer and facing him, letting his hand fall from yours as you place your hands on his chest. "She doesn't know you to hate you. She just had," you paused, mind rushing to the plans your grandmother had for you that were the reason behind the tension in the relationship between the both of you, growing uneasy to tell Harry just yet about the Prince she was persistent for you to marry. It was too early to let it slip like that. "She had some plans and dreams for me. But she'll come along when it's the right time." 

"You know I don't want to be the reason to start issues with your family, right? I mean, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that I'm not the person your family wanted you to be associated with."

He was gentle. The emerald green colour that you loved so much was beautifully – almost – painted in his eyes that pooled with care and genuineness.

But despite that, the smile on your lips faltered a little. "Are you having second thoughts?"

Instantly, Harry replied. "No," he shook his head, "Told you I'm not scared, didn't I?"

You hummed, waiting impatiently as he leaned down, pressing lips on to yours in a soft kiss that had your insides fluttering.

"Your Hi-Oh," you pulled away, looking at Albert who blushed, diverting his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry, your highness."

Yours and Harry's cheeks were tinted red as you stepped beside him instead, a small bashful smile on your faces. "It's okay, Albert."

"Noir is ready, your highness."

You grinned excitedly, holding Harry's hand and dragging him behind you inside the stable, giving a "Thank you!" over your shoulder. "Noir is the gentlest horse ever, you'll love her!"

"I haven't ridden a horse since I was so young." Harry chuckled, letting you drag him behind.

"Don't worry, she's friendly when I'm around."

You led him towards a place where you kept the costumes and other safety equipment. "Here," you handed him a brown helmet. "I'm sure there are boots your size."

After helping Harry with the equipment and wearing your own, the both of you walked out of the other end of the stable where you found one of grooms standing beside Noir.

"Good morning, Ken."

"Good morning, your Highness." He smiled, tipping his head.

"This is Harry." You smiled, watching as they greeted each other with a polite nod and a “hello.” Turning to look at Harry, he almost melted at the smile of excitement adorned on your face, "Do you need help getting on?"

Despite looking at the white horse you had talked to him for hours on end, taking it not only its beauty, but size, Harry shook his head.

Watching you gracefully get on the beautiful white horse's back, his hands seemed to grow clammy as you held the reins.

Almost as if he remembered his mother, Anne, taking him and his sister, Gemma, horse riding when they were younger, Harry was thankful that he remembered how to simply get on a horse, though not as graceful as the Princess before him.

He got on Noir's back who fidgeted in her place, only calming when you stroked her hair in assurance, "Easy now."

Harry was seated behind you, his chest to your back which was enough to have you feeling flustered and blushing but nevertheless, you slowly began riding your horse down the greenery. "And this, is Noir."

Harry smiled to himself, his hand stroking the white horse softly. "She's beautiful. Has she been yours for long?"

"Ever since I was 4. She was only a filly of one year when Grandpapa got her for me. This babe is 17 years old." You proudly stated, patting her head.

Amused, Harry let out a small whistle. "She's old."

Gasping feigned shock, you moved one hand to gently swat Harry’s knee, “Where are your manners?” Harry laughed, wrapping one arm around your waist.

“My apologies, dearest Noir.” He said dramatically, making sure his accent sounded thicker.

“Grandpapa has one that’s 23 years old." You giggled, glancing behind your shoulder at him.

"So, the entire family is into horses? I mean, I have seen it in the news of some of your family horse-riding but are they really into it?" Harry asked.

You nodded, "Pretty much. Will, Har, and I were trained when we were only 3. Although we don't ride horses now except for friendly polo matches but Noir here, is someone I frequently take a walk with. Has a special place in my heart." You smiled before giving him a shake of your head, "Enough about me, what's something you used to do back home in Cheshire? It's quiet there, isn't it?"

"It is. Quite peaceful. I actually used to work in a bakery." He sounded so happy about it, almost as if he was reminiscing. Deciding against telling him that you've been a fan for long and knew about the fact, you let him continue. "Barbara, who still works there, would always just pinch my bum. She's the sweetest old, child-at-heart, woman you can ever meet."

You laughed, "You know quite the cheeky people, huh? Even in your shows, your fans can be quite cheeky."

Harry laughed, "Facts,” he nodded as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “Think I can be, too.”

“Oh, I know alright.”

---

"I think-I think this one goes here," you attempted to put the piece of puzzle in your hand in one of the empty spaces as you sat cross legged on Harry's floor, the puzzle on the table in front of you, with Harry sitting right opposite, attempting to complete the picture with you. "Or not."

"I think we should've seen the picture, love." He chuckled, looking at the image you had created that was yet to be comprehendible.

"Where's the fun in that?" You shrugged, "There! We're done with the sky."

"I think it's a tree house, I'm not sure." Harry tilted his head, looking at what you both had finished so far. "Me, too," you nodded, "Like, that's the lad-" You were interrupted by Harry's doorbell, making you look up and towards it.

"I ordered Chinese while you were in the loo, hope that's okay." Harry smiled, standing up.

You tried to hide your shock – and excitement – by nodding, watching as he took his wallet and walked towards the door.

The sound of Harry's socks-clad feet against the floor made you straighten up and clear your throat, attempting to act natural, smiling slightly and looking at him.

"There we go," Harry smiled, putting the bag beside the puzzle you had been trying to complete for the past 40 minutes. He took out two boxes, unaware of your confused but curious face, your eyes traveling between the square boxes. "Chopsticks or fork?"

You didn't even know what was inside but since you knew how to use chopsticks, you answered the former which Harry handed you. He took his box closer to him, opening it, as if he was a natural and so used to it. You, on the other hand, remained wary and in place, eyes only set on the box that was supposedly yours.

As he was about to put the noodles in his mouth, Harry's eyes landed on you, closing his mouth and setting his chopsticks in the box when he noticed your confused face and your untouched box. "Do you not like Chinese, love?"

You hummed, your head snapping towards him. "Wh-what?"

He smiled, seemingly absorbing what his mind was telling him, "I asked, do you not like Chinese?"

You looked bashful; cheeks turning to a tint pink as you put a locket of hair behind your ear. "Well..."

"Y/N?" Harry's tone changed, leaning his head closer, "Have you-Have you never had Chinese?"

At this, it seemed like your entire face was pink. You let out a small groan, covering your face with your hands. "This is so embarrassing."

Harry chuckled in surprise before crawling towards you, "No, no," he took a hold of your wrists, prying them from your face. "Come on, look at me, please."

You let out a soft giggle, looking up at him. "Fine. I've never had-never had whatever that is. They don't allow things like that. Just McDonald’s if it’s a good day."

"So you've never had Chinese takeaway?"

"I just said that, stop making me repeat it." You groaned, looking down.

Harry laughed, wrapping his arm around your and bringing you closer to his chest, hugging you. "Awwwe, Y/N,"

"You're so annoying." You laughed, swatting his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise I think it's cute." He assured you, leaning back a little to have you look at him. "It's okay, means you get to try something for the first time with me. So what do you say? Want to give Chinese takeaway a chance?"

You nodded eagerly, looking back at the box and bringing it closer to you, "What's inside?" You looked at him right before opening it.

"Noo-"

"Hush, let me get surprised!" You grinned, opening the box, "Ooo, noodles." Harry chuckled, leaning on his palms and staring at you in amusement. "Is that- Oh, is that chicken?"

"You had sweet and sour chicken on our third date so I figured you'd like it." Harry answered casually, oblivious to the butterflies in your stomach at the fact that he remembered that tiny detail.

"Alright," you smiled, taking a hold of your chopsticks. "Let's do this." You took a hold of some noodles, glancing at Harry before you eat. "I'm so nervous."

Harry grinned, sitting straight and rubbing his hand on your back. "Come on, love. Give it a try." You nodded, putting the noodles in your mouth and slowly chewing so you could get every taste just right. "Well?"

Your eyebrows were raised as you chewed before swallowing, "Oh my God," You quickly dug in for another, making sure to try the chicken.

Harry grinned, wrapping both arms around your waist, "Like it?"

"Love it! What restaurant is that?”

---

You adjusted your brother's, Har's, polo collar as you sat in the car alongside him. "Guess what I had today."

"Hm?"

"Guess what I had today." You repeated impatiently, tugging on your simple and plain navy-blue blouse.

"What?"

"Chinese takeaway." You grinned, nodding as he laughed.

"And how was it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It tasted heavenly! Have you tried it?"

He nodded, "The good ol' rebellion days."

You frowned, "Hey! Why didn't you bring me some?"

He laughed, raising his hands up defensively, "I'm sorry. I'm a fool. Didn’t want them having my neck for staining sweet little Princess Y/N by getting her fast-food that doesn’t go with her diet."

"That you are actually." You smiled, nodding.

"Wait," Your brother furrowed his eyebrows, leaning back the window, "How did you try it?"

"Uh," Your mouth hung open and your hand reached to scratch your temple. "You know, I was out and about this morning."

He hummed slowly, crossing his arms across his chest. "So instead of being saucy and cheeky with your boyfriend, you try Chinese takeaway?"

"One, he's not-not really my boyfriend and two, you want me to get saucy and cheeky with someone?"

"God, no, Y/N," He cringed, his face twisting in disgust. "Let's just, change topics."

You snickered, looking out the window to see your father's home, Clarence House. "We're here." You announce quietly.

Walking inside, you meet up with your oldest brother who instantly greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "Where's Pa?" You ask.

"He-"

"There you are!" William was interrupted by your father's excited and cheerful voice, making the three of you look towards him and Camilla walking towards you.

You grin, letting your father embrace you. "You look lovely, darling."

"Thank you, Pa." You rub his back for a second before pulling away, watching as he moved to greet Will. Camilla instantly opened her arms at you, making you smile as you let her pull you into a hug, feeling her kiss your cheek.

"Shall we get to dinner? Made your favourite, darling," Your father said, holding out his arm for you to link, "Shepherd's pie."

"This is why I love you." You joked, leaning your head on his shoulder for a second as you giggled.

"Only cares about food." William joked as you all walked towards the dining room. "You're my least favourite sibling." You joked, not looking at him.

"This is no way to talk to your older brother, Tiny." William teased you as the rest laughed at your banter.

"The only brother I have is my dearest Har here. I don't know you."

"Y-"

"For the love of God, you two!" Prince Charles laughed, putting his hand on top of yours.

As you took your seats on the table and began eating, it was natural for the family to joke over the smallest thing in the day – that, until one name was mentioned.

"Charles, when's Fred coming tomorrow?" Camilla asked, oblivious to what she started.

Your hand stopped midway, all heads turning to look at you except for Camilla who looked at your father. You let down your fork, looking up to look at Camilla. "If I may ask, who's Fred?"

"You know, Prince Fred." She said before taking a bite of her food.

You looked at your father who sighed and laced his fingers together on the table, avoiding eye contact. "I wasn't aware of your friendship with Prince Fred, Pa."

The tension in the air was thick and enough to have your brothers quietly let down their utensils and look at your father, waiting for an explanation.

"Darling, your grandmother especially requested this dinner with the young man."

"My grandmother requested a lot of things, Pa," You chuckled half-heartedly, "Like marrying him."

"Y/N, I-"

"You told me I can control my own life," you started, shaking your head in disbelief. "What was that then, huh? Were you getting my hopes up for nothing?"

"Of course not, Y/N! Listen, Y/N, it's-" he sighed, closing his eyes momentarily before looking at you, "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" You asked in disbelief, furrowing your eyebrows, "It's my life!" You laughed bitterly in shock.

"You have to understand that it's not easy to change your grandmother's mind and Fred's family is entirely depending on the marriage. We gave them a word years ago, Y/N." He spoke softly, something that contrasted what you felt, “This is politics, darling, and politics is messy.”

You slumped in your seat in disbelief, looking down at your lap for a second.

"I think we should all calm down a little." Your brother, Har suggested gently, glancing between your father to you.

You looked up after taking a breath, tilting your head to look at your father. With a calm and collected voice, you spoke, "I'm not marrying anyone I'm not in love with and no one is changing my goddamn mind." With that, you stood up, your chair screeching as you pushed it back, eyes set on your father, “It’s your word against mine.” And with that, you stormed out of the room, Har instantly standing and jogging after you.

William sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before looking at his father who rested his hand on his temple in distress. "This is unfair to her, and you know it.”

“Your grandmother believes this will strengthen the ties between our family Fred’s! It was agreed on ever since your sister was a child.”

“Well she’s not anymore, is she?” William replied, tossing his napkin on the table before standing up and walking away.

[nyx-aira]

Magical Bitching

Summary: When a new magical threat arrives in NYC Dr.Strange and Wanda need some magical help but Loki and Agatha in one place can only mean one thing, chaos and the start of a beautiful friendship

A/N: You can't imagine how much fun I had while writing this :)

Tag list: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @king-star @ynscrazylife @booklovinbi @mysticfalls01 @adorkwithaplan @nathaslosttheirshit @agathaharkness-simp @paulawand

To say that Strange was busy was an understatement. He was currently fighting and evil interdimensional being that somehow  had managed to get to New York, interrupting his Sherlock Holmes marathon.

The thing could be described as a big glibbery blob that could fly through the air and spit fire, to say he imagined his afternoon a little bit different wasn't really a surprise. He wasn't alone thankfully, Wanda fighting alongside him. The young witch had recently moved into the Sanctum, training her powers under his and Wong's guidance. Even though they were both pretty strong the blob was becoming more and more of a challenge, splitting into mini blobs if you hit it with the same spell twice. It was very annoying. So he did something he swore he would only do if there was no other option. He called for Loki.

After their, let's call it a disagreement, they had sorted out some kind of truce, deciding the fabric of the universe was more important than their personal differences.

He and Wanda were just fighting a horde of mini blobs when they started turning purple, crumbling to the ground and fading into nothing. They turned around to see Agatha fling another dozen of the annoying blobs against a building, crushing them against the wall.

He looked at Wanda who was staring at the other witch in disbelief, shock the prominent emotion on her face, annoyance not far behind.

"Did you call her?"

The young witch asked, Sokovian accent present. Something he had noticed that happened when she was emotional or annoyed.

He was about to answer when they saw green sparks dancing around another small army of the annoying creatures, capturing them in a magic barrier and crushing until there was only interdimensional alien goo left.

"No I called him."

Strange answered with a sigh, pointing to a building to their far right where Loki just teleported, throwing a couple magical daggers at the slime monsters.

Wanda dropped her head into her hands, staring at him in disbelief.

"Great now we not only have to fight that stupid blob thing but also have to deal with grumpy and petty."

He lifted an eyebrow at the nicknames and shot her an amused look.

"Who is who? "

She just wanted to answer him when they saw another horde of blobs heading their way. Looking at each other they nodded, ready to attack.

Flying high in the air Wanda shot some energy blasts in their direction, giving Strange the opportunity to catch them and send them back into their dimension. She was about to round the corner when she saw something flying towards her, turning around she brought up a barrier to defend herself but the attack never came as Agatha landed not far from her, using another spell to open a portal the witch flung them in its general direction, the portal catching them and making them vanish. More blobs started to appear and Wanda realised that the situation was getting more and more out of control.

She was ready to attack the remaining creatures when she heard a roar, whipping her head around she stared at the new creature that just appeared on top of a nearby skyscraper. It kinda looked like a dragon with for two sets of wings and tentacles, spitting some kind of toxin and fading in and out of existence. Wanda groaned, their day wasn't bad enough already with the blob thing, a fancy dragon squid wasn't really some she needed today as well.

Agatha floated next to Wanda, bored expression on her face. It wasn't something she hadn't seen before. These kind of creatures were annoying, sure, but nothing she couldn't handle if she needed to.

Deciding that she did not need to get toxin stains on her new outfit today she turned to Wanda, already regretting what she was about to say.

"You and Strange handle our new guest, I'll handle these fuckers."

Shocked at her offer Wanda turned to her, raising an unbelieving eyebrow.

"You want to help us ?"

"Don't think too long about it or I might change my mind."

Groaning Wanda shot her one last glare before she flew away to help Strange.

Looking around Agatha decided that chasing after each of the annoying creatures was too much of a hassle. She looked around to find a good spot to catch as many of them without doing much work. Spotting a suitable tower in the distance she flew towards it, blasting a couple blobs out of her way as she arrived on the top.

The sight that greeted her was almost comical, there sat Loki, on a beach chair with sunglasses on his head sipping a colourful cocktail, every now and then flicking his hand to catch a blob that got too close to the tower, flinging it towards a portal he had opened not far away.

He lifted his shades as she approached him, snapping his fingers to let another chair appear, nodding his head towards it.

She laughed at the gesture, settling down in the surprisingly comfortable chair, conjuring up her own glasses to block out the sun.

"Never imagined to see you in New York again Trickster."

He only snorted at that, flinging another blob into the portal, a green 178 popping up over the interdimensional gateway.

"Never say never."

Agatha chuckled, flinging a couple creatures towards the portal as well, a purple 154 lighting up. She grinned, she wasn't that far behind.

"I don't understand why heroes always have to be so dramatic, its far more entertaining this way."

The god commented, refilling his drink and conjuring some pastries, grabbing some for himself before he passed the floating tray in her direction.

"Exactly, they are always so extra, always so much drama."

Agatha remarked, grabbing a strawberry cupcake, absently flinging a couple blobs into the portal.

"Strange look out!"

Wanda was panting, she had a cut across her cheek and her suit was burned in a couple places, the toxin and fire having gotten to her at one point.

Strange ducked a blast and ran towards her, shielding himself as he yelled something she couldn't understand over the noise of the battle.

The count over the portal just reached a tie when Agatha had finished her cupcake, tossing the wrapper aside she looked at the tray, deciding which one to try next.

"The lemon cake is divine, you should try it."

Loki supplied, taking a bite from his chocolate covered strawberry, adjusting his shades as they had slipped down his nose a bit.

She took a slice of the lemon cake and refilled the drink the god had offered her as the count had reached 1000, plopping some more ice cubes into the cocktail, it was a hot summer day after all.

Wanda jumped over some rubble, running for cover as she was chased down the ally by not less than 20 slimy creatures. Sometime in the last hour she had broken her wrist, the dull ache in her hand nothing compared to the burning feeling in her legs. She had ran more than ever in her life today. Yelling at Strange who was running besides her to keep going the slid behind some garbage cans.

Panting she looked at him. He was missing an eyebrow and his right sleeve, his boots melted to his trousers from a pretty hot fire ball from one of the creatures.

"The weather is quite nice today, don't you think? "

Agatha remarked, taking a sip of her cocktail, adding more ice as most of it had melted already. They had conjured a sun shade as it got hotter, the temperatures pushing 30⁰C

"A little bit to hot for my liking but it's definitely nice."

Loki answered, taking a bite out of his ice cream. He had change into a sleeveless tunic, pulling his hair into a messy bun, his boots having been replaced by flip flops. He flung his hand towards the portal, a green 735 popping up.

"Seems like im winning Ms. Harkness."

Agatha just laughed as she twisted her hand, sending some blobs into the portal, the purple 737 making her shoot the trickster god a triumphant smile.

"Don't get cocky dear."

Agatha had changed her outfit as well. Now spotting a purple flower dress, the fabric flowing around her knees, sandals instead of heeled boots. They had exchanged the pastries for ice cream at some point, Loki opting for mint and chocolate as Agatha chose blueberry and raspberry. They were just about to decide whether or not to order pizza when they heard a loud bang and smoke started to form a couple blocks in the distance.

Lifting his shades to have a better look on what's going on Loki shot a questioning look in her direction.

"You think they are alright? "

Waving him off Agatha took another bite from her ice cream, settling back in the chair.

"They'll be fine."

"Run"

That was the last thing Wanda heard before all hell broke lose, the building behind them catching fire and the toxin starting to react with it.

Strange grabbed her by the hand and they portaled out of the collapsing building.

Landing roughly on the concrete a couple streets over they groaned. Wanda by now having lost her right boot and part of her jacket. Strange didn't look much better, having lost a chunk of his hair to the fire and a broken ankle thanks to a fall from the third floor. It really wasn’t their day.

Loki and Agatha were just debating whether two servings of bread rolls were too much when an orange portal opened. They turned their heads away from the menu to look at the new arrival.

It was Wong, wearing beach shorts and a hawaii shirt, dragging his own beach chair through the portal.

"The Sanctum is safe, these idiots just don't know how to fight efficiently."

With these words he plopped down on his chair, accepting the menu Agatha offered him.

"Alright we can order two servings of bread rolls now but this won't work without a salad."

Loki commented, scrolling through the menu, debating whether he should order a caesar salad or the tuna one, both sounded delicious.

Having meanwhile conjured a fire pit and some blankets, as the sun was starting to set, they had dragged a table from the Sanctums dining room onto their rooftop. It was surprisingly easy to find a restaurant who delivered on top of a building if you offered to tip a little bit more.

"What do you think, red or white wine?"

Agatha asked as she held up two bottles. She had moved to the table already and had kicked her feet up on the table, watching the sunset as they waited for the food to arrive, distant bangs of fighting heard in the distance.

"I'll take the red wine."

Loki commented from where he was standing, arranging the fairy lights around the roof top. You needed a nice atmosphere to have a nice dinner party after all.

"I think the pizza arrived, I'll be right back."

With these words Wong opened a portal and stepped through it, leaving Agatha and Loki to their own devices. The god was painting his nails, nail polish floating in the air as he carefully applied the second coat of midnight black.

Meanwhile the witch had leaned back in her chair, wine glass in hand as she absently played with a ball of purple energy, illuminating the whole table in a purple glow.

"Today has been a great day, I really needed a day off."

She commented, taking a sip of her wine, taking her feet off the table as Wong appeared with their food, unpacking the pizza cartons and sorting through the food.

Wanda and Strange were done. They had finally managed to defeat the dragon squid thing, the blobs having disappeared a while ago. She had wrapped an arm around his shoulder as he had problems walking with his injured foot, her own wrist hurting like hell.

They were exhausted, smelling like dead dragon and smoke, covered in interdimensional goo and first degree burns.

"This has been a fucking nightmare. "

The sorcerer supreme commented. Wanda just nodding her head, too exhausted to say anything.

"I'd like to make a toast. "

Agatha groaned at Loki's statement, hitting her head on the table. They had had clearly to much alcohol, Loki bringing out some asgardian liquor, Wong bringing some alcohol from his home and she herself conjuring a bottle out of her ever-growing wine collection.

Loki was leaning against the table, having to hold onto it for support. Wong wasn't much better, feet kicked up on the table, glass in hand, refilling all of their glasses with what he call the best liquor you can get on earth.

She wanted to disagree but had to admit it was quite good. Getting up from her chair she raised her glass.

"And what are we making a toast on?"

Loki winked at her, raising his glass as he helped Wong up, the other man the most intoxicated of the trio.

"To this beautiful day and this beautiful friendship. "

"No no no, to magic and bitching about stupid people. "

Wong interrupted, talking about their animated discussion on who had to deal with the most shit.

The two men started arguing, on what they would speak their toast on. Groaning Agatha snapped her fingers, catching the attention of the two sorcerers, lifting her glass she spoke, a little bit more slurred than usual.

"To bitchcraft and the imbeciles we have to deal with on a daily basis. "

"To bitchcraft. "

They all echoed, raising their glasses.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Wanda asked Strange as they stepped out of the portal onto the rooftop, watching the trio speak a toast.

He just shook his head and pulled her back into the portal.

"I think we both got hit in the head one too many times. "

[bat-besties]

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Remus is the most eccentric customer who visits Janus and Virgil's café. When he goes missing after talking to a mysterious stranger, Janus resolves to investigate further- and Virgil isn't letting him go alone.

AO3 10k 

Huge thanks to @mariniacipher, I could not have written this without her. She let me talk about the idea for hours, it has somehow developed into a series, and the story itself took a real twist because of talking to her! Another massive thank you to @5-crofters-jams, who did a marathon edit of the entire piece for me, and has made the story so much smoother and more effective (and much less British because my original dialogue did upset her American sensibilities XD) Also thanks to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, who knew everything I needed about pigeon corpses!

CW: dead bird, touching the bird corpse, bird funeral, Remus levels of comments about gore and innuendo, drug mention, mention of vomiting, kidnapping and captivity, feeling nauseous from anxiety, light dehumanization, brief allusion to racist violence

- 

Remus was...

(There was usually a little gesture there: Virgil’s rolled eyes, or Janus’ helplessly fond smile, or a disapproving look from Remy-)

....Remus.

Their anarchist cafe saw its fair share of unusual customers but only one of them was, well, Remus.

Morning sunlight threw beams which striped the posters covering the walls- old propaganda posters mixed with ads for tutors, food banks, and drag shows. There was a quiet chatter of customers, occasionally broken up by bursts of laughter or a called greeting to another patron as they came in. Kids from the skatepark sat on a pile of beanbags charging their phones, having given up the comfortable chairs for a small group of elderly butches with stretched tattoos who were now speaking with slang from fifty years ago. A mother whose baby was trying to grab onto her braids was trying to feed him with one hand and hold her husband’s with the other. A college student frowning at their laptop screen and consuming coffee at an alarming rate was seemingly oblivious to the punk trying to discreetly read their laptop stickers. One of a Pan-African flag matched the full-sized one on the wall, swaying with wafts of coffee and baked goods along with spider plants and assorted pride flags. Old photos of a Black Panther group in the town, reprinted and signed by some of their patrons, were framed proudly on the walls.

Since everyone had been served, Virgil was taking a few breaths to check over the register and prepare for the next rush. The rhythm of checking, preparing, and letting the background chatter fade into the background blended into a pleasant, thoughtless routine. Cups out. Setting out more sandwiches. Look over the register. Maybe get something from the back-

“Morning, shitwad!”

Virgil ducked under the counter as something thumped into the coffee machine behind him, and a few of the regulars laughed in good nature.

“Oh, good morning, darling,” Janus replied smoothly, appearing from the kitchen. He was wearing a yellow shirt which contrasted with his deep brown skin perfectly, as well as a bowler hat and dapper bow-tie. He pulled plastic gloves over his hands with all the elegance of a debutante preparing for a ball.

There was a shrill wolf whistle. “Those are some sexy wrists!” was the next comment, followed by a squawking laugh, and Virgil rolled his eyes as his friend brought a flustered hand up to adjust his collar. Every day, he faced the deep attraction between the most sophisticated person he knew and the most outlandish, and he didn’t know which was more obnoxious. As Virgil popped back up, Janus reached over to the projectile on the back counter. It was the small, feathery body of a dead pigeon, carefully wrapped in cling wrap.

Virgil gave Janus a long-suffering look and got out a bottle of disinfectant. “Morning, Remus,” he grumbled, despite his irritation. “What can I get for you today?”

“My friend died at 3am last night,” he replied instead. “I need to store her in your fridge until you both get off work, and then we’ll hold her funeral!”

When they were alive, Remus treated the pigeons as gently as they did each other-

That is to say, he was ruthlessly protective of chicks, ready to grab and move anyone encroaching on territory, and, if pecked, was fully ready to bite back. Still, at his two-tone whistle a whole flock of assorted birds would fly down to meet him. His eyes would shine bright as they flew around him like a feathered whirlwind, and settled on the surfaces all around him like a hopeful congregation as he fed them with whatever he had. Despite their number, almost all had names and ascribed personalities.

Exactly how he could tell the difference between two seemingly identical pigeons Virgil had no idea, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Remus wasn’t fucking with him about it.

“Why did you throw her if you’re trying to preserve her?” Virgil said, but he tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. In fairness, it didn’t look too damaged by the blow. It would take a lot to change the kindness Remus showed the doves, as roughly as he showed it.

“I thought you’d catch her, emo! It would have been a beautiful moment!” he protested, throwing his grey eyes open wide.

Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. “You know what? Yeah, maybe it would have been. But you forget-”

“Fight or flight,” Remus filled in. He shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

As usual, he was dressed in as many layers as he could be, with only a hint of pale skin showing on his face and through a pair of fingerless gloves he had cut himself. Everything else was an amalgamation of black and brown leather, denim, flannel, a puffy coat, a long flowing skirt in leopard-print, and fishnet tops over cotton T-shirts, leaving barely any Remus-outline at all. It didn’t matter what the weather was; his outfit might change components, but it never revealed so much as his neck.

Everyone had their reasons, Janus would quietly say at almost anything their customers said or did. It wouldn’t have crossed their minds to ask why he covered himself so much, but it was something Virgil couldn’t help but wonder about sometimes.

Maybe Janus was right and Remus was handsome, but his face was so obscured by his moustache, stubble, and makeup in purple and green- or whichever colours he felt like- that he seemed to be aiming for ‘gives you a headache after you look at him too long’ more than anything else.

His hair was almost literally a bird’s nest. He had completely rejected offers of a hairbrush or a comb, insisting he preferred it the way it was. The third co-owner of the cafe, Remy, with whom he was staying at the moment, had made many attempts to detangle his hair, all of which had been met with screaming and gnashing of teeth. After each clash, Remy would send Virgil a barrage of complaints by text. But while Janus had offered for Remus to stay at his own apartment, Virgil and Remy had made a mutual decision to save them from 24/7 pining by volunteering instead. Janus had refused even considering dating him the very first day he had barged his way into the cafe- and into its founder’s affection. As long as Remus came to them for food and shelter, it would be an unfair balance of power.

Remus reached into an inner pocket of his coat and slid a purple pin with a spider silhouette on it over to Virgil. “You could stab this into those big brown eyes of yours,” he said, widening his own at the barista.

“Sweet, thanks,” Virgil said, pinning it onto his apron string. It did match with his spider-web hair design. “Then I won’t have to look at Janus getting flustered any more.”

Remus grinned at Janus, who was trying to act as if he’d been so invested in carefully holding the pigeon that he hadn’t heard. He leaned on the counter and dropped his voice into a stage-whisper. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I think he’s sexy.”

“That’s disgusting,” Virgil whispered back. “I’m going to throw up in your coffee.”

He shrugged. “I’d still drink it. Then I’d just be able to judge you based on your stomach bile.”

“You’d be so fucking impressed by my stomach bile,” Virgil retorted. “It’s so acidic from anxiety it would kill you immediately.” He turned to start wiping down anywhere the pigeon had even possibly touched.

“Bartender!” Remus yelled in an exaggerated English accent, banging on the counter. “Bartender! I would like a coffee and a sandwich, please!”

“One moment, my dear,” Janus said in a more passable impression, opening up the freezer door and placing the tiny corpse into an empty ice-cream container well away from the rest of the food. “I’m just cryopreserving- what’s her name?”

"Her name is Loki,” Remus supplied, his voice dropping to a matter-of-fact tone which was surprisingly tender coming from him. “She's good at stealing chips from tourists. And flying and shitting at the same time.”

Janus threw away his gloves, thoroughly washed his hands, then made a small note: "Loki: not for consumption." He glanced up at Remus so he could see the note, who repaid him by throwing his head back so he could laugh. Janus' mouth quirked into a snicker too, and the rest of the coffee shop seemed to fall away from the two looking at each other.

"We're going to get a violation," Virgil interrupted, because that was the expression of a Janus who would complain and pretend not to pine for hours after Remus left. He turned on the coffee machine to hopefully distract from the moment. "It's a dead fucking animal."

"So is the rest of the meat," Janus dismissed without looking at him. "And it is wrapped up and away from the rest of the food."

Ever since Virgil had joined the team and the cafe had begun to establish itself as a firm success, the city council had done everything in its power to shut it down. Each time, the cafe had won, even if their most recent fight was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of his life, and their personal lives had been dragged through the dusty carpet of every courtroom in the city. Each step of the way, Janus insisted that the risk was worth it.

After all that, Virgil was not letting the cafe close on account of a dead bird, as skilled a thief as she might have been.

"It’s a pest animal you let in here," he insisted.

Janus dismissed him with a shrug. "Come now, so is Remus."

The customer grinned. "You flatter me, rattlesnake." His eyes traced Janus' face as they scrunched up with joy. "Can you tell me about Dodgy Knees again?"

He closed his eyes as if pained. "Diogenes! Diogenes! I'll break your knees if you mispronounce-"

"Kinky!"

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Oh, is that so?”

So Virgil tried to ignore the disaster scenario of the cafe being shut for good, fixed a cup of coffee and a sandwich for Remus, and somehow got caught into a conversation about the pros and cons of leaving society to go feral in the woods.

“No, I do agree, but wolves-”

The door rattled, and an older white man with salt-and-pepper hair and a pinstripe suit walked in. He wasn’t entirely out of place amongst the clientele, but he honestly looked more like the businessmen in some of the cartoons Janus had papered one wall with. Remus ignored the bell as he leant his elbows on the counter, gesturing with his sandwich as he talked to Virgil while the barista came up to the register.

“How can I help you today?” Virgil asked the man, who was glancing around the decor. That type of customer was almost certainly drawn by the coffee, all blends hand-picked by Remy.

“I’ll be in and out in just a moment,” he replied with a small smile, and Remus stopped talking. “An espresso to go, please.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure, a moment-”

A blush crept up Remus’ cheeks, and he ducked his head with uncharacteristic shyness. As the man caught his eyes his entire expression softened, the hard lines of his face seeming to melt as his lips parted slightly, like he would say something. But, for once, he was speechless.

Janus looked as though he had been slapped in the face. “Are you acquainted?” he asked, in such a casual tone that Virgil knew he was deeply hurt. He arched an eyebrow as he waited for an answer.

“I- yes, I believe we are,” the customer gave a genial smile in return, his eyes fixed on Remus’. “Some time ago.”

Janus’ eyes narrowed. “Where do you know him from, Remus?”

There was a crinkle of plastic and leather as Remus shrugged. “Long story,” he said distantly.

Virgil slid a cup of coffee over to the man, who tapped a black card to the card reader and gave him a quick smile. “Keep the change,” he quipped. It was a tip some ten times greater than their recommended 20%.

“Thanks,” Virgil mumbled, but his focus was on his friend, who was drifting out of the door, as he tended to do at the end of a conversation. “Hey, Remus, we’ll see you later?” he called after him.

“Sure, Virgey!” he replied, giving him a quick grin before he held the door for the businessman, and the two of them walked out together. The older man ducked his head to whisper something into his ear, and Remus laughed and linked their arms as they headed into the street.

As soon as the door swung shut, a cloud settled over Janus’ expression. “Well,” he said, adjusting a sandwich which was just slightly out of line with the rest. “They say a stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet. It takes all sorts. To each, indeed, their-”

Before he could utter another saying, Virgil interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

“And what does it look like?” Janus asked caustically. “Remus was acting unusually, yes?”

“Sometimes people get nervous,” he ventured. “If they like someone-” There wasn’t a single trait Remus said wasn’t his type; a silver fox with money was as good as any.

“Don’t say ‘like’, it’s so middle school,” he snapped, and Virgil flinched at the tone in his voice. He grabbed a cloth and headed over to a table which some regulars he knew were just vacating to wipe it down. Poor Loki’s funeral was going to be a tense event.

Except, as night fell and the cafe began to glow with the golden lights and the warmth of the ovens, and as Remy arrived to help them with the evening rush, Remus didn’t show up for the body in their freezer.

The brief liveliness Janus had shown bustling between the kitchen and the front faded as the final family trickled out. He waved away most of their offered money, seeing as it was a birthday party and he knew them, and Remy and Virgil made meaningful eye contact but didn’t protest.

As they closed, Remy filled the awkward silence with chatter about the men he was dating, the new hair product he had tried, the fact Remus never washed up when he was told to, and he was, like, so sick of it-

But no Remus appeared to defend himself, even after they left half-an-hour late and each one tried to call him.

He didn’t appear at Remy’s to sleep overnight, and he didn’t come into the cafe at all the next day.

That next night, Janus disappeared into the back, leaving Virgil to clean up by himself.

His stomach was upset, and he couldn’t help but think about that man over and over.

Long story- what exactly did “long story” mean?

Remy used the phrase when it really was a complicated story full of exes and rumours and friends of friends-

Virgil used it when he was asked why he didn’t speak to his family any more.

But he’d never seen Remus look like that before, and the guy had seemed nice- and there was an obvious suggestion for why his friend was busy overnight.

He realised he’d been wiping down the same table for the past five minutes.

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly behind him.

“Yeah?” he turned, and his brow immediately furrowed at his friend’s sombre expression.

He had his phone in one hand, and his hat in his other. “I’m going to ask you for a favour,” he said slowly. “You are quite free to decline it.” He paused. “I want to go to the house of the man who Remus went out with, and check that he’s alright.”

“I...don’t know that’s a good idea,” he said, twisting the spider badge on his apron so he could avoid the weight of his friend’s expression. “I mean...it could be an invasion of Remus’ privacy, if that was an old friend or-” Scared of causing further upset, he tilted his head to fill in ‘something else’.

“Yes, I know.” He sighed, looking out into the night through their plate-glass windows. “You know I’m not one for hunches-”

“Eh, you turned out a guy for being an undercover cop in like two seconds because he asked about ‘The Antifa’-”

Janus gave him a look with almost the level of exasperated fondness Remus engendered, and Virgil fell silent.

“I’m not one for hunches, but I’m usually right when I have them, then,” he finished lightly. “I have a very bad feeling, and a Google Search for anyone in the town who could possibly have a black card doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Anxiety coagulated in his stomach, but he tried for his final hope. “Are you sure it’s not...jealousy?”

He gave him a long, tired look. “The thought has never even been a worry of mine,” he said drily. “Still, I can go by myself, and make my own self a bother, worse, a fool.”

And it wasn’t really a question at all whether Virgil would let that happen. “Two of us is just a bother,” he replied with a confidence he didn’t feel, unclipping his badge from his apron and slipping it into his hoodie pocket.

Janus hung up his hat and put on a neat suit jacket over his outfit. “Thank you, really-”

He shook his head, opening the door so that a rush of petrichor and tarmac washed out the pervasive smell of coffee and food from the cafe. “Let’s go.”

They walked out into the night, still damp from the earlier rains. The lights of the shops around them reflected against the wet tarmac, and music pumped out of passing cars giddy with the promise of the coming weekend. They headed to the bus stop, Janus politely greeting every person they passed, and Virgil ducking his head so he didn’t have to. He didn’t know if the people who replied were familiar to his friend from the neighbourhood, or just trying to be polite in turn.

As soon as the bus stopped with a hiss of steam, Janus led him down to the back, and sat by the window, checking the map on his phone again. “It will be some time,” he said. “But, I ask you to be patient.”

“Course.” Virgil rested his head on Janus’ shoulder and closed his eyes. “Just tell me the stop before and I’ll be...right with you.” Moving vehicles lulled him to sleep anyway, and he would just worry the whole way otherwise.

“Of course.” Janus wrapped an arm around him, so he wasn’t jolted as the bus started again.

As Virgil dozed in fits and starts, the window changed from views of convenience stores and fast food shops to blocks of apartments, to anonymous offices and retail outlets, to high-walled parks, and then houses set back from the road by sweeping drive-ways or pavements almost as wide as the road was. Finally, his head was jostled off Janus’ shoulders, and he blinked as the stop dinged, too loud after the fog of sleep. Outside, it was pitch black but for the pools of light beneath the streetlights, and the golden glow which the mansions kept far behind barred gates.

They stumbled off the bus, and Janus checked his phone just once more before they headed off down one of the identical sides of the road.

Virgil pulled his hoodie close around him against the night chill. He considered putting his hood on to protect his ears from the nipping wind, but they were already two black men alone in a very white neighbourhood. It wasn’t worth it when his stomach was already rolling with anxiety. He rubbed his thumb over the badge in his pocket and tried to breathe the cold air in 4-7-8. They walked over empty roads, past rows and rows of similar houses, until they turned a corner and cars lined the road, piling into a single driveway which was illuminated like a Christmas lights display. A few fancily-dressed guests stood by the cars, but most of the noise came from inside. The house towered even its neighbours, and was built in the faux-Classical style which he hated.

Janus checked the address against his phone, then nodded. “That’s it. What did you call those, again? False temples?”

“Temples to dumb rich Americans and bad architecture,” Virgil supplied with a quirk of his lips.

“Quite right,” he replied, assessing the entrance. “And in all likelihood, Remus is stuck inside with his…”

“Yup.” He looked between his own patchwork hoodie and Janus’ dapper suit. “Maybe you could sneak in, but I definitely wouldn’t fit in.”

He straightened, and adjusted his bowtie. “Then we’ll go around the back,” he replied.

Virgil shook his head. “Nope, nope, nope, that’s- Jesus Christ, no, that’s a great way to get arrested or even shot. No.”

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly. “These past two months, Remus has visited us every day except that brief time after the fight over the milk cartons, or whatever it was-”

“I asked him to clean up a drop of milk and he poured the rest of the carton over my kitchen,” he said sourly, which he felt he was entitled to despite the situation.

“Yes, yes,” Janus dismissed. “Anyway- he always comes, doesn’t he? So now-”

“I have a really, really bad feeling- and bad thought, and bad everything-” he protested, backing away from the gate.

An orange sports car swerved past them, and parked horizontally across the driveway, and a young white man in a tracksuit the same colour as his car leapt out and gave them a wide grin. “Hey! Hey! Hello!” he yelled, and flashed them peace signs, to which Janus replied with a pained smile and Virgil a small wave. “Everything’s started- have they done the fireworks yet? Or the, shit, thing with the melted chocolate and it flows-”

“Chocolate fountain,” Janus supplied with the smile he reserved for his more aggravating customers. He slipped his arm into Virgil’s and pulled them forwards. “We were hoping to arrive for that too, ah-?” He waited for the man to supply his name, but instead-

“I like your hair!” he said to Virgil, admiring the spider web design. “Rad!”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, subtly trying to pull them backwards as Janus marched him to the door after the guest. “Your car is...yeah, that sure is a car.”

“Sure is!” he replied with a blindingly white smile. He flashed something at a bodyguard at the door- who had sunglasses, earpiece, everything- Virgil noted with a sickening thrill of fear.

“And your friends, sir?” the bodyguard asked.

“Yeah, yeah!” The guest tossed his car keys at his chest and headed through to a foyer filled with well-cut suits and low-cut dresses, champagne glasses and trays of canapes. Marble floors reflected the lighting, which glinted out from chandeliers above. A wide staircase glided up to the hidden upper floors.

“Oh, hey! Hey, you!” the young man yelled as soon as he got in, bounding over towards a woman who greeted him with a grin, raising her glass like a toast.

Janus and Virgil just blinked at each other. “Are you...sure?” Virgil asked quietly. “Remus is here?”

“I’m honestly not so sure any more,” Janus muttered to him. “But let’s not rely on whatever chemicals are keeping our dear friend happy, and start looking around.”

They moved through a throng of people and out into a wide ballroom, filled with yet more guests and a live string quartet playing in one corner. Along with the music was the trilling of occasional birdsong from tropical birds fluttering inside several oversized golden cages dotted around the room. A few others held white marble statues, but they couldn’t compare to the shifting flurries of reds, blues, and greens. Without agreeing on it aloud, the friends first went over to a small party congregated by one of them, in case the birds had attracted Remus.

“No, but then I said-” A balding man was proclaiming. “I said, Rudy, that’s not the Dow Jones Industrial Average at all.”

The group burst into laughter, Virgil gave Janus a bemused look, and they moved on.

Everyone was well-dressed, in sparkling necklaces or ties in jewel colours or even in more casual clothes, like the man from the sports car, which still seemed to drip wealth. Wearing sneakers with a suit wasn’t that fancy a look, but when even Virgil recognised that pair from an ad campaign for a luxury fashion line which would come out next month, he guessed it didn’t matter. Nobody looked at them twice. Still, there was nobody dressed in the contents of an entire rummage-sale bin with purple eyeshadow used as contour.

“There-” Janus whispered- “Is that?”

They both froze as they watched a man with a moustache waltz past in the arms of a lady dressed in black. It wasn’t Remus.

Virgil scanned the room again, eyes passing over the gilded cages, and the tropical birds and statues inside them- nobody in the crowd admiring them was any business of his-

As they parted, the figure inside the tallest gold cage became clear. It shifted position- an animatronic? He looked more closely as it moved after everyone had turned away, fiddling with golden chains around its-

“Oh God-” he whispered. “Look.”

Virgil was an avowed atheist, but if the person inside the cage wasn’t a statue, he must have been an angel. His shining hair was cut short to show of the clean marble lines of his face. His chest was sculpted too, covered in scars which looked like they must have come from a golden sword like the one he was gripping. He looked as if he would swing it into position if not for the gold chains wrapped around his arms, tethering him to the delicate bars of the cage. He was gazing out into the distance.

Most striking of all, dove-grey wings crested over his shoulders and trailed all the way down to his ankles. His white tunic contrasted the hints of pale purple, pink and blue shimmering in his wings.

It was one of the most beautiful sights Virgil had ever seen.

He glanced at Janus for his reaction.

He found only an expression of absolute horror. Janus was completely silent for a moment, struggling for words, before he gasped. "Oh, Remus- what did they do to you?”

A cold feeling washed over him.

No- those were their friend's grey eyes, and that was the shape of his face, stripped of his facial hair and usual tacky makeup. No wonder Virgil hadn't recognised him.

Compared to the usual chaotic spark in his expression, he looked blank. As if his mind was somewhere else entirely- or like he'd been drugged.

Still, Virgil couldn’t help but be drawn back to his wings; they were hyper-realistic, even twitching as he tried to tense his shoulders to alleviate the pressure of the chains on his arms. And the amount of feathers it would have taken to make that shifting, downy gradient...not even all of Remus’ flock had that many. It was compelling, but sickening.

It felt wrong to look over his arms and legs when he was usually so adamant about covering them, so he dropped his eyes and tried to erase the knowledge of how muscled Remus was beneath his usual shapeless outfit.

It wasn’t that Virgil found his friend attractive exactly, but with wings like that, dressed like that- he was a centerpiece, clearly, and even as his stomach churned with the wrongness of the display, it was a palpable effort to keep his gaze from snapping back to him. “I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered to Janus.

“He’d never, ever choose to dress himself like that in front of everyone," Janus whispered, anger crackling red at the edges of his quiet voice. "And even if he did, he’d never shave off his moustache.”

He shook his head. “So...what do we do?”

In response, Janus sauntered over to the left, took a champagne flute from a waiter, and then gestured for his friend to follow. They zigzagged through the crowd until they got closer to Remus, whose eyes remained glazed and distant.

They stopped just by him. Up close, it was clear the tunic was some kind of cotton material, and the sword had blunted edges. He was wearing makeup too, and a lump in his mascara made Virgil feel another sharp pang of pity. As ridiculous as painting them on would have been, how real the scars looked in comparison to the rest of the outfit was jarring. He was built and scarred like a fighter, and all the little touches to make him look delicate only emphasised how roughened he was. Both were at odds with everything he knew of his friend.

“Remus,” Janus whispered. The name fell like a plea. “Remus, it’s us.”

All of a sudden, the man’s eyes snapped to them, his expression melting into disbelief. “Remus?” he echoed. It was as quiet as a whisper from a crypt. “You know him?”

“You’re-” Janus’ face fell. “Remus, that’s you-”

The man almost imperceptibly shook his head. “Twins, we’re twins- you know him? Please, is he okay?” He looked almost identical, though up close the differences began to stand out. He was probably more muscular, but who could tell under all of Remus’ clothes? The main differences were a gap between this twin’s front teeth and, more than that, his eyes. Even as he looked at them desperately, there was something missing from them, some jolt of hope or excitement which just wasn’t there. Their heaviness was an uncomfortable weight on Virgil’s face.

He wrapped an arm around himself. “Sorry, he went missing-”

“But we tracked the man he left with back here,” Janus filled in. “Isn’t he here too?”

The man shook his head again. “No, I- I’ll earn more information, after this. I don’t know anything,” he whispered. “I just know he found him, and he wants him to come back without a fight.”

Virgil never should have just watched as that man walked Remus out of the coffee shop. Long story his ass- “What the fuck is happening?”

Remus’ twin tried to shrug and then winced as the movement tugged on the chains. His wings fluttered with the movement. “They just tranqued us the first time. I don’t know why he’s delaying recapture-” He took a deep breath. “Just tell him to run away as soon as he can.” His grey eyes hardened to steel. “He might as well keep doing it.”

“I will if I can find him, thank you.” Janus took a small sip of his champagne. “What exactly was the capture for, if I can ask?”

The captive glanced around the room, and at the movement Virgil cut his eyes to the side. Nobody watched that he could see. “The wings, of course,” he said with a bitter smile. “Yes, yes, they’re real, go ahead and look at them.”

Janus’ eyes widened, subtly taking in the wings.

“My name’s Roman,” he continued in a low, urgent voice. “Tell him that Roman said to run, okay? Don’t listen to any of their offers or threats. I’m not a gladiator anymore; I’m here instead. It’s...not too bad.”

As Janus opened his mouth, Roman shook his head. “Don’t talk to me too long.”

“We can get you out,” Virgil said before he knew what he was thinking. “Whatever this is-”

“Go,” Roman insisted. “It’s not worth trying to do anything for me. And don’t call the police-”

Janus rolled his eyes. “You really don’t need to worry about that.”

“Fine.” he lifted his eyes to the middle distance again. “You should go now. Please.”

Virgil gave a little nod, taking Janus’ arm. “Okay. We’re gonna go.”

“Thank you,” Janus added. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then let Virgil lead him away.

He steered them back through the ballroom with their backs to Roman, trying not to glare into the eyes of each of the guests they passed. It would almost have been easier if there was a big fuss and show about the captive man, rather than the chatting and dancing and gossiping with, oh, a living being as a conversational curiosity-

As they came back into the entrance, Janus began to turn towards the sweeping staircase.

“No,” Virgil said under his breath, trying to tug him back to the doorway. “No fucking way. I know you’re angry but-”

“I’m not angry,” he replied coolly. “I am, rather, curious. Because I don't think they tell everything to Roman, and we’re not going to get luck like this again. Any information will help.”

He glanced up at where the staircase twisted out of sight. If Remus was up there, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. And, despite his words, Janus was throw-ignorant-customers-out-of-the-cafe mad. Except, he wasn’t quoting memoirs of increasingly obscure activists or putting neat yellow gloves on in warning, so Virgil didn’t know what he would do.

On cue, Janus reached into his breast pocket and drew out the gloves. He slipped one on, tugging it into place. “Better for fingerprints, and more neat.” He glanced at Virgil. “You don’t have to come with me, in fact it may be better if you didn’t.”

It wasn’t fair for Janus to pull on his ridiculous gloves like a boxer about to face a much bigger opponent, and ask him not to fight by his side. Even if Virgil had decided to leave the party, it wouldn’t have been fair.

“I will,” he said, tucking his hands into hoodie paws. His heart was thumping against his ribcage as if it would break out- that was a thought to tell Remus when they saw him. “I’m gonna complain about it afterwards.”

Despite his apparent composure, it took Janus a moment too long to answer as his eyes traced Virgil’s face. “Of course.” He took his arm. “Shall we?”

He was half-expecting an alarm to blare as soon as they set foot on the first stair- but nobody noticed. They took another few steps, feet sinking into the thick red runner. The back of his neck prickled with stares, but he knew from long experience that those were imagined. Or were they? No, that was anxiety. Janus’ hand tightened on his forearm and he stopped. Above, someone paced past on a wooden floor in the measured rhythm of a guard. He gagged.

“Deep breaths,” Janus murmured.

“I hate this,” he replied. Then he forced a breath in his nose and out of his mouth.

After the footsteps faded, they kept walking until Virgil moved his heavy boot onto the polished wood floor as gently as possible. Identical two-panel white doors stretched along the hallway without any noticeable distinction, until the corridor took a right turn at the end of the row.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right,” Virgil whispered, and Janus nodded.

With their footsteps echoing almost too loud on the floor, they each crept to the far ends of the hallway. There was nothing beyond the corner except another staircase, and thankfully no more doors.

He tried the door handle on the far right with his sleeve over his hand, and it turned. He nudged it open and peeked in to see a huge bedroom strewn with suitcases and clothes, and a sparkling necklace of diamonds carelessly draped over a black dress. But no Remus. He shut it and moved onto the next.

Locked. The next was too. His hands were shaking like there was a motor in them.

He closed his eyes and leant his head against the wall, trying to ground himself in the sensation. Okay. Next one- unlocked.

It was a bathroom, all white marble and gold like downstairs. He closed the door and glanced over to Janus, who shook his head.

He glanced at the staircase before crossing the corridor and turning the handle of the middle door slightly.

A voice rose behind the door, deeper and smoother than Remus’. “Hello?”

Virgil reached in desperation for the next door handle as footsteps sounded from inside, and tugged it open in time for Janus to walk in quickly and efficiently in the rhythm of the security guard. He followed with a few strides, shutting the door behind him in with a fumbled click. The room was an empty guest bedroom. Janus was hiding himself under the bed before Virgil caught his arm and pulled him out. He headed to the big sliding window.

“Please, please-” he whispered to himself, trying to lift it. Locked, locked, oh God-

Janus searched the mantelpiece for a moment before pressing a cold key into Virgil’s hand. He tried to put it in but his hands were shaking too badly and he couldn’t-

Janus took it off him. It fit with a click.

Virgil pushed up the window in a rush of cool air. He climbed out onto the little ornamental balcony running between a few windows and stood flat to the wall, chest heaving, before Janus followed with a tumble. He reached over and shut the window while Janus crouched down below the sill. The room was still empty.

Virgil slid down the wall, trembling hands over his mouth. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he was sure he would be sick-

Janus had curled into a ball, forehead to the stone of the balcony.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that.

After a while, they ended up both sitting side by side in the space between the two windows, hands twisted together. It was silent.

Virgil glanced back into the room. “It’s empty,” he whispered. “We should leave.”

Janus nodded. “One moment-” He crept towards the other window and peeked in the bottom before he dropped to the ground, hand over his mouth.

Virgil widened his eyes. On cue, his heart finished its brief rest.

Janus pointed to his suit jacket, then made a rectangle shape with his fingers. Virgil frowned. His friend repeated the gesture, and it clicked. Black card.

He so, so badly wanted to run now, but instead he crawled over to poke Janus in the side so he would move over to give him space by the window. Their eyes met, and Virgil pulled his hood over his cold ears to settle in for a wait. He kept his head down, pillowed on his forearms, while Janus risked peeking up every few minutes.

Suddenly, Janus grabbed his arm. Virgil lifted his head. He could just about see Roman standing in the doorway, rubbing at the deep red marks around his forearms, and the captor leaning back in a leather armchair holding a glass.

Janus put his hands up to the window-

“Janus,” Virgil hissed, but then the window slid a crack upwards and voices travelled through.

“Quite the party, wasn’t it?” the captor said, pouring himself a drink.

Roman nodded too quickly. “Yeah,” he said in a hoarse voice, attempting a smile which didn’t reach his eyes, which were fixed on a closed silver laptop on a side table. “Yes, it was...very grand!”

He rolled his eyes. “What did you think of the decor?”

“Quite magnificent! Like a- an aviary in a palace.” His wings were trembling as though there were a breeze running through them.

Tilting his head and looking Roman up and down, the captor spoke just as genially as he had in the cafe. “You really aren’t as interesting as your brother was. Too many blows to the head, no doubt.”

Roman’s mouth tightened. His fists had too.

Against the deep, comfortable, red-brown tones of leather and what must have been genuine mahogany, and the backs of books all bound neatly and sticking out of the shelf as though frequently read, Roman’s outfit stood out as even more fake. Gold accents in the sandals he was wearing matched the subtle gold trimmings of the room, but if the study were a convincing stage, Roman looked like a badly cast understudy.

The captor laughed. “Predictable. This isn’t the fighting pits.”

Virgil and Janus shared a look before watching again.

“Your brother’s been living like a tramp and he’s still more beautiful than you are, under all the mess,” he commented, as casually as if he was observing the weather. Roman’s eyebrows drew together, watching for the end of the statement. He brought up a hand to cover a scar along the edge of his neck. “He’s not as scraped up as you, of course. And he really-” He swirled his whiskey for a moment before taking a sip of it. “He really is genuine. You can imagine worse things than this, can’t you?”

He paused, then nodded.

He shrugged. “He can’t. That’s the difference.”

Janus grabbed Virgil’s hand. He curled over and pressed it to his own forehead. Virgil rested his hand on his back and bent to whisper in his ear. “Hey, only I need to listen, so-”

He shook his head and Virgil cut off, peeking back over the windowsill.

For just a moment Roman glanced at the window before he asked, “So, where is Remus anyways?” He seemed to freeze as he waited for the answer, a statue once again.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He held his hand out and Roman looked at him blankly. “The laptop,” he snapped.

“Oh!” He grabbed it from the side table and tried to hand it over from a distance.

He took it and flipped it open. Roman stepped back immediately, hopping from one foot to the other like a boxer. Virgil felt himself tapping on Janus’ back in sympathy.

The captor flipped the screen open and typed for a moment before he began to read something. Virgil felt Janus’ chest go still.

The captor laughed. “Oh, would you look at that- “Queer Eye’s Karamo Brown urged to cut ties with Salvation Army”.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing worse than a hypocrite- did you know about this?”

Remus’ brother’s jaw tensed and he shook his head.

He carried on reading for a little while, tutting, and then switching to another tab. “Okay, fine- come and look.”

He crossed the room to stand behind the man, hands gripping onto the back of the sofa as if he would fall over without its support.

“Don’t touch the furniture.” With a roll of his eyes, he reached his hand behind him, twisted his hand into his captive’s wing- then tugged. As he pulled a handful of feathers away Virgil winced, but Roman only reacted with a tightening of his hands. Then he took a measured step back from the couch.

“You know,” the captor said so softly that Virgil had to strain to hear him. “You know, Remus would have cried and cried at that.” He scattered the feathers, spotted with blood, over the floor. “That, or started swearing- and the crying would come after that.”

“You’ve told me before,” Roman snapped. As soon as he spoke, he froze again. “Oh, uh- I’m sorry-”

The laptop clicked shut. “I asked you to behave this evening,” the captor said, getting up and tucking it under his arm. Virgil and Janus crouched down further. For some reason, a tiny chip in the stone paving caught Virgil’s eyes. A tiny fissure ran from it into the rest of the solid slab. “That meant all of this evening.”

“Please-” His voice broke, and pitched high it sounded like Remus’. Janus’ hand tightened on Virgil’s until it hurt.

“Out.”

Virgil tugged on Janus’ hand and bent his head to his ear. “C’mon, we need to go.”

Janus looked up. His eyes were shining, and at the same time Virgil felt like a monster for not crying and a sharp annoyance that his friend had given into his emotions. He took a deep breath, and both feelings passed. He tugged on his hand again. “Okay, time to go,” he whispered.

He decided not to risk closing the window while the man was still in the room, just nudging Janus to the side. They crept across the balcony, slid up the far window, and climbed through one after the other, painfully slow.

They padded through the empty room, then opened the door and slipped out together. Downstairs, the last of the party guests were trailing out, either upright with exhaustion shining in their eyes to match the sparkle of their jewels, or with the help of a few discreet employees supporting champagne-soggy legs. Wordlessly, Janus slung his arm over Virgil’s shoulder, and he let his friend lean on him as they passed security and walked down the long drive to the dark street. He was heavy, but Virgil was careful not to stumble.

They carried on walking that way until the corner, when Janus straightened up and adjusted his jacket. Still, they crossed the road side-by-side and didn’t speak.

As they walked, the bottom of the sky was being washed out into greyness. The houses were unlit now, and they looked smaller in the dark. It just barely smelt of metallic dew. Virgil thought he might start screaming if he opened his mouth.

They reached the bus station sooner than expected. There was half-an-hour before the first early-morning bus. With a huff of air, he sat down on the pavement and leaned his back against the pole.

“Well that was just what we expected, wasn’t it?” Janus said lightly. He stayed standing, facing the mansion they had come from. Virgil looked up at him in silence. “I’m going to murder that man,” he continued in the same tone. “The security for that house is shocking. I’m sure it isn’t that hard. Perhaps I should let the twins do it, though.”

He nodded. “I’ll help bury the body.”

“You know, Virgil,” Janus met his eyes. “You really are the best friend anyone could ask for.”

"What?" he mumbled as he looked down. "He was a dick."

"Come now, you also broke into the house of someone connected to illegal fighting rings whose interior decoration tended to the alive and miserable.”

Heat flooded into his face. “Least I can do.”

“Quite a bit more than the least.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Especially for someone who was terrified of talking to customers a year ago.”

"Oh, shut up." He poked Janus' neat brogue with his boot. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes here figured out the whole thing anyway." His chest felt funny, and he hugged his arms around it.

"Well, Watson," He took a deep breath and decided to stop tormenting Virgil with his tenderness. "I have our final deduction- the man had no clue where Remus is."

"Really?"

Janus shook his head. “He was just looking for an excuse for Roman to slip up the whole time. Taunting him, the furniture, physically hurting him- it was all trying to push him to some tiny ‘infraction’ so he could bluff about the information.”

“Huh.” He replayed the events and nodded slowly. “Sure, I can see that. Still, we don’t know if he’s always like that. He didn’t deny the information when Roman touched the furniture- which is a fucked up rule, Jan- I don’t know if him not saying where Remus is was an excuse at all. He said Remus was better than his brother, and he gets pissed when you suggest cutting those clumps out of his hair. He must have been-” He regretted saying it to Janus, but it was deduction time. “He must have been really- cruel to him for Remus to act anything like Roman. He enjoys being cruel, clearly.”

“You’re right.” He twisted the finger of his glove. “Still, surely telling Roman about how scared Remus was would upset him. And he didn’t, so something doesn’t add up.”

Well, his intuition hadn’t lied before. “So what do we do?”

“We find Remus first.” He straightened his shoulders. “Remy would have texted if he went back to the apartment, we can assume he’s not at the cafe since he was found there, and he could have gone to his usual parks and streets but if he’s being watched he wouldn’t. So, where would he go?”

“It wouldn’t be anywhere with a lot of people,” Virgil added. “Or maybe even with a lot of birds, since they all come to him. Somewhere abandoned?”

Janus nodded. “I think we could check out some of the old warehouse districts.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a start. That one’s only ten minutes after the home one.”

They waited quietly, each caught up in their own thoughts. The bus to their district began trundling past until it slowed down for them and the door opened.

Janus shook his head at the driver. “Sorry, we’re not coming.”

She began to close the doors again without comment.

“Wait!” Virgil waved at her. “Wait a moment! Wait-”

She stopped with a huff almost as loud as the bus’ exhaust. Janus let Virgil pull him through the door by his hand, tapping his card dutifully.

He raised an eyebrow as they stumbled into some seats.

“Where’s the place we were talking about running to just before, uh, bird-friend left?” Virgil whispered, even though he doubted the tired commuters would be listening in for names and details. “And where can you bury the kind of bird friend in our freezer? And where wouldn’t be a place you’d search?”

“The forest?” he replied. There was only a scrubby patch of it outside the city.

“Yup. Look, we should go back to the cafe to get Loki, anyone asks and we’re just, you know, getting rid of the health violation in the fridge in a way which isn’t a health risk to a park or anything.”

Janus stifled a yawn. “That’s very smart.”

“Thanks, it was kinda impulsive, but-” Virgil shrugged as he looked out the window at the unrelenting row of houses. “I’m happy to be out of there.” He tucked his arm around his friend. “And you can nap until we get there.”

“I’m just fine, Virgil,” Janus replied, affronted. “Besides, I don’t want to rumple my outfit.”

Virgil gave an exaggerated yawn himself, and Janus immediately followed. He glared at him, which only made Virgil give him a small grin. “Bedtime.”

He was met with a head thunking onto his shoulder. “You had better wake me up in time,” he threatened.

“I will.” He readjusted so he was more comfortable. “We’ll be fine.”

*

By time they reached the cafe the sky was white and grey. Virgil waited by the bus stop, leaning his head against it as a half-asleep Janus unlocked the front. After enough time for Virgil to consider if he could sleep upright (five minutes), he reappeared with a canvas bag with a rainbow flag hand-printed on it, and a stack of three sandwiches, which he handed to Virgil.

The bus came soon after, and they collapsed into one of the back seats.

They had barely finished the sandwiches by the time they reached their next stop. They got out onto a cracked bit of sidewalk and looked at the trees rising above them. Silent, they walked forward until the concrete suddenly ended.

Virgil breathed in the stench of wild garlic and dug his toe into the slimy layer of dead leaves. Damp air curled in his mouth as though it would die peacefully there. Something chittered in the distance, and then cut off suddenly. He tried to tilt his head up to look at the trees and suddenly the vertigo of only sleeping for a few hours on the bus journeys hit him.

It was a world away from the gilded cage and the dizzying party.

He took a deep breath. “This feels right.”

Janus nodded. He tucked the bag under his arm carefully. “I hope…” he trailed off softly. “Well, Virgil, let us venture onwards.”

He touched his friend’s elbow for just a moment before he walked into the dark trees. After a moment, Janus followed, and they walked on together.

There was occasional litter, plastic bags and water bottles, but as they got deeper into the thick trees and tangled brambles along the forest floor it disappeared. Janus winced as he tried to lift his perfectly shone shoes over a muddy patch Virgil’s leather boots trudged through with ease. The trees were stout and gnarled, fungus protruding out of them like infections.

They wandered without any real direction, just trying to make their way further into the labyrinth of trees.

Virgil suddenly caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and he grabbed his friend’s arm.

It could have been a pile of abandoned clothes and torn out feathers-

But there was a glimpse of leopard print, and the vague outline of wings, and a low crooning coming from the figure curled there.

Janus crouched down six feet away from him, laying Loki’s bag by his side. “Remus,” he said so softly that Virgil barely heard it. “Remus, it’s Janus.”

Remus froze. Then his wings curved up around him. They were a lot taller than Janus was crouching. A pair of grey eyes came up to meet Janus’. His lips parted as he looked over the two of them. His purple and green makeup was smeared together until it looked like a black eye, and even his moustache seemed to have its own case of bed-head.

“We-” Virgil cleared his throat against a sudden lump. “Well, Janus, mostly, he found the guy’s house? And we went there, and, uh, we were worried about you so we looked.”

His eyes widened.

“We found your brother,” Janus said in a quiet voice. “Roman. He told us to tell you that he wasn’t a gladiator any more; he was there instead. That it, uh, wasn’t too bad.”

For a moment, Remus stopped breathing. Then he brought his hands up to his head, slumping his shoulders and letting his wings wrap around himself. “Bullshit,” he said hoarsely. “What else did he say?”

Janus bit his lip. “He told you to run away as soon as you could, and not to listen to anything they offered or threatened.”

Remus made a strangled yelping laugh which set Virgil’s teeth on edge. His wings were trembling so much that there was a slight breeze on his face. “Roman’s saviour goddamn hero bullshit-” He twined his fingers into his hair and started tugging. “He’s not- fuck,” he winced as he caught a matted section. “Not pathetic enough for that job.”

Janus tried to reach a hand out to untangle his hands from his hair, but Remus only stilled and leaned his head into his glove. Janus gently tugged at his wrist, but Remus wrapped his fingers around his hand and held it to his hair.

“Dude, you’re not pathetic. You broke out of that place all by yourself?” Virgil found his voice off-putting in the silence, but he kept speaking. “That’s hard. And you hid in the same town, in plain sight, for ages. And-”

“I ran away,” Remus said into his knees. “And I knew he’d get punished or die. He had to fight people. All goring out eyeballs and pulling out guts by the handful. Or the clawful. Depended on what kind of people were captured.”

“There are more people like you?”

He shrugged and, just like his brother, the movement made his wings move. “With the weird animal thing? Oh, sure. I would rather have a tentacle dick but you get what you get.” He spoke without humour.

Janus pressed a tiny kiss to the back of his hand, not seeming to care about the smear of dirt on it. “Darling, I’m sure you’re well enough endow-”

“No!” Virgil yelled, holding his hands up. “I have risked myself too many times today for you two to have to listen to that from you.”

Remus shrunk back further into a ball. “Sorry.”

For a moment Virgil was struck genuinely speechless. Then his brow furrowed. “Hey, no, I was just teasing.”

Janus turned to glare at him. He widened his eyes in response. Maybe he should have guessed Remus would be more delicate, but, well, it was Remus.

“Anyway, it’s okay, alright?” he attempted.

“Yeah, sure.” He lifted his head and smudged his makeup even more with the heel of his hand. “Fine.”

Virgil pulled the third sandwich out of his pocket and handed it over. “Figured you’d want that.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Remus took it and began to carefully undo the wrapping. He took a small bite of the corner. “Mom and Dad are normal but Roman and I just were just born this way- oh there ain’t no other way,” he sang as he shimmied his wings. “But we lived in the middle of nowhere, and we stayed at home our whole lives, even though we talked a lot about hiding ourselves so that we could move. We kept ourselves to ourselves and we had a farm.” He threw his crust to the forest floor, seemingly by habit of having his flock around him. “Hope they didn’t search there for me; that would suck. Our parents saw us get captured, so at least they know what happened.”

Janus nodded as he listened. “How long ago was that?”

“Two years.” He stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Goodness,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine.”

The corners of Remus’ moustache twitched up into a smile. “Nah, you couldn’t. Thanks,” he said through the remains of his sandwich.

Virgil waited for him to finish eating.

“We brought Loki with us, in the bag,” he said. “We figured it would be a good cover, and we can hold the funeral here.” He reached into the bag to pull out a trowel. They definitely hadn’t had one in the cafe, so Janus must have stored it there after Remus disappeared.

Janus reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a bag of classic Lays. He handed them over to Remus. “I do hope the flavour’s alright. I think it’s a classic.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. He stumbled up to his feet with a wince, holding his wings out for balance. Even without them fully spread out, the wingspan blocked the entire section of tree behind him. He rolled his shoulders back and flapped his wings.

Both of them stared.

Remus grinned and widened his eyes. “I can fly, you know. I could shit on you midair like-” All at once, his face crumpled and he held a hand up to his mouth. “Sorry, it all hit me again,” he said with a voice like sandpaper.

Virgil put his hoodie sleeve over his mouth as he swallowed back a guilty laugh. He started digging into the soft forest soil to distract himself.

He heard a flutter of feathers- had he been missing that under the whisper of all Remus’ shifting clothes before? - and then sobbing into a suit jacket. It was kind of scratchy on your face, Virgil knew, but it hid tears pretty well. He moved his whole shoulder into his digging, watching a depression form as the other two murmured words of upset and comfort to each other.

“I thought it was you,” whispered Janus against the shell of Remus’ ear. “And- my heart just stopped.”

“I wish it was.” Remus leant his forehead against Janus’ chest.

“But then how would I hold you, hm?” he replied, and there was the brush of fabric on fabric. “We’ll get him out.”

“You promise?” Remus said, and Virgil’s hand clenched around the handle. It wasn’t a good idea to-

“Promise. Split my chest open with a pickaxe and hope to pickle my heart.”

There was a wet laugh. “Kinky.”

“Come now, that was romance as well as kink.” His best friend’s voice was unbearably soft.

A warm feeling settled in Virgil’s chest despite the chill of the weather. Dammit. He stabbed the trowel into the ground again, ignoring the wetness in his own eyes.

He kept digging, until a set of feathers nudged into his face. “Did you poke me from all the way over there?” Virgil asked incredulously. Remus’ wing was as wide as he was tall, and he used it to poke him in the cheek again. It was a little disconcerting to see how much it moved like, well, a limb of his.

A feather brushed over the tears on his cheek. The wing retracted, and Remus came over to kneel by him and take the trowel. He sunk it into the ground, gouging out a huge section of earth with a small battle-cry. He flung it over his shoulder rather than adding to Virgil’s careful pile and then grinned at him.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he reached for the bag. “I think you finished the grave.”

He carefully wrapped the pigeon in the canvas bag Janus had chosen for her and handed it to Remus.

He looked at the little bundle in his hands for a long moment. Then he took her out of the bag. He began to unwind the plastic wrap.

Janus winced.

“That’s not clean-” Virgil whispered.

“It’s going to pollute the forest otherwise,” he replied without looking away from the corpse in his hands. “This is more natural. Besides, they’re pretty clean birds.”

So they watched in silence as he carefully took it all off and placed her in the grave. She was still intact, though her body had stiffened. “Thanks for being here, even if you were technically using her to stalk me,” he said. “Um, this was Loki. She was mischievous, and bold, and really smart. I’m going to miss her.” He cleared his throat and nodded, eyes wet. “Okay. Ready.”

Virgil scooped a handful of dirt with his trowel and scattered it over her. It pattered softly against the earth. Remus was staring hard into the distance. A few rays of sun poked through the trees as he pushed the rest of the dirt back into place. “Should we leave some rocks or something?”

Janus nodded. “I can collect-”

“I thought Roman was dead until a few days ago,” Remus interrupted. It sounded like a statement from a scratchy vinyl recording. “Ghosties are easier to carry around than big living brothers who got jacked from murder. Whatever you need me to do to get him out, I’ll do it. Killing, going back- whatever.”

“I don’t need you to do those things,” Janus said firmly. “All I need you to do now is come to my apartment,” he turned to his friend. “I’m not putting you in any further danger, Virgil-”

“Bullshit.”

He paused, brow furrowing. “Beg pardon?”

“That’s bullshit,” he repeated. “This is the part where you’re you’re going to think you’re being really smart about everything,” he held his hands up, “but you stick to your principles too much and you risk yourself and maybe those two-”

“Thank you for your confidence, Virgil,” he said acidicly.

“Anyway.” This was a spectacularly bad idea. “I’m helping.”

Defensive, his voice grew more formal. “If this is about the court cases, or the job, I promise you that you owe me nothing-”

“I like you, and I like Remus, and I don’t like what’s happening.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big thing; it’s just as simple as that. Okay?”

After a moment, Janus gave a nod.

“Aw, you like me?” Remus cooed. He wiggled his shoulders and grinned, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Course.”

Janus gave Remus a helplessly fond smile. “Then it’s decided. I think we could all use some sleep, then we start this evening.”

[amindofstone]

Lost in the dream

{

Genre: Fantasy (Mermaid, inhuman abilities, prince, royal, dream world)

Pairing: Wonho/Lee Hoseok × Bella (reader?)

Warnings: None (Maybe a bit sad)

a/n: English is not my mother tongue. Therefore there might be some spelling or grammatical mistakes. I'm still trying to improve so have mercy.

!!! Please do not steal my idea or work. Credit me please if this is shared or published in any other platform. Picture used is not mine. Credits to the rightful owner. !!!

}

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

Just like every other time she was walking on the path that lead her from the garden to the massive entrance hall of the golden palace. The palace that it´s entire interior was designed with just two colours. Colours that gave a feeling of it´s owners glamour, beauty and charm. The colour white that usually stands out is overshadowed by the golden accents that lets anything shine and sparkle. Even the exterior of the palace was shining in a soft golden shade that leaves her speechless whenever she saw it.

Standing infront of the golden gates of the palace one would think that they are heavy and would need three men just to open up one door. Usually that would be the case but not for her. To her it was as light as a feather what made it possible to upen it with just a little soft push. 

With a heavy heart she entered the home of the highly seen family. The first time the brunette haired girl ever put a feet in the palace mesmerized her by its beauty to the point she forget why she was actually there.The girl forgot why she was there at the first place while walking through the halls of a place she never thought of seeing with her own eyes. No matter how many times she visits this place it always feels like the first time. 

She never dared to think of coming to the palace or being able to see it up close but see now. Her she was visiting it over and over again since months with no one knowing except for one person. The person the 19 years old girl always came back for and simply had to come back for. Someone she actually couldn't and shouldn't know but still does.

Everytime she was about to enter the royal ground without no one knowing the thought about all the laws she was breaking and the punishments it usually brings occupied her mind. But then she remembered that she's not breaking any laws. She didn't and never will.

"Love, is that you?", the soft voice of a man who was making his way towards her filled the quiet halls. His voice made her instantly stop walking and turn around just to see the face of the person she was longing for all day everyday. A little smile appeared on her light red lips what made his heart stop beating for a second.

"Love, you don't know how much I missed you.", with sad eyes and a trembling heart he approached her. Standing in front of her he carefully took her hands in his and intertwined them. With every move he made towards her his heartbeat increased to a point it hurt him. With every move he made towards Bella, her heart broke a bit more. With every second that passed while she was looking into his eyes, tears threatened to fall from her green eyes.

"I was waiting for you but you didn't came? I thought I will never see you again.", while saying those words he lead her hand to his lips just to put a light kiss on it´s back. "Where were you yesterday, Bella?". Bella, how beautiful it sounded whenever he said it. How could one fall in love with a person who just says ones name? 

"I... well I.. I don't know. I just had no energy and... and I was really tired.". She tried to avoid looking into his eyes while stuttering an answer and trying to stop the urge to cry. But she failed miserably like always. The first tears were falling and soft sobs could be heard. The sight of tears falling made a quiet No leave his lips. He took her face in his hands and made her look into his eyes. "Don't do that again. Please tell me when you don't feel well. I wanna be with you.".

"How do you wanna be with me?", while asking that more tears were falling down her cheeks. She wanted to take a step back but he wouldn't let go of her. In fact he pulled her closer and hugged her with trembling hands and tears filling his eyes. "Am I'm not with you now? Am I'm not holding you, love?". He went through her hair and put a light kiss on top of her head."Hoseok. You're not with me and I'm not with you. How do you expect us to keep going like this. I can't take this anymore. Hoseok I don´t want you to suffer just so -..". A kiss stopped her from talking. A light kiss but still one filled with so much love and passion that it resembled the kiss prince Philip gave the sleeping beauty to wake her up. 

No. This one was by far filled with more love. More passion and more longing. But not only that. She could feel how frustrated he was and how much pain he was going through.

Bellas hands were trembling while more tears were streaming down her face. She pushed him softly away from her what made him shake his head lightly and pull her even closer if that was even possible. She pulled away from him with a little smile on her lips and kissed his right cheek. Little sobs could be heard from him what made her realise that he was fully crying now.

"Can we please go to my chamber? I want to sleep next to you? May I take you there?" With pleading eyes and a sad smile he was looking into the eyes he fell in love with. "I would love to, your highness."

"Don't say that. I told you to not say that. I don't want to hear that. Please, I can't bear hearing that from you.", he hid his face in the crock of her neck and breathed in her scent that made him think of the ocean. She went through his hair to calm him down while apologising over and over again.

"You look tired.", she tried changing the topic. With a short nod he lead her to his chambers while holding her hand and not letting her go. After walking to another floor they entered his chambers what was located at the far end of the third floor. Just when they entered his room the door was closed and Bella in his arms. He carefully carried her to his bed and made sure he didn't hurt her.

Hoseok always treated her like that. He thought of her as a fragile doll. A doll out of fine china he had to take care of. Never did he let her do anything on her own when he was around. Everytime she asked him why he did so he always gave her the same answer.

“A queen shall be taken care of. She shall be treated like the most precious living being on the planet because it's her that keeps a kingdom going. All in all it's her that is making the king keep going and provides him with hope, love and strength. That's what you do for me and therefore I have to take care of you, my beloved siren.”

After he laid her down and put the covers over her he laid down next to her. While she was facing the ceiling he was lovingly looking at her profile. "Love, look at me please. Let me see those eyes of yours before I drift into sleep." Hearing those words made her lay on her side. One hand under her pillow the other on his face stroking it lightly. "You're already asleep Hoseok.", "I know but still. Please let your face be the last thing I see before I rest."

"Rest then. You'll have to attend a event tomorrow anyways."

He keeped quiet for a moment thinking about tomorrow and the fact that he has to deal with his family for a whole day without being able to escape. He sighed and shock his head to stop him from thinking about tomorrow. The moment he saw into the face of his love his face softened and a smile grew on his lips. She was asleep with a hand on his cheek. With a racing heart he placed a tender kiss on her lips. But when he pulled away she wasn't there anymore. By now he should be used to that but he isn't and never will. 

Will ever the day come where he can really have her sleep next to him? He's tired of just being able to see her in his dreams. Talk to her in his dreams. Hold her in his dreams. He sat up and tried to focus on his sleeping fugure again. He was able to keep himself in his dreamworld but had no energy to get her back. He tried to wake himself up so he could go to his brother to ask him for help but he failed. He couldn´t do anything. His body and mind was tired and worn out. He couldn´t manage to do anything. As if that wasn´t enough and torture enough he couldn´t breath properly anymore and started to cough. Due to overworking his body and taking it to it´s limits he started to cough a huge amount of blood what did not surprised him since he was used to it. The blood was a sigh that was supposed to make him stop and leave the dreamworld but doesn´t. he still keept trying to get her back with the amount of power he had left. But everything was useless at this point. His vision got blurry and he slowly lost power over his body. With every minute passing he was losing his consciousness more and more. He loses the power over his mind and body and slowly passes out. 

While Hoseok was having a battle with his mind and body a little part of him was happy because it told him that she was save and doing good. It told him that she was peacefully asleep and happy at the other side of the world. 

If only he knew. 

On the other side of the world Bella was wide awake in the middle of the night. Sitting in her bed while crying and trying to sooth her aching heart. If you need to cry do so, because holding your tears back won´t make it better. It will only worsen the situation and your emotinal state, said Lady Maria. 

Like every other night the director of the orphanage came into her room to lend her a shoulder she could cry on. Her painful crys and sobs always manage to wake the old lady up and make her to come over to the room of the young woman.

Oh darling. How could you fall in love with the ocean prince? Someone as majestic and powerful as him. Him Lee Hoseok. I'm really wondering how long he will be able to come and get you in his dreams. Doesn't he know that it will kill him if he doesn´t stop coming for her every single night?, Lady Maria did not wanted to sadden her more with her words so she keept them to herself while trying to calm her down or at least make her stop crying. But before she knew of could do anything the first rays of the sun where lighting put the room of the heartbroken young mermaid.

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 9

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind… Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Rated M/18+. Loki in a sex shop. Thirsty friend. Strong mentions of Dom/Sub, and bondage implications.

Author’s Note: He could have just conjured up some toys if he wanted to, right?

Here are the other parts to the series: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8    Part 8.5 Part 9

Walking around the shop was good enough to stop the tremble in your legs; standing was becoming difficult since you and Loki started being more than just roommates and living together.

If you weren’t sorting out stock in the back, your leg muscles would start feeling like jelly. If you weren’t reorganizing the bra and lingerie sets on the displays, you could feel your knees start giving in. And the worst, if you weren’t doing anything at all, the dull pain of your joints would start setting off all those things at the same time.

It made you slightly flustered, as it was a constant reminder of Loki, and his stamina.

Your colleagues were suspicious. You had just finished your starting weeks, and you were working harder than they’ve ever seen you before. The manager of the day had given you a few more tasks out of your request, and you even insisted in any extra training you could do today. They doubted it was to get a promotion, since you just began working there, so they assumed it was for a needed raise.

But, little did they know what you’d been doing. It was good that they didn’t know; you knew how fast workplace gossip spreads.

On the other hand, that didn’t stop them from bombarding you with questions.

You were asked to man the till with the staff member you had grown closer with, and she had been prying you for the past fifteen minutes in between re-labelling the desk products and serving customers.

“What’s up with you?”

You were in the middle of placing some money in the till, thanking the customer with a receipt. “What do you mean what’s up with me?”

She relaxed, leaning forward on her elbows and glancing up at you by your side. “I mean, is there something wrong? You seem to be flying through the shelves today.”

“Me?” You pick up the labeller, changing its words, and placing new stickers on some mini vibrators. “I-I’m just working as normal. And, no, there’s nothing wrong… I’m just getting along with my day, y’know?”

Your legs were beginning to twitch.

Having sex with Loki felt like you had been waiting for it since he arrived in the apartment for the first time. It felt good. The whole night felt so good. You felt ridiculous when you woke up this morning, finding out that your entire lower region was shaking. Despite it all, you still had a life to live, and you couldn’t be distracted with Loki and sex, especially at work.

“You sure?” She asks.

“Yup.” You continue stamping on labels.

She looks at you, up and down. “Uh-huh.”

About to remark her nosy attitude and tone, you’re interrupted by another customer.

“Excuse me.”

Both of your eyes snap up to see Loki.

“Loki!” You gasp, dropping the labeller. Your colleague swears under her breath. “Uh – I mean – Hi, sir, how can I help you?”

His irises seem greener and more iridescent than ever as he squints at you, questioning the address. He’s dressed in his usual smart casual wear; a buttoned shirt with the collar loosened, black fitted trousers and, telling by the slight click on the ground as he shifts, his signature raven wingtips.

As always, he out dressed everyone in the room.

From the corner of your eye, you could see your colleague recover from the jump, picking up the labeller that had clattered to the ground, and shoving it away in a shelf underneath the till. She rapidly straightened up, entranced by him. When you took a quick glimpse around the store, there were a few ladies that were peering, or more so ogling, his way.

Loki knew how handsome he was already. But the awed gazes gave his smirk an egotistical accent.

You roll your eyes.

Although you were surprised by Loki’s appearance, you were confused as to why he was here at your workplace. You and him rarely see each other, intentionally or accidentally, outside of the apartment, anyway. So, what was he doing here?

As if he had read your mind, he places his basket in front of you. “May I have a bag with these?”

“Of course.” You reply. Reaching for one of the pink bags, your colleague snags one from under the desk and preps it for you. She grins widely at you, eyes flitting back and forth from both you and the tall god.

Clearing your throat, you focus on the till screen as your hand attains the first item out of the basket; lube.

“That’s a good brand.” Your colleague chimes, gulping. “…Are you Asgardian, by any chance?”

“Yes, I am.” He responds. The scanner beeps. “I’ve been told that might help ease things in a little better.”

The lube bagged, you could practically hear your colleague’s thoughts scream as she looks at you. You clench your jaw, death glares telling her to control herself.

Regardless of the annoyance, you blush slightly, knowing fully well how blessed Loki’s lower regions were, and what they were capable of.

But you wanted to remain professional, so you resumed scanning his items like the customer he was.

You pick up the next product; a restraint kit.

Heart stopping, your death glares turn to Loki. He bares his teeth, watching the glow of your embarrassment as you hesitate to read the contents.

“Wow.” Your colleague chimes in again, gawking a little at the same box. “Are you – uh – into bondage?”

Legs beginning to tremble, you try to keep them still by locking your knees. You scan the box, and it’s bagged.

Loki nods, poised. “It’s just something my darling and I are interested in exploring. She’s unsure, but I’m hoping these will win me her favour.”

Your friend was still enthusiastic. “We have novice packs, actually, if the two of you have just started? The one you got is the advanced pack – spank paddles, bed binds, and all.”

“Oh?” He glances at you. “Yes, I did see the other packs, but she did express interest in being tied up, so I thought I’d buy the pack that might, uh… Maximise the experience.”

If there was an opportunity to kick Loki, you would have taken it, but the stupid desk was in the way. He knew what he was doing; the smirk, the composure, you’d seen it before, and it was getting easier to spot it every time. Despite it all, the most infuriating thing every time, was how he could do it all with such a courteous demeanour.

Even though your sense of work ethic overrode your reactions for the time being, you were still feeling your palms and neck sweat a little. Your views on his behaviours had changed, and instead of finding them extremely aggravating, it was starting to turn you on.

“Okay.” Your friend nods, impressed. “… Would you be interested in our ‘Dom and Sub’ line?- Oh!”

A dark rosewood lingerie set was held in your hands by the hanger. Searching for the tag, you find its size before the barcode; perfect to fit you. Upon closer inspection, the set was held together by strings of red, and patches of beautifully patterned mesh.

Your eyes widen; there were cuts, providing an opening for your intimate parts.

“Do you have this in any other colour?” Loki asks, pointing at the set as you scan it.

“I think there might be more at the back.” Taking the opportunity to escape, you answer, setting the lingerie aside. “Let me just-“

“Oh, no, I’ll do it.” Your colleague winks, rubbing your shoulders and pulling you back before zipping off. “I’ll even get the matching suspenders and stockings, if you’d like?”

Loki tilts his head, approving the offer. “That would be wonderful.”

You sigh, dragging your eyes to Loki.

You lean over the counter to shout-whisper at him. “What are you doing here?”

“You wanted to know more about me, Y/N. I’m just providing you with more information.”

“Like, what?” You grab the scarlet bra and panties and shake it at him. “This doesn’t tell me anything about you. It just tells me that-… That you like this stuff.”

Loki frowns in confusion. “Yes, exactly. I thought you’d look gorgeous being ravished in it.”

Conflicting emotions of arousal and rage beckons to act on one or the other. Loki had a knack of being able to say the right thing, even if it was the wrong place and time, and still get away with it.

You let go of the garment, flopping it onto the surface.  

You take a deep breath. “Loki, I-I never asked what your kinks were.”

“But I like knowing yours.” His lighthearted exterior fades, but there’s a twinkle in his gaze. “You need to stop blushing, my love. You’re giving me too many thoughts.”

Words echoing, you freeze. Your heart seemed to tremble underneath his gaze, and his velvet voice had taken yours away.

Using the back of your palms, you feel the heat of your cheeks.

Your colleague returns, hearing her footsteps behind you and being beside you again. She arranges the new colors of the garment in front of him. “Here you are.”

Like a switch, his false kind smile is back, and his laugh is refreshing. “Wow, thank you for this.”

“Okay, so the wine-reddish one you have is the ‘Little Lust Red’, but we also have this navy blue one here – it’s called ‘Baby, be my Daddy Blue’ – Or this one-“ – she surveys the tag of the third – “- it’s ‘Good girl for my Highness Green’, this one’s kind of special – it has some pearl detail, as you can see.”

Did she have to say the color names out loud?

You try to evade the conversation, concentration back on the till screen, as if it was of any importance. Your foot taps repeatedly on the tiled floor, ignoring Loki’s agonising scrutiny of the lingerie before him. You made the mistake of glancing at the pretty sets, then checking Loki, thumb pressed on his bottom lip in thought.

Loki looks at you, dressing and undressing you in them in his mind, one by one. The red would be stunning on you, although the blue had a shade of innocence on you that made it more gratifying to ruin, but the green… The string of pearls served as a replacement of cloth for your most intimate and sensitive area. And the thought of the beads brushing your clit, with it’s cold and smooth surface, was making Loki think of your warm body indulging in all the senses and stimulation he could give you.

“I’d be delighted in taking all of them, if I’m not being too greedy.” He says.

Your colleague, beaming from ear to ear, scans them for you, folding and stashing them away in the bag with the rest. “Amazing, I’ll just pop that in there for you…”

Your colleague glances at you, signalling for the total cost and receipt. On autopilot, you make the transaction with Loki, letting your colleague do most of the customer service chatting for you.

You stare at the bag in his grasp. The lingerie sets were gorgeous, and it wouldn’t take a lot of convincing on Loki’s part to make you wear them; lace was a fabric that you grew to enjoy the texture of, and their design made you curious to see how they’d frame you and your physique.

You wondered how Loki would react once he saw you in them.

“Pretty cool names, huh, Y/N?” Your colleague nudges you. “I was curious as to what he was, and I had to think it up on the spot-“

“Wait- wha-“ You blink, turning to her. “What do you mean you made them-“

She was glowing. “I wasn’t sure, but I had to know!” She peers outside the shop door, even though the God of Mischief was no longer within sight.

You follow her, trying to make sure she stays inside. “Had to know, what?”

She raises a brow at you. “He’s definitely hot, and definitely a Dom – total, total Dom! – God, I’m jealous.”

“Jealous? Why?”

“Whoever he’s screwing tonight – She is going to be spoilt rotten.”

[fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry]

Walking the tightrope - A "The Greatest Showman" Fanfiction 1

Yeah I started writing something else, sorry 😅 I'll keep writing the Beetlejuice one, don't worry, I just had an another idea... With one of my other crushes. This won't need any warnings so we'll just skip that :3 Have a nice time reading! Chapter 2 coming tomorrow or the day after! 😘

🎶When the world becomes a fantasy🎶

Drops of sweat were rolling off of Constantine's back. Sparks of joy, confidence and concentration were glowing in his dark brown eyes.

🎶And you're more than you could ever be🎶

He did a twirl, letting his cape fly freely. He was feeling really good that night. The crowd was clapping and smiling widely as the circus company danced.

🎶'Cause you're dreaming with your eyes wide open🎶

The cast changed places, but Constantine stepped even closer to the viewers from his place. Lettie told him lately that he should sing a little alone if he was feeling like it, cause he had an angelic voice. Oh and he was feeling like it.

🎶YEAH, YEAH🎶

He belted while stepping on the ring stool, causing the first row scream out and clap even harder. He smiled at his little admirers: four little kids; three girls and a boy, not one older than 8. And a fair young woman with them, with an excited look on her pretty face. She was cheering just as hard as the children she were with. Constantine changed a quick glance with her as he stepped back in line.

🎶And you know you can't go back again🎶

The cast all posed as Mr. Barnum slipped before them. Constantine flexed his muscles like the greek hero he was on stage, causing several women to gasp. He couldn't help but glance at the young lady he looked at before. She had a naughty little smile on her face. These tiny adoring looks boosted his ego and made him feel less ashamed about how he looked. So he smiled back.

🎶To the world that you were living in🎶

Mr. Barnum tipped his hat towards one of the kids the woman was with, which made the little boy scream in excitement. Mr. Barnum really knew how to make the crowd cheer, thought Constantine.

🎶'Cause you're dreaming with your eyes wide open🎶

Constantine huffed as he got to his place before spinning again. His hair got all wet and rumpled. I'll ask Anne what she does with her wig so it doesn't fall apart.

🎶'Cause you're dreaming with your eyes wide open🎶

They retreated back to the back of the stage, then jumped back to their original places to finish the grand finale. They all raised their hands in fists.

🎶So come alive!🎶

They opened up their fists and turned around to face everybody in the crowd. Constantine belted out his last lines with closed eyes and a huge smile spread out on his face. He then did his end pose with a confident smile.

After the company finished the show with bowing, they retreated to their quarters with huge smiles on their faces. Constantine took his cape off and threw it on his bed. His small room with red walls, arabian style drapes on the ceiling and dark brown furniture with fretwork all over it was way better than his old hammock in the poopdeck of the ship he was "working" on. He transferred back to reality by the feeling of someone touching his skin. He looked at the person who gave him a friendly pat on the back. The warm smile of his best friend welcomed him, as always.

- How are you feeling, my friend? - asked the sicilian man with a heavy accent while he sat down on Constantine's bed. It was packed with colorful pillows and was covered in dark green satin bedsheets.

- Very good, Lentini, very good! - said the greek while he walked to his wardrobe. He pulled out a white shirt, a pair of suspenders, some underwear and a pair of burgundy red trousers, with light fishbone patterns on them. - This night was a true blast. - he said with a wide smile, then disappeared behind his dark brown, wooden dressing screen.

- That's why I came, to be honest. - said the sicilian as he stood up from the bed. He walked up to Constantine's trident and touched its edges. They were sharp as knives. - I wanted to congratulate you! - Lentini turned around with a huge smile on his face when he saw from the corner of his eye that Constantine came out from behind the dressing screen. That's what Constantine liked about him the most. That Frank Lentini was the most positive, most wholesome man he ever met. And that he was always smiling. That made the tattoed Prince of Greece feel better, no matter how gloomy he was. He was still buttoning his shirt when Lentini grabbed his shoulders. - Your act was very good! You are getting better and better in pleasing the crowd! - he winked. Constantine laughed and shooed his hand away.

- You are making me blush, Frank. - the sicilian shrugged while he put his third leg up on the chest that was placed before Constantine's king sized bed.

- I wouldn't know it though. - Constantine rolled his eyes.

- Come on pal, my face is not THAT covered in tattoos! - they both laughed. Constantine grabbed Lentini's shoulder with his right hand while he put his left hand on his heart. The real one, not the one that was tattoed across his chest. - But thank you, I really felt great on stage. Have you seen how many people came tonight?

- I'm not blind, my friend. - Frank leaned closer with a cheeky smile. - Did any of your cheering fans caught your attention? - Constantine pushed the three legged man away with a half smile.

- Maybe. But you know I'm a lone wolf, my friend. - Lentini raised an eyebrow.

- I also know that's a lie, dearest Prince. - he grabbed the Prince's shoulder again and squeezed it. - Don't worry, amico mio. Sooner or later, you will find your Princess. - Constantine looked him in the eye with hope in his eyes.

- You know how hard it is for us. But, I hope you're going to be right. - Frank patted the greek man's face.

- I'll go and grab a bite in the tavern nearby. Care to join me? - Constantine stepped away from his friend and sat down before his vanity.

- Maybe later. I'm not really hungry now. - the sicilian bowed, Constantine waved.

- See you later then, my friend.

Constantine washed his hair in his iron basin. He grabbed a towel and just started to dry it up when suddenly he heard a woman call out.

- Melody? It's time to go home, honey! - the man pricked his ears. The greek was pretty sure that the woman who was calling out was young. And beautiful. Such an angelic voice couldn't come from some old hag. The voice kept repeating "Melody" over and over again, the next call always more panicked then the one before. Constantine decided that he should help this damsel in distress. He stood up and started following the calls.

Constantine gallopped down the stairs, still drying up his hair with the towel when he spotted the owner of the voice. She truly was a young lady, a beautiful and petite one, to be exact. She wore a dark purple spotted white evening dress with dark purple lace on her slim body, which really made her light caramel coloured skin pop. Her black, wavy hair was tied into a tight bun, but several loose locks framed her pretty, triangle shaped face. She wore little golden hooprings in her ears, which matched her thin golden bracelets. She didn't have any gloves on. She was looking under the seats next to the ring. Constantine stepped behind her and threw the towel across his shoulder.

- Can I help you? - he asked. The woman straightened herself up.

- Yes! I'm really sorry to bother, sir, but... - she turned around to face the man. The young woman's hazel colored eyes widened and her bow-shaped lips parted. Constantine just realized that this was the girl he spotted during the finale. She was still speechless. He cleared his throat and stepped back as a sad glow found its way to his eyes.

- I didn't mean to frighten you. - the woman shook her head with a smile, kind of awkwardly.

- Oh my, no, you didn't! - she stuttered a bit. - I just... - she flashed a perky little smile as she looked into the man's dark brown eyes. - ...I just got starstruck.

Constantine smiled back at the woman. He immediately felt happier, knowing that his appearance didn't frighten her... Not like many others. Most normal people felt either disgust or fear when stood face to face before him. But it looked like this woman was fairly different. He bowed a little. As he did, he heard children giggling from the back. He looked at them, a boy and two girls. The boy's brown skin was spotted with white patches, like he got sprinkled with white paint. The girls looked normal. He winked at them, which made them giggle even harder. Constantine's smile widened. Oh how he loved kids. They were much more accepting than grown adults. He looked back at the woman, who crossed her hands before her chest and rested her head on one of her fists. He couldn't help but glance at the young woman's soft feminine figure - which her corset emphasized even more - as he faced her again.

- It seems you have one less children then you had before. - the woman rubbed her temples and growled.

- Yes, my little Melody decided to sneak away from my watchful eyes... - she opened her eyes and pointed at the greek man. - Wait. From where do you know I had 4 children with me? - Constantine shrugged, held a hand up, rubbed his scrag with his other hand and smiled widely.

- You were the loudest members of the audience tonight. - the kids all giggled from the background, just as the woman they were with. The woman's glance ran all through the tattoed man face, not too conspicuously. But Constantine kind of noticed that her glance stayed a bit on his mustache... Or his lips? It was hard to tell. - Well, I hardly think that your little escapee will be somewhere here. - Constantine pointed back to the staircase. - Would you like to come into our quarters with me to see if she sneaked up there? - a relieved smile found its way to the woman's face.

- Yes, thank you so much! - she sighed and tilted her head. - That would literally save my job! - she turned to the children and crouched down before the eldest looking girl. - Alice, would you be a lamb and watch after the others?

- I'm the man, I should take care of the girls! - said the boy with a pout as he crossed his arms before his chest. The woman stroked his face with a gentle look.

- Yes, Jacob, you will be a wonderful gentleman one day, but right now Alice is the ranking member of our party of criminals. - she kissed the boy's forehead, scruffed his hair, then looked at so-called Alice. - So, honey? - the girl did a courtesy.

- Yes, Miss Munroe. - she got a kiss on her forehead as well. The woman stood up and faced the tattoed man. The Prince gave her his hand.

- Shall we? - Miss Munroe put her hand in the man's palm. Constantine gulped. Yes, several woman gasped at the site of his muscular body and tattoes and awed as he flexed on stage, but he couldn't go near any them... Once the show was over, he was a freak in their eyes again. But not to this woman. There wasn't a spark of disgust in her eyes. No. Constantine only saw the colors of autumn leaves, rays of sunshine and appreciation in her eyes. It was so weird for him. Weirdly comforting.

As they started ascending the stairs, hand in hand, the man helping the woman, Constantine started conversation.

- So tell me, what are these children doing with you? You are pretty young to be a mother of four. - he said with a cheeky halfsmile. The woman jokingly punched his shoulder with the hand he wasn't holding.

- Mind you, sir, I'm 24! Almost a spinster. - she said with a laugh. Constantine glanced at the woman with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

- You're still younger then me, little missy. I'm 30. You could call me a spinster as well. - the young woman stopped at the top of the stairs. Her eyes widened with disbelief.

- You are a bachelor? - she pointed her index finger at the man, touching the tattoed heart on his chest. - You?! - he leaned closer to the young woman. His sparkly dark blue makeup made the mischievous look in his brown eyes even more dangerous.

- I hope not for long. - the woman bit her lower lip while flashing a playful smile. Constantine winked. He stepped back and opened the first door. Lentini's room. He looked around, not a single child in sight. Constantine shook his head at the woman. She sighed. They started to walk towards the next door.

- You are right though, I am not their mother. I am their teacher. - Constantine flashed an amazed, impressed look. - I work in a rich people's orphanage, you know. I teach orphaned upper class little kids history, music and literature. - Constantine stopped, opened the next door and looked into his own room. No one was there. When he stepped back to the woman, she was looking down at the children who were playing tag in the circus ring. She smiled caringly. - I brought these kids here to show them the wonders of humankind. That there are many shapes and colors of humans and they are all beautiful. - Constantine stepped closer to her, hands crossed before his chest.

- That's a rare opinion. - he said as he leaned against the wooden parapet. The woman shrugged.

- Most people are unfortunately narrow-minded. - she looked back at the man. - I want to teach younglings that they shouldn't be narrow and dark as a corridor. - Constantine let out a laugh at the girl's joke. She smiled as well. - You know, kids in our orphanage are very restricted, so...

- You sneaked them out, I suppose. - he chimed in as he opened the door to the room of Deniel, The Lord of Leeds. Not a soul there neither. The woman put her left hand in the air and her right on her chest as Constantine looked back at her.

- Guilty, your honor. - she lowered her hands. While walking, she was twiddling with her thin bracelets. She had at least 3 on each hand. - I sneak different children out every day, so each one of them could see your daring acts. - she shrugged and pushed a flock of hair away from her eyes. - Plus I like it here. - Constantine stepped to the next door. There was faint music coming out.

- Just a second, darling. - he opened the door after knocking. His colleague was sitting on his sofa, reading a book about Napoleon. - Hey Charles, have you seen a little girl running around here?

- About this tall, pretty golden curls... - said and showed the woman as she stack her head in under Constantine's muscular arm. She waved with a wide smile. - Hi, sorry to bother you, sir. - Charles closed his book and jumped off his sofa. He was 130 centimeters, max. He walked up to them.

- Lost kid, aye? - he shook his head. - No, I haven't. Sorry, ducky. - as soon as Miss Munroe left the room, Charles tucked on the leaving Constantine's trousers. He started whispering. - Hey, Prince! - he pointed after the young woman. - New girl in the crew? - Constantine shook his head and waved his hand. Charles looked after the woman and flashed a toothy grin. - She's pretty, invite her out! - Constantine rolled his eyes and pushed the short man away. He closed the door behind him. The woman was blushing. Oh Hell, she heard Charles...

- I'm here, sorry. - Miss Munroe waved.

- No problem. - they started to walk towards the next door. The girl looked down at her shoes, still blushing a little. - You know, it's kind of fortunate that Melody got lost. I really wanted to tell you that I loved your act. - Constantine stopped. - I've seen like 5 shows already and your act was always my favourite. - the greek's chin dropped a bit. The woman lowered her voice as she looked deep into the tall Prince's eyes. - You're really talented. - Constantine chuckled nervously and scratched his scruff. Nobody from the outer world told him personally that they liked his act yet...

- I'm just throwing around tridents... - the woman stepped closer to him. Even in her heels, that made a clanking sound with every step, she was way shorter than Constantine. And she was intimately close.

- But you do it with style and elegance. - she looked down at his chest, then back to his eyes. Her minxy little smile made Constantine see stars and those cute dimples in her cheeks made him weak in the knees. - And your aim is phenomenal.

- T...thank you... - he stuttered. He didn't know what else he could do so he quickly opened up the door that was behind him. The owner of the room let out a little scream. Constantine faced her with a nervous smile and a shaky voice. - Lettie! Darling dear! - he grabbed the towel which was still on his shoulder, and wiped the sweat off from his forehead. What the hell has gotten into me?! - Have you seen a little girl? About ye tall, with golden locks... - the bearded woman reached down.

- You mean this little angel? - she lifted a little girl up from the floor. She was about 4 years old, had golden hair, piercing blue eyes and dark caramel skin and was playing with a fan. Her blue eyes lit up as she looked at the young woman. Miss Munroe gasped and opened up her arms.

- Melody! - the little girl put the fan down and ran to her and hugged her teacher's neck, who hugged her back. - Sweetie, what did I tell you about running off? - she placed a kiss on the top of the child's head. - You scared the hell out of me, I was so worried! - Constantine watched as the young woman peppered kisses all over the little girl's head. She looked so caring... - You little nasty... - she let go of the little girl and looked at Lettie. She put her hand on her chest. - Thank you so much for taking care of her! - Lettie smiled back at her and nodded. - I'm happy she was in good hands. - the woman reached down to lift little Melody up to her hip. Constantine put his hands before her, blocking her reach.

- Oh nonono, I'm the stronger one, I'll carry her. - the woman's mouth opened, trying to say something, but in the end she stayed quiet. She closed her mouth with a smile and stepped back so Constantine could pick up the child. He grunted as he put Melody on his hip. - Wooh you're a heavy one! - the little girl looked down to her teacher. - Hey honeybee! - Constantine lifted the little girl's chin up, causing her to giggle. His eyes lit up and he smiled widely. - Hi! Did you like the show? - Melody nodded enthusiastically. Constantine squeaked. - Aw you did? That's awesome! Who was your favorite? - the little child looked back at Lottie and pointed at her.

- The bearded lady. She has the voice of an angel. - Lottie awed and rubbed her eyes. Melody looked back at Constantine and put her little hands on his face. - And you. Your drawings are pretty. - Constantine gasped.

- Thank you! Tell you what, I did some myself! - he held up his left hand and showed her his big palm. There was a tiny birdie in the middle of it. - Look! - Melody let go of the tattooed man's bearded face and touched the bird in his palm. Miss Munroe gestured 👌 to Constantine with a wink. She waved to Lottie and exited the room. Constantine nodded with a smile towards the bearded woman. - Thanks Lettie!

When they reached the end of the stairs, Constantine threw the girl up in the air, then started to lower her towards the ground slowly. She was giggling hard.

- Here we are, little honeybee! I'm gonna put you down, okay? - the little girl hugged the Prince's knees, then ran after her friends. Miss Munroe fiddled with her hair as they looked at each other with the bearded man. She looked down with a cheesy little smile, then back at Constantine.

- Hey kids! - she called out, still facing the man who now leaned against the banisters. - Could you wait for me at the exit? - the four children ran towards the exit. Little Melody slowed down for a second before Constantine, just to say:

- Byebye, pretty mister! - Constantine waved back to her with a smile and blew her kisses.

As soon as the kids disappeared, the woman stepped closer to him with a welcoming smile on her face and with glistening eyes, like they were filled with thousands of fireworks.

- Well, thank you very much for helping me. - she sighed. - Now all I have to do is sneak the kids back into the orphanage. - for a couple seconds, Constantine thought that that was all she wanted to say. But she took a deep breath and started talking while gesturing heavily. - Look, most of the time I'm the one who gets invited, so this is kind of a first for me. - she breathed out and locked eyes with the Prince. - As an acknowledgement for your helpfullness, would you accompany me to dinner tomorrow?

Constantine gawped. He almost fell over by the surprise, but quickly regained his composure. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

- Dinner as in... - he asked hastily.

- As in you and me eating at a restaurant. - came the quick answer from the young lady. Her cheeky half smile and her cute dimples already made Constantine melt. - Just you and me, no kids or colleagues. - she explained. It would be so nice... But...

- I don't know... - he anwered with a shaky voice. He suddenly felt the worst anxiety and unsteadiness he experienced in a long time. He looked down at his shoes and sighed. - I mean... - he looked back up at her and raised his hands. - Look at me. - he rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue in an annoyed way. - People always stare at me and chase me away eventually. I... - he got stopped by Miss Munroe's hand stroking his beard. He gasped at the sudden touch. The clanking of her bracelets sounded like windchimes on a sunny morning. She smiled warmly.

- Well, all I see is a handsome, fine young man. - Constantine didn't say a word. He just... Couldn't. He couldn't find his voice. Which was not a fortunate thing in this situation. After a couple seconds of awkward silence, the woman let go of his face and stepped back. She anxiously bit her lower lip and looked down. - Emmm... - she stepped even further from Constantine and put her hand up in an apologetic way. - You know what, this was a way too bold idea, I'm really sorry. - she did a quick courtesy. - Good night! - and she ran off.

Constantine just stood there, touching his face where that small, delicate palm touched it with an open mouth.

- What the Hell are you doing Constantine?!? - shouted Lettie from the middle of the stairs. Did she see the whole scene?!

- What? - asked Constantine in a dumb manner, which only made Lettie come down from the stairs and slap the Prince's nape lightly. He grabbed his scrag after the slap with an "OW" sound.

- Go after her RIGHT. NOW! - said the bearded woman angrily.

- Lettie, I... - Lettie rolled her eyes and grabbed Constantine by the shoulders. Even though she was at least a head shorter than him, he still feared her more than O'Clancy, the giant.

- She invited you out on a rendezvous, you moron! - since being terrifying didn't work, she huffed, closed her eyes for a second, than continued in a much calmer tone. - Don't screw this up, Constantine, please... - the Prince wanted to say something but Lettie signaled to him that he should shut the hell up. So he just sighed. - You know I have a good knowledge of character. Trust me. - she cupped the tattoed man's face in her palms and looked deep into his eyes. - She is not like Selena. I know it. She is not going to break you heart. - she let the man hardened into stone go and pointed towards the entrance with a small laugh. - Run after her you idiot or you'll miss your chance! - Constantine shook his head to gain back his confidence, planted a soft kiss on Lettie's face and ran like his life depended on it.

When he reached the exit, he pushed the doors wide open. The warm wind of June brushed through his hair as he looked around, trying to find the woman he helped out. He spotted a carriage, and Miss Munroe as she loaded the kids into it. Constantine ran towards them and almost tripped just before reaching his destination. When he finally got hold of the chariot, he huffed out, basically bent in half before the woman he met earlier. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest. God he hated to run.

When he finally straightened himself up, the young woman he was facing almost burst out into laughter but was trying really hard to cover it. So she cleared her throat.

- Hello, Miss Munroe! Again. - Constantine scratched his scruff anxiously. - Umm, when do you finish at work? - the woman's eyes lit up with excitement and mischief. She started putting her weight from one leg to another, like a deb before her first ball.

- At 4 in the afternoon. You?

- If I don't perform at the night show, then at around 5. - he stepped closer to Miss Munroe with a light smile that turned more and more confident with every passing second. - What do you say, could we meet at around 6 o'clock? - the girl jumped a bit as she clapped her tiny hands together.

- Absolutely! So, meet you here tomorrow? - Constantine hesitated.

- Not eeeexaaaaactly, I think the back entrance would be safer for you. - he pointed at one of the threatening boards that was left on the stairs of the circus. - You know, the protesters... - Miss Munroe nodded enthusiastically, with a wide smile.

- Oh yes. Absolutely. See you tomorrow then. - she said as she grabbed the handrail of the rig. But Constantine grabbed her hand.

- Wait! You forgot to tell me your first name. - the woman stepped back to the ground and pulled a lock of hair beneath her ear.

- Oh, it's... - it sounded like she hesitated for a bit. - Hazel. - she offered her hand for shaking. - I'm Hazel Munroe. - but Constantine didn't shake her hand. He gently held it, turned it flatways, bowed and blew a gentle kiss on her hand. He was pretty sure he felt the girl tremble.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hazel Munroe. I am Constantine. - her eyes narrowed.

- Like your stagename? - Constantine rolled his eyes with a devilish smile as he stood back up.

- Well... It's actually Prince Constantine. The tattoed héros of Greece. - Hazel giggled. The Prince let her hand go, so she stepped closer to the man.

- Alright. I can't wait to see you again, your majesty. - the man sighed with an eyeroll, but turned to stone when Hazel planted a kiss on his beard. He watched her with wide eyes as she pulled herself into the carriage. - Have a good night! - she waved goodbye and disappeared into the night.

Oh, it certainly will be good.

[mojofun]

One Last Time (Sebastian Stan x OC)

So, this story is part of a fantastic writing challenge. I decided to partcipate, and this is the story I wrote about our one and only Sebastian Stan, based on the prompt “One last time”

Beware: tooth-rotting fluff ahead. Proceed with caution.

JK ;)

Give it a read if you want and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it; let me know what you think and shoutout to @kitkatd7 for launching this writing challenge. Check out their account if you want to participate :)

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Tess, darling, we need to go!>> A woman with curly caramel hair shouted, looking at a little girl who was having the time of her life on the swing.

The woman was smiling adoringly. It warmed her heart to see the child so happy, but she needed to go grocery shopping before the stores closed for lunchtime break

<<But mommy, I’m having so much fun!>> The kid protested with a pout, slowing down her movements until she came to a halt

<<Tess…>>

The poor mother trailed off when her daughter fixed her wide, innocent jade green eyes on her, pursing her lips. The woman sighed, brushing her daughter’s strawberry blond hair out of her small face

<<I can see you’re enjoying yourself my dear, but we need to go shopping. Besides, other children want to go on the swing, and it’s not fair for you to hog it>>

Tess flinched, lowering her head guiltily.

Then, she noticed a little boy that was standing a few feet from her, staring expectantly.

He wants to go on the swing, the little girl thought. Mommy was right

Determined to make up for her selfishness, Tess approached the other child bashfully

<<Hi! Sorry for not letting you have a go, I just… Lost track of time>>

The boy smiled reassuringly, shaking his head

<<No problem, don’t worry>>

<<Why didn’t you say anything?>>

He shrugged

<<You were enjoying yourself too much; I didn’t want to disturb you>>

<<Oh>>

The little girl blushed at that statement. She took in his appearance, from the baby blue eyes to the blondish-brown hair and adorable smile that he was still giving her.

It brought one to her face as well

He’s so nice

<<Thank you, that’s very sweet. Anyway, it’s your turn now>>

He beamed, thanking her before walking past her toward the coveted swing.

Suddenly, just when he was about to sit on it, he stopped and turned to face her again

<<Why don’t you go again?>>

<<What?>>

<<One last time>>

Tess gasped, amazed that a stranger was being so nice to her. Normally, kids were so selfish- the thought made her blush darken even more.

He’s so, so nice

<<Really? You don’t mind?>>

<<It’s ok: I’m spending the afternoon here, so I’ll have a lot of time to go on this swing>>

He shrugged again, still smiling at her.

Before she could register what was going on, Tess threw herself at the boy with her arms open, hugging him tightly

<<Thank you, thank you very much>>

A few moments went by before she realised what she’d done. She tried to disentangle herself, but he hugged her back before she could

<<You’re welcome. Now go, or your mom will make you leave>>

They pulled apart

<<Before I go, what’s your name?>>

<<Sebastian. Yours?>>

<<Tess. Nice to meet you, Sebastian>>

<<Right back to you, Tess>> He grinned at her, giving her a slight push <<Now go, hurry!>>

She ran back to the swing, smiling so much that her cheeks hurt.

<<Mommy, will we come back tomorrow?>> Tess asked her mother while they pulled over by the store. The woman chuckled

<<Of course, my dear. Why do you ask? Do you want to see that boy again?>>

For the third time that day, the blonde child felt her cheeks heat up in flames

<<Oh, darling, don’t be embarrassed>>

<<You’re mean>>

<<I’ll buy you some chocolate milk to make up for my teasing, alright?>>

The mother knew those were the magic words to get her daughter to smile again, and that’s what happened

<<Yes, thank you>>

<<You’re welcome, honey.

By the way, that boy was very kind to you. Did you get his name?>>

Her daughter grinned, nodding vehemently

<<It’s->>

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Sebastian Stan!>> Tess shouted, stomping inside the man’s apartment with a deadly glare.

The unaware offender was relaxing on his couch, watching tv. When she burst in he almost jumped to the ceiling, dropping the remote

<<Tess! What the hell?>>

<<You!>> She hollered again, threateningly pointing at him with her index <<You little->>

<<What did I do?>> He pleaded, confused and worried. She pushed a piece of paper against his chest with a huff

<<How could you just drop the invitation to your premiere at my apartment without even telling me?>>

Finally, the cause behind her temper was revealed. Sebastian deflated, feeling instantly relieved; so relieved in fact, that he laughed in her face.

Wrong move. His friend glared at him even more, bearing down on him

<<You think it’s funny, you airhead? I have nothing to wear! I need to get my hair done, and my nails, and->>

<<Sweetie>> The actor began, trying to calm her down with a smile and a soft pat to the back <<it’s fine>>

<<No it’s not. Us mortals need to->>

<<I know some people that can help you, don’t worry.>>

Just like that, Tess went from upset to flabbergasted

<<You do- You wa- What?>>

He tried to, he really did; he mustered all his abilities as an actor that he’d acquired through the years, but even that was not enough.

Thus, seeing his best friend so stunned, Sebastian couldn’t help bursting into hysterics, throwing his head back and plonking down on the couch

<<Your face! I wish I had a camera!>>

<<You suck>> She retaliated, no real hard feelings in her voice.

After a few minutes, during which the female enjoyed watching him laugh, he pulled himself together and took her hands in his

<<Darling, all will be ok; just trust me. Will you?>>

He received an eye-roll and a nod in response. Ignoring the former, he concentrated on the latter and stood up

<<Perfect. Let me get my phone, I’ll arrange everything. You sit back and relax>>

Tess snorted, reclining on the couch

<<Damn right you will: you got me in this pretty pickle, you’ll sort it out>>

<<You suck>>

<<You wish>> She teased with a wink

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Mr Stan, over here!>>

<<Mr Stan!>>

<<Sebastian, can I have a word?>>

Flashes were going off everywhere, but he didn’t mind anymore; he was used to it. The overwhelming attempts by reporters to interview him did not bother him much either, probably because he was distracted.

In fact, any observer would have noticed him staring at the road expectantly, anticipation oozing from his every pore.

He was waiting for Tess.

In the years after their encounter at the park, the two of them had become the best of friends. Both he and Tess began to ask their mothers to go back to the park with insistence, until it became a sort of tradition; the two women even exchanged numbers at some point, so they could organise playdates for the two kids.

Playdates.

That word made him shiver.

He was incredibly happy to have met the strawberry-blonde: she was an amazing friend, always there for him, supportive and ready to give him a kick where the sun don’t shine if he needed it. The thought of all their late-night conversations, her pep talks before his auditions, the number of times they went to the park -and on that very same swing- even as grown adults…

It brought a huge smile on his face.

He relished each and every memory, thankful to have in his life someone so amazing.

That’s why he was so mad at himself.

In fact, there was a not-so-small secret that he kept from his best friend: he’d fallen in love with her.

The actor was incredibly mad at himself, afraid to ruin a friendship he valued more than anything with a slip of the tongue; if it happened, he’d never forgive himself. Thus, he’d resorted to wallowing in his pain, settling for being her best pal rather than a stranger.

No matter his job, however, he continuously wondered how long his lie would last.

Every time it came to mind, he shivered.

Finally, another car nosed its way along the pavement before coming to a halt.

When the door opened, Sebastian felt his breath leave his lungs in a whoosh.

Was that vision really his Tess, the tomboy who preferred mud splashes to makeup? She was always beautiful, but that night… She was magnificent.

The dress she wore -which she’d kept from him until the last moment, much to his chagrin- was a splendid, shimmering black gown, with an extremely steep neckline that was offset by discreet, nude-coloured fabric decorated with small rhinestones; the slit in the skirt was vertiginous, and it showed her shapely leg and the black heels she’d chosen. With her waist-length hair curled in doll-like locks and blood-red lips on the lips that distracted him so often, she looked like a goddess straight out of his dreams.

The smile she gave him when their eyes met only reinforced that impression; he felt his heart flutter, watching her step closer to him

<<Sebastian! Hi, how are you?>>

<<Hi. I’m->> He harrumphed <<I’m good thanks. You look amazing tonight, by the way>>

Is that blush on her cheeks?

<<Thank you. You clean up nice too>> She whispered timidly.

He smiled at her, straightening his red tie and the lapels of the dark grey jacket he wore. Then, he offered her his arms

<<Shall we go, my lady?>>

The posh accent he used made her giggle; in reality, it was also due to his gallant gesture.

The young woman tried to mimic his pronunciation when gave him her arm and replied

<<Indeed, good sir>>

They went in the theatre together, laughing like the children they were.

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Thank you for the wonderful evening, Seb. I had a wonderful time>>

Tess murmured, standing on the steps of her apartment where he’d accompanied her.

The blue-eyed man looked at his best friend with a slight smile. In reality, he was fighting an internal battle. Namely, he was trying to suppress that nagging voice in the back of his head that screamed for him to just take her in his arms and kiss her

<<You’re welcome, doll; I’m glad you enjoyed the night>>

The blonde beauty giggled again

<<Doll, uh? Your character’s really getting to you>>

<<Don’t you like it?>> He purred with a smirk

<<I must admit I do, a lot. It’s better than munchkin anyway>>

<<Not my fault you are so short; even now you don’t reach my chin, and you’re wearing high heels>>

In response to his teasing, he received a playful whack on the shoulder with her purse

<<You suck>> She snorted.

<<You wish>> He chuckled too, fending off her numerous attempts to hit him again.

Their laughter died after a while, and they stood there in silence, staring into each other’s eyes. Seconds, minutes which seemed hours passed, but they stayed like that.

Suddenly, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

In the blink of an eye, Tess found herself enveloped in Sebastian’s strong arms; before she could ask what was going on, his lips found hers and he kissed her passionately, holding her tight against his body.

The brunette felt like he would burst, both for the affection he had for the woman he was currently kissing and for the shame he felt as he slowly pulled away, forcing his eyes open even if he didn’t want to see the revulsion on her face.

The sight in front of him made his blood run cold: she was petrified, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape.

Gulping, Sebastian tried to salvage what he could. Mentally cursing himself in every language he knew, he stuttered an apology

<<Tess, I’m sorry… I- I don’t know what came over me>>

<<…>>

This is it, he groused. This time I’ve done it; I destroyed our friendship. She’ll never want to see me again after this

<<Uh, Tess? Are you ok?>>

The woman was still silent, staring at him like he’d grown a third eye.

I would have preferred a reaction. Shouting, a slap in the face… Anything but this

Broken-hearted, the brown-haired man delicately cupped her cheeks in his hands, taking a steadying breath before speaking

<<Doll, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve had a major crush on you, for years now, and I…

It’s ok if you don’t feel the same, I don’t expect anything from you. I just… There’s one thing I want to do>>

The green-eyed woman was still unresponsive, and it only unnerved him further

<<I want to kiss you again. One last time>>

Not bothering to wait for a reply that would probably never come, Sebastian leaned in and pressed his lips against Tess’ red ones in the most delicate, romantic kiss either of them ever had.

It only lasted a moment though: he wasn’t brave enough to push her any further, no matter how much he wanted. Besides, it didn’t feel fair.

With a sigh that promised tears to come, the tall man gave her a sad smile before bidding her goodnight and turning to walk away.

He got as far as the gate before a flurry of black launched herself at him, effectively immobilising him

<<Seb! Don’t go, wait a second. I have something to say>>

He arched an eyebrow, trying to support the painting woman that was wobbling unsteadily on her heels

<<Damn, these things are hell to run in>>

<<I’m not sure they were made with that purpose in mind>> He joked, confused by her behaviour.

The young woman pulled herself together again and grinned at him, taking his face in her hands

<<First of all->>

His eyes grew the size of saucers when her lips found his for the third time that night. He didn’t fight it, both because he never would and he was paralysed at the moment. When she pulled away he saw her huge smile, and it puzzled him even more

<<I wanted to kiss you one last time too>>

Those few words broke him even more than he already was.

His expression must have been a clear sign of that, because the blonde was shaking her head and speaking again

<<One last time as friends. Because I want to kiss you as my boyfriend from now on>>

The world stopped. Sebastian stood there, trying to come to terms with what she told him

One last time as friends. Because I want to kiss you as my boyfriend from now on

Did that mean…

<<D- Doll… D- Does that mean->>

<<Yes, it does>> She hushed him, snickering at his disconcertment <<Now shut up and kiss me again>>

The smile that spread on his face was immense. Finally, the actor went back to his usual, jovial self and pulled her even closer, tenderly tucking a rebellious strand of her luscious mane behind her ear

<<With pleasure>>

Their lips met again.

This time though, it was different. This time they both knew what the other wanted and, most importantly, what the other wanted. This time they knew their love was reciprocated, and it made them smile in the kiss.

When they pulled away they both beamed at each other

<<My girlfriend>>

<<My boyfriend>>

<<I guess it was not the last time>>

<<In a way. But this was the first time>>

<<Mh, I want more; come here>>

They stood there, by the gate, kissing like there was no tomorrow; it was a way to make up for lost time, to soothe the hurt they’d unintentionally caused each other. It didn’t matter who’d waited the longest, who’d been the most oblivious or who made the first move. What did matter was that they were in love, and in love there is no space for last times.

@kitkatd7

[goodmorningdove]

It occurs to me that I don't know enough about the Coinflip Gods setting to reasonably ask questions. So! Please tell me more about the setting and the story!

SO! there are 3 “coins” in the universe. they're not physical coins, but like... stages of gods, each of which is on either side of the “coin”. The first coin is the reality coin, which has Crow Green, God of Space and All In The Physical Realm, and Dove Magenta, God of Time and The Perception Of Its Passage. The second coin is the awareness coin, which has Snapdragon Blue, God of Secrecy and What Does Not Want To Be Known, and Iris Yellow, God of Knowledge and All That Can Be Seen. The third and final coin is the life coin, which has Onyx Red, God of Flesh and All That Grows, and Pyrite Cyan, God of Soul and All Connections And Emotions.

Each god has a domain building that requires different requirements to enter. Onyx’s garden and Pyrite’s embassy each have sections that are free to enter and most people do go there at some point. Snap’s citadel and Iris’s library are easy to acquire a pass from Pyrite’s embassy to enter. Crow’s Gallery and Dove’s Lighthouse are... almost never entered by non-acolyte humans. Pyrite’s Embassy is very strict about who is allowed to get a pass to enter those two, as if Crow or Dove are killed, the universe will die.

Each god has a colour scheme, featured by their last name and accented with the last name of their counterpart. (Iris wears mainly yellow with some blue things) the gods have acolytes that help them out, with their major association being the god they are an acolyte of, and their secondary association is what specifically they do. For instance, an acolyte of Snap who seconds with flesh deals with secrets specifically that exist in the physical bodies of living creatures. Meanwhile, an acolyte of Onyx who seconds with secrecy would deal with the body of living creatures and how they can hide things and secrets. Similar, but slightly different. Your second cannot be the counterpart of your major.

Now fun fact! Their universe actually gets destroyed by universe eaters! Someone was supposed to come in and kill the universe eaters, but the universe was too complex for Someone to kill the universe eaters on their own, so the universe was eaten. Luckily, the coinflip gods can exist in the multiverse and help Someone and Nobody destroy universe eaters and other weird things that happen in universes. They delegate the universes amongst each other depending on who they think is best suited to that universe. An acolyte is then assigned to that universe and its subs (subs are like... AUs and stuff. So the acolyte that watches over... idk Lord Of The Rings’ universe also watches over any and all fanfics and things like that of Lord Of The Rings) to deal with anything that could disrupt the universe’s story. They do occasionally have to go to the gods themselves if the problem is major enough. 

Universes that are in the inter-universal union (name pending a change, I want a better acronym than IUU) also have 1 of each gods’ domain building with at least 1 acolyte working at each.

So yeah!! that’s the basics of the coinflip gods!!

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Night With A Wizard

(Story Post)

Nari had been on two dates so far with Diederich. This night was their third, and Diederich had invited Nari over to his own place this time. When he came off transit dressed in his best in front of the cheapest apartment complex he'd ever seen in this century, Nari was starting to get worried. He almost preferred Nathan's cabin. But Diederich met him at his door wearing decadent robes, an equally decadent pointed hat, and essentially giving off modern D&D vibes. Glancing into his home from the hall revealed nothing special, a hall with coat rack and closet, but after being invited in, crossing the threshold revealed a much more expansive space filled with Ghibli-esque wonders and trinkets. Plants clung to many surfaces throughout the home, glass containers filled with multicoloured substances were scattered throughout, books of all sizes, both mass produced and hand bound, were everywhere on shelves and in stacks from floor to ceiling, and a smell was in the air like a mix of floral aroma and baking. Diederich stood watching Nari as his tried to act unsurprised by the wizard’s abode. The vampire moved about like he wasn’t trying to stare, but when a chameleon suddenly revealed itself right in front of a flower he’d been looking at, he couldn’t help a gasp. “That’s Roscoe,” Diederich said. His Austrian accent was always bubbly and curious around Nari. He thought it was cute. “He likes you.” “I’m not…” Nari tilted his head. “I’m not partial to lizards.”

“Oh boy, well… There’s a few more around…” Diederich rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll round them up. Wait right here for a second.” Nari rubbed his arm and waited while Diederich whistled around, bringing out a couple more chameleons from hiding, as well as an iguana, a pair of geckos, and a snake. He brought them all into a back room full of foliage and heat lamps, before coming back rubbing his neck. “Do you like cats?” Diederich asked. “Yes.” “Awesome. Okay, hold on…” Diederich went back to the room and called out. “Kaffee!” After a moment he returned with long legged cat in his arms, its eyes and big rounded ear poised on Nari. “That’s…not a housecat,” Nari stated. “She’s a Savannah cat,” Diederich said, placing the large animal in Nari’s arms. “She’s very friendly.” Nari looked at her as the cat sat hung limp in his hands. “Is she legal?” “Yep,” Diederich smiled and rubbed Kaffee’s head. “Not in Alberta, but we’re not in Alberta.” “Right…” “Would you like something to drink?” Diederich asked, motioning to the kitchen. “I doubt you’ll have what I—Oh.” Diederich had opened his fridge and Nari immediately recognised the iron rich smell of his lifeline. His eyes slitted and fangs sprung out. “That smells very fresh…” “Pigs blood is important for some of my study,” Diederich said, taking out a small container. “Hard to find…” “I have an arrangement with a butcher…” Nari said, going and sitting down at a table. Kaffee curled up on his lap. “Really? Any chance I could get in on that?” Diederich asked. “I have this whole thing I've planned which needs a couple pints.” “...Maybe,” Nari said. “I'm not too keen on sharing my supply, if you understand but I think I can make an exception.” “Oh, I get it, sorry,” Diederich said. “Just if there's ever extra...” “It's alright. I'll talk to him,” Nari said. He was looking at Diederich, squinting. “Um... You look different today. I just can't remember what...” Diederich shrugged. “I haven't changed my look. Maybe the hat? I know the hat's a bit much...” He slipped it off. “No, that's not it,” Nari stated. “And I like the hat.” “No, it's silly... Oh, I know!” Diederich put his hat away in his pocket and pulled out his glasses. He put them on and smiled. “That's it. You were always wearing your glasses,” Nari stated. “Are they corrective? You should wear them.” “Oh no, it's not like that. I can see clearer without them,” Diederich said taking them off. “I wear them to focus in class.” “You blind yourself on purpose to focus?” Nari tried to understand. “No, not blind. The first thing that happened when my power was born was I gained the ability to see beyond the human spectrum of colour. It is very distracting,” Diederich said. “My glasses bring me back.” “Oh. So is this the first time you're seeing me like this?” Nari asked. Diederich nodded. “...Yes. I hoped to give you a similar experience. That's why I put on my best wizardlies.” He smoothed out his tunic and robes. “I picked the most colourful so we can be colourful together.” Nari smiled and took in a good look at the outfit. The robes were threaded with pinks, blues, purples, greens. Gold hems adorned it. Anyone in their right mind would think it gaudy, but in the moment Nari found it rather beautiful. “I like it.” “Thank you,” Diederich said. “Now that you’ve had a chance to admire it, it’s all a little heavy so I'm gonna take it off.” “Yeah, don't burden yourself,” Nari said. Diederich took off his robe and tunic leaving only a loose tank top. He stuffed the excess clothing into a cupboard. “Anyway... Um, oh, I was getting your drink.” Nari nodded and watched as Diederich poured out a glass for him. “I don't know how you take it. Is this fine?” Diederich asked holding up the glass. “Yes, that's fine,” Nari said, trying to hold back his urge to rip the glass from Diederich's hand. “Please, let me have it sooner than later.” Diederich nodded. “Of course. Here.” He handed it over quickly. “Wouldn't want to get between a vampire and blood, am I right?” Nari drank down the glass quickly, hungrily. Blood dribbled down the corner of his mouth as finished it off. Diederich watched, admiring him. When he was done, he handed him a napkin. Nari took it and wiped his face. “I just remembered why I don't like feeding in front of others...” “I'm sorry, should I not have offered?” Diederich asked. “No, I appreciate it... I didn't bring anything with me.” Nari rubbed Kaffee's ears. “I just get a little embarrassed... Bloodlust isn't a good side of me.” “Don't be embarrassed,” Diederich stated. “I want to get to know you.” Nari played with Kaffee's feet. “...I want to be very plain with you.” “Please. Speak your mind,” Diederich went to get himself a cup of juice. “I'd hate for us to miscommunicate.” Nari nodded. “First... I had no intention of dating again in this life.” “Oh?” Diederich tilted his head. “I don’t take more than one partner per life...” Nari stated. “Until this time, I guess.” “I'm honoured,” Diederich answered, sitting at the table with him. “This isn't easy for me,” Nari said. “I don't know how much more time I'll spend here. You can't expect me to commit to a long life with you.” “Okay,” Diederich said. “Can I ask what limits you to these ‘lives'?” “It's my immortality,” Nari said. “If I stayed with one partner too long, it'd become too apparent the difference in our aging. I've watched too many people die. I don't like the front row seat.” “I see...” Diederich rubbed his chin. “But what if your partner was also immortal?” Nari huffed. “I'd never date a vampire... They're absolutely... Ugh.” “I didn't mean a vampire, silly,” Diederich chuckled. “You say that like you're not aware of other immortals. Like Syd for example.” “I wouldn't date a dragon either,” Nari said. “I'm not asking you to. Nari, I stopped aging,” Diederich stated. “I'm sixty-seven.” Nari frowned. “...How convenient.” Diederich smiled. “...I guess.” “So are you only dating me because I'm immortal then?” Nari asked. “Because I'm not going to break my life cycles for you.” “No, but I understand how you feel,” Diederich said. “I like you. I really do. You have some of the most beautiful colours, and I like an honest, if not a bit blunt, person.” Nari would blush if he could. “I can't promise anything.” “I understand.” Diederich smiled. “I can though. Anything you need from me.” Nari sighed. “Okay. Anyway, I wasn't done explaining myself.” “I'm all ears.” Nari opened his hands. “If you had any intent on having children, you can't with me. I can't have them.” “Oh?” Diederich said. “I mean, I'm not saying that was at the front of my mind, but it's interesting that you brought it up.” “I have tried to have children more times than I want to remember,” Nari said. “I can't. This body can't do it. But that doesn't mean I can't get pregnant. I can, but I refuse to. It is hell. I have heard every excuse. We will use protection or never meet in bed.” Diederich nodded slowly. “Understood.” “Good.” “Is there anything else?” Nari shook his head. “Not really.” Diederich smiled. “Can I ask a couple questions?” “Sure.” “I'm the second partner in this lifetime, right?” Diederich said. “Why are you breaking your rule?” Nari clenched his jaw, not really wanting to answer. “Alright, if you don't want to tell me...” “I don't... But I will. I've never had a relationship end like it did this time around... It has left me with too many years left. And my friends don't want to see me punish myself for the rest of this time.” “Good to know. So it wasn't my striking good looks that made you change your mind,” Diederich joked. Nari shrugged. “You're cute for a white boy, I guess.” “Gee, thanks.” “You wanted me to be honest.” “I know, I know.” Diederich rubbed his neck. “Would you like to see some magic?” “Sure.” Diederich grinned and stood up quickly, offering his hand. “Come with me.” Nari put Kaffee on the ground and took Diederich's hand to get up. The wizard took him to the room where he'd put all his lizards, and Nari braced himself as he opened the door. To his surprise, it opened up to a rooftop looking over the city. Except it wasn’t the city they'd just been in. This city was illuminated with broad daylight at eight p.m. and Nari flinched at first, but where they were, the sun didn't reach them from under a canopy. Nari stared out at the buildings with the familiar writing plastering monikers everywhere. “...Is that Seoul?” Nari asked, his heart pounding. Diederich nodded. “I like to visit for the yupdduk.” Nari just stood there staring out at his home country, a small sense of homesickness jumping to his throat. He reached an arm out, to make sure it wasn't a trick picture, but he was met with no resistance, and he could even smell the scents of food being cooked nearby. He pulled his arm back in. “Close it.” Diederich closed the door and opened it again to show it was just the jungle like room again. “What do you think?” Nari rolled his lips then looked at Diederich smiling a bit. “...That's very impressive. But I'm from Suwon.” “Of course, I didn't presume to think you were from Seoul, I just figured the capital would be interesting to show you,” Diederich said. “Okay.” Nari smiled. “So what kind of magic was that?” “It's a portal spell,” Diederich said. “Took me three years to learn properly. Kept opening up portals in the wrong place. Imagine my surprise when I open the door and get greeted by the Great Barrier Reef.” “...Can you swim?” Nari asked. “Yes, thankfully...” Diederich smiled. “My landlord wasn't very happy though...” “Why do you live in such a decrepit building anyway?” Nari asked. “I get that you can do this whole...space magic stuff, but are you broke or something?” “No, no... This building is actually built on a ley line,” Diederich said. “My magic flows naturally in this area.” “So... If another place went for sale on the ley line...?” “I dunno, I'm pretty well established here...” Diederich admitted, chuckling. “Why? Plan on finding a place together?” “Not immediately, no.” “It was a joke... You'd actually want to live with me?” Diederich inquired. “If we start a relationship, it's a natural course of action, isn't it?” Nari said. “I guess... I just... Most people don't talk about moving in with each other on the third date,” Diederich said. “They usually don't bring up children either, but I told you I wanted to be plain,” Nari stated. “Well... Can I be plain?” “Of course.” “I really want to stop talking and just kiss you right now.” “Oh... Okay, please do.”

[catsafarithewriter]

“Surely you must know - you must know it was all for you.”

A/N: So I ended up watching the third Mummy movie and kinda fell in love with the premise of the Zi Yuan/General Ming romance. If you remember that, you might know where this is going. If not… well, enjoy the ride. 

[Note: Sorry for taking so long (I kept changing angles) and sorry for the length… (4K words?!) it was on the verge of becoming a whole fic, if I wasn’t careful!]

It is winter, the first time he meets her. 

It is winter, and the air is frosty and the ground is icy and he can’t quite believe that the homely little cottage before him is home to a witch. 

But still, he knocks, because he’s chased down more dead ends than he can count, and what difference would one more make? He knocks, and a young woman answers, as ordinary as the cottage she inhabits, except for the crow atop her shoulder, and he allows himself to think that this time, maybe this time, he’s finally found the answer he’s been looking for. 

And he bows and introduces himself and he can tell the crow doesn’t like him, but she smiles when he explains his quest awkwardly in a language he has learnt from dusty books, and she doesn’t shut the door in his face so he has to hope it is a good sign.

“Immortality?” she echoes. “Why, that’s easy. Tell your king to eat healthily, exercise often, and mind his own business. Works wonders.”

And, in another time, another life, he might have smiled and thanked her and moved on to the next dead end, but this is this time and this life, so he smiles and thanks her and tells her of the tales that have brought him here. Of the woman who lives by herself in the mountains, who never ages and never sickens, and who knows the secret to eternal life. 

“Life is quiet here,” she tells him in return. “People tell tall tales to keep themselves entertained in these cold months. There is nothing for you here. Go home.”

“I cannot,” he says, and she pauses in closing the door. 

“You’ve lost your home?” she asks softly.

“Those the king sent out in pursuit of immortality cannot return until they are successful,” he says, and although he never intended it, he sees pity creep into her brown, glimmering eyes. Maybe the rumours are true. Maybe they’re not. But he cannot force anyone to answer to a king that is not their own. Will not. He tips his hat and steps away. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, miss. Have a good day.”

“Haru.”

He hesitates. “What?”

She steps out from her house, and in the cold winter sunlight, her eyes seem to glimmer more than ever. “My name is Haru. I thought you should know that, if we’re to be travelling together.”

And he doesn’t question why she changed her mind, or if she even does hold the secret to immortality, although he suspects an answer to both. Instead, he tips his hat again, his shoulders dipping into a short bow. 

“Baron.”

x

It is spring when he brings her to the king’s court. 

They have travelled across the globe, through the winter, and the snowdrops and crocuses are just beginning to flower as they step back onto his home soil. The air is soft and the world is bright with freshly-grown green and it is a far cry from the snowy mountains of her country. From one island home to another, and she seems to shine in her nominal season. 

She stands before his monarch - an ageing man sprawled back in an oversized, extravagant robe and an oversized, extravagant throne - and he translates as she promises immortality. She spins an explanation of elements and magic and the age trapped within those that are ageless, and other things he doesn’t fully understand, and neither does the king, but she speaks with knowledge and all the king cares about is his immortality. 

In the autumn, she assures. 

In the autumn, when the harvest moon comes, will she be able to administer the secret of immortality. 

And so the king dismisses her with a wave of his hand and assigns her to the care of the man who found her.

x

Spring lingers, and so does Haru as she stands at the garden gate, while Baron returns to a home he hasn’t seen in nearly a decade. She sees the burden of his lost years weigh heavily on his shoulders as he hesitates, but he knocks anyway, just like he knocked at her door half a world away, and a woman opens it. She is their age, tall but not as tall as Baron, bundles of blonde almost-white hair bouncing around her face, and the world goes quiet for heartbeats. 

Haru is sure she sees Baron hold his breath. 

And then the woman squeals and throws her arms about Baron and draws him into a bone-crunching bear hug that seems at odds with her refined attire. 

Baron freezes, and then his arms slowly find their way around the woman. He collapses into the embrace, his shoulders shaking and the resigned strength  draining from his body, and Haru drops her gaze from the tearful reunion. 

The woman drags Baron inside, calling to the rest of the household, and Haru watches as friends and family converge on their returning companion, and she can’t help but linger at the doorway. 

Toto clings sharply to her shoulder, as if he knows the thoughts running through her head, and he’s known her for so long that maybe he does, and she wants to reassure him that he’s wrong, that his companionship is enough, but doesn’t know if that would be a lie. She watches the people of Baron’s life celebrate his return, and she grieves at the lonely existence of an immortal. 

x

Spring passes, but Baron does not. 

He has a lifetime to gather back together, a decade’s worth of normality to reclaim, but even so, he stays by her side. As she learns about the country she will call home for the next six months and the local knowledge she needs for her promised magic, she also learns of the occupants of the von Gikkingen household. 

She learns of Louise, the woman that greeted them upon arrival and Baron’s twin sister. She is the reason Baron’s affairs are still in order, even after all those years. She speaks enough of Haru’s native tongue to converse, and quickly picks up more, her accent rough but her vocabulary natural and, when Baron isn’t around, Louise often is. Haru wonders if the two siblings are consciously sharing the duty of protecting her between them both. 

She learns of Muta, the chef and Baron’s closest friend. He speaks none of her language, but that doesn’t stop him talking. He tries a few recipes from her home country and, although he doesn’t always get it right, he does try. He is blunt and coarse and Haru spends many days helping him work on his latest attempt at Nippon cuisine. 

And then she learns of Baron. 

She doesn’t mean to, but she does. 

She learns his laughter and his smile and the secret amusement in his eyes as his sister tells stories from their childhood. She learns his good tea and his bad tea and the way it tells his quiet thoughts. She learns the sound of his walk, the tap-tap-tap of his cane and the purposeful beat of his strides, and she doesn’t know what to do with this information or why it matters, but it does.  

She learns of family and friends and sometimes she wishes she had not.

x

It is summer when something unspoken changes between them.

It is summer, and the air is hot and heavy and the gardens ablaze with scent and colour, and Haru finds herself lingering longer in the outdoors with Baron, instead of inside with her research. They talk and they laugh and at some point during those sun-soaked hours something settles between them. 

They don’t name it. 

But it’s there. 

It is summer, but no season lasts forever.

x

It is the end of summer when Baron realises a terrible truth. 

He has been watching her work for months now, accumulating ingredients and researching volumes in his library, learning about his country and its people, and although she explains her work the best she can to him, something is amiss.

“I cannot simply use the same ingredients I would in my home country,” she explains when the king’s lackey visits to check up on her progress. “Every land has its own type of magic - I must use the innate magic of your kingdom to make this work. You believe that cats have nine lives, so an element of that must be included. You put stock into the agelessness of your trees, so that plays a part also. To make this magic work, I must know the folklore and beliefs of your people.”

And Baron dutiful translates, and he translates well for the king’s lackey asks little more, but the king’s lackey doesn’t know Haru enough to see the flickering lies in the corner of her mouth. Maybe it’s not all lies. It probably isn’t. But there’s just enough.

“Tell me truly,” he asks one day. “Are you making eternal life?”

She smiles, a wan smile that reminds him that he’s not dealing with a mortal, but someone, something far, far older. “Oh, immortality cannot be given. You are either born with it, or you are not.”

“So it is impossible.”

“The type your king wants, yes.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Watching.” 

x

It is autumn when the king arrives. 

He comes in pomp and circumstance, and it is still a month before the harvest moon, but still he comes and the quiet comfort of the von Gikkingen home is thrown into disarray. 

Haru stands at Baron’s side and plays the part she is expected to perform, mute and dignified and oblivious to the way the king’s gaze roams over her. Something has changed in his attitude, and maybe it’s because the time is approaching and maybe it’s because the reality of what he asked has dawned, but there is a new interest in the way he looks at her. 

There is an instinctive desire to move closer to Baron, but she sees how closely she is watched by the royal entourage and decides against it. Still, she can’t help but lean towards Baron as the king takes her hand and raises it to his lips, and her preference doesn’t go unnoticed by all. 

“Baron, tell her how good she’s looking today,” the king drawls, and Baron hesitates at the command. He meets her gaze.

“The king wishes to compliment you on your appearance,” he says.

“Tell him how presumptuous he’s looking today,” Haru returns, and there’s only the slightest flicker of unease in Baron’s eyes at her echoing back a phrase in a language she claims ignorance on, but there’s also relief. However politely Baron is obligated to translate his monarch’s words, she won’t miss anything. Still, her reply won’t do quite yet. She gives a small shake of her head and amends, “Thank him for his words.”

Baron does so, but the king doesn’t move on. He keeps her hand in his own, and she pins down the fluttering sensation of a bird in a cage. She seals it away with a thin smile. 

“I’ve been thinking,” the king says, and Baron doesn’t start to translate and she can feel he’s waiting as tightly as she is to hear where this is going, “that once I am immortal, I will need an immortal queen to rule alongside me.” 

Baron inhales quietly, but sharply. “Sire…” he begins.

“Tell her that, as thanks for her work, she shall be married to me. It’s only fitting for the great service she’s done this kingdom.”

And Baron moves his gaze to hers, and she can see in his eyes that she knows what has been said and she knows the tone of a man who will not be moved, but still she must try. 

“The king wishes to repay you for your efforts with his hand in marriage,” he relays anyway. His tone is light, but his eyes are not. 

She bows, even as tightness fills her lungs. “Thank him, but tell him I do not do this for any reward.”

The king only smiles at her answer. “Tell her I insist.”

x

It is autumn, and the harvest moon is nearly upon them. 

Baron lingers by her, her almost-constant companion since the king made his intentions known, and although the air is still warm from summer, it feels cold inside the von Gikkingen home. 

“You should go,” he tells her. 

“Go where?” she asks.

“Anywhere. As far from the King as you can get.”

“I do not fear the king,” she answers. “And I will not run.”

“You should. He is unaccustomed to not getting what he wants. I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“I am not another possession for him to add to his collection.”

“He does not know the difference. And he will not care. Haru, please–” His voice gives, and for a moment, there is nothing but a broken silence between them. “Why did you come?” he asks eventually. Quietly. “You never planned to give the King immortality, did you?”

“No,” she answers. 

“Then why?”

And she looks to him with those eyes that have seen centuries pass and empires rise and fall, and she smiles. “I came because a tired, homesick man turned up on my doorstep, and I took pity. Sometimes, it’s as simple as that.”

“And why stay?” he asks.

Something flickers over those eyes. A half-lie forms in the corner of her lips.

“To see this through.”

x

It is autumn, and the harvest moon is on the next moonrise. 

Baron has tried to stay by her side, but even he can’t protect her against his king’s command, and so when the king requests an audience with Haru, he can do nothing but accept. 

The king comes with a translator of his own - an elderly scholar and adviser, whose tired eyes and resigned tone betray a lifetime of dealing with his king’s fickle temper. 

“So, Miss Haru, I hope you’ve had time to think over my offer,” he begins, and Haru doesn’t need to ask which offer, for there’s only one he could mean. She waits for the translator - Natori, he introduces himself - to finish converting his monarch’s words before responding. 

She bows her head, slow enough to be respectful, but curt enough to not spend a moment too long letting the king out of her sight. “I have, and I thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty, but I am not interested in a throne.”

The king smirks at Natori’s uneasy translation. “Come now, babe, what chick doesn’t want a throne? You want to go back to that rural little backwater you came from? I’m offering you riches, clothes, jewellery. Luxury you could not begin to imagine.”

Natori stumbles a little in translating that. He doesn’t include the babe comment, Haru notices, and he softens his monarch’s sharp dismissal of her homeland. Still, she keeps her smile polite, and bows again. 

“I have lived long enough to know that life is more than clothes and riches,” she says. “And I have no desire to rule anyone. Thank you for your offer, but I still must refuse.”

And that’s when the king’s smile flickers. 

“Natori, please tell her that unless she wants harm to come to her nice host, she’d better rethink her answer.”

Her blood runs cold, and even Natori looks twice at his king.

“Your Majesty…” he begins. 

“Just tell her.”

There’s an apology in his eyes, but Natori relays the king’s words, and even he cannot soften those words. 

She meets the king’s mismatched eyes. “Why?”

“You are immortal, like I will be. Powerful. With a queen like you at my side, no one will be able to stop us.” 

“You cannot earn my love with threats,” she says.

“I don’t need to. You will forget the baron in time, and you will have an eternity to learn to accept me.” He smiles, and it’s the smile of someone who has won. “So, what do you say?”

Something shifts inside Haru. She takes the offered hand. 

“No harm will come to Baron,” she says. 

“Of course,” the king replies, and he doesn’t realise it’s a promise, not a question.

x

It is autumn, and the harvest moon is upon them. 

Haru does not tell Baron of the king’s threats, for she knows he would tell her to run, run despite the danger hanging over his own life, and she cannot do that. 

Instead, she sits with him in the hours before the ceremony, a soft, gentle silence settled between them and she wishes it could stay this way forever. 

But nothing lasts forever. Not even for an immortal. 

“What are you going to do?” Baron asks, and it’s the first time he’s brought up the subject since her admission on the impossibilities of immortality. “The King expects eternal life. If you can’t deliver…”

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” she answers, and she thinks of the sleepless night she spent the evening before, pouring over her research and tweaking the enchantments she has crafted, and her heart breaks and hardens at the same time. She leans in and gently kisses him. “Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

He looks to her like he wants to believe her. “No one can promise any such thing when it comes to the King.”

“He’s never dealt with me before.” She smiles and collects up the tea she’s made. “One last drink for luck,” she says, and she hopes he cannot taste the magic imbued into the liquid, nor see the plea for forgiveness in her eyes, and she kisses him one last time. 

x

It is autumn. 

She sets the potion before the king and steps back. He eyes the liquid with the first dredges of caution, and mutters something to Natori. 

“The King wants you to know that if this harms him in anyway–”

“I know the consequences,” she says. “And he will not suffer by my hand.”

Natori gives her a strange look, and she wonders if his grasp of her language is enough to recognise the careful loophole she has left. If he does, he doesn’t convey it. He nods to his king and under the light of the harvest moon, the king drains the vial. 

A glow runs inside the king’s skin, like magma beneath the Earth’s crust, and the onlookers of the court step back. Only Baron stays where he stands, close at her elbow. When the light fades, the king is smiling and there’s an energy to him that old age had once faded. 

He meets Haru’s gaze and the smile sharpens. 

“Guards. Seize the Baron Humbert von Gikkingen.”

Baron doesn’t move, but Haru does. She grabs the king’s arm and, in perfect Albion, says, “You promised.”

The king freezes at the clear words, but only for a moment. The smile almost holds begrudgingly respect at her little deceit. “I lied.”

There’s a pained gasp as Baron is dropped to his knees

Haru’s grip on the king’s arm tightens. She doesn’t look back to Baron, refuses to see the confusion and fear in his eyes. “I’ll say this once: If you do this, you’ll only bring ruin to yourself,” she warns. 

The king laughs. “I don’t think you’re in any situation to threaten me. Now, stand aside. And don’t worry,” he adds with that same victorious smile. “You have an eternity to forget him.”

Guards pull her back when she doesn’t move, but she doesn’t fight back. She can only watch as the king approaches Baron. He takes a sword from a guard.

“Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, you have been found guilty of treason against your king and country. Any last words?”

“I never betrayed you, my king.”

“You threatened to take what was rightfully mine,” the king replies. “She will never truly belong to me while you still live.” 

Baron’s gaze flickers from his monarch to Haru, and realisation dawns. “She will never belong to you,” he promises. His eyes stay on Haru, and there is an apology in them for leaving sooner than he had planned. “She will never belong to anyone but herself and she knows that.” 

The king shrugs. “We’ll see.” 

He runs the blade through Baron’s chest and there is a cry as two hearts break. Haru’s legs shake, but do not give way, and her breathing is sharp and her head is full and there is nothing but fury in her. The coldness that has lived within her since the king’s ultimatum takes form and she does not fall. 

She brings her gaze up to the king’s. 

“You should not have done that.”

The king smiles. “In time, you will see that it was necessary. He was nothing. But we… we will be so much more…” He takes a step towards Haru, and then stops. He frowns, and looks down to the front of his robe. 

A dark red stain blossoms across his chest. 

That smile slips.

“What…?”

There is movement from behind, and the king looks back to see Baron unsteadily rise to his feet. There is no blood where the sword pierces, and no blood on the blade as he pulls it free. Baron looks to Haru as his breathing changes, hollows, like wind through branches. 

“Haru…?”

She smiles, but it is a tearful, remorseful smile, and she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I only wanted to protect you, even if…” She swallows. “This was for you. You must know it was all for you.” 

There is a roar, and she tears her gaze away to see the king collapse. “What have you done to me?” he bays, and the blood seeps out and his oversized, extravagant robe is red, red, red and he sinks to his knees in a mess of outrage and pain. “I was meant to be immortal! You said–”

“I lied.”

And she steps up to the king and the guards step back and there is something otherworldly about her as she kneels down before him. “I thought you might break your promise, but I wanted to give you a chance. I tied Baron’s life to yours - if you attempted to kill him, your blow would backfire onto you. I told you that you wouldn’t suffer by my hand, and I meant it.” She smiles without pity. “I did warn you.” 

She rises back to her feet as the king falls and she steps over him to Baron. There is a magic spreading out from his wound, not the crackling glow of the king’s potion, but something else, something that leaves grain lines and fur in its wake, and Baron reaches out to Haru as she nears. 

“What’s happening to me?” he asks, and his voice is already beginning to alter. 

She curls her hands around his, and that same sorrowful smile tugs at her lips. “I made you immortal,” she whispers. “It was the only way to save you in the time I had. I’m so sorry.”

“I thought you said immortality was impossible.”

“The king wanted it without any consequences,” she says. She watches as Baron’s face changes shape, those emerald eyes growing angular and sharp. “And magic doesn’t work that way. This was the immortality I had planned for him before… before things changed. I never meant… but I couldn’t let you die.” 

The magic settles down, and Baron extracts one hand and slowly passes it over his face. He feels the feline angles of his head and the thick ginger fur and the wooden skin running beneath it all, and she can see him recall the elements of the immortality spell she’d made. She sees the pieces slide into place. 

He doesn’t speak, and Haru doesn’t expect him to. 

“I can’t undo it,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I would if I could, but–”

A gloved hand cups her cheek and brings her back around to face him. “You don’t need to apologise for saving me.”

“I cursed you.”

His gaze seeks hers out and she sees a gleam she knows so well in those feline eyes. “There are worse things than eternity.” He grins. “Even with the fur.”

“Eternity is a very long time.” 

“Eternity isn’t long at all,” he promises, “when I’m with you.”

x

 It is autumn, and everything has changed. 

[tcmpcral]

full name.  basil

pronunciation. technically BAY-zil but my dumb disney-loving brain defaults to BA-zil lmao nicknames. dumbass, dumb as ass (these are, of course, all lovingly given to him by his brothers) titles.  basil the kicker, ‘our kicking basil’ courtesy of roh height.  5′11-6″

age. 23ish

zodiac. leo languages. whatever language they speak on his planet plus a few others

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour.  red, white eye colour. black with yellow sclera skin tone.   body type.  very athletic and toned, but a little bit wiry tbh accent.  like majora below, he’d technically have one to an earthling’s ear, but they wouldn’t be able to place it dominant hand.  left posture. confident. has a definite swagger to his gait, and he sometimes tends to lean on one hip when he stands. other times, he simply has a very open, fearless stance scars. what scars he has are covered by fur tattoos. none most noticeable features. the fact he aint got no clothes on >:u possibly his doe eyes, which gives him a markedly more ‘innocent’-looking expression compared with his brothers

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth.  currently unnamed planet in U9 hometown.  an overpopulated city where it was easy for him and his brothers to ‘disappear’ quite often from under ‘human services’ noses birth weight / height.  he has no idea manner of birth.  just. the usual, i guess :v first words.  it was probably something like ‘bermo’ which was his babyish way of saying  ‘bergamo’ lmao siblings.  lavender, older brother, bergamo, oldest brother parents.  his father died at some point before he was born, so he has no memories of him. his mother either died or was separated from the three around the time basil was one to two years old (which means i need to edit A Thing i wrote recently rip), so his memories of her are fuzzy and nondescript parental involvement.  he was loved by his mother and treated overtly affectionately by her from the time he was born-- however, his time with her was short. from her disappearance on, he was raised by his older brothers, who did their best of course, but likely fell short in various ways

ADULT LIFE

occupation.   ??? whatever it is, it’s not fully legal current residence.  a small apartment with his brothers. thanks to a certain god’s influence, it’s a little more luxurious on the inside than one might expect based on its outward appearance close friends.  uhhh. his brothers. minca, at one point. and probably again eventually. otherwise, he has various. uh. basically casual drinking buddies, so i’m not sure he’d consider them close relationship status.  single financial status.  it’s okay. paycheck to paycheck, but. again, thanks to a certain god, he and his brothers are able to live rather comfortably driver’s license. unfortunately, yes  criminal record.  Yes vices.  impulsive, short-tempered, has a tendency to be irreverent without entirely meaning to (not that he’s not Trying to be, just that he’s not thinking about it), lacks common sense a lot 

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation.   he personally identifies as heterosexual but tbh it’s bc he’s only had one girlfriend and hasn’t really thought about his sexuality in great depth. i could honestly see him being bisexual romantic orientation.   ??? preferred emotional role.  submissive |  dominant  | switch  |  unsure preferred sexual role.  submissive | dominant | switch  |  sex repulsed libido.  h-hahaa er. High turn ons.  i don’t. know yet tbh turn offs.  anything too Out There love language.  how do i. explain it. it’s not affectionate exactly, but it would be very obvious to his partner that he likes them, bc there’d be signs like his face lighting up whenever he spotted them in a room, or the fact that he invites them to go with him everywhere, that he’d rather spend time with them than with his drinking buddies, etc. he doesn’t actually do a lot of PDA, i think, bc i tend to see him as being a little more immature than that tbh, but there’d definitely be signs of affection and. adoration there relationship tendencies.  basil, at this point in his life, just wants someone he can have fun with. he doesn’t want commitment, he doesn’t want to think about the future (unless it involves daydreaming about visiting cool places)-- all he cares about is the now, and how he can have fun in the now. as such, he’s drawn toward those with like values and desires, and would be turned off by someone who seemed intent on ‘changing him into a better man’ or something similar

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. here we go again, renegades hobbies to pass the time.  sparring/fighting, drinking, parties, tagging along with his brothers, causing mischief mental illnesses.  avoidant behaviors but lbr mostly none physical illnesses.  none left or right brained.  right-brained fears.  failure, disappointing his brothers, losing his brothers, embarrassing himself in a way he can’t Come Back From self-confidence level.  ehh, tbh, it’s mostly high. he probably gets down on himself at times when he thinks he’s done something exceedingly stupid, but for the most part, he thinks pretty highly of himself vulnerabilities.  don’t. don’t pull his tail, that hurts. his loyalty to his brothers, the secret feelings he keeps to himself about his childhood if anyone ever figured them out tbh, his fears that he really is kind of dumb

full name.  majora pronunciation. MAH-zheruh nicknames. nurse baobei (an old one from shosa that majora absolutely hates to be called in public these days. not that he. loved it to begin with) titles.  has an officer’s rank of some kind? does that count height.  5′8ish

age. Advanced (TM) no sorry i just haven’t decided how he ages compared to humans yet :v

zodiac. capricorn n/a languages. whatever language his planet/region uses, as well as a few neighboring ones

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour.  olive green, white eye colour. ???? skin tone.   body type.  slender, slim, but toned. certain joints like his wrists and ankles are very thin and frail-looking, however accent.  he’d have one to an earthling’s ear, but it’d be hard to place dominant hand.  right posture. generally straight, tho sometimes a little slouchy just bc he’s tired. while he was a military nurse, he wasn’t required to complete any kind of military training, so he doesn’t have the perhaps expected ‘soldier posture’ scars. what scars he does have are easily hidden by fur. has a scar on his upper abdomen leftover from a splenectomy tattoos. none most noticeable features. his ears are huuuuge

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth.  some planet in U4 lmao hometown.  a currently unnamed city on the coast. presently lives in a mountainous region in the northern part of the country/planet he lives on birth weight / height.  ~6 pounds, ~19 inches manner of birth.  something akin to twilight sleep first words.  it was ‘pig’ bc he witnessed one of his older sisters calling another child the term as an insult siblings.  four other siblings (two older sisters, one younger sister, one younger brother is the baby. he is the third oldest of five, right smack dab in the middle). his eldest sister is deceased. he is mostly estranged from the others and only sees them occasionally throughout the year parents.  Mother: jima Father: rougu, i haven’t quite decided what it was that they did just yet but whatever it was left them rather well-off financially, enough so that they were able to allow their children to pursue whatever interests and hobbies they desired (assuming they were proper, of course). their beliefs were steeped in traditions and conventional wisdom, and these are what majora grew up with and probably still to some degree practices to this day parental involvement.  somewhat negligent once he hit a certain age and was capable of helping with younger siblings and household chores, etc. his parents never were particularly affectionate with him, tho they encouraged certain interests of his (...martial arts, mostly) while discouraging others they felt tarnished his (read: their) reputation. this was especially true as he grew into his preteen and teen years and began showing behaviors they didn’t like

ADULT LIFE

occupation.   retired; former nurse current residence.  lives in a communal apartment setup. he lives at the end of the hall, is able to claim he has the largest room of the floor, and also has a nice little balcony attached to his room as well that he shares with the newly-married couple who live in the room next to him (who i’ve named chuan and cori). he’s quite fond of his living arrangement, despite what he may occasionally say otherwise close friends.  ..........shosa. that’s it. that’s literally it relationship status.  single financial status.  he survives on retiree and disability benefits........ but altogether, it’s not bad driver’s license. doesn’t need one. both. bc the city he lives in is compact enough to be able to walk everywhere and bc. Blind lmao  criminal record.  lots of curfew and truancy violations as a teen fjfiea;g  vices.  proud, aloof, withdrawn, set in his ways, stubborn, self-sabotaging

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation.   generally identifies as homosexual romantic orientation.   homoromantic probably preferred emotional role.  submissive |  dominant  | switch  |  unsure preferred sexual role.  submissive | dominant | switch  |  sex repulsed libido.  middles toward low, even when coupled, but he’s not repulsed by any means turn ons.  ....like basil i’m. not entirely sure yet turn offs.  treating him like a doll?? does that make sense, listen he might like to dress up but don’t treat him like a mannequin. and don’t take advantage of the fact that he can’t see what he’s putting on, that should be obvious. Anything without his permission, ignoring his discomfort if it comes up, not letting him know what you’re doing before you do it gdi love language.  kinda stiff and awkward in the beginning, but he softens up soon enough. he never does get to be the type who is outwardly affectionate and forthcoming about his feelings, and particularly in public, will seem very distant and cool to his partner, but he is definitely the sort to enjoy being around a partner and seek their company quite often, whether it’s to accompany them about the town or simply to relax at home

relationship tendencies.  truthfully, romance just isn’t on his mind much these days, but he’s always gravitated toward those that he could spend time with and not necessarily worry all the time. he’s not like basil and wants only to live in the present, but he does need something or someone to ground him in the present, or he thinks himself into a nervous frenzy about the future, particularly nowadays at his age and at his level of dependence on others. he worries occasionally that he’s too much of a burden, and that his efforts to decrease his status as a burden only exacerbate it

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. cleopatra hobbies to pass the time.  fishing, listening to music/the radio, playing music occasionally (usually when he’s been left in charge of kids and they’re being little hellions rip), going to see plays and operas (even if he can’t appreciate the sets or costumes anymore, he can still enjoy the stories and acting, he supposes) mental illnesses.  none tbh physical illnesses.  some kind of anemia (think pernicious anemia), which results in fatigue and body aches, compromised immune system left or right brained.  left-brained mostly fears.  death, losing another sense, various small fears related to his blindness and his resulting vulnerability, being helpless/a burden, convalescent homes self-confidence level.  relatively high to moderate while he keeps his independence. when he makes mistakes or otherwise flubs up bc of his blindness, it tends to crash a little vulnerabilities.  his fear of both dying and debility/helplessness, frequent refusal to accept help, obviously he. uh. can’t see, tho his other senses help him out to some degree there, 

[porkchop-ao3]

Slip Stitch: PART 1/2

My first ever pure Rickcest fic, woo!

Part Two.

Please be nice, this is the first time I have written in third person for a long time! 

This story involves my British Tailor Rick OC and the hairstylist Rick that was seen doing President Morty’s hair in that one episode. The events of this fic were hinted at at the end of my RickCon’18 fic, which you can find here :)

This was getting a little long so I split it into two parts, this part being nearly 2.5k words. Its mostly SFW for now but it will be super NSFW in the next part. Contains: oral sex, frottage, public sex acts, anal fingering.

Enjoy! :D

-

“Well, that went better than I expected. When I walked out there and saw all those bloody lab coats I thought I was going to get heckled off stage.” Tailor Rick chuckled dryly as he walked back into the dressing room after being on stage for the last hour. He'd been hosting a seminar, along with a number of his other fashion-oriented alternate selves, about style tips for the average Rick. It was a relatively stripped back talk, he'd had to speak through gritted teeth when he'd talked about designer lab coats; if it was up to him, all lab coats would be burnt to ashes, but he knew he had to compromise for these Ricks.

“Yeah, but I-I-I wouldn't have outright insulted that Rick in the turtleneck. They might not be on fashion right now, b-but he didn't look that bad. Perhaps you could've softened your words a bit?” The second Rick, who had been sharing the dressing space all day, scolded. He'd been appointed as the stylist for the charity fashion auction, but had volunteered to join the seminar as a last minute guest. Most of his knowledge was in hair styling, and despite grumbling about it for a while, tailor Rick had to admit the panel could use his knowledge.

“Well, do you disagree? Do you not think he- he looked like he had no neck?”

“Ah, but that's not what you said. Y-you told him his head looked like the tip of a short, yet girthy penis.” Stylist reiterated, cocking a brow. Tailor Rick walked over to the mini bar by the dressing table and reached for the bottle of bourbon, unscrewing the cap before turning to his counterpart.

“I repeat, do you disagree?” He questioned. The stylist kept his mouth closed. “I stand by it. He did look like the head of a chode, it was just shoulders and head, shaft and bellend. Where was his neck? Honesty is always the best policy.”

“He's the guy who bid on that God-awful green suit of yours at the auction. You didn't think his fashion sense was s-so bad then, did you?”

“God-awful?” The tailor seethed, spinning around, a glass in one hand and the bottle of bourbon in the other. He poured himself a healthy amount before slamming the bottle back down behind him. “How dare you insult my brand like that. Do you- you have eyes in your skull, don't you? I suppose you're jealous, hmm? Jealous you couldn't afford something like that, so you have to bash it to make yourself feel better.”

“Oh, I could afford it. The president pays me a generous salary, not that th-that has anything to do with you. I simply wouldn't be seen dead in that much forest green. That kind of colour should only be used in an accent piece.” President Morty's stylist quipped, reaching a hand up to his hair to smooth out the eye-catching style he was wearing; all swept upwards with the tips bleached blond.

Tailor Rick's eye twitched, and for a split second, Stylist felt nervous. He quickly pushed the feeling away, nervous? Why should he feel nervous? That Rick was no better than him, he shouldn't worry about pleasing him, or being sensitive to his feelings. The tailor was a pompous asshole who'd been rubbing him up the wrong way all day. And people have the cheek to call him pompous?

“Says who? The guy dressed head to toe in fuchsia?” Tailor scoffed, taking a large swig of his drink.

“Don't try to tell me this is a fashion faux pas, you auctioned off a three piece in this exact colour. If this is bad, then you're a bad designer, bodkin.” Stylist stalled at the words coming out of his own mouth. Bodkin? What the hell, where had that come from? He wasn't even sure how that word had made it into his vocabulary, let alone slipped out now of all times, as an insult, no less. Tailor seemed just as taken aback, if not just plain confused.

“Bodkin?” Tailor mumbled in uncertainty, then shook his head dismissively. “The difference is, I designed that ensemble to be striking, to be worn under very specific circumstances. It's not every day attire, you just look like a little girl running around in her garish pink dress up clothes. That should not be y-y-your go-to look. You'd be much better suited to a powder blue, perhaps even a pale mint green.”

Now he was giving him fashion advice? The worst part was, Stylist found himself considering the advice seriously, taking a tentative glance down at his own hot pink jacket.

“Hmm, no, perhaps the pink is fine. It would just look better if this was shorter.” Tailor mused, strolling across the room towards the other man, reaching behind him to lift up the back of the jacket, holding it so it sat higher on his hips. He didn't notice the immediate tension in his counterpart’s body, nor the colour in his cheeks that could rival the jacket for vibrancy.

The stylist wondered at what point this turned from petty insults and bickering to genuine advice and contemplation over his own choice in attire. He didn't have it in him to question it out loud, he wasn't opposed to the sudden closeness of the other Rick. He smelled good; like expensive cologne.

“I could take it up for you, you know? This cut would- it'd look more flattering. Right now the shape of it a-and all this pink. It's very heavy, it brings your shoulders down and makes your posture appear lazy, even though up close I can tell that it's not.” Tailor continued, moving around to the back of his latest project, dropping the fabric of the jacket and instead sweeping a hand up the tall, gently curved line of his spine. The Stylist stayed impossibly still under the contact, not entirely sure what to say or do.

Tailor eventually dropped his hand from his back and strolled away. When he turned to look, Stylist saw that he was going for a large leather carry case that when popped open, was revealed to contain a bunch of sewing equipment.

“Wait, y-y-you’re serious? You want to alter this, right now?” He questioned, a frown creasing his forehead. Tailor stopped what he was doing and looked up, shifting his glass of bourbon from one hand to the other.

“Yes.” He said flatly, his expression bored.

“No! You aren't chopping bits off of this, this cost a lot of money.” Stylist argued. He gained an eye roll and a heavy sigh for his refusal. “I'll just buy a different jacket, if you're so concerned about the clothes on m-m-my back.”

“I'm not concerned at all. Do you think I care all that much?”

“Well you're the one offering to alter it, you obviously care a little.” He quirked a brow.

“Quite frankly, you could walk around in a bin bag, or nothing at all, it wouldn't affect me in the slightest. I was simply offering my expertise, since you helped out at the seminar. You scratched my back, so I thought I'd scratch yours.” Tailor straightened up, letting his eyes roll up and down the form of the other man as he took another sip of his drink. His eyelids were low and his expression indifferent, but there was a sort of flame flickering in his eyes that couldn't be ignored.

“Yeah?” Stylist snarked, though he didn't know how to continue from there. He suddenly felt tongue-tied, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Even more puzzling, his pants were beginning to feel tight, with this man's eyes on him. This angered him. “I don't need your help. I definitely don't need your condescending fashion advice, I'll wear whatever the hell I want.”

“Well then, be my guest. Fuck me for trying to be nice for once.” The tailor's eyes rolled so hard it was a surprise they didn't disappear into the back of his head. “You can look as frumpy as you like, just don't do it in front of me.” He waved his hand like he was swatting a fly as he kicked his sewing box away, it slammed into a nearby clothing rack, making all the empty coat hangers clatter together.

“Fuck off.” Stylist spat, marching forwards to grab his box of cigarettes from the coffee table beside the other Rick. He didn't miss the other man's eyes dropping to his crotch as he walked, and a flush of embarrassment made his palms sweaty when he realised he was very obviously sporting a semi. The white pants he was wearing practically enhanced it, screaming look at me!

Why the fuck was he getting hard at a time like this? The man was infuriating, thinking he was so far above everyone else. The truth is, he was just a Rick, just like the rest of them. He wasn't fucking special. He had no business talking to Stylist like an idiot, or meddling in his decisions and messing with his head. He certainly had no business grabbing the wrist Stylist was reaching for his cigarettes with, and pulling him upright to get a look into his eyes.

Instinctively, Stylist jerked out of the grip and gave the other man a shove. Tailor dropped his glass, it shattered on the ground, the cheap thin carpet now soaking up his bourbon doing nothing to soften the blow.

“Hey! That was good fucking bourbon!” Tailor growled, latching his hand back onto that same wrist and dragging the stylist close to him, snarling in his face. “I've about had enough of your attitude, you're a little big for your boots for a lowly fucking hairdresser.”

“I'm the president's stylist, you fucker!” Came the retort, spit flying with anger.

“So you keep saying. He's just a fucking Morty. Y-you think anyone's impressed because you help a fucking Morty comb his hair in the morning? If you ask me, I think it's just weird. Th-this is exactly why I refused to live at the citadel, bunch of deluded bloody freaks, you are.” Tailor seethed, leaning in close, physically looking down his nose at the other Rick.

He didn't stay there long, he was shoved – harder than the first time – and fell backwards over his sewing box. He landed in a heap among coat hangers, having knocked down the clothing rack behind him. It stunned him for a while, it took him a moment to work out what had happened, but when he regained his bearings he was on his feet, brushing himself off as if nothing had happened.

Stylist watched him as he so meticulously plucked a piece of lint off of his suit jacket, and brushed down his pants. He was sure the guy was gonna bite back, lunge at him, take him down, and in all honesty Stylist was in the mood for a fight. He was both shocked and disappointed that it seemed the tailor was not interested. The other man cleared his throat and raised his head to meet stylist Rick's eyes.

“Wow, I didn't take you for a brawler. You're even less refined than I thought you were, you certainly fooled me. It-it seems you're nothing but another sewer-rat of a Rick, shame.” He sighed wistfully, and it was Stylist's instinct to swing for him. Though he resisted, since it would only prove his point.

“I'm going out for a cigarette.” He muttered instead, reaching for his cigarettes a second time.

“Really? With that hard-on in your trousers? Whatever will people think?” Tailor mused lightly, his voice like a breeze, completely casual and inoffensive despite his words. It made the hairs on the back of stylist Rick's neck stand up, and he froze, bent over with his eyes on the box of cigarettes. “I can't say I'm shocked. I knew from the moment you met me that you wanted me, it's an instinct I have. Y-you may call me arrogant, I'd see it as me being in tune with others, personally.”

“I don't have a boner. My dick’s just that big.” The Stylist excused, his fingers closing around the box as he raised back up. “Don't flatter yourself, and don't be staring at my junk. An-and you call me the weirdo.” He added with a tut.

“I’m not an idiot, I know what a boner looks like.” Tailor replied, his eyes fixed on the bulge between the other man's legs. To his embarrassment, Stylist could feel it growing. There was no hiding that. “You need help with that?”

The question hit Stylist in the gut like a punch, his cock twitching in response, almost like it was answering the question for him. Who the hell gave this guy the right to make him feel this way? Stylist Rick had fucked around with alternative versions of himself before, sure, but he at least got along with them out of the bedroom too. This guy had been irritating him all day.

Still, he couldn't deny the building sexual tension between the two, even out on stage, every time Tailor butted in while he was talking, or made a passing comment about him and his style choices, to make an example of him. It had annoyed him immensely, but he could not ignore this irritating kind of admiration he had that had been building. The man had confidence, he had a certain kind of charm, he had this effect where everyone shut up and listened to him whether they agreed with him or not. He was a big presence, one that would not be ignored.

“Are you really asking that? W-what, are you gonna jack me off or something? That what you have in mind?” Stylist questioned irritably, narrowing his eyes.

“You'd like that, hm?” Tailor purred, closing the gap between them, tracing his fingertips from his chest, up to his shoulder and around his neck. “I was thinking something more mutual.”

“Won't your girlfriend have an- an issue with that?” Stylist continued to stare into the other man's eyes, searching them for a hint of insincerity. The last thing he wanted was to be made a joke of by this guy.

“Girlfriend?” Tailor questioned. “You mean my model? She's not my girlfriend. I don't- she isn't my type.” He explained, a certain edge to his voice that told the stylist all he needed to know. Tailor looked him over now that he was closer, his fingers brushed upwards to the back of his head, feeling the soft short hair of his partially shaved head. “You, however…” He purred very quietly, the corner of his mouth turning up just slightly. Stylist licked his lips.

Tbc...

[jolinesnm3217]

Final Project - Self Branding

In the final project, we were to work on a brand identity by creating a publication in the form of a brand style guide. There were 2 options to choose from to develop the brand: Self-Identity and a branding for the Department of Communications & New Media. The project deliverables were a Logo, a Business Card and a Resume/Poster, all included into a Brand Style Guide. These deliverables were extremely intimidating, as I have never made anything like that before.

 Brainstorming Process

After receiving the project brief, we had some time to brainstorm ideas before doing a 5-minute pitch to Kai. I thought about both options, but just could not decide between the 2 of them. On one hand, I wanted to do the self-branding because it seemed really interesting and would be a good chance to see what would happen if I were to brand myself into something tangible. It looked like an option that can allow a lot of creative juices to flow, and basically let me do whatever I want. However, this flexibility is very intimidating too, as how should I even begin to do it? Also, how much of myself do I want to include in this brand? I had various doubts on this option, and took a lot of time to think about it. On the other hand, option 2 looked more straightforward to handle. Maybe it was due to the fact that I will be working on it as a third person, this option looked more structured and “safe” in a sense.

Up to the project pitch, I was still unable to decide between both of them. However, eventually I decided on option 1 – self branding. One of Kai’s comments was the catalyst for me to make the final decision. He offhandedly commented that one of my classmates really likes rabbits, so they were going to center their identity around a rabbit. This led me to think about some things I like that can be incorporated into the brand.

I eventually narrowed down to 3 of my favourite characters for inspiration. I particularly like the weed from Sumikko Gurashi, because not only is it absolutely adorable, its back story was also touching and relatable. It is a weed who dreams of becoming a bouquet of flowers!! I remember reading this backstory many years back and sharing it to anyone in my vicinity for at least a week after. With this backstory, it has since climbed up the list of my favourite things. I am also enamored with Chimmy from BT21 and Sally from LINE Friends as they are both so adorable and bright. Coincidentally, my friends also usually associate me with the chick emoji for some reason, which led me to think about having a chick as a mascot.

 Logo

For the research presentation, I sketched out 3 different types of logo options and presented to my peers. I incorporated both the chick and my favourite weed into a sprout chick, where the feathers that chicks normally have on their heads will be 2 leaves here. I shaped the 2 leaves in a form of a heart as I thought it would look cuter, and I also wanted to make the chick look as round as it can, because I thought that it would bring out the fluffiiness of animals that I adore. I absolutely adore fluffy animals and like most animals!! I drew some inspiration from this bird that I really like called the crow-tit.

I love this bird because it is just so round looking and I wanted my chick to look as round as it too hehe In the logo, I also included the word "jochi" which is both my username for many things, as well as a combination of my name "Joline" and the word "chick".

 There were 3 different ways I thought I should present the chick. One was it hiding behind the word and peeking out, and I intended to add like a scenery view behind as well. Second was the chick simply standing beside the word. I thought that this would be good because it can highlight the whole body of the chick, and is simple enough to look at and read. The third was where the eyes of the chick is used as the dots in the "j" and "i" of jochi, which I was just experimenting with and looked pretty okay so I left it.

 After receiving critique from the research presentation, I decided to first work on the comments that suggested new logo ideas. There was a comment about using Jochi as a onesie suit/hoodie that the mascot will be wearing, which I thought was an immensely cute idea!!! However, I soon realized that the words “jochi” would then be too small to see, so I kept this idea for perhaps an icon in the future.

Another comment was to have the word 'jochi' and play around with the 'o' and the 'c' to make it look like a pictogram of a cute chick emoji. I thought that this would be a cool idea as well so I sketched out a design of it like above. During the peer review session, I showed the new logo option to my peers, but they all agreed at the this would make the mascot look too small compared to the words. Hence, I decided not to go with it as well.

 After working on the new logo options, I then began to digitalise the second option of the logo first with the help of Adobe Illustrator. During the research presentation, I received various feedback from my peers that the second logo would be the best. I made use of the pen tool to trace my sketch, and deleted anchor points as needed to fit the round organic shape of the mascot, which I had now named Chichi. I also took into account some comments from my peers. With regards to the sprout on Chichi’s head, there was a comment to put the weed onto Chichi’s head instead of a sprout. There was also another comment saying to make the sprout bigger so that it is more obvious. Personally, I wanted the sprout to be like a little add on to Chichi, perhaps something that moves when it is happy or wilts when it is sad. Putting a whole weed on Chichi’s head would mean I would need to add a face to the weed, so it would be like a friend to Chichi. However, I felt more for the version where the sprout is a part of Chichi, so I decided to keep it as a sprout, but made it bigger to be more visible.

After completing the digitalized version, I felt like something was still missing as it was not as fluffy as I hoped for. Upon consulting with my peers during the peer review, I was advised to look at some of the ways fluffy birds were drawn and make reference to them.

I then found this picture of a really cute bird. Referencing the picture, I thought that perhaps a sketched outline would be good for Chichi.

However, upon trying it out, I was not able to grasp why the stroke would result in a bald Chichi, and my peers during the peer review could not help me with this issue as well.

After the peer review, I decided to look for references of round objects, as my main goal was to make Chichi round. Eventually, I found a picture of a sphere, and added a shadow to Chichi to showcase its roundness.

 Colour

The colours I chose were mainly colours that I thought would match with me and the overall bright and morning-like theme that I am trying to portray. The first 3 were the main colours and the last 2 the accent colours. During the research presentation, I mentioned that I was unable to input my favourite colour, purple, into the project. This received various comments from my friends saying that I should add my favourite colour in, which got me thinking how to incorporate it. In the beginning, I was thinking of changing the colour of Chichi’s sprout to purple, so that it makes a purple heart. I eventually scrapped the thought and just went back to green as I felt like changing it to purple would lose the subtlety of the sprout being a sprout.

During the peer review, there were also comments to make Chichi a brighter yellow. However, upon some trial and error, we decided that the original colour would be best.

 Typography

These 2 fonts were the fonts I chose because of how rounded and clean they are. Kai had some comments on using Chicken Quiche as the logotype, which I also agreed with as I had initially planned to handwrite the font in the logo. However upon trying it out, writing with a mouse just isn’t working out. Hence, I went on a journey to look for fonts again.

After scoping the trusty Internet for new fonts again, I eventually found a font that was very close to my handwriting. Hence, I decided to add it in as my logotype.

 Business Card

For the business card, I made use of the colours in my primary palette and created a double-sided card with rounded edges. Creating the namecard also finalized the logo decision to be option 1. This is because when option 2 was placed in the namecard, the font felt like it could not stand alone and was awkward with the background. Putting all the elements in a circle would give a cleaner feeling, which better suited the aesthetics I was going for.

Both the logo and card got many praises from my peers in the peer review and the final presentation as well, which was heartening to see.

 Resume

During the peer review, I also consulted my peers regarding the layout of my resume. Initially, I wanted to make 2 pages of resume, with the whole front page in the form of an infographic. Elements like who I am close with, daily schedules and hobbies were some of the options I considered to include in the first page. Then the second page would be more professional with elements like achievements, education and work experiences. I received feedback that a resume should perhaps be more professional, and that if I were to go with my idea, I could perhaps switch the pages around, such that the page with more casual details would be the second page. After thinking more about the resume, I eventually went with just a professional design where everything is clear and legible.

During the final presentation, I received various critiques regarding the alignment of the resume and empty space. I then decided to bring back the hobbies section that I had wanted to add before and attempted to add in icons. After the final presentation, I had my final examinations for all my other modules immediately cramped within that few days. So I was thinking really debating on whether I should add icons, as they always take up such a long time to draw. However, I thought again about the comments and felt that the addition of the icons would indeed bring up the quality of my work, hence I took an unforgivingly long amount of time to draw the icons. The icons eventually turned out pretty well on the resume, so I am satisfied.

 Final Prototype

Piecing together the different elements of the project into a single brand guide was the hardest part of the whole project. During the final presentation, I already came across various problems with using Adobe Indesign. The problem lies with shifting the work onto Indesign. I tried both methods that Kai mentioned – importing the Illustrator file directly into Indesign and copy and pasting the work directly in. However, I was unable to properly get my designs in, and when I tried to edit it in Indesign, I was also unable to do so. Eventually I gave up and opted for continuing the work I already had on Illustrator.

During the final presentation, Kai commented that I should try to incorporate the cloud theme into my brand style guide as well. I agreed that the brand style guide looked a bit plain compared to my presentation slides, as I had initially thought that the style guide was supposed to be professional looking. After the comment, I added in the cloud themes to my brand style guide as well, with the main theme of the sky blue.

Following the comments regarding the resume, I ran into a huge problem. Previously I was able to scale the resume down into the A4 size of the brand guide with little to no problems. However, this time with the addition of the icons, I realized that the same method does not work at all. The scaling down caused all the icons to be distorted, and I had to edit all the different weights of the strokes one by one.

The constant shifting of the work here and there has led to a WHOLE mountain of layers that I cannot even get to organizing, and constant trial and error led to so many artboards. So I could not even properly select the layers to lock them, which made it so difficult to edit all the strokes one by one. After I managed to adjust the strokes, I then realized that because the icons were scaled down so small, all the strokes are unequal despite them being the same weights.

I spent so long googling the solution to the problem, and eventually found out that the solution was just to make a bigger artboard. I realized belatedly that perhaps I should have worked on a bigger artboard in the first place for all my work, as scaling down would have been made much easier and the strokes would have been less wonky. Especially since Illustrator does give up the liberty to zoom all the way in and out, so creating the work on a much larger scale would not have posed problems to the working process at all.

 Overall Thoughts

All in all, this project was so so so fun and I loved every moment of it. Though it was so frustrating when I could not get things to work and also had to face the impending and threatening deadline (that I missed unfortunately), this module really let me explore a lot about these software and myself as a person. I learnt to give up when things are not working out and look for suitable alternatives that can produce the same results. This was one of the few times where working on a project made me excited and I was elated to constantly share my progress with my friends. I hope to familiarize myself with the tools more, so that in the future I would be able to work faster and more efficiently.

[hokkaidodo-blog]

there’s snow business like hoe business

In my life so far, there have been many things that I have started to do. Many things that have interested me greatly and captured my intrigue and thus,  I have made it my mission to accomplish said things. This process usually includes equal parts of both impulse buying tat from the Internet that I am convinced will be beneficial to me in some way for my new hobby and also developing slightly obsessive behaviours with regards to the aforementioned new hobby and putting every second of my spare time into it. This undoubtedly all occurs before the dawning realisations that I was, in fact, unfortunately born with the attention span of a goldfish and that either 1) I’m bored shitless of my new hobby and can’t believe I was ever interested in it in the first place,  or 2) I have a huge tantrum because I’ve started something new and difficult for 10 minutes a week but somehow I’m not automatically a pro at it immediately. The third step is the abandonment of my new hobby never to be seen, mentioned or eluded to in any way, shape or form for the rest of my fickle existence. My current list of personal pathetic pursuits includes – but is by no means limited to – the following things:

Learning German. Ask me what I ate for breakfast and as long as it’s cereal or an apple, I can tell you in German.

Dance aerobics classes. Lol.

Intricate adult colouring books. My eyes go fuzzy after colouring one leaf and my friends think I’m mad when I turn around and “hey guys, look at this cool art-nouveau squirrel I just spent three hours colouring in 47 shades of brown.”

Going to the gym. Cried for two weeks solid when I pulled a toe muscle and then was appalled and disgusted when I didn’t wake up the next day after one mild workout with a toned tummy and arms like Popeye.

Eating healthier. People who say they prefer a green smoothie over a share-bag of pretzels and a pot of cheese and chive dip are fake. Steer clear and do not trust.

THIS BLOG. Somehow, it’s been two months since I last posted my last post which ALSO started out similarly by saying something along the lines of “omg lol how has is been so long since I’ve written?!” lol.

Anyway, this time I present to you another smattering of pictures and verbal diarrhoea (is this still verbal?) digital diarrhoea and stories and stuff and a bunch of I-don’t-even-know-what from the past two months.

To start with, the season here turned faster than my stomach when sometimes I would get home from a terribly draining and emotionally tiring day at school of playing with poster paint and lentils in GSCE Art BTEC and ask Mum what we’re having for dinner, to which she’d reply with the dreaded: “mackerel salad”.  One day I was still in my T-shirt and jumper, walking to campus wading through piles of golden foliage and then suddenly two days later and I’m skating to school on sheet ice covered in bruises from spectacular tumbles and a good three feet of snow on either side of me. A lot of my friends in sunny Spain or France or even Tokyo say to me (whilst surprising smug giggles) “how’s Sapporo, Ross? Enjoying the snow?” to which I adamantly reply, “It’s not that cold!” and then rummage for a third pair of socks and my thermal undies. It’s beautiful though and I don’t regret a thing!

Snow business like hoe business, amirite

As for Christmas, – and no I am not a Scrooge – I am not feeling at all Christmassy this year. People still work and have classes on the 25th - which is gross for me - but there are still decorations and huge light displays up until midnight on Christmas Day, when as soon as it is over every trace of the festive season is torn down and everybody gets ready to welcome in the New Year.

“can you take a picture of us, we’re a couple”

This being said, I will definitely miss getting plastered with my Grandma on Christmas eve by glugging a bottle Amaretto and then waiting for her to request that the entire family sings “O Come Let Us Adore Him” in five part harmony whilst accompanied by Grandpa on the stylophone; sitting around in my pajamas on Christmas morning, laughing for thirty minutes because the puppy gets present opening priority and then Mum gets the black bin-sack out because he’s covered the living room in wrapping paper confetti and glitter; and then also eating Iceland out of their entire supply of frozen duck spring rolls, mini pizzas and garlic mushroom bites on Boxing Day, before complaining about how full you are yet still continuing to inhale a quarter pound of the leftover turkey, half a block of cranberry Wensleydale (with pickles), some coleslaw, a pile of bubble and squeak and some Mingles whilst the same annual festive episode of Top of the Pops lulls you gently to sleep with Fairytale of New York and Slade.

OTARU

I didn’t realise how much I missed the ocean until I hadn’t seen it for a couple of months and the sea was longer than a 15 minute drive from my house. Luckily, the seaside town of Otaru is just a train ride away from Sapporo and it felt so good for my soul to be back by the water. (Hippie child alert.)

Otaru is a picturesque little town famous for glassblowing and its beautiful canal which is lit up with candles every year for it’s winter festival. Ironically (yet gruesomely hilarious to me), after visiting the aquarium which is apparently super famous, and admiring all of the fab fishies and strange creatures, we went to a seafood restaurant and had some of the best sushi and sashimi that I have eaten so far. In other news: the demolition of a seven-tier soft-serve ice cream that left me questioning my lactose tolerance; the discovery of yet more face-cut out standees that left us all with a questioning outlook on Japan; and a two-storey shop stocked full of music box pieces. Who knew the demand for that was so high?

“Hey guys, can one of you Google whether or not you can die from eating too much ice cream because I don’t feel all that hunky dory right now”

A bear in his pants holding tissues! Japan!

Yes! It’s meant to be a penis! Awesome!

Why is it that when it comes to telling people about what you’ve been up to that your brain just turns to porridge and you can’t help but reply with the bog-standard “Oh the usual; you know, not much”.

RANDOM THOUGHTS

So, three months in (eek) and what are my thoughts on Japan? Well…

1)      Japanese people (in general) seem to be very organised and structured. Take for example, the rush hour on the underground. In London it wouldn’t be unusual to have an unwashed armpit of a local hipster thrust under your nose on your morning commute whilst a lady next to you gossips loudly on the phone to her girls about the chlamydia disaster that happened with Tony last night. This may or may not be accompanied by the gentle pitter-patter sound of some 90s trance music seeping out from underneath some headphones somewhere; twelve people standing on your foot; a distinctive scent wafting from the gentleman opposite you who forgot to eat breakfast so decided to delight everyone with his loud munching of a Lamb & Mint from The Traditional Cornish Pasty Company; and occasionally the fleeting anxiety that comes with frantically patting yourself down and hoping that you haven’t dropped your wallet.

The Japanese subways are deathly quiet, however. Sometimes it’s peaceful in the morning, and sometimes it’s unnerving. You’re awkwardly scared to breathe in case it tickles someone’s neck and you’re all in a line facing the same way and you daren’t get in the way of the station attendant with the big wooden shield who squeezes you in so the doors can close. There’s no crazy rush or crowd on platforms, just two neat lines and an unsettling calmness for someone who is used to (and who quite enjoys) mild chaos and hecticness.  

 2)      Went to the Asahi Beer factory; the most lit class field trip ever. With free beer. 10/10 would recommend.

3)      Japanese staff in restaurants, ticket offices, libraries etc absolutely will NOT speak Japanese with a non-Japanese person. It’s incredibly frustrating. As someone who’s main focus here is to improve my language skills, it is tough to do so when you struggle to get natives to treat you like anybody else. Whether some Japanese people just assume that there is categorically no way that a non-Asian person could become conversational in Japanese, I have no idea. For example, you will order in a restaurant in near-perfect Japanese to which you are just started at blankly. The waitress turns to my Japanese friend who repeats word-for-word and accent-for-accent exactly what I just said, and everything is fine. This usually continues for a few minutes and each time leaves me questioning my intelligence, my language competency and my foreigner-ness, and also just what do I need to do to try and win over the Japanese? (Video link)

I think that’s it for now. I’m sure I had more thoughts so I’ll try and write them here more often when I remember them (part 2 of me saying that). Nothing much is happening in the next few weeks, it’s that kind of winter jaded-ness that happens every year. BUT – everything is beautiful, I’m still smiling and I’m still in Japan and very lucky to be alive. I’m looking forward to January where things will kick-start again, and I can start travelling and exploring some more. Just got to finish 2017 with as much love as possible and give it a good end.

BONUS PICS: Some pretty skies at the Hokkaido Historical Village and me riding a humpback whale at the museum. You’re welcome.

Every single typewriter stamp from an old Japanese printer press.

I'm putting on my shades to cover up my eyes, I'm jumping in my ride, I'm heading out tonight ;)