#MY INBOX IS BEING HAUNTED BY AN APPLE

[stormbreaker-290]

I am haunting your inbox affectionatly

Gay hay gay gay gay gay gay

There's some that you missed lol

I wrote an entire gay gey paragraph lol

HDVDBHD

[themadlostgirl]

Jungle Symphony

*I am rewatching OUAT with my friends and we got to the Neverland arc and it reminded me that I was/am involved in this fandom and there are requests in my inbox that haunt me. So I'm gonna try and bang those out while the obsession is back! Even if they are hella late...*

Pairing: Felix x GN|Reader

Prompt: Felix and Reader share a sweet but awkward dance.

~~~

Another hot balmy night in Neverland. The Lost Boys were having a grand old time, dancing around a raging bonfire at camp while raucous music played. There was nothing to celebrate outside of the simple act of being alive and young and free. The boys were in an especially wild mood that night and you did not doubt that the celebration would last till morning if they could keep up the energy.

You sat nearby watching them hoot and yell and jump around the fire as if they were monkeys. For all their energy though, you could not match it. Something in you simply didn’t feel like jumping around as they did. Maybe you were tired. Maybe it was all too overstimulating. Whatever the reason, you were content to sit on the sidelines and watch. You would have liked to join them but the motivation was not there.

You had loved to dance once upon a time. You could just barely remember an old life where there were many parties and much dancing. It felt like a lifetime ago. Perhaps it had been. Time was hard to measure on a land where time stood still.

As you watched you felt a presence walk up behind you and deposit themselves on the log you occupied. You glanced over to see Felix watching the scene before you as well with a bored expression. “Evening,” you said, “What brings you to my log?”

“Boredom mostly.” he sighed.

“You’re bored at such a lively party? How is that possible?”

“You tell me. You’re also sat here.” Felix nudged your foot with the toe of his boot. “Aren’t you usually up and dancing with everyone? Why not tonight?”

You shrugged. “I’d like to dance but I don’t want to do this kind of dancing.” you explained. “I know that Neverland is about being free and dance is also freeing but sometimes I like the structure of more formal dance. This is aimless and honestly is not so much dancing but everyone jumping around.”

“Ah, I see.” Felix leaned his head back. His adam’s apple bobbed along his neck and something about the way the light of the flames caught the motion made you stare. “If you could do any kind of dance then, what kind would it be?”

“What kind? I don’t know, there are a lot to choose from.” you thought for a moment. “I want something loose and fun that can match the fast beat without losing control. Any ideas for what kind of dance that could be?”

“Not a clue.” Felix turned his head to look at you. You sucked in a sharp breath at being caught staring. He smirked. “Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing wrong at all.” you said and snapped your attention back to the fire.

Whatever attraction you had to Felix was not what concerned you. You knew how you felt and you were sure he may have had an idea about your feelings as well. Neither of you spoke about it but regardless it hung heavy in the air between you, especially at moments like this. Perhaps it would not have been so hard if Felix didn’t tease you. Or maybe it would be easier if you could stop staring and stop giving him reasons to tease you.

“Good to hear.” Felix said. He rubbed his hands off along his pants. He stood up and without looking directly at you, held out a hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked, trying to catch his eye. The more you craned your neck though the further he looked away. “Felix?”

“Dance?”

Your brow furrowed. “Is that a question or an order? Cause if you are asking if I would like to dance this is a weird way to go about it.”

Even in the flickering shadows from the fire you could see that his ears were burning bright red where they poked out from the unruly mop of blonde hair. “Do you want to dance or not? I’m not gonna ask again.”

You rolled your eyes at his brusk tone and took his hand. “Sure, that sounds nice.” You pulled yourself to your feet and let him tug you closer towards the bonfire.

For as long as you had been on Neverland you could count on one hand the amount of times you saw Felix dancing. It was never really the type of thing he did. You had to wonder what made him choose tonight. Could it have been you? Or were you giving yourself too much credit?

As you approached the fire hand in hand the others started to slow and stop, watching the scene with interest. You could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest but you kept your nerve. You had never been nervous about dancing in front of them before but something about doing it with a partner was making your hands shake.

Felix still wasn’t looking directly at you but he didn’t pause either. “Mind if I lead?” he asked.

“Go right ahead.” you said.

He pulled you closer, one hand braced on the small of your back and the other holding your hand. You copied his posture, bracing your free hand on his shoulder. You took one step, then another, a small half turn you fumbled but corrected quickly. From there you moved like water flowing in a stream. You let your mind go as you followed the motions on instinct, following his feet quickly as you spun around the bonfire.

You looked up from where you were staring into space and met Felix’s eyes for the first time since he asked you to dance. He stumbled for a moment but you pulled him back into it, switching your roles so you were the one leading him this time. He seemed less sure being the one following and was hastening to keep up with you as you suddenly pivoted directions and began dancing counterclockwise around the bonfire.

The music was a faint buzz that could barely be heard over your heart. Felix smirked and purposefully missed a step so you stumbled and he regained his position as leader. “Couldn’t let me lead for a minute?” you said.

“I’m not looking to embarrass myself trying to follow you. It’s hard doing this backwards.”

“Maybe if you actually danced more you could practice.”

“Not really my thing.” he said, casting his gaze away from you again.

“If it’s not your thing,” you spun him out and back in, leaving him off balance, “Then why did you ask me to dance?”

“I just felt like it tonight.”

“So it was a coincidence, is what you’re saying?” you asked, pressing closer so he couldn’t escape your question.

“Yes.” he was still making a pointed effort to avoid looking directly at you. “That’s it.”

“You know, I find that the universe is rarely ever so lazy as to make coincidences.” you told him. “I think that it is quite possible that you asked me to dance because you saw that I wanted to. If that was the reason, then I would think you very kind.”

He didn’t say anything, his mouth pressed into a hard line and his cheeks red.

“Felix?”

“And that’s the end of the song. Bye.” he let go of you and stalked off into the woods, pulling his hood tight over his head to hide his face. You sighed, smiling to yourself as he walked away. Your head was still spinning with the giddiness of the dance. It felt like you were floating on air, your steps felt light as they paced on the ground, leaving the bonfire behind. You got to the edge of the camp and debated what you wanted to do for a minute before deciding to follow Felix. You did want to thank him for the dance after all.

It didn’t take long to find him crouched in a tree, his long legs dangling off the bough. “Hey there,” you called to him. “You ran off so suddenly, was it really that bad?”

“No. I was just done dancing.” he said.

“You know, when someone is done dancing they usually bow to their partner before running away.”

“I didn’t run away!” he snapped.

“Of course. It was a tactical retreat then?”

“No. I was done. That’s it. Stop being weird about it.”

“I’m not. I just wanted to thank you for dancing with me.”

“Well, you did. We good now?”

You rolled your eyes and climbed up into the tree with him. “You dance very well. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Right. And because you are so very not embarrassed that’s why you’re not looking at me.”

“Yes.”

Your shoulders slumped but you didn’t push. “Okay. But just to let you know, if you ever do want to dance again I’d be happy to be your partner. I’ll even let you stay the lead.”

“That--” Felix snapped but the tension in his back melted and he turned to face you, eyes still not meeting yours though. “That sounds nice…” he mumbled.

You smiled, reclining on the branch with him as the distant echo of music stretched across the jungle and wrapped you in a quiet symphony with the wind blowing against the leaves.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

MACINTOSH APPLE i've been SLACKING on my duties of being annoying over deadwood arc in ur inbox. to be fair i'm still only like halfway into 36 and i've been waiting on that FUCKING cliffhanger of vyncent collapsing the cave system wiwi & dakota are in for days. because historically, no prime defenders bit had ever had serious consequences!!!! so i don't really have much to talk about that i haven't already. but i think the cave shit is fucking crazy. i'm sure they'll be fine!! anyway i'm curious on whether we ever get resolution on Why deadwood is Like That.... if it's some shit like "clarence albert was originally from deadwood or founded it or ripped a tear between the [chaos realm/spirit world/etc] and the real world" i'm gonna lose it. also i'm wondering who else is gonna get possessed.... mildly terrified for vyncent since he already has such low will. dakota also because he's got a bag of rocks in his head but like surely one possession is enough. right?? right?? anyway. what else. obviously still have 1 billion feelings on william growing up in deadwood is i guess like going crazy wisp. etc. and FUCK the wisps also i haven't been on my creepy wisp shit for a while but u should know im 24/7 thinking abt them and also why they fucking left and also why they chose him!!!!! anyway hope u are doing gooooddd having a good day off pls say hi to ur beafts for me if ur still in proximity to them! sharing my homemade pesto with homegrown basil and garlic with u ^_^

AHAAAA IM FINALLY ANSWERING THIS. HI. AWESOME. see the cave was nothin they made it out of the cave fine surely. i relistened to the first half of ep 38 earlier this morning so i have a bit of a better idea of where youre at now... how was the speech? was the speech good? did you feel any secondhand emotions of anykind because i sure didnt! (<<gritting my teeth) ALSO ITLL BE FIIIIINE. THEY HAVE THE WOLF TOTEM RIGHT. SURELY NOBODY ELSE WILL GET POSSESSED NOW THAT THEY HAVE THAT !!!!!!11 legally i cannot comment on much else of this yet but i also have a LOT of thoughts and feelings about william growing up in that town. "i thought you were the first good thing to come out of deadwood" is a line that still fuckinng haunts me. like a ghost, you could say.

[ttngummybear]

Since this is outsider-safe, I'm posting this on my main first.

Let's talk about how they celebrate Halloween at the Den!

Quick refresher: The Den (specifically the main Den in this context) is the central headquarters of the Healers on earth, as well as a sprawling underground city. It is located in the Raven region of Tennessee in a long-dead volcano. Being a city, there are many places within the Den where creatures can live. Most who live here are Healers, but some outsiders also reside here for a variety of reasons.

Community gatherings are fairly frequent these days, and they're an absolute blast. Food, live music, the works. Anyone living in or visiting the Den at the time is welcome, Healer or outsider.

As you can imagine, Halloween in particular is a HUGE deal at the Den! They have a festival that begins a week before Halloween. The celebration ramps up every day, culminating in a gigantic party the day of Halloween itself.

A new addition to the celebration is a set of haunted house attractions around and within the Den. These were set up here after an... Incident just a few Halloweens ago. They range in their scariness from kid-friendly to genuinely terrifying. These are set up outside the Den itself, and it's encouraged for residents to bring guests here to check them out!

Trick-or-treating is a huge deal here, too. There are candy and treat stations dotted all over the Den, and you can get candies here that you can't find anywhere else! Everyone is allowed to trick-or-treat here; It's not restricted to just kids.

On top of the candies here being unique, there are cultivars of produce you can't find elsewhere, too. There's an orchard where all types of magically altered fruits are grown, including a type of green apple that's green all the way through. These apples taste much like artificial green apple flavor, but with more depth and balance, and they're perfectly juicy on top of that. They're used for making perfect caramel apples, and a spicy, shockingly neon green cider.

... Why no doodle for this one? Because I'm going to be drawing and describing the special candies you can get at the Den for the inbox trick-or-treating event this year! No limit on how many candies I'll give each person, come back around as many times as you want! (Translation: if you send multiple trick-or-treat asks, I'll answer each one with a different candy drawing.)

[hayatoseyepatch]

sammmmm, its the weekend!!! what are your and your f/o plans??

AHHH APRIL MY LOVEEEE (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ♡  First off, can I just say I miss you so much bb I’m cheesing seeing you in my inbox ♡

Yes happy weekend!! OO what a question!! On weekends I feel like it depends on the hub (ㅅˊ ˘ ˋ )

With Suo I feel we are both fall lovers at heart. We love going on cute dates to an apple orchard or a pumpkin patch. Often times we wind up taking Sakura (who has never really got to have those experiences growing up) and Nirei (who is just so excited to be there). Watching them pick the best pumpkins as we giggle at the blush on Sakura’s cheeks and Nirei bouncing around looking for the best one. After we get home though we spend plenty of time cooking together with things we picked up from the farmer’s market. Then it off for a nice bath and to bed. (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ

As you know there’s also a new hub in town and that’s Hoshina. ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა Hoshina I feel like is fully letting me embrace my spooky weekend fun. He lets me cling to him while he giggles all the way through a haunted house. Eating Halloween candy on the couch while we watch horror movies and carve pumpkins. I cant see him being too much of a cook, but he sure is a taster when it comes to dinnertime. But more so we relax on the weekends he definitely is worn out after a long week and we like to pamper eachother.

Thank you so much for the fun question my love I hope youre enjoying your weekend and ilysm MWAH MWAH ( ˶˘ ³˘(ˊᗜˋ)!♡

[marrmora]

HELLO!! I saw your blog about being overstimulated so i figured out i'd come to your inbox. Here's a few questions for you!

Do you have a favorite food? If yes, what is it?

How would the perfect day be like for you?

Do you like legos? Is there a lego you wanted/want but never got/don't have? And if you don't like legos, any reason why?

Do you have plushies? If yes, how is your oldest like?

Do you have a favorite character that always seems to pop in your mind at random moments? If so, wich character?

Hope this helps! /gen

Multiple questions!! Yes yes yes!!! (I love multiple questions ❤️❤️)

• Favorite food has GOT to be pulled pork sandwich. Especially Texan pulled pork.. Peach cobbler and apple pie are a closed 1st though!

• Love legos, they’re so fun to build AND their is instructions!! There’s this Voltron Lego set (custom made or something, I don’t know) that I ADORE. Can’t find it anywhere for sale though..

• I have over 100 plushies, actually haha. My oldest one is the plushie I got when I was born, it’s a small little pig. Still intact, and I love it. (This isn’t on there; but my favorite one is a plushie I got from a haunted maze! He’s so creepy, and I just..!!)

• Lance and Keith from Voltron are always in my mind. Whether I listen to music, there’s always an animation with them, or when I’m talking to someone, my brain will animate them talking to eachother. I absolutely love them, they’re always in my head haha.

Thank you for the questions!!

[thenightdayblogger]

🍎 👻 🧥 for the fall writer asks!

thank you em! also you were so fast i saw this in my inbox a minute after reblogging LMAO. Ask game here

🍎 Apple: Do you have a favorite friend/platonic dynamic? Any friendships gone sour?

Ooh plenty, but I think one of my favorites is Cordelia and Elise, which has grown out of Elise's progression of character—although I always wanted them to make amends, she was much more of a static rival character and their reconciliation/friendship after years of being in constant competition and with mutual dislike just felt a little bit too easy. She's a much more interesting character now, I think, for her strong sense of justice, and the event that split them apart in the first place, both of them had (hopefully) very sympathetic reasons for doing what they did, and reacting as they did—as well as reasons they can look back on and regret responding to the other so angrily.

👻 Ghost: Do you have a character or a scene that continues to haunt you? Something or someone you wish you had done differently or just can’t stop thinking about?

WHEW, a lot. Difficulties of doing mostly third-person limited and having a fondness for subplots being very subtextual/limited in information until the main character gets whammed w them, I never get to go into depth the way I'm tempted to. Hyacinth, Duke Ardennes, Carys and Hatzirah, literally Rhen's entire backstory—they could all be their own books. And an addenum to that, in apparently a consistent character archtype to me—Constance and Elinori, two mothers who are dead but who haunt the narrative in very different ways, and sort of the distangling of this benevolent, ideal legacy left behind to the much more complicated woman beneath.

🧥 Coat: Where do you feel most comfortable writing or brainstorming?

At home so nobody can see the weird faces i make or hear when i say dialogue out loud so i can see if its got a good rhythm to it LMAO

thanks for the ask em!

[everything-laito]

About time I finally finish this; here’s the final part of the Laito and Cordelia analysis saga

Hiya! It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it? Like I said in the previous parts, I’m just going to be answering Cordelia/Laito questions that I’ve received before the saga came out or during the time I was releasing analysis parts. So without further ado, here’s the last part under the cut!

Here’s the rest of the saga, that I recommend reading in order!

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

This was sent to me in an ask before the Laito/Cordelia analyses began. I knew I was going to touch up on some of this before hand, but the reason why Laito doesn’t have a chance of having DID or the like is because I do believe he was groomed as a child! I gave my argument here, in part I section 2. The grooming process is an attempt to make the child trust and rely on the predator so they believe that they cannot be abused or hurt by them. It’s why Laito was later on so confused by his trauma and feelings towards that situation, because he thought it was good to do those actions with Cordelia. Regardless, I do not believe Laito has DID because like you said, there is a chance that this happens, and also the first time when Cordelia did sexually abuse him (to our knowledge) did not start when he was a child since that was the process of him being groomed. 

I do believe forming repressed memories over traumatic experiences is more common than forming DID or other disorders like it. I’d say Laito suffers more from repressed memories or at least forgotten ones than DID, considering he didn’t suffer from sexual trauma when he was a kid and also he’s still haunted by memories from his nightmares. Sometimes (as we see in the games) he’s surprised by some of the surfaced memories his nightmares bring him, which gives the inclination that those memories were either repressed or he’s just lived for so long he’s simply forgot about some of those details.

(Also, it’s not good to compare types of trauma and abuse, just another thought! It’s personal for everyone, and saying a type of trauma is worse than another invalidates one’s experience with it, not to mention it’s comparing “apples to oranges” as they say)

I think both of these are the same question? Or similar at least? But please correct me if I’m wrong! 

I’m honestly not entirely sure on this one. Cordelia didn’t want to have children in the first place, so I don’t know if she would care. I don’t even know if she really realized that Karlheinz was abusing her in the first place. If she saw it first hand and it kinda struck her to a deep level??? Maybe??? But maybe she would be like “oh that’s normal” considering she justifies her trauma in a way by saying that she loves and hates him (I believe she also said that like Laito??? If I am wrong please call me out for it and I’ll edit this :)). She just has several unhealthy and abusive coping mechanisms. So I don’t know, but I’m leaning towards a “no” since she’s pretty full of herself and doesn’t show to feel empathy for other people aside from Karlheinz in a twisted fashion. 

Hope that makes sense! 

That’s a very very interesting question! I do believe he would have, eventually?? Considering he did want to be the one to kill her since he “loves her so much that he hates her.” We do know from Dark Fate that Karlheinz wanted the triplets to kill her eventually, which is why that abusive household was strung up in the first place through his puppet strings. So I’d say so. Maybe he would have snapped one day and done it. Nonetheless, that’s a very interesting prompt to think about!! If I think of anything more, I will definitely add to this :) 

Karlheinz did know about Laito and Cordelia even before he “found out.” In fact, he wanted something like that to happen in order to create the conditions (somehow) to create a new human race. I think that he might have locked up Laito in order to just make the situation worse and to “show” Cordelia that he still “cares” about her. 

Karlheinz is also an abusive prick too, considering he did all of this on purpose. He’s the true villain of the story, pulling the strings. I definitely recommend playing Laito’s Dark Fate route, it’s absolutely amazing. If you can’t play it, I definitely recommend reading it, however Hirarin’s voice acting is definitely half of the emotion :) 

But basically, Karlheinz never cared about Cordelia, that’s the sad part. He just used her for his eugenics experiment. In Ayato’s More Blood flashbacks in his Maniac Epilogue, Cordelia gets a blue rose from Karlheinz, which means “impossible” or “unattainable.” Ironic, considering blue roses actually do not exist! Well... kind of. The true “blue rose” looks more like a purple color. Blue pigment in nature is very rare in comparison to other pigments. Natural blue roses to not exist, and it has been quite the feat for biotechnologists to make a blue rose, given the meaning of “impossible.” A true blue rose (that has not been dyed or is fake) still does not exist to my knowledge, but I'm assuming the demon world has blue roses haha. However, Ayato knows that blue roses means “impossible,” so he crushes the rose. Cordelia, however, is blissfully ignorant and gets mad at Ayato for crushing it. 

Karlheinz is just a goddamn snake. He just sent a complete double meaning to Cordelia (honestly,,, probably where Laito gets his snakiness) with her unaware of his true meaning. His love is “impossible” and “unattainable” to her. 

And there you have it folks! The end to the saga. Feel free to send me any Laito and Cordelia related asks! I just wanted to compile the ones I had in my inbox just to close it all off and to tie any loose strings too. Thanks for being on this journey with me! More to come soon, as always, I’ve just been wicked busy with school. But thanks for all the support you’ve given me as always :)

also, guess I am immortal considering I don't have tendinitis by the time I finished writing this saga laksdjf

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Hello, everyone! A long while ago, I had this request sitting in my Inbox, and the entries proved too long to be all in the same post. I'd like to thank you all for your patience. This post focuses on Arthur and Lovino, but Ludvig and Gil's entries can be found here! Hope y'all enjoy~☆

England:

“Arthur?”

Curious eyes turned from the pile of papers on the desk before him, narrowing in confusion as he glanced between you and the clock.

“Everything alright, luv? It’s the middle of the night.”

Were you in better spirits, you would have pointed out the hypocrisy of his statement, the stacks of files, open ledgers, and cold tea all indication of his own insomnia.

But your nightmares kept tormenting you, Darkness tracing its finger along the fringes of every passing thought. You couldn’t shake the memory of the smoke, of the-

Weary, you heaved a sigh, your head dropping to rest at an angle against the bookcase. “Artie, I-”

His eyes flashed with alarm, recognizing immediately from your tone, from your inability to look at any one thing for longer than a moment- It was a haunted look that he had seen in the mirror far too many times.

You couldn’t believe that something so small and mundane had crippled you like this, shattering your defenses and leaving you piteously vulnerable.

You-

Arthur was surrounding you before you were even aware of his approach, the blanket that had been on his lap wrapping around your shoulders before he completely engulfed you in his warmth.

You resisted for a moment; you were surprised and unprepared for the sudden gesture. Slowly though, you let yourself collapse into him, face falling into his shirt and your eyes drifting shut.

For a moment, for maybe even an infinity, nothing existed except the blessed warmth around you, the familiar scent of shortbread and apple tea on each steady exhale teasing your neck.

His grip was firm, certain, strong, and so damned reassuring that your fingers were bunching into the fabric of his jumper, your own arms trying to pull him even closer.

You needed this assurance, needed proof that he was here, and he was yours, and that nothing would take that away from you.

Normally, he would tease you for your moments of intense affection, but he simply pulled you even closer, nuzzling into your hair.

You had no idea how long he held you, each breath tickling your skin, his heartbeat certain and steady beneath your ear. His grip never once faltered, the only change coming when he would shift his hand, fingers dancing with each new caress.

Your eyes had opened once more, and you found yourself staring mindlessly at the distant wall, watching the candlelight- he never outgrew the need of having one lit while he was working- dance with the shadows.

“What’s troubling you?”

His words were so quiet that you thought you had imagined them, going unacknowledged until he shifted once more, lips hovering near your ear. “Luv?”

You breathed a sigh, letting yourself cling to the temporary peace that was already starting to slip away, angling your own head to whisper your reply. “Just-”

You cut yourself off, a vivid, aggressive flash of your night-terrors breaking into your haven, stealing your breath once again. Your grip on his jumper, which had slackened considerably, strengthened once more, your passing panic having you bite your lip to keep yourself from reacting too severely.

“Dearest?” The concern in his voice nearly shattered you, your eyes slamming shut as you buried your face into his chest once again.

“Just hold me, please.”

You hated how pitiful you felt, how weak you must sound. You could only imagine his expression right now, could only imagine what he must think of you.

He said nothing, half confirming your fears. But when he sighed out your name and pressed a firm kiss to the top of your head, you felt them dissipate entirely.

You let yourself simply cling to him again, soaking his warmth into your bones.

He was here, and you were safe.

There was only this small bubble, the sanctuary of his embrace.

“I-” Your voice came out in a small crackle, throat drier than you had realized.

Arthur hummed in curious encouragement, drawing away enough to tuck his finger beneath your chin, drawing your gaze up to him.

The warmth, the concern, the love-

You cleared your throat before speaking once more. “I had a nightmare, and this one kind of-” You trailed off, searching for the right words, but nothing came to mind apart from: “It kind of fucked me up.” Your voice seized towards the end, words almost catching in your throat.

There was a flicker of conflicting emotion in his gaze, passing in merely a moment. His thumb brushed against your arm, his expression softening. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Part of you ached to do just that, to tell him of the eyes and flames that had invaded what had been an otherwise pleasant dream. Tell him that-

But you couldn’t find the words, thoughts instead shifting to your original goal, sudden bashfulness making your voice drop to near silence.

“Actually, I was hoping you could make me some tea? If you’re not too busy?”

Arthur offered you a pointed look, one fully conveying his disbelief. “As if I could ever be too busy for you.”

You felt yourself melt at the sincerity in his words, a warm wave of comfort enveloping you from the inside out.

Even these few moments with him were enough to soothe your restive heart, his words as he walked you to the kitchen weaving through your spirit.

Sitting on the countertop, listening to him recite a small spell into the electric kettle, measuring the perfect ratio of lavender buds and lemon juice, you felt your fears trickle away even more.

Whatever demons that had crept into your dreams were powerless, every lingering trace of their presence banished as Arthur pressed another kiss to your brow, gentle arms once more enveloping you in his warm embrace.

Romano:

You weren’t entirely sure how long you had been standing by the window, watching, yet unseeing, the city below.

Your dreams had been filled with darkness, ghosts that were beyond your reach, continuing to haunt you for what must have been hours.

Your only reassurances came from the hum of the room’s mini-fridge and Lovino’s breathing, a familiar not-snore serving as a steady melody in the otherwise too-quiet space.

You rested your forehead against the glass, eyes slipping shut once more as phantasms tried again to harass you, their words and accusations and remarks incomprehensible, yet still leaving you raw.

It was most irksome that they were from your distant past, memories weaving together and leaving you hopelessly vulnerable.

You huffed silently to yourself, unaware of the shifting figure in the bed behind you, oblivious to the exhausted, anxious eyes that had been searching for you, ignorant of the plaintive gaze that was steadily tracing across your form, the narrowed brow and worried frown as he vacated the bed.

Hearing your name pulled you from your thoughts, your companion’s approaching trudge making you open your eyes.

You frowned, upset that he had awoken to find you like this, almost ashamed of the amount of apprehension to his expression.

“What’s wrong?”

You offered a small hum, a tired shake of the head. “Just- nightmares.” At his look, you were hasty to reassure him, hand waving the concerns away. “I’m okay, Lovi.”

The deadpan countenance he cast your way revealed just how obvious your lie had been. “Certo. Of course you are.”

You huffed in irritation once more, yet again turning your focus to the overcast skies, taking in the brushes of light pollution against the low-hanging clouds. You tried to ignore him, but his footsteps only brought him closer, his warmth radiating against your back.

His arms eased their way around you, his fingers weaving with your own, before he tugged you back into his embrace. He was all-but surrounding you, his chin settling on your shoulder.

He began to hum, gently using his position to guide you into a small shuffle, slowly shifting your weight from side-to-side.

You felt your eyes close on their own accord, the smallest hints of a smile tugging at your lips.

The memory of your nightmare- the fear, the adrenaline- was fading away to a wisp, disappearing as his humming slowly shifted into coherent lyrics, each note teasing your skin, the tempo of the impromptu dance increasing ever-so-slightly.

Not that you could really call it much of a dance; if anything, it was more swaying in place, the city lights beyond the window twinkling with the passing traffic.

You weren't entirely sure how long the two of you lingered there, he pressing kiss after kiss to your shoulder, your cheeks, your neck- Any piece of exposed skin he could find fell victim, the soft brush of his lips accented with each line of the lullaby.

You guided his hands, still carefully intertwined with your own, to your upper arms, tugging him into a firmer hug.

He released a soft chuckle as you let yourself surrender entirely, standing only through his careful balance, his embrace tightening slightly.

His lullaby faded for a few moments, his temple resting against your own as you both watched the world beyond your window.

"Feeling better," he breathed, pitch deeper in his fatigue, the whisper teasing your skin.

You hummed in affirmation, closing your eyes and letting your posture droop, confident in his ability to support both of you.

Somehow, you weren't sure how, just being surrounded by his warmth, having his arms around you and another firm kiss lingering against your cheek, this was enough to chase the remnants of your passing nightmare away, all the echoes of the past crumbling to dusty ruins.

You offered a sigh, squeezing his hands in assurance; you could tell by the tension in his posture that he was still worried for you, unsure how else to comfort you.

Slowly, you turned to face him, dropping your head into his chest as you tugged him closer, sighing deeply in contentment when he started to massage your back.

Each light scratch with his nails brought another wave of sleepy pleasure, senses nearly overwhelmed when he started to hum yet again, his lips pressed to your hairline.

His swaying continued, steady, slow, subtly shifting so that you were making your way back to the bed.

You offered a small sound of protest, quickly swallowed as he shifted his fingers once more, intentionally massaging that one spot that always made you melt.

"Ass," you half-whined, half-sighed, earning another quiet chuckle.

There was nothing left of your dreams, consciousness scarcely keeping its fragile grip on you as he continued his ministrations, guiding you back down to the mattress, his words making you shiver as he whispered into your ear.

"Torni a dormire, amore."

There was still some sort of protest in your mind, some fleeting reason your mind wouldn't let you relax. But with each steady brush of his fingers, and the ebb and flow of his singing, you couldn't-

"I'm right here. You're safe."

You felt yourself collapse entirely at those words, unsure if your praise and adoration were even spoken aloud, or merely the final passing fragments of coherence, his singing guiding you into a peaceful rest.

[gstqaobc]

THE ROYAL FASCINATOR

Friday, May 21, 2021

Hello, royal watchers and all those intrigued by what’s going on inside the House of Windsor. This is your biweekly dose of royal news and analysis. Reading this online? Sign up here to get this delivered to your inbox.

Janet DavisonRoyal Expert

Meeting the Queen online

For Dr. Steve Beerman, it was in many ways like having a pleasant conversation with his 92-year-old mother. Except it wasn’t his mother. It was the Queen. Beerman, a retired family physician in Nanaimo, B.C., spoke with Queen Elizabeth online the other day as she gave him — virtually — an award recognizing his longstanding work in drowning prevention. “I’m very delighted to be able to present you with this cup, a very large cup, which one day you might see if you come to London,” Elizabeth told Beerman as she honoured him with the King Edward VII Cup during the virtual session with the Royal Life Saving Society. Beerman, co-chair of the Canadian Drowning Prevention Coalition, was quick to reply that it was “a pleasure and a humbling honour to be with you.” Being with the Queen in this way has become the way of the royal world during the pandemic. Many observers have said that virtual sessions involving the Queen have offered new insight into the 95-year-old monarch, who has more often been seen from afar, giving formal speeches or doing a walkabout. “Many people who commented to me about the interview [said] that they had never seen her have what they would describe as a nearly normal conversation with some people,” Beerman said. “My own mother is 92. This was not a whole lot different than talking to my own mother.” Beerman, a trustee with the Royal Life Saving Society, had met the Queen at Buckingham Palace a handful of times in connection with that Commonwealth organization. But his most recent session with her was memorable in a new way. “It was more chatty,” he said. “It was more communicative than when I’ve experienced these encounters in real life, face to face. So I thought this was actually a better way to do this.” A seven-minute video of the session involving Beerman and others honoured for their drowning prevention efforts was posted online, but the overall virtual encounter lasted about 20 minutes, and came after participants had two practice sessions. “In the second one, we actually rehearsed what we were going to say and we were coached in a very nice way by the people from the royal household about pausing and being slow enough to allow her to interject with comments or questions,” Beerman said. “We were very much encouraged to participate in a conversation as opposed to doing an acceptance speech.” Still, there was a bit of nervousness for Beerman as the call began. “There’s always some nerves about are you going to misstep or say something in a way you might regret or that might be perceived to be awkward by others,” he said. As the conversation progressed, Elizabeth shared her own memories of receiving a life-saving award as a teenager. In 1941, she became the first person in the Commonwealth to receive the Royal Life Saving Society’s junior respiration award. “I didn’t realize I was the first one — I just did it, and had to work very hard for it,” Elizabeth said. “It was a great achievement and I was very proud to wear the badge on the front of my swimming suit. It was very grand, I thought.” Beerman sees the shift to the virtual world for the Royal Family as a signal the House of Windsor can change with the times. “I think it’s a strong statement of ... we can pivot when we need to, we are flexible, adjustable and, like the rest of the world, we have to respond to the reality that we live within.”

The deceit behind the Diana interview

The interview was as devastating as it was haunting. And now, 26 years after Diana, Princess of Wales, sat down with a BBC journalist and told the world “there were three of us in this marriage, so it was a bit crowded,” an inquiry has found that Martin Bashir acted deceitfully to gain the interview. It’s a finding that will echo through both the royal and journalistic worlds.   In response, Princes William and Harry made statements that lay bare the deep pain the interview with their mother has left with them. “It is my view that the deceitful way the interview was obtained substantially influenced what my mother said. The interview was a major contribution to making my parents’ relationship worse and has since hurt countless others," William said in his statement. "It brings indescribable sadness to know that the BBC’s failures contributed significantly to her fear, paranoia and isolation that I remember from those final years with her." But what saddens William the most, he said, “is that if the BBC had properly investigated the complaints and concerns first raised in 1995, my mother would have known that she had been deceived.” Diana was failed, he said, “not just by a rogue reporter, but by leaders at the BBC who looked the other way rather than asking the tough questions.” Prince Harry said their mother “was an incredible woman who dedicated her life to service. She was resilient, brave and unquestionably honest.” He said what “deeply concerns” him is that similar journalistic practices are still widespread. “Our mother lost her life because of this, and nothing has changed. By protecting her legacy, we protect everyone, and uphold the dignity with which she lived her life. Let’s remember who she was and what she stood for.” Observers suggest it will all have a significant impact on how the BBC is viewed. “It shakes the real core of journalism because people will no longer look to that broadcaster and trust them wholly because we now know that they're prepared to lie to coerce people into taking part in interviews,” marketing consultant Diana Young told the CBC’s Tesa Arcilla. Diana and Prince Charles were divorced in 1996. She died after a car crash in Paris in 1997.

Babies and the line of succession

(Peter Byrne/Press Association via The Associated Press Word this week that Princess Beatrice and her husband, Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi, are expecting their first child will add yet another shuffle in short order to the line of succession. The child, due sometime this fall, will be the 12th great-grandchild for the Queen, and the fourth baby to arrive in a matter of months. Beatrice’s younger sister, Princess Eugenie, and her husband, Jack Brooksbank, welcomed their son, August, in February. The following month, Princess Anne’s daughter Zara, and her husband, Mike Tindall, welcomed their son Lucas. Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, are expecting a daughter, with a due date thought to be in early summer. That baby will take the highest spot in the succession among the new arrivals, landing at No. 8, following her father, Harry, who is sixth in line to the throne and Harry and Meghan’s first child, Archie, now sitting at No. 7. The passage of time can mean marked shifts in the line of succession for those who enter it somewhat lower in the roster. Take, for example, Sarah Chatto, daughter of Princess Margaret. When she was born in 1964, she was No. 7. Now, she is 26th.

Royally quotable

"Planting a tree is a statement of hope and faith in the future."

— Prince Charles, in a video posted online to mark the launch of the Queen’s Green Canopy,

a tree-planting initiative to mark Queen Elizabeth’s Platinum Jubilee

next year that aims to enhance the environment now and for future generations.

Royal reads

1. Prince Harry says the pain of Diana’s death

pushed him to drinking and drugs

. The Duke of Sussex’s latest comments, along with further criticism of how he said the Royal Family neglected both him and his wife, Meghan, came in an interview with Oprah Winfrey in The Me You Can’t See, a new Apple TV series about mental health debuting Friday. [CBC]

2. Queen Elizabeth’s

first major ceremonial duty since the death of her husband

, Prince Philip, came during a scaled-down state opening of Parliament. [The Independent]

3. Prince Michael of Kent, a cousin of Queen Elizabeth, has

denied reports

he was willing to use his royal status for personal profit and provide access to the regime of Russian President Vladimir Putin. [BBC]

4. There was

lots of taffeta and no tantrums

during the creation of Diana's wedding dress, recalls one of its designers. [The Guardian]

5. One of the Queen’s two new puppies, which she reportedly received a few months ago from Prince Andrew for companionship,

has died

. [The Daily Mail]

6. The succession for the British throne is clearly laid out, but succession can in some other countries be

considerably more complicated

. [The Guardian]

Cheers!

I’m always happy to hear from you. Send your ideas, comments, feedback and notes to

royalfascinator@cbc.ca

. Problems with the newsletter? Please let me know about any typos, errors or glitches.

New newsletter alert! Our CBC colleague Peter Armstrong has a newsletter called Mind Your Business, a weekly guide to understanding what’s happening in the worlds of economics, business and finance. Subscribe to it

here

💜🙏🏻🙂✝️💟PG💟✝️🙂🙏🏻💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿.

[nev3rfound]

girl back home : s.r

brief summary: being the girl Steve is waiting for, no matter how long it takes 

word count: 2.7k requested: nope, just an idea I had and went with it  warnings: none that I’m aware of

so this is pre-serum steve to captain america steve. it’s a lotta fluff, and I hope you enjoy!

* requests are open if you have any ideas, feel free to drop ‘em in my inbox or message me. *

 girl back home / home no more / building a home

You had grown up surrounded by tough men in the family, each trying to show off their weight lifting abilities whilst you sat with your face buried into a book. Initially, that was what drew you into little Steve. He didn’t try all too much to be something he wasn’t. 

The two of you had first met when you worked in the small bakery downtown. He was sent to get some fresh air along with Bucky, the complete opposite of Steve, but their differences balanced them out. 

He walked in after Bucky. You first noticed Bucky, I mean, who wouldn’t? His shoulders were rolled back as he stood tall eyeing the pastries and the girls handling them. And then behind him, you noticed a smaller figure emerge and stand beside him with a shy smile on his face. 

Smiling to them both you waited for one of them to speak up, but as Bucky opened his mouth no words followed. “What’s got you boys all tongue tied, huh?” You joked with them, and Bucky remained silent whilst Steve laughed lightly.

“Not every day our own Bucky gets silenced.” Steve spoke up, stepping in front so he was in charge of this situation, Bucky taking the back seat. “I’m Steve.” He introduced himself, still unable to make eye contact with you as he sighed loudly looking at the array of baked goods.

“And I’m Bucky, at your service, doll.” Bucky had winked, making you laugh lightly. Soon enough you learnt that was his signature move, make them laugh, give them a little bit of sugar to sweeten them up. He had it perfected to a single recipe, but Steve was flipping through the pages to find one that made sense to him. 

“What can I be getting you boys?” You questioned as Steve lifted his head, waiting for Bucky to speak up.

“What’d you recommend, doll?” Bucky asked, leaning against the counter as you rolled your eyes, causing him to push himself off of the glass and Steve chuckled to himself whilst your back was turned. 

“Well, if you’d really like my recommendation.” You started as you finally met the eyes of Steve, bright blue eyes full of hopes and dreams. “I gotta say apple tart.” Motioning down to the small selection of cakes you could see the two of them almost drooling, but Bucky lifted his head up first, patting Steve on the arm. 

“Can’t be affording it doll. Only came for some bread.” Bucky began to fiddle with the change in his hand as you turned around to prepare a loaf. 

As you finished you placed the loaf on the counter, slipping a cake into the packaging as you winked to Steve. Bucky handed the money over and picked the loaf up. “Bye boys.” You called out and Steve turned around, politely waving as he followed Bucky out of the shop, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’d be stupid not to fall for the Bucky Barnes.” You turn your head as one of your colleagues sighs loudly, resting against the counter with big heart eyes for the brunette who just left.

Shaking your head you glance down at the missing spot of cake. “I’d be stupid to fall for him, Maria.” You laughed as you pictured the blonde walking out with a small smile etched on his face.

*

Over the course of the next few months, the two boys came in more frequently, finding small excuses to have to come in. Sometimes it was a simple matter of getting a loaf of bread. Whereas others it was needing a broom and someone who was delicate and had steady hands to help a cat in a tree. 

Either way, you didn’t mind. It allowed you three to become close friends in and outside of the bakery. 

Bucky quickly became a brotherly figure to you, always watching as he saw other guys hungrily looking at you as you would walk with him and Steve in the evenings. 

Sometimes Bucky wishes he could say something to you, just in hope of you averting your attention from both of them to Steve. It was obvious Steve was in adoration with you, but you weren’t always the type to notice subtle glances like Steves. 

On more than one occasion Bucky tried to set you two up, but you never saw it in the light they did. To you, it was an evening out with one of your closest friends. Often you’d leave the dance early because Steve was too tired or didn’t have the strength to try and dance. He would sit, watching you laughing with a stranger who’d twirl you like there was no tomorrow, wishing it was him instead.

*

As war became a more looming threat you knew what was going to happen. Bucky would sign up, and Steve would desperately try. 

“I don’t care, I want to serve my country.” Steve stated as the three of you would walk around downtown. Bucky would always sigh, running out of responses to try and talk some sense into him, but it never worked. 

“But you’re not strong enough, Steve.” Bucky retorted, leaving a heavy silence over all of us. “I mean, who’s goin’ to look after dollface here if we’re both gone?” He’d nudge you lightly and you’d roll your eyes.

“Dollface can handle herself thank you very much.” Steve always liked your wit, the quick to react attitude that didn’t give the time of day to Bucky’s antics. 

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll keep on trying.” Steve always said the same thing, over and over again. He’d keep going into different recruitment offices with a new identity in hope one of them would let him sign on. It was all he wanted, and no one would let him have a chance. 

“Steve, maybe Bucks right.” Your words trailed off as his eyes glanced over to yours, pain crossing his expression. He always thought you were on his side, but clearly not. Quickly Steve would walk off, leaving you calling his name as he shrugged his oversized coat over his small frame. 

Bucky placed his hand on your shoulder. “It’s fine, he’ll come back, Y/n.” He muttered to you and you sighed. “Come on, how about that dance you promised me before I go leaving?” 

*

It was Bucky’s last night before leaving. He had promised to take you dancing with Steve, that the three of you could have a night that you won’t go forgetting anytime soon. It was going to be the perfect goodbye, even if it wasn’t one you wanted to say.

As the three of us met outside of your house you had no idea that Steve was nervous to see you. Steve saw you nearly every single day of the week, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself shaking at the thought of you tonight.

“If you don’t tell her how you feel before I leave I ensure you I’ll come back and haunt your ass.” Bucky muttered to Steve as you opened your front door, wearing a new dress that made Steve struggle for breath.

“How’d I look?” You asked as you walked down the steps. Bucky smiled brightly whilst Steve remained speechless. “That good, huh? Maybe a Solider will sweep me off my feet.” You had joked, but it hurt Steve. He was never going to be the solider you’d fall for, he would always be a background character in the story of your life.

Walking in between your two best friends you felt a skip in your step as the music grew nearer surrounding the event. It was all Steve’s idea to go to the Stark exbo. He knew how much you loved the idea of new technology, even if he couldn’t fathom what it all meant. 

You fought your way towards the front, wanting to get a look at Howard Stark himself. “He’s more handsome than the papers!” You squealed to Bucky who laughed lightheartedly as a girl was wrapped around his arm. “Where’d Steve go?” You muttered as you turned around, Steve no longer stood by your side.

“Stay here, doll.” Bucky whispered to you before heading out of the crowd whilst concern grew heavy in your thoughts. 

Not long after Howard Stark came on stage you left. The fascination of it all became a secondary thought to your best friend, to one of the only people in your life who cared about you like no other. 

“Lemme through!” You yelled as you tried to elbow your way out of the crowd, just seeing two figures talking across the street. 

As you had finally made your way out you ran over, panting lightly as Steve and Bucky stood arguing. “What’s all the commotion about?” You panted before turning your eyes to see the small sign. “Really, Steve?” 

“Yes, really, Y/n.” He quickly retorted, taking you off guard. “I, I’m sick of being sick and I want to serve my country, even if I die trying.” 

He walked off inside, leaving you with tears in your eyes. “I know, doll.” Bucky muttered as he brought you into a hug, walking you back away from the place and towards the dance.

Steve glanced back that night, his heart breaking as he realised he hurt you, but never had the guts to truly apologise. 

*

Months had passed since the two boys were gone. You had returned to the bakery in need of the distraction, but the sound of the door opening made your heart flutter in the hope it was one of them, that they’d come home okay. 

But it never was. You walked home alone once more, ignoring the catcalls that Bucky always shouted at whilst Steve told you a joke, making you laugh. 

Steve never failed to make you laugh, that’s probably why you cared about him the way you did, the way you still do. He knew how to make you feel like your best self without even trying. 

As you close your door you let out a heavy sigh. “Evenin’ Momma.” You called out as you walked up the stairs, trying to swallow back the tears in your eyes as she called your name desperately. 

“Y/n! Come on down, you gotta hear this!” She yelled and you rushed down the stairs no sooner than you walked up them. 

Standing in the doorway to the living room she turned up the small radio, a song ending as a news statement was announced. 

“We have breaking news that America has it’s own mascot, a public figure here to help end the war. Ladies and Gentleman, give it up for our very own Captain America.” Loud applause sounded over the small box as a tune began to play. 

Looking at your Momma she nodded for you to stay still and keep on listening. “My names Captain America and I will help win this war.” Your eyes widened as you heard the voice, it was little Stevie. 

You gasped before collapsing to the ground, continuing to listen to the radio as tears flooded your eyes. “He’s alive, Momma.” You sobbed against her as she brushed your hair, relief overwhelming you. “I knew he’d make it through.” 

*

Everyone called out as they ran past the bakery, all of them yelling about the saved soldiers. You’d seen the fliers, not believing what you were seeing and remained in denial about the entire thing. It was impossible for it to be Steve, it just couldn’t be. 

“He’s here! It’s Captain America!” Voices yelled as you untied your apron, your hands shaking at the prospect of it actually being Steve. 

Turning your head your boss simply nodded. “Go, Y/n. I can mind the shop a little while.” She smiled and you ran out, grabbing a hold of your skirt as you ran through the muddy puddles towards the large crowd. 

“When they due?” You asked one man who shrugged his shoulders. 

“Look!” A voice called before a series of cheers began. 

You fought your way forward, receiving all kinds of calls and elbows along the way, but you closed your eyes, determined to see this sight. 

“Come on, lady.” Someone shouted, but you turned around and merely glared.

“My best friend is one of them, so excuse me for caring.” You retorted and all fell silent as you faced the crowd. 

“Some things never change.” A voice joked and hesitantly you turn around. 

A small gasp escapes your lips as you see the two of them, almost unrecognisable. You stared at the men before you, no longer boys that left Brooklyn. 

Bucky had matured quickly, blood dried with dirt over most of his body, but his smirk was still evident as he smiled to you, barely able to keep still. But for once, he wanted Steve to enjoy this moment he finally could have with you. 

Steve stepped forward. A strong man in a uniform of his own. He was taller, broader, but as his eyes focused on yours you could still see Steve in there. “Hey, Y/n.” He called out and you let out a dry laugh. 

“Didn’t expect you to change that much in the space of a year Steve.” You joked before running over and jumping into his arms, something you never anticipated doing. 

He spun you around as he laughed into the crook of your neck, the familiar smell reminding him that he is in fact home. “You have no idea how much I missed you.” Placing you down he tucks a loose bit of hair behind your ear as the crowd disperses, reuniting with fellow loved ones leaving you two lost amongst those surrounding you. “I thought about you every single day, and I was stupid not to tell you sooner how much I care about you.” 

Shaking your head you place your hand in his. “I love you, Steve. I loved you when you took me dancing after Coney Island and you got tired. When you tried to stand up for me against that jerk on the street. When you constantly persisted in enlisting just to have the chance everyone else got.” 

“Does this matter?” He mutters, motioning to his new self. 

You shake your head. “It’ll take some getting used to, sure.” You laugh lightly. “But, you’re still Steve Grant Rogers, Captain America or not.” 

“Can you just kiss already? He’s all you’ve talked about on the way home.” Bucky yells and as you turn back to face Steve he leans down, finally doing what he’s dreamed of since he first stepped foot inside of the bakery all those years ago.

He tasted like war, filled with pain but longed for comfort. You tasted of the apple tart he savoured when you gave it to him, something he never forgot. 

Pulling away you struggle to let go, but as someone nears you a laugh sounds from him. “Now where’s my kiss, doll?” Bucky chuckles as he brings you into a tight hug. “Bout time you kids finally acted on those feelings of yours.” 

*

As Steve headed towards the bar he knew he might never see you again. So you gave him the closest thing to your heart. 

“Take this,” You slipped off your necklace, the one you wore since you were a child. “and then you’ll know I’m close, no matter how far away you may be.” Kissing him softly you fought back the tears in your eyes as you treasured the time with him. 

“I’ll always love you, Y/n. But I’m coming back, I promise.” Steve told you as he held your hands, but soon you slipped out of them. 

“Please don’t make promises you can’t keep, Steve.” You had muttered before he opened the front door, taking one last look at you as you whispered the three words he never tired of hearing, not knowing that they would be the last. 

*

Holding onto the necklace tightly he closed his eyes, humming as Peggy spoke through the speaker. “Steve, are you still there?” She called desperately as Steve let out a shaky breath. 

He lowered his head towards the necklace, picturing you in his mind. “I’ll be fine, Peg. I owe my girl a dance back home.” Steve chuckled as Peggy laughed lightly. 

“Got yourself a girl back home, huh Rogers?” She questioned and Steve nodded to himself, picturing you dancing around him like old times. 

“Yeah,” He muttered as the line went down and he closed his eyes. “I guess I do.” 

His grip tightened on the necklace as he heard your angelic laugh once more. Closing his eyes he felt the tears slip down his cheek as he hit the water, thinking of you back home waiting for him to return. 

“I’ll come home, Y/n.” He whispered into the necklace as the water began to rise around him. “A promise is a promise.” 

[arthurjdrake]

A chance bonding experience over pie, tea and haunted tape recorders with @damn-fine-cup-of-tea

“February twenty-ninth, it is 9.30am. The air still reeks of fish although I could swear that it has gotten better since I first got here. I still haven’t managed to get the name for those beautiful pine trees they have here. I was told they had moose. I must see a moose before I leave this town. I’m going to the bakery. Carol, if you ever get up this way, the apple pie at the diner is to die for. I must find out if they make it themselves, or if it is the same as the one from the baker. They don’t have proper tea here, and I had to go to Bangor to get my hands on tea leaves. Remind me to tell you how much that was. The people here are quite lovely, although I will have to notify the ATF and possibly the NSA about some of the inhabitants.” The agent stood still in the office they had given him at the police station. A tape recorder in his hand, Javier glanced and nodded politely at a police officer passing by the door before he went on : “I had the strangest dream last night. One of the deceased, a woman called Catherine Brissaud visited me in my dreams and kissed me. She looked beautiful but there was something off about her voice, she spoke gibberish. Then, she opened her mouth and a man’s voice came out of it telling me that it would kill again. There was this music in the back I cannot get out of my head, Carol. This is all very upsetting. I still have no clue on who could possibly have done it, why, or how? None of the victims showed wounds, and still, their entrails are all missing. All of it. I might need to stay here a bit longer than we imagined.” Grabbing his coat from the back of his chair, the man decided to head to the bakery by foot, his thermos of tea in his hand. At last, a good proper cup of tea. Pushing the door to the bakery, he waited in line, glancing around the shop, searching for something, anything that would possibly catch his eye. That man in the corner with a cockatiel pattern on his tie surely seemed interesting.

With the recent keying of his car, Arthur had taken to walking places. Better that than risk further damages to his property from Freyja’s vague and self-serving ire. The very thought of everything that had happened online was enough to send him stir crazy if he stayed inside any longer. No, he needed a trip out to one of the few places he found some peace in this mad place. There was also the current issue of sorting out Nadia’s identity and Adam’s current curse from that blasted chalice. Jobs and side-tasks were stacking up faster than he could keep up with but in a way he was thankful for the distractions. Explaining how he ended up joining the queue tapping out a couple of quick replies to several of the emails in his inbox. With those sent he tucked his phone away and he could turn his attention to a few of the other patrons of the quiet bakery and associated coffee shop. He looked at the display case and hummed in thought unsure what to get - he never had been very good at making decisions. “Sorry,” he said to the man in front of him hoping it wasn’t a real bother “excuse me, I’m rather stuck on what to go for… Do you think the apple or the passionfruit one is better?”

“No harm done,” Javier turned around and gave the man a thorough look, his eyes travelling all across him before he gave him a pat on the arm. “I think, and this is only my opinion, that there is nothing better than a good, old fashioned, properly made, apple pie,” he released the man’s arm to point his finger at the pie behind the glass. “And this, looks exactly like a good, old fashioned, properly made, apple pie.” The crust/filling ratio appeared to be nearing perfection, as did the cooking of the apple, or the color of the dough that covered it all. And, this was really the cherry on top of it all : the pie was decorated very tastefully. Maybe this would help him forget about the town’s apparent aversion for a proper cup of tea. “You are British, aren’t you?” Javier was sure of that, but it never hurt to ask. “What do you think of the tea situation in this town?”

Arthur was quite accustomed by now to being inspected by strangers, and in a town like this his accent tended to make him stick out like a sore thumb. He didn’t mind, so he waited and smiled politely taking in the other man’s appearance in kind, at a guess he seemed of an age to himself - at least physically. The greeting was friendly in kind, which settled any initial concerns that he might have bothered this stranger with his question. It was a nice change considering it seemed a majority of those he’d met significantly younger. At least beyond Carrington but that was another dynamic entirely and gave merit to the fact that you could hardly tell people’s actual ages from initial observation. “I think you might be right,” Arthur found himself agreeing tapping his bottom lip thoughtfully “especially with this wintery weather.” The cold hardly bothered him but it hardly meant a warm treat every now and then wouldn’t go amiss. “I feel like I haven’t had a good apple pie in ages,” baking hadn’t been the highest of priorities on his list lately but it was something he was keen to get back into. His smile grew a tad wry at the stranger’s next question, “damn, what gave it away?” he asked in light jest. “Definitely not the accent, was it my fondness for weather discussions and freshly baked goods?” His grin turned to a mournful look though the humour remained in his tone, “oh gods it’s atrocious. Don’t even get me started. I turned up for my first day and asked where the kettle was - they didn’t even have one. They microwave it.” He shook his head in mild disbelief over this “have to get people from back home to send me yorkshire brew or else I’d lose my mind.” He glanced at the thermos, “I’m guessing you feel the same?”

“The weather is quite something,” Javier commented, idly tapping his finger on top of his thermos, in tune with that song he had heard in his dreams. God, that thing was stuck in his head. “Talking of which,” it may have not smelled like fish in the shop, and in fact, the whole place smelled very nice, but the agent had to ask about that damn smell. “Does it always smell like fish in this town?” It seemed odd to him that people would ever decide to settle and live in such a place. He kept a stern look on his face, although there was always a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he spoke. “Then you must have a slice of apple pie. Maybe you can sit with me. I’ll share the tea,” he offered. It would be a great opportunity to discuss with the locals, who, even if they were not connected with his case, helped him draw a better picture of the town and what could possibly be insidiously corroding, gnawing it. “I will say, that the accent sold you out, and the talk of weather and pastries confirmed my doubts,” he politely replied, glancing over the man’s shoulder to have a look at someone who had just walked in. Their socks did not match. He wondered if this had been done on purpose or not. “Funny.” He said, turning his attention back on the British man. “Of course they would. I have had people tell me that tea in bags was not so bad. It’s atrocious !” He shook his head, clearly disapproving of that kind of affirmation. “You are the third person who tells me they have to order tea from across the sea. I’m sure there’s a lot more of upset tea lovers in town.” Something had to be done about this. As it was his turn to order, the agent turned toward the saleswoman with a bright smile. “I will have a slice of pie, please,” he glanced at the man. “And the man after me, will have another one of those.”

Arthur had become relatively accustomed to the smell, but at least it had stopped raining fish. Small mercies. Yet, as the other man asked after it he shrugged. “I have no idea honestly… There was some weird meteorological event… Raining fish. Whole town was covered. But it’s definitely been getting a damn lot better since that stopped.” He didn’t mention the chest, or the fact that since he’d heard through the grapevine that it’d been opened that the weirdness had stopped. “How can I deny an offer like that?” he smiled, genuinely grateful for the offer this stranger extended out. “Then at least let me buy you some of the apple pie to say thank you for the kindness of sharing the tea,” it was the least he could do. The laugh that was drawn from him was light, “ahhh, guilty as charged.” It wasn’t entirely true, but true enough for this lifetime that he’d subscribed to the general notion. “Heathens, the lot of them. I’m telling you.” The disapproving look the stranger got was rather amusing overall. “Oh, most definitely. We should start a club.” They moved up and Arthur let the other man order for them both, taking his card out to cover the payment “I’m Arthur by the way, I didn’t catch your name mister-?”

Raining fish. It must have been a local expression, a derivative of it’s raining cats and dogs. Although, Javier could imagine that a storm could cause fish to end up in the atmosphere and rain down on a coastal town such as White Crest. There was nothing too weird here. “That’s funny,” he let a thin smile tug the corner of his lips upward. The town seemed to be rather normal, but the people here were a bit odd. The man he was talking to seemed quite normal, compared to the rest of them, although it was a bit early to be certain about that. “That is a very kind offer,” he nodded politely and moved aside to let his new tea friend pay for the pie. Javier wondered whether he should be introducing himself as an agent or as a citizen. It was unlikely that this person would have anything to do with his case, or he was truly the luckiest investigator this town had ever seen. “Javier, I’m Javier Sterling,” he had made his choice. Little did he know that he would not be able to be just a citizen for long, or that his tape recorder had developed a mind of its own and decided to record his conversation with Arthur. Sitting at a table by the windows, Javier walked back to the counter to ask for cups. If he clearly disapproved of paper cups, he did not comment on it as the saleswoman handed him those, and he walked back to the table to pour them each a cup of tea. This one had been advised by one of the people he spoke to online, and he had high hopes and expectations about it.

“You think I’m joking?” he glanced at the man, and the look on his expression earned a momentary thought of ah, of course you do. A majority of the cod and salmon had been cleared away from the streets, but Arthur still noticed the occasional one dotted around down. One had even been on the spear of a statue in down, talk about being skewered. “Least I can do,” Arthur said pleasantly as Javier stepped aside and he could pay for the two slices of pie. With the introduction Arthur offered an extremely warm hand out for a polite greeting “Arthur Drake if you’re going for full formality.” Once they were cut and served on plates with a couple of forks, Arthur picked them up and carried them over to the table. “So, what brings you to White Crest?” he queried as he slid into one of the seats at the table pulling one of the two plates over as Javier sorted out the tea “I mean, beyond the picturesque scenery and excellent apple pie? Somehow you don’t strike me as the small town kinda guy.”

Javier looked at the man with a perplexed look on his face, trying to figure out if this was some sort of elaborate joke. The puzzled look on his face did not really fade away until Arthur held out his hand and Javier shook it firmly, hoping that this conversation about the falling fish would stop now. “Drake. El dragón,” he commented, before he turned his back on the man. Sitting at the table, he took some time looking outside, although there was nothing special that caught his eye this time. Getting his coat off of his shoulders, the agent unbuttoned his suit’s jacket to get more comfortable. Besides, nothing looked worse than a man sitting with a closed jacket. “What brings you to White Crest?” The question was repeated, with echo, the chatter of the bakery amplified. Javier had just opened his mouth to reply, but the sound did not come from his mouth, but rather from his coat. The agent frowned, glancing at the piece of clothing. Could he have both pushed the record and play buttons by accident? There was a sound of rewinding tape for a couple seconds before the tape recorder started saying : “ get out of my head, Carol. This is all very upsetting. I still have no clue on who could possibly have done it, why, or how? None of the victims showed wounds, and still, their entrails are all missing. All of it.” When Javier got his hands on the tape recorder, he realized that none of the buttons were pushed, and still the tape played. Great, the damn thing was broken. “Excuse me,” he said, ejecting the tape and putting it away in a case. “I’m here with the FBI,” he sighed.

Ah well, he would learn soon enough. Arthur was hardly here to blow the man’s mind, so left him to his ignorance for the time being. “Indeed,” the translation that Javier picked up on was just part of the irony of each name he picked. Though most tended to overlook the fact. Pulling the cup towards him he first took a sip and hummed quietly in appreciation. Just the right strength. He waited on Javier’s response to his question, but what happened next had Arthur furrowing his brows in confusion. Victims, wounds, entrails missing? He looked to the coat in question suspiciously and then at Javier frantically fiddling with it once he’d pulled out the apparent recorder. “Uh…” he blinked a little caught off guard while Javier dealt with his screwy technology “sure…” Though he couldn’t help but frown a little with the clarification that Javier was with the FBI, “I see…” he caught himself and sat up a little straighter already having a suspicion this man was here for more than just the apple pie “well, seems like something important brought you to town.” He tilted his head in mild curiosity, “a case?”

Javier pursed his lips. Putting the tape recorder next to his cup of tea, he grabbed the latter and took a sip of it before he answered Arthur's question. Judging by the look on the man’s face, it was necessary for Javier to explain himself. He idly snapped his fingers, staring at them as he focused on what he would tell him. “A case.” He repeated, grabbing his fork to take a bite of the apple pie. His eyes shut closed as a pleased expression erased any trace of worry the tape recorder had given him. Groaning happily, the agent snapped out of it after a few long seconds. Right, the case. “We have five people with their insides missing,” he added, having swallowed his bite. “That apple pie is, excuse me, fucking amazing,” he stared at his place with the most delighted look on his face. “What about you? Where do you work?”

Arthur couldn’t entirely help how his eyes flickered to the tape recorder, a paranoid part of his mind wondering whether their conversation had been recorded. Were there others in town like him? Did that mean that other people might’ve been recording and documenting things? It was a slight worry inducing thought and he couldn’t help the slight tap of his foot. He’d forgotten about the apple pie in his minor moment of paranoia, but as Javier began to explain why he was here he felt some of the knotted tension ease. Well, at least they weren’t here for other reasons… At least not yet. “Sounds rather suspicious…” he remarked as he thought on the roster of things that might be capable of such violence or potential feeding habits, though admittedly he didn’t know them off by rote “but… the recording said there were um-- no wounds did it say?” It was only at Javier’s remark that Arthur remembered that he too had some, picking up his fork he cut through the pie and had a bite pleasantly surprised at the explosion of cinnamon and sugary apple that hit his palate. “Damn… You’re right.” He took another bite, but at Javier’s question Arthur swallowed and took a sip of tea to clear his mouth. “Ah, just up at the college... I lecture in the history and mythology department.”

Javier pointed at his face, his round cheeks suggesting that he was in the middle of eating another bit of that superb pie. Chewing slowly, he took his time to finish his bite as it took more than a discussion about missing guts for the agent to lose his appetite. “No wounds, nothing in common between the victims, no traces of effraction. It’s as if a ghost murdered them all,” picking up the paper napkin to wipe at the corner of his mouth, he glanced again at the tape recorder. He could have sworn that he had seen it move. He did not recall pushing any of the buttons, and yet the pause button was pressed in. And now the stop button, without him touching it. “Well that is odd,” he took the machine in his hand, inspecting it closely. “I’ll have to order a new one,” he thought aloud, putting it away in his coat. "That sounds fantastic,” he gave the man a thumb up, picking up his cup to take a sip of tea. “I find both of those subjects to be absolutely fascinating,” he explained. Javier was delighted that he had had the chance to run into a teacher as he believed that this was one of the most generous professions one could have.

He didn’t particularly wish to rush the pie as it was exceptionally good, so he took to sipping on his tea mulling over the tidbits of the case this agent was working on. This was hardly the first time he’d discussed weird and gruesome things over food so he wasn’t particularly put off by it. “Strange, is there any sort of similarity between the victims? Gender, ethnicity, age?” Most killers had some sort of profile that they worked to, Arthur might not have been in the service in this lifetime but he knew the protocol. Had stuck to it himself in recent lifetimes. As Javier picked up the tape recorder that had seemingly pressed its own buttons, Arthur narrowed his eyes a little suspicious of the little device that seemed to have developed a mind of its own. “Can I have a look at that?” Javier had taken the tape out so Arthur hardly saw any harm in asking to have a closer look. The thumbs up earned a humbled smile, “ah, they certainly are that. Though the FBI seems like a fascinating job. Serving your country and keeping people safe, I’m sure there’s nothing else quite like it.”

Javier rubbed at his chin for a moment as he thought about the different victims. They had nothing, truly nothing in common, aside from being found dead, with nothing left inside their abdomen. Thinking about this reminded him of his dream and that woman he saw. Catherine Brissaud. Shaking her out of his mind, he sipped silently on his tea. “Nothing, absolutely nothing. Ethnicity, age, gender, hair color, fragrance, occupation, hobbies. I have been looking at their whole lives and nothing is similar so far,” he explained. He had not expected that Arthur would find his tape recorder to be so interesting, and now that there was no tape in it, what wrong could it do. He handed over the device, not sure what the man could probably do to fix it, although maybe Arthur had a few other skills up his sleeve. “It is an amazing job. I do not think I could really make a change any other way.” Javier had considered working as a police detective a long long time ago, but travelling and working on cases like this one was a lot more gratifying to him.

“Well… That sounds both horrifying and utterly perplexing,” Arthur couldn’t help but be equally fascinated and terrified by the thought of something like that. “And you’re certain it’s the same…” he caught himself from saying thing “person… doing this? What about location? No apparent circle theory?” Arthur knew a little about psychological models of criminal behaviour, having studied history of different eras it was pertinent to have some understanding of how criminals behaved and acted in their attempts to avoid capture. As Javier retrieved the tape recorder, Arthur slid it over and turned it over thoughtfully inspecting the buttons. Pressing one to let it play though no sound came out (as he expected) considering there was no tape. He tested each button individually, finding nothing out of the ordinary about it. Interesting. “I suppose most people think of the police or the army when they think about serving their country, but the FBI is pretty darn impressive.” As he spoke, Arthur ensured all buttons weren’t pressed or locked and set it back down on the table in front of him mostly to keep an eye on it. “How’d you come into that field? Not something you just walk into surely? If you don’t mind me asking that is.”

“The way of killing is too specific to be done by several people, unless we’re looking at a cult, of course.” Javier rubbed his fingers against his jawline for a moment. “Considering the murders have been taking place in the same town, there is not a lot we can do to establish a possible location for the culprit’s home.” Obviously whoever was doing this must have been from White Crest, but drawing a profile for them was nearly impossible. “I expect that they’ll make a mistake. They always do,” serial killers were not very original, but how long it took them to start being reckless, to start playing with the press, or law enforcement, was never a set number of days. If only it had been so simple. Javier watched Arthur inspect his tape recorder. He remained quiet, although he still wondered what it was the man was trying to achieve, pushing buttons and staring at them. There was no judgement in his eyes, and he looked at him with marvel in his eyes. “People tend to forget that we also serve our country and not just the Bureau. We have to thank television for this,” looking out the window, his eyebrows raised as he saw a familiar silhouette standing on the other side of the road. Once again, they disappeared the moment something blocked his view. “I’ve always wanted to work in law enforcement. Back when I was a child, we used to hear about the FBI a lot on television. I started sending letters to the FBI director that summer.”

“Not something you could rule out I suppose,” Arthur remarked as he mulled over the few bits and pieces that Javier had provided regarding his reasoning for being here. “I mean if it’s in the same town then surely the culprit has to be living within the vicinity of the town? So, it narrows it down at least in that regard…” He looked out the window towards the street, watching as a couple of people walked by unassuming. How many people could this case put at risk? Too many. Perhaps it was a good idea to offer assistance and simply observe this agent’s progress. Putting such a creature away would likely benefit everyone, but there was a small concern in the back of his mind that innocents could equally incriminate themselves considering the… special population variation that White Crest possessed. “Perhaps, but how long do you wait until that happens?” Arthur completed his inspection and frowned, turning his attention to Javier with his remark. “Yes, television provides a great many unhelpful stereotypes. Perhaps success will make some think differently at least?” He could understand the draw of law enforcement. It was a noble profession. “That’s quite a direct approach, I guess you made quite an impression if that’s how you got into the business,” Arthur grinned wryly at the thought of a young boy writing to the FBI asking to join them one day. It was rather endearing in a sense. “And you’ve been with them ever since? That’s rather impressive.”

“It has not been ruled out.” Javier had, over the years, specialized in working on crime related to those sort of organizations. All these grotesque deaths, however… Those didn’t happen all too often. Usually with them, it was rituals that ended up in an accident, or, a human sacrifice. This seemed different. There seemed to be nothing that indicated a freak accident or a sacrifice. There were no signs, sigils, drawings, books. He took out his notebook and wrote himself a memo to have a look at all the books in the victims’ homes. A chore, but one that he would do anyway. “Maybe they’ve already done it,” he looked up from his notebook as he closed it, putting it away. He probably had missed something, a detail, when he went to those crime scenes. He would have to be more thorough. “Well, I only joined when I finished training at the academy,” he scoffed. The thought of 11 years old him running around with a cardboard badge after his older brother came back to his mind and he laughed some more, shaking his head. Boy, did he bore his brother to death with his stories back then.

“How long has all this been going on for?” he asked curiously “no symmetry with calendar dates or lunar cycles?” There was always some sort of pattern that came with things like this, or at least there tended to be. It was simply a matter of finding it that was the issue. Arthur lightly drummed his fingers on the table in thought. “Are all the crime scenes in town? Perhaps there is something that might have been overlooked?” While he had no particular investment in assisting, a part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what might be responsible for these murders. “Perhaps you need another set of eyes aiding you with the case?” In a past life this had been the exact same sort of work he’d been employed to do. To locate and track moving targets and attempt to pinpoint their location, admittedly on a larger scale than a single murderer or cult potentially responsible for such things. “Was there any sign of forced entry at the properties?” Of course, he knew Javier had no particular reason to divulge any information regarding the case at all but it never hurt to ask. Did it?

“There is some sort of regularity to this,” it had nothing to do with the moon, or with a day of the month in particular, but there was indeed a pattern. More or less every three weeks, a person died. This comforted him in his idea that he was dealing with a cult. They killed when they needed to, no more, no less, taking only what was necessary. The agent finished his slice of pie and wiped his mouth with a lot of attention before he replied. “There is no doubt that we missed something. Either that, or we are dealing with a ghost,” he shook his head and sighed. Rubbing at his face, Javier looked at Arthur through his fingers for a moment, entirely still and silent. “We’ll see. We don’t usually ask our consultants to inspect crime scenes. But if you find something interesting, I might have to make you tag along,” his hands dropped down onto his lap. He shook his head at Arthur’s next question, a thin smile appearing on his face. He could tell that the man was interested, but Javier wondered if his interest would falter as he found out that there was, so far, no way to identify the killer, or even start drawing a loose portrait of them.

“Oh? And what’s that?” considering they were already discussing this at length he didn’t see any harm in asking. It was only in the interim of discussion that Arthur chose to look down at the tape recorder and frowned a little at how a couple of the buttons he’d unpressed earlier were now pressed and the little cogs turning inside of the machine. Interesting. “You know, in this town I wouldn’t say that too loudly… Some people might really believe you if you said you were dealing with a ghost… Lots of folks believe in that around here, maybe it’s why your killer is getting away with things so freely hm?” he smiled a touch wryly at the agent, more in good humour the man sat opposite him was painfully human in his limited mindset. It was unfortunate really, he wouldn’t catch anything with that sort of mindframe. Arthur reached for a napkin which he unfolded and set on the table on top of which the recorder was placed. Next, he took one of the salt shakers and carefully unscrewed the lid and made a ring of salt around the device. A rite was spoken under his breath, and a grey cloud of something intangible shot out of the little speaker of the device. With this done, he picked up the recorder and inspected it once more. “I know you don’t,” Arthur said in simple understanding, he knew the protocols perhaps not the modern day ones but things hadn’t changed all that much in a century. The objective was still the same, gather the relevant evidence and hunt down the killer in question. “But, and correct me if I’m overstating - but I’m not sure the typical means of case operation will solve this mystery and I think you might’ve already begun to realise that… Plus, if I find something - it gives you a lead. If not…” he tilted his shoulder a little “no harm done. So, what do you say detective?” The question was posed with the offering of his tape recorder back - likely in fully functioning condition now if what Arthur suspected had been inhabiting it was right.

“I think it will happen again. In a week or so,” Javier replied, picking up his cup of tea and frowning at it. Lukewarm. Wrinkling his nose, he looked away from Arthur as he emptied a salt shaker on the table, too busy pouring himself a new cup of tea. If could see what he was doing from the corner of his eyes, it was not until he had put his thermos away that Javier looked at the state of the table then up at Arthur’s face. If he remained completely silent, you could tell from the look on his face that he disapproved of this. Picking up the napkin carefully, he wrinkled it in his hand so as not to make a mess, and put it in his plate, making sure that not one bit of salt would fall to the floor or on the table. “There was no need to pour out the salt shaker. I better not start mentioning folklore monsters that require being stabbed to you,” not that they had cutlery that could cause a problem, but Javier had already been stabbed with a fork in the past, and knew that this was far from pleasant. “So, people think ghosts are real then. What else?” Vampires, fairies, Big Foot, el Cuco? Having spent quite some time near New Orleans, Javier was used to people believing in weird stories, or telling them to their children to traumatize them (which was a custom Javier did not understand). Having taken care of this salty mess, the agent took his tea cup and listened to the professor’s explanation. It was not an unexpected offer, and on other occasions, he had been given the same one by other men and women before. All he needed to know was whether or not Arthur would pose a problem in the future. He did not seem like someone who would get in his way, or do dangerous things for the sake of helping him. First taking the recorder back from Arthur’s hand, he nodded quietly before explicitly replying : “Alright. I suppose we have an agreement here.”

His point made and task completed, Arthur looked slightly amused at the disapproving look Javier fixed him with. “Just trying to make a point at the strange thing people will do if you mention stuff like that around here.” The act was both meticulous in its layout and answered certainly enough what he’d suspected about Javier having no clue about the truth of this town. “Actually, most folklore indicates that beheading is usually the best course of action against most of those tall-tale beasties.” But he tipped a shoulder as Javier mentioned about ghosts, “I’ve actually found the people here believe in a lot more than just ghosts…. You’ll see soon enough.” He clasped his hands in front of him on the table waiting quite patiently, Javier didn’t have to take him up on the offer but it was there regardless and his interest was quite plain to see. “Very well,” he took out his wallet and fished out a simple black card embossed with his details in calligraphic silver script which he slid across the table with his index and middle finger. “Contact me a time that suits, I’ll be happy to come and offer any assistance I can that might be of any pertinent use.” He stacked the plates and cutlery, picking up the spare cup. “Thank you again - for the tea and the company. I look forward to hearing from you,” with a polite dip of his head Arthur delivered the plates to the counter to save the waitress from collecting them, collected his bag and made for the door.

[13eyond13]

🚿🍱👶 !! :D

Did being in the fandom make you realise some important things about life? which?

Yes, it probably sounds funny, but I would honestly attribute a lot of my understanding of my own sexuality to becoming involved in the DN fandom for the first time back when I was a teenager. I had a very sheltered/homophobic upbringing, so I was extremely repressed and clueless about not being straight back then. When I watched DN for the first time the complicated and highly repressed energy between L and Light in the anime honestly felt so much more relatable and like an actual “romance” to me than most of the straight romances I’d ingested up until that point, lol. I started looking up Lawlight fics because the rain scene in particular haunted me so much! Anyway, my very first fandom friend (Serria on ff.net, she was one of the most thoughtful and sweetest internet people I’ve ever met to this day and her fics were very good early DN fics, I’d still recommend them!) was a newly out lesbian, and also the very first non-straight girl I’d ever been friends with. Talking to her and learning about her identity and experiences and the similar ways she related to and engaged with the Lawlight ship really opened my mind up and helped me be comfortable about the idea of possibly not being straight myself. Maybe a year or two later I had a girlfriend of my own, but I don’t know if that would’ve happened without my friendship with Serria, because I think a ton of the groundwork for that kind of self-awareness and self-acceptance was laid thanks to becoming a fandom nerd and making that compassionate and smart and open-hearted internet pal!

Did you try any new foods influenced by the fandom?

No, but I want to try making my apples look like this someday:

What would you suggest to the new fans?

Don’t forget that the fandom belongs to everyone, there are no gatekeepers here! And don’t be scared to hop into people’s inboxes with your thoughts or questions or headcanons or memes… we are all mostly shameless attention hoes who love getting asks and DMs :]

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Hey hey hey!! Glad to hear your blog is doing well! And when I heard your inbox is open for some spoopky requests I was so excited! Could I request: reader decided to go ghost hunting with Bokuto at an infamous abandoned building but it's actually just Kuroo and his gang creating jump scares? Kuroo gets some awesome shots of Bokuto jumping in the air and never lets the picture of Bokuto and the reader hugging for dear life down. Thanks!!!

honestly, thank you so much for requesting this!! i easily get stuck writing the same 3 characters so - enjoy!! 💖💖J

also p.s. you are the best, first shout out and request, what’s next for us lol

“Akaaaaashi,” Bokuto complained during their break atpractice. “I don’t know what to do with (Y/N) for Halloween!”

You two had already partaken in the usual fall activities; aday at the apple orchard ending in a hay ride, going to the pumpkin patch andgetting lost in a corn maize—all memories he treasured. Bokuto often foundhimself smiling as he’d go through the pictures on his phone from those days,especially the one of you beaming holding up the biggest pumpkin you couldfind. But now, it was nearing the end of October, and Halloween was fastapproaching.

“You’re going to the party together,” Akaashi repliedbluntly, wiping off sweat from his neck with a towel.

Bokuto covered his face with his own towel in exasperation.“It’s not enough!” Although you were attending the Fukurodani Halloween partytogether, he was blank on ideas to do alone. You had come up with the appleorchard and pumpkin patch and he wanted to take you somewhere this time.

Akaashi justshrugged. “Ask Kuroo, he might have an idea.”

Excited by this new prospect, immediately after practice hetexted his friend.

To: Kuroo Tetsurou

What should I do with(Y/N) for Halloween!!

He didn’t get a response until later that night.

From: Kuroo Tetsurou

What about going tothat abandoned school everyone talks about? Prime situation to get her to clingto you 😉

That seemed like to perfect idea to Bokuto; he’d never giveup the opportunity for you to hold onto him. Whenever you did it, he felt likehe could tackle anything the world threw at him!

When he suggested it to you at school the next day, you werehonestly surprised. Touched that he wanted to contribute to activity planningbut also apprehensive about the activity he chose. Upon seeing your confusedlook, he quickly countered, “We don’t have to if you have something else inmind!!” His own expression turning to panic.

“Seems…kinda scary,” you said.

He puffed out his chest, fists resting on his hips. “I’ll bethere the whole time to protect you!”

You giggled, getting an inkling as to why he suggested theabandoned building in the first place. Nodding your head, you agreed to go withhim. You hadn’t heard that scary ofthings about the place—as long as Bokuto was with you, how bad could it be?

Nope. You were wrong. This place was terrifying. You stoodon the dirt path leading up to the ominous, dark building up the hill; a chillcreeping along your spine that wasn’t from the cold wind rustling the leaves ofthe trees. It seemed even darker thanks to there being practically no moontonight, so you gratefully accepted the flashlight Bokuto handed you.

Pulling your coat closer around you and burying in your facein your scarf, you said warily, “Bo…”

He glanced worriedly at you—he hoped this wasn’t too muchfor you. And secretly, for his own sake he hoped it wasn’t scary either. “Wedon’t have to,” he offered sincerely.

You closed your eyes shut tight to steel your resolve andshoved a hand out towards him. “Just don’t let go of it, okay?”

His golden eyes gleamed at the request. Beaming, he tookyour gloved hand in his own, promising, “Never!” You headed up the pathtogether, your heart thudding faster with each step. Subconsciously you drewcloser to him as you crossed the threshold into the building.

He had to admit. This place was eerie. Just seeing acompletely empty school with desks and chairs strewn about, old paperslittering the floor; as if the students had just up and left one day made himfeel creeped out. It didn’t help that after telling Kuroo you had been up forthe idea he decided to share the ghost stories about this place.

Peering into one of the classrooms, he whispered, “You knowwhy this place was rumored to close?”

“It’s something scary, isn’t it?”

He smiled sheepishly, but you motioned for him to continue.You were already here; might as well get the full experience. “Some teacherwent crazy and killed some students; apparently their spirits still haunt thesehalls.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, c’mon there’s no way—” Your voicedying in your throat at the distant sound of something crashing in thebuilding. You froze, your hand gripping his way harder than he expected youpossibly could. “Did you hear that?”

He nodded, feeling a little spooked himself. “Probably justthe wind. There are a lot of broken windows in this place,” he reassured,mostly for you but also a little bit for him. You kept closer to him as youmoved deeper through the hallways. After a few minutes of silence, you wereable to relax and start checking out new parts of the school. You let yourselfdrift a bit from Bokuto; though your hand still firmly held in his.

A yelp escaped you when a chair down the hallway tippedover, followed by 2 more in succession. You stared at him wide-eyed in fear,but he just pulled you closer to him and kept creeping down the hallway. He wason high alert—those chairs couldn’t have fallen over on their own like that.Both of you practically jumped out of your skin as you passed a classroom andthe loudest crash he’d ever heard filled the dead silence.

You tugged on his arm away from the room as he turned toinvestigate. “Have you ever seen a horror movie?!” You pleaded to no avail. Hestuck his head into the empty room and you felt him stiffen almost immediately.“What?” You squeaked, your voice barely audible. He didn’t respond.

Mustering the courage to look yourself, you joined him. Uponseeing the smashed mirror on the other side of the classroom, your mouth wentdry.  “We should go,” he said quietly.

“Hot chocolate on the way home?” You saw his lips curve intoa slight smile at that suggestion, nodding in agreement.

Turning to go, neither of you in the slightest were expected a dark figure to be standing behind youonly a few feet away. A scream ripped from your throat; Bokuto’s mixing with itas well. You felt his strong hands wrap around your upper arms, gripping themwith such a strength that made your hands tingle from circulation loss. Behindyour closed eyelids, a bright flash appeared, and your immediate irrationalthought was that not only were you about to be murdered by an unknown intruder,but you were now also being abducted.

Laughter erupted in the silence. Crazy but familiar laughter. Your eyes flew opento find Kuroo and other members of the Nekoma Volleyball Club standing beforeyou with flashlights. Kuroo was hunched over, his arms wrapped around hischest, laughing like a maniac.

“Kuroo!” You yelled.

Through his fits of laughter, he teased, “You should haveseen your faces! Oh wait,” he pulls out his phone showing a picture of the twoof you just seconds ago; Bokuto hanging on to you for dear life, “you can!”

As your heart rate slows down, you demand, “How did you evenknow we were here?”

“I was the one to suggest it!”

Of course. Bokuto went to him for advice and Kuroo took theopportunity to prank him. In all honesty, you were glad it was just Kuroo; youwere getting pretty freaked out. One glance at Bokuto though, and you knew youwere going to have to do some damage control. You held his hand all the wayhome, but he didn’t say much—his gloomy expression only getting worse. Thewhole point of the excursion was for youto cling to him, not the other wayaround!

It seemed Kuroo was determined to dig Bokuto’s grave,however, as later that night after you had successfully lifted his spirits alittle; Kuroo posted the picture on his Instagram with the caption:

The fearless ace of Fukurodani everyone!! 😂😂

Although you knew it was meant to be a joke, you couldn’timagine the state you were going to find Bokuto in when you entered hisbedroom. He was just lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He feltsilly he had cowered beside you when he said he would protect you. Now what didyou think of him? He felt the bed dip as you laid down next to him and hewondered if you’d seen Kuroo’s post—maybe that’s why you were here.

You took a breath. “I had a really good time, Bo. Not goingto lie, I was pretty scared but,” he turned his head to find you twiddling withyour thumbs, “you were there so I felt safe the whole time.” His heart soared at those words. He reached his arms out to you and gathered you into his arms,squeezing you in a hug. You blushed pecking him on the nose. “You’re my fearless ace.”

His face lit up. “Hey hey hey! That’s me!”

“Yes it is,” you said lovingly, glad to havepulled him out of his slump.

[snowfallen-nymph]

Lady Amora’lei; LFC

the basics –––

NAME: Amora’lei.

NICKNAME(S): Little One. Nymph. Doll.

TITLE(S): The Dreaming Marionette. Nephelae of Snow. The Weeping Moonwillow.

AGE: Timeless.

BIRTHDAY: February 4th.

RACE: Sin’dorei/Ren'dorei (cross-faction and faction neutral).

GENDER: Female.

MARITAL STATUS: Widowed.

physical appearance –––

HAIR: Tousled curls resemble that of freshly fallen snow, descending as a deluge to her knees, capturing subtle iridescence within moonlight; an opalescent sheen like an aurora. She may choose to don dwarven-styled plaits in an elegant coiffure along her crown with a few that trail down her back, or simply allow the unruly ringlets to fall wildly and free. A constellation of snowflakes are woven into her tresses.

EYES: Mesmerizing and lethargic. Milky and dimly-lit as though she were blind. Dependent on her use of magic, one might note subtle hints of lavender or perriwinkle.

HEIGHT: 5′1″

BUILD: Petite and sylphlike; bearing soft swells of curvature hidden well beneath billowy gossamer fabric.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Cool, ghostly pale flesh that is ice-cold to the touch. A natural roseate blush that blooms along the apples of her cheekbones as well as the curves of her physique. Beneath her bashful, somnolent eyes she retained dark, violaceous halos evocative to one that has not slept for days.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A crescent moon momento decorated in glowing filigree decorates her crown, gently floating just over her forehead, matched with a web of pale blue chains.

Often she can be seen wielding a stave bearing a head reminiscent to a demonic ram’s scull, horns curled along the sides while three candles float atop with cyan flames lit on the wicks and hollowed eye sockets. From the embers a strange enchantment allowed for iridescent snow to fall about her.

Attached to a garter along her right thigh would be a small letter opener with a handle made up of wood from the trees of Eversong.

A final item would often be fluttering clumsily behind her as a large grimoire under a spell. It would hold a plethora of documented dreams which are mostly of her own but as of recently memories she has collected from others as well.

personal –––

PROFESSION: Former Priestess of the Light. Mind Bender(Clairsentient Empath) and Dreamweaver. Her abilities lie in being able to twists one’s emotions/fears and memories against their will, and even haunting and manipulating dreams or nightmares.

HOBBIES: Mourning. Crying. Daydreaming and getting lost in the clouds. Singing her haunting lullabies to mythical beings, plantlife, or to those willing to heed living and deceased. Stargazing and moon-chasing. Dancing gracefully, as a ballerina. Picking flowers and making crowns out of them. Visiting strangers in their dreams; documenting either her own, or the memories of her victims within an old worn grimoire she may be commonly seen with.

LANGUAGES: Thalassian, Orcish, Common.

RESIDENCE: Transient; yet she often can be seen residing in either Crystalsong Forest or Winterspring.

BIRTHPLACE: Quel’Thalas.

PATRON DEITY: As of recently leaning toward Elune.

FEARS: Imbalance, most of all. People she is unfamiliar with, the unknown, her own manifestations/nightmares, losing herself entirely and all control, or falling in love again.

relationships –––

SPOUSE: Deceased.

CHILDREN: None.

PARENTS: Deceased.

SIBLING(S): Having three other siblings which she is estranged from, her twin sister would perhaps be her closest relative; Serein.

OTHER RELATIVES: None.

AQUAINTANCES: Amora has friends that are few and far in between, and prefers to keep all social matters to herself.

PETS: Having found many creatures along her travels, it wasn't uncommon for a different one to be seen with her each moment for they often seem enchanted by her presence. Most common would be a spirit fox kit that she has been known to call 'Ghost'.

traits –––

extvoverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between.

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between.

additional information –––

SMOKING HABIT: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / rarely /sometimes / frequently / to excess.

Friendships, villains, acquaintances, mentors, and anything in between. I am open to cross-faction/server RP as well since my little lady falls on a neutral plane!  

I very much love darker, psychologically thrilling themes, especially involving good/evil corruption, the rise and descent one one’s mind, and genres that truly make your think, however I am hardly limited to just this alone! Positive, and light-hearted RP works very well for me as well since my little Amora could always use good people in her life! Though as a disclaimer I’d like to state I’d rather avoid any prioritization of romantic RP unless it is something that may naturally occur through long-term development, and even then it shouldn’t be the focus/goal.

what I’m looking for –––

---

Overcome with wanderlust, Amora prefers to traverse the more funereal and wintry parts of the world, communing with forlorn spirits to help bring them peace. Physically she can often be found in regions such as Northrend and Winterspring, or other more gloomy parts of the world such as Ghostlands, Duskwood, Swamp of Sorrows, and any other location that harbors spooky woods and/or lush plant life.

If not seen picking flowers, or dancing as whimsically like that of a ballerina, then perhaps she is heard singing her haunting lullabies to the the creatures and phantasmal life of the area she is in at the time.

Amora is a dreamweaver as she is a clairsentient empath. A potential hook here could also mean that she could visit one in their dreams. Being as sensitive and intuitive as she is, some might feel drawn to her surreal and comforting semblance, finding that their past and present woes diminish within her vicinity.

I am open to RPing via Tumblr, but my preference usually lies especially on Discord because of my work schedule and hours! Please do not be shy to message me for the information; I would love to be able to create amazing stories with you and look forward to the possibility!

Please feel free to send my character any inbox questions/prompts anon or otherwise!

More art can be found here.

(( First artwork piece done by Raeoir from DeviantArt. Second and third done by HalChroma from DeviantArt. ))

[cardshcrp]

"HAPPY TREATS! HALLOWEEN TRICKS!" Korra yells, falling out of the cabinet he'd just opened and being exposed for eating out of the sugar bowl. She hits the counter, then the floor with a thud, all dressed in weird clothes she'd found tucked around the house. She's so wired it doesn't even occur to her she's messed up the whole wording of her sentence. She just wants to go trick or treating! "I'm a pirate-"

HALLOWEEN INBOX.

@tundrapunch // KORRA OH MY GOD… // accepting !

               “Merde!” He can’t really help it, in all honesty - he jumps backward with a little bit of a shriek, and if the cats are screaming too, well, that’s normal. Though really, the odd part was that she’d fit in there at all. “Damn, hello. Happy Halloween, Korra.” Gingerly kicking the sugar bowl back into the cabinet and shutting the door, he grins at her, already towing her over to the table and making a mental note to finish babyproofing the house later. Preferably before she actually died to a sugar overdose.

But for now, it’s Halloween, so she can probably have a little more.

 “C’mon, petite, I made us candy apples. And popcorn balls. And a haunted cake mansion.”