#Magician near me

[magicians01]

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[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price

A Royal Scandal (1944)

[thiefofcrows]

Oh yeah, I'm Totally Normal about the SOC Duology, 100%. Nothing To See Here.

[cheerfullycatholic]

I hadn't seen or heard Riley yesterday or today and thought he had moved on, but tonight I found him in the cat house 🥰🥰

[conjurorsonline]

How To Hire A Good Magician: A Complete Guide

Finding the perfect magician for your event can elevate your gathering from ordinary to extraordinary. Whether you’re planning a corporate event, a birthday party, or a wedding, hiring a skilled magician can add an element of surprise and delight. However, not all magicians are created equal, and choosing the right one requires careful consideration. In this complete guide, we’ll walk you through the key steps to hiring a good magician, ensuring your event is memorable for all the right reasons.

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, college au, first lesson, dumbification, praise, he's so nerdy, squırting, unprotected, mdni.

nerd! nanami who ends up teaching you a few ‘fundamentals’ of squirting after you end up gushing out by accident.

“oh, my,” he’d huskily croon, taking a short glance at your body that’s laid flat on his timber desk. mousy eyes zero up ‘n down your entire frame before he groans, feeling your legs snake around his slim torso. after another hourly long session of cramming your brain with pounds of boring information, you’d probably forget by the next day, you told nanami that you wanted to try out ‘penetration.’ and now, that came with you gushing straight out with his meaty shaft buried snugly deep inside of you. he grows quiet, smacking his lips as he feels your slobbering cunt dripping wetly like a running never-ending faucet. it’s almost adorable with the way your face scrunches up and you’re clawing at the buckle of his drooping belt with shaky hands. “we haven’t gone over that area yet, sweetheart,” and you’re moaning, feeling your back tickle against the scattered piles of marked papers that laid directly underneath you. “ah, ah. don’t close ‘em,” he purrs, staring as your stick-glossed quavery legs try to snap themselves shut. “let me examine the wet problem a bit closer.”

“w- was that supposed to happen?” you breathe through rushed pants, frantically chewing on your bottom lip as you watch him pull out. he’s slow, feeling your slight muscles tense and spasm as you drenched the entirety of his stilled dick with molasses of your webby slick. “f- fuck,” you whimper, and nanami’s pressing a pointed thumb down against the pearly top part of your tender clit. gradually, he’s swirling a plethora of exaggerated shapes alllll around your tender entrance, lowering his head once his turgid cock’s fully out of you.

with a placid hum, nanami nods. “don’t fret, sweet thing. it’s normal,” and you prepare a deep, heavy breath as you try to peek down, watching nanami re-adjust his clear-framed glasses. “but, do you think you can do that again? i’m . . having a bit of trouble with my vision,” and he softly presses a chaste kiss against your cunt. shortly after, a slimy dewy web of stringy juices merrily glues against his lips. “i believe if my hypothesis is correct . . if ‘m closer like thiiiis,” and you moan, feeling the cold lenses of his glasses press right up against your puffed folds. “you’ll help me solve just how much of a wet girl you can get for me this time.”

openly, nanami eyes at your sopping pussy that’s just pouring from all areas with so many dewdrops of slick. a shimmery stream of your syrupy arousal cascades down the slot of your entrance and oh- it’s so pretty. at least to him.

if you squinted enough, you could see the obscene mirroring reflection of the shiny glossed view that rests between your legs from the clear lenses of his glasses. “clitoral glands,” he starts to ramble, rubbing a thumb near the top bulb-shaped part of your twitching heat. “clitoral body,” and you moan, feeling him swerve his digit down lower. “but let’s skip to . . . her,” nanami coos huskily, and you gasp once his round thumb plugs itself inside you after just a few loose inches. you swallowed that single digit right up oh-so blissfully.

like a hidden trick of a magician—his finger disappears inside of your cunt, and it presses against a particular small texture right above your lower opening. “. . that pretty urethra of yours.”

there - that’s where you felt the exact pressure of yourself gushing out, creaming down his cock with such a vivid risqué spray.

you’re still getting over it as your jaw dangles open—mouth cutely wholly ajar and all. as nanami continues to toy with your slobbering clit, he silently grumbles whatever extra clitoris facts underneath his breath. a single finger that was tucked inside of your gummy orifice gradually transitions into two, and you let off the sweetest moan that rang against his ears.

“such a pretty pussy from an even prettier girl,” and his words smokily deepen as he loudly ‘pops!’ both fingers out of your drenched slit. it’s all puffy now, drooling from each slippery flap. nanami sits up before re-aligning his milky-covered tip against your sobbing cunt.. “mini pop quiz,” he grumbles, letting off a deep sigh once his flushed crownhead languidly slides its way between the split of your folds. you’re laid back against the desk with a pout twisting across both sides of your lips.

pop… quiz?

nanami adjusts his crooked glasses by shoving them slightly back with a middle finger before humming. “riddle me this,” and a sweet moan drags its way past your throat once he’s smearing his bulbous tip across your sticky entrance.

left-to-right and it’s hypnotic. “what is the majorly important gland of the clit that helps lubricate the vagina properly?” and nanami presses a large hand on your tummy, simpering at the cute silence for an answer. with a snicker, he tilts his head at your quirked brow. “oh- c’mon. this is easy, we talked about this two days ago.”

“t . . the um-” you stammer, the throbbing of your clit increasing with each delicious second that passed. with your mind joggling its empty memory, you inhale a moan that was desperately trying to escape from your spit-stained lips. “the clitoral glands?”

“close, but no, dumb girl,” and with a smack, nanami whacks his swollen tip against the front of your weeping pussy. you finally release that moan you were holding onto with heave after heave puffing out your chest. “try again. this time, actually use that brain for me, yeah?”

you pout, and after about four seconds you left off a whiny grump. “is it . . the skene’s glands?”

“good girl,” and you let off a needy mewl once he rubs a palm against your pussy. his personal way of praising you without words, even after calling you a ‘good girl.’

it’s a soft, enticing rub that smears the entirety of your slick around his entire palm, coating it right away.

you’re so wet - pathetically drenched that you stick your candied juices all over the prints of his hand.

“it’s very important that you know about the skene’s glands. just like how important it is for me to teach you how soaked you are,” and you don’t even realize it, but the second he spanks against your cunt once more with his palm, you’re squirting . . again.

it’s a thick shiny geyser that ends up spurting out of you with a loud pssssh! and your toes curled in ecstatic rapture. you’re whining at how sudden and abrupt it was, and nanami just shakes his head with a wry smile. a hand maneuvers in a circular rotation against your pussy as you finish your three-second monumental high. “f- fuuuck, fuck!” you whimper out the same colorful syllables through your lips as your eyelids droop.

as you’re panting, still feeling the scattered bundles of paper rub and prick against the back of your skin, you eye nanami through murky peripherals. pretty ‘n glossed-eyed, you let off a shaky puff before moaning. “did . . did i pass?”

“not quite,” nanami takes his glasses off. they were still a bit soaked from earlier, a bit of your own droplets of literal juices fogging the lenses before he gave it a sweet lick. filthy. nanami squints at your twitching body before slithering a fat thumb down your tender, convulsing pussy for the nth and last time. “think we still have more basics to go over,” and he positions his head right back down between the eagle-spread valley of your legs, whistling riiiight between your driveling, puffy slit.

“besides,” and you whine once he gives your cunt its final, sloppy spank. “my only criticism— is that, we could work on that squirt velocity a little bit more,” and he pats your cunt before staring straight at your pulsating entrance, hungrily licking his lips.

“i wouldn’t mind training her, heh.”

[funnymagicforkids]

Website : https://www.funnymagicforkids.com/

Address : Phoenix, Arizona, United States

Funny Magic For Kids, spearheaded by Magician Matt Lemm, AKA ""Magic Matt,"" offers a plethora of interactive family and children's magic shows, meticulously scripted and featuring unique material to generate consistent audience reactions. With over two decades of live performance experience, Matt has captivated thousands with his laughter-filled magic shows, ensuring hits wherever he performs. Matt's shows are not only a spectacle of magic but also a blend of puppetry and live animal appearances, providing a rich, engaging experience for kids and families alike. Matt is available for various events, including festivals, camps, preschool entertainment, and more, ensuring your event is memorable and filled with laughter and amazement.

Linkedin : https://www.linkedin.com/in/matt-lemm-65b70058

Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/funnymagicforkids/

Youtube : https://www.youtube.com/user/funnymagicforkids

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[demonic0angel]

Danny, as ghost king, has no actual ruling authority (Since ghosts hate being told what to do). This makes things awkward when magicians or heroes or cultists summon him to ask him to command his "subjects".

"Stop right there!" Spoiler cried, tied up and wriggling. Red Robin and Robin were near her, also similarly tied up and trying to get out. "You won't get away with this!"

One of the cultists laughed. "That's why you're wrong, hero! We will summon our god and he will turn this world into a paradise! Well, for us that is. For you... perhaps it will be hell."

"Can any of you hurry up and escape?!" Robin hissed.

"I don't see you getting out any faster!" Red Robin spat back.

"Shut up and focus!" Spoiler snarled, wriggling even harder.

However, they were too late. The spell was completed and as the world turned dark, the sigils glowing green alongside the candlelight, a young boy appeared in the portal.

"My lord, the Ghost King, High King of the Infinite Realms, Master of Darkness and God of Death! Obey us and heed our instructions!" The cultists said, as Robin started cursing up a storm.

The young teen stared at the cultists. There was an awkward moment of silence where even the three vigilantes paused.

"... right. What did you call me here for?" He eventually asked.

"We command you to call for your army of the undead and take this world under siege!"

The boy blinked several times. Then he said slowly, "Okay." He stood there in the rune circle, unmoving.

Another one of the cultists shouted, "Why are you not calling your undead army?!"

"Hmm? Oh, right, yes. My... undead army. Of course. I'll get right to it."

He still didn't move. Eventually, he turned to look at his wrist, but there was nothing except his gloved wrist. He looked to the other wrist, but there was still nothing. Now all three vigilantes and the other cultists stared at him with baffled expressions as the teen then said in a mutter, "Crap."

Pandemonium erupted as they then realized that whatever being was summoned did not actually know how to call for an army or needed to obey the bidding of the people summoning him.

Later, as Red Robin and Spoiler asked him who he was or why he couldn't do anything (since he seemed really agreeable), he answered with a grumble, "You try to wrangle over a billion ghosts who think you're a superpowered baby who shouldn't be ruling the ghost zone."

[sixosix]

kissing lyney awake doesn’t really work. wc 600. fluff, established relationship, more lyney content bc i need him to come home im so desperate its not funny

lyney sleeping is the only moment you see him at ease. he portrays a convincing act—laid-back, too friendly, performatively elegant, and it’s these that help you forget lyney is nothing like that at all on quiet days.

seeing him breathe slowly, eyes shut, and body language openly comfortable, makes your chest grow inexplicably warm.

there are no curtains. no cards, doves, or leather gloves. just you, him, and the bed with your legs tangled. you’re unable to help yourself, placing a delicate kiss on the apple of his cheek. it’s barely there: just a faint brush of your lips.

so it’s your surprise when lyney’s eyes fly open and a hand reaches for the back of your head before you can pull back.

“did i wake you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

lyney opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a quiet, hoarse groan.

“sorry,” you laugh gently, cupping his face.

“mm… no, don’t be,” lyney says, his eyes threatening to flutter shut from their sluggish weight. the consonants don’t form perfectly in his state. “it seems as… as if even in sleep my body reacts to your kisses eagerly.”

“you sure? it seems like your body seemed rather alarmed, actually.”

lyney smiles tiredly, that alone expressing more than his words could ever try. “if i were alarmed, i would’ve pushed you away. couldn’t you tell that i’m…” his eyes wander down. he makes an indecipherable noise.

“are you going to wake me up like that every morning?” he asks with a slow smirk.

“you told me to wake you up around this time to prepare,” you say, covering your mouth, much to his displeasure. “focus on the clock, not my lips.”

lyney almost whines, like the drama queen he is.

“up, lyney. and let go of my head.”

“no.” he pushes you closer, but his mouth only collides with the back of your fingers. “the cruelty. you’re heartless. kicking a man when he’s down—does this make you happy? do you derive pleasure from making a pleading fool out of this great, renowned magician?”

you successfully slip out of his grasp. he ends up clawing at air. “if you have the energy to complain needlessly, you have the energy to get up.”

lyney sighs heavily. he pulls himself up and pouts at you, like you’ve kicked a stray puppy in front of his eyes. he might be the stray puppy in question.

“if you can kiss me awake, you can also kiss me to stand up.” he yawns halfway through the sentence.

“we won’t get much done if you get your hands near me.”

instead of grinning smugly like you expect him to, lyney’s eyes crinkle alone with his soft smile. he pulls you in by your hips, pressing his forehead against yours and breathing deeply.

“hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, brushing a cheek as his eyes fall shut once again. it doesn’t take even a second before he melts back into the sheets. “you’re still tired, huh? good job performing yesterday. must’ve been exhausting. you can sleep for five more minutes.”

“mmh,” is what he replies with, pawing your waist to ask for something.

you kiss his nose, and his smile widens just a fraction—just enough of what his lax body can do. he later reveals that it was all a trick to make you kiss him awake all over again, but you know him a little better than that.

a/n ok anyway THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE LYNEY LIKERS im glad u all like reading for lyney as much as i do writing for him

[angelicyoongie]

The Ivory Fang (I)

— pairing: mermaid taehyung x (f) reader — word count: 6k — warnings: (soft?) yandere, mention of illness (not the reader) — summary: You have run out of options when it comes to treating your mother's illness. When a mysterious man offers you a solution that might save her, you decide that nothing is too strange if it means it'll lead to a cure – not even finding and striking a deal with a mermaid.

Part 01 - 02

"My apologies, miss, but there's nothing I can do to aid your mother. Her malady is too severe."

The healer gives you a sympathetic look before he closes his door, the bell hanging above it chiming into the quiet night. You let out a shaky exhale, staring at the door that just sealed your mother's fate.

You have exhausted every possible option of looking for a cure, pleaded with every healer you've come across to please just try, but none have been willing. They always take one look at your mother, pale and gaunt in her bed, practically rotting away as she lays there, before they scurry away, refusing to treat her.

They may see a lost cause, a patient too sick to be cured, but you just see your mother – the woman who raised you by herself and taught you that even if all else fails, she would always be there to catch you.

The gold coins in your satchel clink together as you pull yourself away from the healer's door, your steps heavy as you begin the walk back to your house.

"What a fool," You grit, kicking at a stone in front of you, "If you had any common sense you should at least pretend like you had a cure and bled me dry."

Your throat bobs as you glance up at the night sky. The stars twinkle on without a worry, indifferent that their biggest admirer hasn't laid her eyes on them in months. You never quite saw the beauty in them like your mother did – like she still does – but they are practical for lighting your way home. It's the least they can do, as the tearful wishes you've bestowed upon their fallen brothers and sisters have all gone unheard since your mother fell ill.

It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that you still have no idea what caused it. One day your mother was fine and the next she was unable to get out of bed, falling in and out of consciousness. It's been months of you doing everything you can to help her, but nothing has even given her a moment of respite from the illness that's ravaging her body. You're truly at your wit's end.

You press your hands to your eyes as they begin to blur, willing them not to fall. On the off chance that your mother is lucid when you return, you don't want to cause her the worry of seeing your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you attempt to calm yourself, rubbing at your eyelids until the urge to cry subsides.

As you let your hands fall away, you find yourself squinting as you re-open your eyes, hazy lights filling your vision. Your steps slow as you draw near the source, a lit-up storefront beckoning you in with its warm, flickering lights.

"This isn't.." You look over your shoulder, seeing the faint outline of the healer's door further up the road. You walk along this path every day and yet, you have never seen this store before. You can't quite seem to recall what used to be there but you know it wasn't this.

Trepidation slowly sinks in as you keep walking forward, intent to let your feet carry you past the shop without a backward glance. Even so, a moment of morbid curiosity makes you pause, your eyes drinking in the soft glow of the seemingly floating lights in the window. Turning your head this way and that, you can't see the string holding them up, the thread much too thin to be visible in such low light. The windows are covered with rich fabrics, not allowing you to look inside past the heavy drapes. Your initial thought about this being a magician's shop falls short as you notice the etching into the glass, the lettering spelling out 'The Healing Shoppe'.

The name gives you a foolish burst of hope, your body already halfway up the stairs before you remember just how odd this whole thing is. A mysterious shop has appeared out of thin air and you're going to trust it just like that? Every rational part of your brain is urging you to leave, to forget that you ever laid eyes on this shop. But.. You can't simply ignore it on the odd chance that something inside might help your mother.

Taking a deep breath, you cross the last steps and find yourself in front of the door. As you press down on the handle, it gives away with a soft rattle. The sound is peculiar, certainly like no bell you've ever heard before; but with no visual clues of what it might be, you find that you can't quite place it. You take a hesitant step into the shop, the dimly lit space in front of you more like a hallway than a proper room. The walls are empty aside from a few lit candles, only a heavy drape obscuring what you assume to be a doorway further down the corridor.

"Hello?" You call out.

You pause, straining your ears for a reply, but nothing comes. Just as you're about to leave, worried that someone simply forgot to close up their shop, you hear a heavy thud from behind the curtain.

There's no noise aside from the impact, no immediate call for help, but there's still a possibility that someone may be hurt. Perhaps they fainted or are too weak to call out to you. You decide then that you're just going to take a look behind the drape, just to make sure everything is alright so that you can leave in good conscience.

You walk past the flickering candlelight, stomach swirling with unease as you reach out for the curtain. The material is soft in your hand, threads of shimmering silver woven so delicately into it that you can't even feel it as you run your thumb across it. The fabric is heavy as you finally push it aside, your eyes widening in surprise as you take in what it was hiding.

The room you step into is filled to the brim with shelves and cabinets, all of them displaying a different collection of oddities. There's dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling, the many bunches of lavender spreading a calming scent throughout the space. There's a round table placed in the middle of the room, two chairs pushed up against it. The tablecloth is made out of the same material as the drape and your fingers are already itching to touch it again.

Glancing around, you find that the shelf next to you is stacked to the brim with gemstones of every cut and color imaginable, their polished surface reflecting the sparkling jars from across the room. If your mother was here, she would insist that they were filled with stardust, the shimmering substance so bright it's nearly imitating the night sky you looked up at just moments before.

You walk slowly around the room, captivated by all of the different items you find. A shudder runs through you as you pause near a display filled with skulls, some of the shapes so outlandish you wonder if the owner has somehow mended different species together just for show.

As you finally make a full circle back to the doorway you stepped through, you realize that there's nothing in this room that should have made the thud you heard earlier. There's no one here and nothing even seems slightly out of place.

Stumped, you lean forward on the table, running your fingers over the soft texture of the cloth as you give the room another look. Is there a door you missed somewhere? Perhaps you were too captivated by the content to really pay attention to the room.

"And who might you be?"

You spin around, heart in your throat, from the sudden deep voice speaking up behind you. 

You stumble over an apology as you take in the cloaked figure in front of you, their face obscured by the big hood pulled over their head. The uneasy feeling in your stomach returns tenfold as you realize you're trapped between the table and this mysterious person, their broad frame blocking the only way in and out of the room.

"I–" You're saved from your poor explanation as the figure pulls their hood off, revealing the most beautiful man you've ever seen in your life. His light brown hair is tousled and wavy like he just came from a swim in the ocean, his skin sun-kissed as if he's spent his days laying by the shore. You find yourself unable to form words as you take in his chiseled jaw and almond-shaped eyes, the colour such a striking light blue, they almost appear white.

It's a little unsettling how piercing his gaze is, almost as if he's looking right into you rather than at you. Just as your eyes flicker to the curtain behind him, an excuse forming in your head for a swift exit, the man says, "What brings you to my shop?"

Flashes of your mother's gaunt face appear before your eyes, the sound of her breathing becoming heavier and heavier echoing in your ears. Even if you feel uneasy in this man's presence, you can't let this chance slip to your fingers. You owe your mother that much.

"I noticed the sign out front, that you have a healing shop? My mother.." You take a deep breath, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "My mother is very ill. No doctor or healer is willing to help her, they say her sickness is too severe. You.. You're my last hope."

"Hmm, I see," The man nods. He gestures to one of the chairs, "Please have a seat and explain your troubles. I need all the details you can give regarding your mother's malady."

You quickly slip into the nearest chair, your palms clammy with nervous anticipation. This is the first person who has ever bothered to ask, who actually seems to care. You watch the man as he rounds the table, his gait awkward and staggered as he walks with difficulty to his chair. The way he moves is nothing like you've seen before. It's certainly no ordinary limp, you've never seen anyone walk so .. unnaturally before.

The man catches your eye as he lowers himself to his seat.

"I know my condition is quite unsightly, please excuse me. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, I have had to train my legs to bear my weight. It has left me feeling like a fish out of water."

He flashes you a crooked smile, the amused twinkle in his eye alerting you of a joke you don't quite understand. You wonder if his condition is similar to your old neighbor's. The man had a painful sickness in his legs and spent most of his time in a wheeled chair, but he could walk on them if it was necessary. Though the few times you did see him walk, it still looked, well, human.

"Oh no, that's alright," You wave your hands, embarrassed that your staring might have made him feel self-conscious.

Desperate to turn the conversation away from the man's illness, you begin recounting everything you can remember about your mother's sickness. You tell him about how it began so suddenly, the severity of it and how no one else is willing to aid her, all noting her as a lost cause.

"Most curious," The man hums. 

He leans back in his seat, his piercing gaze moving slowly across your face, scrutinizing it. He mutters something under his breath, too low for you to hear, before he raises his voice and says, "While I may not know what your mother's sickness is, I do know that there is only one thing that can cure her. A mermaid's magic."

"Pardon me?" You stare incredulously at the man. "Did you just say mermaid? As in the creatures from folktales?"

"I do know it sounds outlandish, or perhaps you'd find insane to be a more fitting word, but it's your last chance at curing your mother. Have you not exhausted all man-made options?"

You slump in your seat, biting down on your lip as you mull his words over. You have indeed done all you could to save your mother and to no avail. While it does sound absolutely mad to go searching for a mythological creature to aid her, perhaps crazy is just what you need. You're not sure just how much you trust this strange man but for all you know, he could be speaking the truth. He certainly looks like he believes in it himself.

"Where.. Where would I find one?"

The man tuts. "That's not the question you should be asking, guppy. A mermaid requires a sacrifice of equal value to what you are asking of them. What are you willing to give to receive their help?"

"Anything," You reply, "The cost doesn't matter. I'd give up anything to save my mother."

The man grins, his smile a little sharper than before, as he pulls out a weathered map from his cloak. He traces the route you need to take, crossing over the vast ocean to reach a cluster of islands on the other side.

"Finally, you will need to take a boat from Pearl Bay to this island right here. Once you locate the mermaid, you have to offer him this," The man places a tooth on the table, the whites of it glistening under the candlelight.

You hesitantly reach across the table to pick it up, the size and weight of it much more substantial than you were expecting. You find that the tooth is much more like a fang, one end pointed and sharp. It's nothing like you've seen before.

"What animal does this belong to?" You ask, tracing what looks like a red vein embedded in the side of it.

You look up as you're only met with silence, the man's heavy gaze transfixed on your hand and the fang held in your palm. He only seems to remember his surroundings as you lower it to your lap, removing it from his sight.

The man clears his throat as he pulls the hood back over his head. Ignoring your question, he nudges the map closer to you on the table, "I have given you everything you need. It is up to you to decide whether your mother lives – or dies. Good luck."

Your mind is made up a few days later when your mother starts coughing up blood. You doubt she has more than a few weeks left to live at the rate her sickness is eating her up, so you'll have to act right away if you want to save her. You still have your doubt about the journey, about the creature you're supposed to find, but the risk is worth it if the alternative is being left to always wonder if it could have cured her. You know you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if the mysterious man was correct and you didn't do anything about it.

"I'll find a cure, I promise," You give your mother a gentle kiss on her forehead. The lines on her hollowed face are scrunched with pain, her every breath a mere wheeze as her chest struggles to rise and fall. 

You meet the saddened eyes of your neighbor as you press a few gold coins into her hand, whispering a few words of gratitude for her care while you're away. The journey shouldn't take more than ten nights to complete but you have paid her far more than that, just on the off chance that the weather delays your return. With your goodbyes said, you heft your rucksack onto your shoulder as you slip out of the cottage and set course for the port.

The sun has barely risen as you locate the ship that will take you south, the wooden dock filled with travelers and crew all headed in different directions. You're surprised to find that the ship is quite large, the deck just as bustling as the dock below. With all of the boxes and barrels being loaded up, you figure it's likely a cargo ship, moving wares and supplies out to the islands. While the journey is bound to be loud and quite cramped, you think the noise might actually do you some good. You hadn't realized just how much of your own energy had been sapped alongside your mother's, how much you missed the sound of laughter and life being lived around you. You'll be stuck on this ship until it reaches Pearl Bay, unable to do much other than sleep and converse with the people around you, so perhaps this will be a much needed break – a chance for you to wind down until you reach shore. Gods know you'll need it, especially since you're supposed to hunt down a fabled creature once your feet hit solid ground.  

You fight to open your eyes as the sound of the howling winds outside sweep through the room, your stomach turning at the thought of having to move to see what caused it. The trap door slams shut before you muster up the courage to turn over, the sounds once again dampened by the heavy wood.

"Ay girlie, who made you this angry?!" A crewman huffs as he stumbles down the stairs to the lower deck, bracing his hands on the walls for support.

You bite your teeth together as another thunderous wave crashes against the side of the ship. The next round of nausea washes over you as the ship rocks back and forth, the wood groaning as it tries to steady itself. It's been three days of hellish waters, the storm breaking out as soon as the ship hit the open sea. You've spent most of it confined to your cot, barely being able to keep any water or food down before another rough wave causes your stomach to empty.

The lower deck is filled with pained moans and whimpers, the majority of the passengers fairing just as poorly as you. It feels like you're stuck in a loop of absolute misery with the heavy rain that pours down on the deck above and the angry sea that threatens to pull the ship under at any moment.

You let out a slow breath through your nose, trying to think about anything else but the bile slowly rising up your throat. So much for that relaxation. Desperate for some respite from your turning stomach, you close your eyes and turn your focus onto the indistinct chatter happening on the other side of the room. The low, murmuring voices prove to be enough of a distraction that you soon find your consciousness slipping, a welcome darkness taking over you as the storm continues to rage outside.

The next time you wake up, the ship is quiet and still, like the previous days were nothing more than a fever dream. It takes you longer than you'd like to make your way up on deck, your legs trembling and weak after barely any substance over the past three days. The fresh air and warm sunlight feels heavenly on your skin as you stumble past the other travelers sprawled out on the deck, a few of them still moaning about the ship moving too much, despite its now still glide on the quiet water. The ship's railing seems like a good spot to rest, the sturdy wood providing a nice support to lean against as you survey the sea around you. The water is crystal blue, glittering under the bright sun. You've never seen anything quite like it. You let out a gasp as a school of fish pass by the ship, their gray hue reflecting the light so beautifully it looks like molten silver dancing around under the water's surface.

You stand by the ship's edge for a while, long enough for the other passengers to begin retreating back to their cots. Just as you're about to do the same, you see what looks like a white, large fin hitting the surface of the sea, the creature below too obscured by the distance from the ship to really make out. Even so, you can tell it's no regular fish. The small waves caused by the impact must surely mean that it's a strong animal.

"Did you see that?" You turn to the man resting next to you, hoping he might have an explanation of what you just saw.

The man startles as you address him, clearly on the brink of falling asleep where he stands. He blinks, rubbing his eyes as he turns his attention to the spot you're pointing to.

"There's nothing there, miss," He grumbles, openly annoyed that you woke him up.

"What? But–" As you turn back to look at the sea, you realize he's right. The creature you saw is no longer there.

"Was likely just a dolphin, miss. There's lots of them in these waters."

"I suppose so," You concede. Having never seen one in real life, only on paper, you have no clue how large they're supposed to be. Yet, something in your gut tells you that this was no dolphin – this was something entirely different.

You're not left to ponder the creature for long, not when you're alerted that Pearl Bay has been spotted in the distance. Your final night at the ship passes by in the blink of an eye, time seemingly fueled by your nerves as you suddenly find yourself stepping onto solid ground once again. With a decent night's rest behind you and a warm meal in your stomach, you set course for the next point on your map.

Following the mysterious man's instructions, you find the path going along the outskirts of the bay, walking until you stumble upon the described hut nestled close to the water's edge. The woman inside seems eager to rent you a rowboat, citing that she doesn't get much business on the far side of the island. 

It isn't until she asks you where you're going that her demeanor changes, her expression turning haunted as she glances in the direction of your destination, just barely visible where the sky meets the sea.

"There is something wicked in those waters," The woman shudders, her hands shaking as she accepts a gold coin for payment, "You'd better stay away if you value your life, miss."

Your stubbornness won't allow you to turn back now, not when you've already come so far, but that doesn't mean you're not affected by her warning. Her spooked expression lingers in the back of your mind as you push the boat out to sea, your own hands trembling with uncertainty as you grab the oars and begin to row.

Perhaps you are truly foolish to ignore all of the warning signs you have been presented with, but what is a little danger if it means it can heal your mother? You'll just have to stay vigilant, making sure not to take any risks and be alert to your surroundings.

With your rucksack tucked between your legs, you hum a gentle tune, trying to calm the anxiety building with every stroke forward.

The eerie feeling grows heavier the more distance you put between yourself and Pearl Bay, the island in the distance seemingly never drawing closer no matter how long and how hard you row. You set out before the sun had reached its highest point and now its rays are almost touching the sea, the sky a pure orange. Truly, it feels like you have just been paddling in place this whole time, not moving an inch despite the bay becoming fainter and fainter behind you.

Your arms are burning from the hours of exercise, your breath labored and heavy with exhaustion. You were hoping to make it to shore before nightfall –  the map did not indicate that the journey would be this long – but you fear your body might shut down if you try to push it for much longer.

You pull the oars into the boat, intending to just take a short break and rest your eyes before your final stretch of the evening. 

You swear you haven't dozed off for more than a quarter of an hour, the sunset still vivid and bright, but as you reopen your eyes, you're shocked to find the island close, its proximity now near enough that you can make out the palm trees on the shore and faint details of the wild mountain imposing behind them.

"How?" You breathe.

As you shift on the bench, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you notice that your feet feel much colder than before your nap. Wet.

Glancing down, you find the bottom of the boat filled with water, the amount already well above your ankles. You fumble for the oars, cursing as you begin to row with all of your might. You can't tell where the leak is coming from and scooping the water out with your hands won't get you anywhere. Your best bet is just to get the boat as close to land as possible and then swim the rest of the way.

You resolutely do not think about what may be lurking in the water as you finally abandon the sinking boat, your rucksack balanced precariously on your head as you lower yourself into the cold water. You wonder for a split second if it's better to leave it but the extra portions of food you brought with you will surely come in handy now that your way of returning to Pearl Bay is at the bottom of the ocean.

Biting your teeth together, you begin to swim, your gaze locked onto the beach. Time feels endlessly long as you push yourself forward, the minutes ticking by so slowly they might as well have been hours.

You let out a sob of relief as your feet finally touch solid ground, every limb shaking with exhaustion as you waddle the rest of the way up to dry land. You collapse the moment you hear sand crunching under your soaked boots, panting, as your vision swirls from fatigue. 

You lie there until the chill begins to set in, your dripping clothes sticking to your skin like an icy embrace. Groaning, you push yourself up on your feet, knowing you'll have to attempt to create a fire if you want any warmth to return to your body.

The sky is beginning to grow dark, its orange hues replaced by deep purple and blue. It's only now that you realize just how unnaturally quiet the island is, with no noise to be heard aside from the water lapping at the shore and a gentle breeze flowing through the palm trees. Even if you hadn't been this exhausted and cold, you would never dare to venture further into the thick vegetation in the dark. You don't trust the island to not lead you astray.

"Suppose I'll stay here for the night," You murmur. 

You rummage through your rucksack, pulling out the change of clothes you had brought with you just in case. You're ever thankful for your own foresight as you strip out of your soaked garments, goosebumps racing down your skin as you hurry to pull on a dry blouse and trousers. It isn't just the cold that's making your skin crawl – you can't help feeling like somewhere in the darkness of the deep ocean, or in the shadows in the midst of the trees, someone is watching you.

You glance around as you do your blouse up, finding absolutely nothing staring back at you.

Yet, the feeling lingers.

It takes you longer than you'd like to admit getting a fire started, the branches you find a little too damp to really catch a spark. Still, some deity seems to take pity on you and allows one of your attempts to succeed, the branch igniting and spreading the flames to the rest of your small bonfire. You scarf down half of the food and water you brought with you as you soak up the warmth, deciding that despite your still vocal stomach, it's better to save the rest for tomorrow. You have no idea how large this island actually is, so there's no question that you'll have to keep your energy up.

With your stomach slightly sated and your shivering down to a minimum, you curl up on the beach, as close to the open flames as you dare. You use your rucksack as a makeshift pillow, piling up the rest of your supplies close by. Despite the unnerving, oppressive air that hangs over the island, you succumb to sleep quickly, your exhaustion too great to fight.

Your dreams are restless, haunted by sharp teeth and whispers, a deep baritone voice urging you to come find him. You wake with a start, alarmed that the puff of air you sensed across your ear in your nightmare felt a little too real.

Heart racing in your chest, you quickly survey the beach, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Your bonfire has long since extinguished itself, its ashes intertwined with the sand below.

Reaching out behind you, you frown as you don't feel the pouch of water you know you left there the night before.

Turning around, you're met with absolutely nothing. Your food and water are gone, and the clothes you left out to dry are nowhere to be seen.

You would suspect an animal to be behind it but you really don't think there's any here. It's too quiet. Not even an insect has passed you by since you stepped foot on this island. 

Perhaps the sensation you felt wasn't just a dream, maybe there's someone – something – here.

"You're fine, you're fine," You whisper, digging your hands into the sand to ground yourself. You don't have time to panic. If all of your supplies are gone, it just means you have even less time to locate the creature you came here for. You have to move. Now.

You push yourself up to your feet, dusting sand off your clothes. Your boots are long gone too but you doubt they would have been of much use anyway with the way they were gurgling the night before.

Taking a deep breath, you begin walking towards the thick vegetation a little further up the beach, where the sand meets lush, long grass. The jungle you step into is so dense that the sunlight barely manages to peek through the trees, only small dapples of sunlight flickering across the ground as the leaves move with the wind. The map provided to you didn't show where you would find the mermaid once you reached the island, so you're left to wander aimlessly, pushing aside shrubs and climbing over fallen trees.

Even if you have no idea which way you should be headed, it's almost as if your body knows, your feet carrying you in what you can only hope is the right direction. Your path becomes clear as you break through the trees and find yourself at the edge of the mountain, near the shore. Your journey must have led you to the other side of the island, and the massive cave that's carved out of the mountain is too imposing to be anything but your destination. From the folktales you have heard, it seems like the perfect place to find a mermaid.

The cave mouth is facing out into the ocean, its size big enough to fit a ship through it. You say a small prayer to whatever deity is willing to listen as you square your shoulders and walk in, your barren footsteps echoing into the quiet mountain. You keep close to the wall as you follow the rocky ledge that trails along it, mindful of the stream that runs parallel to your path. The water here is darker, not as willing to divulge what may be lurking beneath its surface. It seems this cave has a paved a road for those with feet and fins.

You follow the ledge as it veers to to left and it soon becomes apparent to you that you have stepped into a tunnel, something much smaller and damper compared to the cave entrance. You can almost graze your fingertips against the mountain above you now.

It doesn't take long before the tunnel opens up before you, showing you sunlight streaming in through holes in the mountain. This cavern is large and wide, showing off a pool of water in the middle of it. You freeze near the edge of the tunnel, still shrouded in its shadows, as you finally lay eyes on the creature you have been searching for – the mermaid.

It's lounging in the water, its back turned towards you as it uses its arms to rest on the pool's edge. You find yourself mesmerized by its tail, the massive thing almost as long as a full-grown adult. It's white in colour but the scales appear to have a pearlescent luster to them, shimmers of pink and green reflecting in the water.

The mermaid's body resembles a man, showing off a chiseled back and strong muscles as he moves his arms. The mermaid's tousled, light brown hair looks oddly familiar from the back, but you know no men who sport that kind of style. There's no place for vanity in your town.

"Hello?" You call out as you step into the cavern.

You hold your breath as the mermaid flips its body around at the sound of your voice, its strong tail splashing in the water. Dumbfounded, you watch as the mermaid pushes his hair back, revealing a face you already know.

It's the mysterious man from the healing shoppe, the same one that told you to come find the mermaid – to come find him.

The man grins as he drinks in your shock, his teeth much sharper than you remember them. 

"Ah, pretty human, it seems that you decided to save your mother's life after all."

"You.." You struggle to make sense of what you're seeing, none of it adding up. "Who are you?"

"Me? Oh, pardon my manners. You may call me Taehyung, human. I believe you have a request for me?"

A sudden gust of wind comes through the cave as the mermaid utters his name, a loud rattling echoing between the walls of the cavern. You remember hearing that same sound before, the night you stepped into his shop. The moment you glance up to find the source, you find yourself immediately regretting it.

The darkest spots of the cave's ceiling are filled with clumps of hanging bones, all made up of various animals. They rattle as the wind makes them sway, causing them to knock into each other over and over. You swallow thickly as you spot a skull that is very distinctly human, its warning not lost on you.

You scramble a step back as you look back to the water and find Taehyung much closer than before. He's resting casually on the pool's edge, his chin in his hand as he observes you from only a few feet away. His icy gaze is locked on to you and there's a glint in his eye that makes you all too aware that you have nowhere to run. Even if you make it out of the cave, you will still be trapped on the island. The water is Taehyung's domain and you're surrounded by it.

Foolishly naive and desperate as you are, you have let a predator lead you right into his grasp.

a/n: want to read chapter two right away? you can! just click here and it'll bring you straight to early access 💖

welcome to the third installment in the crimson shell universe (all of the stories are stand alones though, so you'll be fine even if you haven't read the others)!! i know we didn't see too much of tae in this chapter but i can promise you he'll make plenty of apperances in the next one 👀 this is a yandere mermaid story, but this fic will be... softer (?) in comparison to the others! i'd love to know what you think so far!! 💖

the next(/final) chapter will be posted in three weeks time! if you don't want to wait and would like to support me, you can read it now through early access on my kofi! the link is above. thank you!! 💖

[karmavongrim]

Dear Father fanfic idea

DC x DP crossover fanfiction

Fanfic idea of Danny adopting everyone. He’s worse than Batman since he does it 200% deliberately with no age nor race restriction.

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

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Yeah, nope. No way in hell was he, John mother-fucking Constantine going to let this happen. Only over his dead body, which might actually be the case by the end of the bloody day if they couldn’t come up with something else other than that. And he wasn’t going to change his mind no matter how much the kid currently gallivanting as a demi-god whined. Wasn’t that a news when he found out several months ago.

“Come on Constans, we both know he wouldn’t mind. Besides what else can we do, we’ve tried everything.” Captain Marvel pleaded with the older man as he gestured their surroundings.

It couldn’t be described as anything else other than apocalyptic. A complete fucking shitshow.

Apparently a prophecy of some kind came to fruition right under their bloody noses and they were left grasping straws to try and stop the end of the world from happening. If only-

“Call him or I’ll call him John! Your choice.” Pressed Marvel who was getting fed up with the magician’s nonsense but he wasn’t bugging, no siree!

“Shut up, we don’t need his help! Just let me-” John yelled while buried head first in his spell book, desperately trying to find away that didn’t require him to relinquish the last few pits of his shabby dignity. Or what was left of it anyways. But Marvel was having non of it.

“Nope, that’s it! I’m making the call!” The red glad man shouted over the blonde brit and pulled out his personal phone which looked like it had been pulled strait out of a sci-fi movie.

This caused John to lunge at Marvel who in return floated away out of his reach.

“Are you daft? I’ll never hear the end of it so don’t even- Hey! Don’t you dare, I swear-!” They were quickly interrupted by a black looming silhouette quickly approaching them.

“I hope that you two have come up with something since you’re able to play around like this.” Batman demanded in gruff manner, man looking worse for wear just like the rest of them. Marvel swiftly positioned the dark one between him and his would-be assailant.

“Oh we did have a solution from the very start but someone thinks that we don’t need any help. His poor ego wouldn’t be able to handle it.” He told as he threw a look over his makeshift barrier’s shoulder.

“Shut your cakehole.” John hissed but was reluctantly put in place by a hard glare from mister darker and gloomier who turned to the floating magic-user.

“What is this solution exactly? Help from who or what?” At his inquiry the boy-man hero couldn’t help but beam when he began to explain what, or rather who he had in mind.

“Well I was thinking calling our-” But he was rudely cut in before he could get far.

“We aren’t calling anybody because we don’t need his help! We can take care of this on our own!” Batman turned back to the blond and was clearly at the end of his patience.

“We are running on borrowed time Constantine, if there is any chance to for us to stop this then we should take it since we don’t have any other options left.”

The two began to argue so heatedly that they didn’t pay attention to Marvel speed dialing the number he kept close to his heart. With a dopey grin he bounced on his heels while he waited for the other side to answer. After just two rings the line connected.

“Hi kid! What are you calling in for, did you get out of work already?” A jovial, baritone voice rang out which instantly relaxed the kid-not-kid hero. The all-composing feeling of warmth, protection and safety could almost be felt through the phone which never failed to make him feel comfortable and at peace.

“Hi dad! No, I’m still at work and we kinda shorta need your help. Badly.”

He could near feel the change in his father’s mood and he definitely heard it in his voice.

“What do you need? Where are you?” Came the rapid questioning. His smile never left as he thought how dad always went strait to business when it came to his family and friends. Always ready to help no matter what or why.

“Well, apparently the apocalypse is happening and we have no idea how to stop it… Can you help us? Please?” He tentatively asked as he glanced back at the bickering duo. Sometimes he asked himself if he really was the only secret child there.

“Ha ha, no need to beg, let alone ask. I’ll be there in a jiffy once I know where you guys are. Just try and hang in there kid.” Voice on the other side commented in lighter tone.

Marvel let out a sigh. He knew that everything would be okay after all.

“Thanks dad. We are currently stuck on Metropolis in it’s central, it’s a complete mess in here.”

“Everything will be fine. See you soon.” The voice chuckled and cut the call.

Yes, everything would be just fine. He turned to call out to the idiots who looked to be near ripping each other a new one.

“You two can stop now, he’s already on his way!”

He had to wince at the speed which the blonde turned his head to stare at him. Then came the familiar cursing.

“Fucking shite!”

He merely rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in irritation. He glared at the magician.

“Seriously, what’s your problem? It doesn’t have to be this difficult you know.”

Before John could comment, Batman pushed pass and stalked up to Marvel.

“Who did you call?”

He couldn’t say much before more of their fellow heroes started to trickle in. Flash no surprise being the first.

“Hope you got something up your utility belt Bats, we can’t take this much longer.” Pleaded the red speedster. He was joined by Green Lantern carrying injured Superman and ouch did he look roughened up.

“Have to agree with Flashpoint. Were running out of juice fast, and even Big Blue is out cold.”

Marvel looked at the others coming in. Martian Manhunter, Zatara, Wonder Woman, Black Canary and even Doctor Fate was there, none of them looking any better.

“Well, I’m glad to announce that help is on their way so we can all sit back and relax for a bit. This will be over in no time.” He declared brightly.

The others goggled at him like he made the most outlandish statement in all of history, minus Constantine who has decided to use this small window of calm to drown his headache in his flask while he still can.

“What the hell are you on about? What help? Who could possibly help with this!” Flash yelled out the question in everybodies mind.

“I would like to known this too finally.” Batman demanded this as well.

Seeing everybody hanging onto his up coming explanation he smirked at John who gave him oh-so-eloquently middle finder in retaliation. Well to bad, he would have to just deal with it, the big baby.

“Oh nobody too important, just the most powerful and influential being in all multiverse. Some of you might know him by his monikers like the First Champion, the Balancer, the High King and the Great One.” He said flippantly as he pretended to check his nails, trying his absolute best to hid his smug smile when he noticed Zatara and Fate going rigid and pale.

Zatara near stumbled thanks to his shaking knees. He took couple faltering steps towards the Champion of Magic. His expression mix of reverence and fear as started to whisper as if dreading that someone or something might hear him if he spoke too loudly.

“Y-You couldn’t possibly mean King-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence for they all felt the change in the air, in the ground.

He has arrived.

Time came to a crawl, the world slowed it’s movements in face of approaching force. It quaked, it trembled, it slithered. Leak becoming a downpour, a tear in reality of sickly green opened above the group, high out of reach. What little light still had remained in the hellish landscape around them were drained as if all the world’s shadow congregated around the opening to greet its master like a deprived servant. Then a figure of black and white caped in light seemingly holy, descended from it. Even from afar they could distinguish their towering form who’s muscles failed to hide under its full-body armor. Their mountainous presence becomes more and more apparent the closer they came. What they thought as wings of pure and white was actually a cape of moving light.

Blazing green eyes as that of the tear gazed upon them from under their moonlight hair, which coupled with the iron grown of flames created figures of shadow dancing across their hardened features as if to praise their beholder’s glory.

Zatara had already collapsed on the ground in utter disbelieve. All the myths and legends were true all along.

“King Phantom.” He spoke in awe and bowed before the king as did equally shocked Doctor Fate.

“Hi dad!” Marvel yelled and dragged the laughing magician by his coat to greet their new arrival.

All of their associates looked between the clear powerhouse of a being and their red heavy hitter in utter incredulity at the revelation. Zatara and Fate near had a heart attack at the way their magical colleague addressed the mythical presence. Marvel had a father? And this horrifying existence was it? What sent them reeling even more was how the king’s responded.

With his arms stretched he lowered himself fully to gather the two smaller men in his embrace.

“Kids! Boy, when you said that you needed help bad I think you might have underestimated a tiny bit.” He joked with a toothy smile as he moved to get a better look at his more-or-less willing captees of his affection. His expression softened even more at the face of Constantine, not the others could see.

“John, it’s so good to see you as well.” He said softly and ruffled both of their hairs, eliciting a laugh from his youngest and indignant pout from his fourth oldest who tried to swat the offending hand away.

“Whatever.” John growled but Phantom didn’t mind since he could see the blush caking his scratched up cheeks.

Now this drew his attention, both of his boys were in horrendous shape and he would do something about it after his job was completed. Looking at the blood willed sky no longer colored by his green and the burning wreckage that is this dimensions earth, he knew he didn’t have much time.

“I suppose we should get this over with then. You two better get back to the Keep after this, understood.” He stated and then was gone just like that.

Now that the oppressive feeling of death and power has left along with the godly being, every single one of the heroes present turned to the two for explanation. Marvel send a pleading look towards his brother, but John pointedly turned away and began to nurse his briefly forgotten drink which was now empty, damn you dad.

Discreetly gulping his nerves down he twirled to face his peers.

“Okay, let’s start with one question at a time please.”

This caused the floodgates to open and Zatara practically jumped him in his feverishness.

“You are a son of King Phantom? The King Phantom? I thought he was nothing more than a myth! A legend told through out several histories!”

As Marvel was trying to dislodge the man he was approached by Doctor Fate.

“I too held the believe that he was nothing more than a story to strike fear onto the forces of evil and to aspire heroes of both old and new. To think he was real this entire time.” He mused, and before Marvel could say anything, Flash barged in as well.

“And what about you John? This might be the first time I’ve seen any otherworldly being be happy to see you.” He pointed at the man who chose to wisely stay far behind.

“Fuck you too!” Shouts the offended man from the back. Even if it’s true doesn’t make it any less rude. And oh look here comes Batman.

“Enough! Marvel, explain.” He demands as he moves effortlessly to the front of the pack.

“Well… you see-” Marvel stammers as he tries under the pressure to come up with something to say but was thankfully saved by the sky shifting again.

As quick as a snap the red sky was returned to its blue color, signaling the King’s victory over his enemy. Marvel smiled widely and even John couldn’t stop a heavy sigh of relieve from escaping his mouth. Good old dad, always up to any task he comes across.

“Incredible.” Wonder Woman gasped, even Lantern had to give an impressed eyebrow at the instant change in atmosphere. And while everyone was distracted by his dad’s handiwork, Marvel shimmied his way to the grumpy magician who was in progress of making his getaway.

“I think we should continue this some other time, there’s a lot of cleaning up to do and me and my bro need to do a little house call. So bye!” He called out with a wave as he was crabbed and transported to their destination before anyone could stop them.

Others could do more than blink as Batman stewed in his place. In Lantern’s arms Superman began to stir.

“H-huh, what did I miss?”

[dapper-lil-arts]

It's finaly ready to begin-- My biggest fic yet, Across the Shimmerverse! Drawing this poster took more time than it took to write 5 chapters lmao. And I actually got some friends to help out with it too! @frogkimmy My gf drew three, Magician Shimmer (Near top left!) Fluttershy druid (right next to her) and Pirate Shimmer (top right) @zoeyhorse drew Starlight glimmer (Top left)

@yaspup9000 drew plenty, Princess Moondancer (Bottom left) Starswirl (top) and Alicorn of Chaos and joy Pinkie Pie (bottom right) And even Zecora (Center) @prrplefungi drew nightmare moon, (top right gorgeous!) LunaSnow drew Vampire Queen Rarity (left) And Sunset and Tempest (top right) And the rest, comically, was all me, lmao. Here's some zoom ins under the cut!

Click for better quality! There you go! This poster was waaaaaayy too big. But hey, it looks nice.

[avithenaftali]

October 28, 2022, 7:11 P.M.

For whatever reason I enjoy thinking about Diana Wynne Jones' writing as a whole and picking out unexpected or resonant trends. For example, some things that comes up often is:

She'll fabricate a world (right down to its cosmology), fill it with memorable characters, set one or two short novels in it... and then never touch it again. On to the next one. Rinse and repeat for her entire career.

The concept of multiple/parallel universes appear half a dozen times in different novels/sequences, but always in completely different ways. The multiple worlds of Chrestomanci function very, very differently from the multiple worlds of The Homeward Bounders, which themselves function so different from the Ayewards/Naywards of Deep Secret, or the walls between the worlds in Dark Lord of Derkholm. More importantly, all these approaches to multiverse explicitly contradict each other. There is no larger DWJ multiverse; there is no way to coherently combine any of them, much less all of them. I love her for this. Every book is its own project. Franchising be damned.

With one exception (which is the Dalemark quartet, oddly enough), none of these worlds are sealed-off secondary worlds. Our own Earth appears in all of them, though usually from the 'wrong' end of the telescope. Meaning, it's stuff like reading Charmed Life and assuming you're reading a magical secondary world fantasy for most of the book... up until the point when Janet is pulled into the story due to Gwendolyn's spell. The reader instantly understands that Janet is from our own world, from the 1970s when the book was written. She never makes it home, either. She never sees her parents again. She's a supporting character who becomes permanently stuck in the world of Chrestomanci, as a casualty of Gwendolyn's spells.

It is interesting, though, how there are almost no sealed-off secondary worlds in DWJ's oeuvre.

There are lots of neat things to say about how DWJ did this, and why she'd do it, and the implications in the storytelling. But tonight I'm thinking mostly about how it can be a moment, narratively, that makes you halt and have to recontextualize all these things you thought you knew (or were assuming) about the nature of the story.

In Ursula Le Guin's The Dispossessed, Urras is obviously the metaphorical capitalistic stand-in planet for our own Earth... up until a moment right near the end, where we realize our own Earth exists in this novel too and is an ecological wasteland due to unchecked climate change.

Urras may be the distorted-mirror, uber-capitalist version of our own world. But it's also a planet with a functional ecosystem. It's a planet where society is careful about maintaining that ecosystem. We're not going to be Urras, says Le Guin. We'll be lucky if we become Urras. To become Urras means we wised up in time to not go extinct.

And suddenly, little subtle moments in the worldbuilding around both Anarres and Urras—their shared attention to their own ecology—come into a different light. All because our own, devastated Earth turns out to be present in the novel too.

And in Howl's Moving Castle, Howl is a magician who fits into the fairy tale landscape of Ingary as naturally as anyone else—until the chapter when he has to go home to retrieve a lost spell, and you realize home is in another world, aka home is our world, aka Howl is fucking Welsh and found his way into Ingary by pure accident. And Ben Sullivan, Ingary's missing royal magician, is no native of Ingary either.

To Sophie, it just means that both magicians travelled to Ingary from the same enigmatic foreign land, which is as strange to her as any spell.

To us readers, it means "oh my god he's Welsh too? Just how much is Wales secretly connected to Ingary? Next thing you'll tell me Ben Sullivan's a rugby player as well—"

[conjurorsonline]

Choosing the Right Virtual Magician for Your Corporate Event

Selecting the right entertainer is crucial for the success of your corporate event. A skilled virtual magician for corporate events not only performs stunning tricks but also understands the importance of aligning with your company’s values and culture. Look for a magician who offers customizable performances tailored to your audience, ensuring that everyone feels included and entertained, regardless of their location.

[wannabepoeticischiya]

in the wake of stars... there, we remain

Do you wish to know the horrible truth? When I close my eyes, her memory does not resurface. I cannot remember her laugh, or even tell apart her voice. All that remains is the waking thought that she was the only woman I ever loved—the only thing I ever wanted. And the Abyss took her away from me. The gods took her away from me! And all the time in the universe—all the power this world has to offer—couldn't fill the void she left behind.

ao3: in the wake of stars... there, we remain pairing: capitano x f! reader genre: angst, romance wc: 16k status: one shot art by: C50spicy

“Granny!”

“Freminet! Don’t call her that—”

A soft chuckle echoed in the closed room, halting the chastise the magician was about to bestow on his younger brother.

“It’s quite alright, Lyney. I’m sure little Freminet meant no harm.” A pair of blackened hands patted the young boys’ heads, the blue veins marring the skin contrasting with the oceans of blond threads.

Despite Freminet’s endearment of the woman, no sign of aging was visible on her youthful face. A stranger might even proclaim her as an older sister to the infamous Knave of the House of Hearth. But the only thing stopping them from doing so was the darkened skin tracing from under her left ear all the way to the horizons of her forehead.

“Can you tell us the story again? Please?” The little blond diver sat near the woman’s feet, looking up at her with big beady eyes—one which always proved difficult to refuse, even for their ‘Father’.

“Only if you promise not to call me an old lady again.” She playfully bargains with the child, although… [Name] wouldn’t really mind either way. “Now, gather around.” She ushers the children to move closer to her, for which they happily obliged.

A rhythmic song echoed in the bowels of her soul as she silently watched the children talk amongst one another, a joy she knew could only live here… in this home, in this time, with them, and nowhere else.

Once upon a time, in a kingdom under the golden sea, there lived a knight, brave, righteous, and kind as they could be. And this knight, he loved no one else but the woman who threw flowers at strangers with glee.

The citizens loved this knight, and everyone wanted to be acquainted with him. But this knight lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me…

“Haven’t I already told you to get lost?”

Cradled under a dome of a million stars, a noble lady stood far on the far side of the balcony, gazing down with fiery eyes at the knight looking up at her from below. Threads of [h/c] swayed by the eternal gale that rounded the kingdom every after-dark, ruffling the violet and golden garments she wore oh so devotedly—a striking contrast to him who wore clothes darker than the void itself.

“Ah, well—” his voice echoes in the silence of twilight, hopeful at best, painted as desperate for the woman on the loggia.

“My answer remains the same, Captain.”

Before the Captain could raise another protest, a plea for her to reconsider, the lady peered over the balustrade, angered at his stubbornness, “No.”

She could not wrap her head around his insistence, at first finding it admirable before it morphed to be unbearable. Many times had she told him off:

‘I must refuse your proposal, my lord’

‘I’m honored, really, but I cannot accept’

‘Surely, a maiden far fairer than me would most wholeheartedly embrace your affections’.

One would think that after three rejections, he would relent.

At one point, she believed him to have raised the white flag, given that he had ceased his advancement for a full fortnight.

That is until she ran into him at the plaza one fateful afternoon. Finding him surrounded by a sea of people both of highborn and low, militia and serpent knights, harboring him affection and regard.

The shadow of her presence was enough to stop their banters, the weight of her name parting the ocean of people, and before her… was a path that led right to him.

Snapping out of the memory, she is reminded that the object of her daydreams was still perched upon the street below her awaiting an acceptance that the lady swore would never come, even if he is a knight. “Now, if you will be so kind as to step aside—”

“My lady…”

A sharp stare silenced the Commander’s tongue, forcing him to freeze where he stands, burning the remnants of his thoughts. All that remained was the echo of her voice, the light reflecting off her eyes, the presence of her soul. He wouldn’t have minded staying rooted there for the rest of the evening, shackled to that post until the end of his time, so long as she would be near. A call away, just over the wall, looking at him from the panes of her windows.

“Please move out of the way, Capitano. I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

The Commander, as if time began to march slower, saw her marching towards the archway that would lead her indoors, and before he could detain his tongue—his thoughts had run past his better judgement.

“Throwing flowers at passersby hardly seems to be of urgency.”

[Name] let out a scoff of disbelief, swiping away her hand that held the doorknob and turned to march back towards the balcony, peering down at him with all the disdain in the cosmos. The nerve of this—this… “A lot more concerning than having you propose another time when my take on the matter will not change. Now, move out of the way before I throw a pot at you.”

“But why?”

The lady looked at him cynically, was he asking in accordance with his repeated rejection or for the threat of the pot? She would be happy to indulge in the latter, but [Name] knew that the ever-righteous Captain was not one to act like a fool… yet he continued to play the jester with her.

“Are we really going over this again?” She looks at him in exasperation, internally wondering how he rose to such power when he was stubborn as a mule. “Have you forgotten where you stand? I am a lady of the house [L/n], you are a Commander for the knights. Do you really dare have me be insulted by it all? Let me remind you again: from the moment we met all those years ago, when you had so brazenly declared to me that you would take arms and fight the heavens, your conceit and selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you will be the last man I’d ever be prevailed upon to marry. And I would rather dine on the scraps of field tillers and cross the seven seas with no leverage than be courted by the likes of you. Good day.”

Capitano stared at her retreating figure, counting that as the fifth attempt to court her that month. And the overall hundredth rejection for the last five, or was it seven, years? Every time she turned down his advancements it had him motivated to do more, to be more, become better.

Because in his eyes… there was no greater blessing, no greater honor than to love her.

[Name] who offered him cakes and cookies down by the gardens all those summers ago, the one who ran down the streets to welcome him back, the little lady who pushed the swing when he sat alone by the playground. [Name] who supported his dream of knighthood, the lady who dressed his wounds, who wiped his tears, parted his lips so he could breathe.

I’d be the last man she’d ever be prevailed upon to marry… she didn’t say she’d never marry me—just that I’m her last option.

Even if the same [Name] now sneers at all things related to him and his status as a commander.

A foolish smile carved its way onto his face, eyes as deep as the depths of the ocean shining in delight at the newfound hope.

There’s still a chance!

But love didn’t come easy for the knight, no matter the ardency of his feelings, the sincerity of his soul, nor the patience in his heart. The lady simply turned a blind eye to him—

“That’s awful! Mr. Knight must be very sad.” A little girl cried while her friend tried to console her by rubbing her back, the sight tugging at the seams of [Name]’s heart.

“Indeed, how cruel the lady must have been.” She agrees gently, curling a fistful of fabric under her touch, suppressing the urge to just run outside and comb the earth to make it all right. How cowardly was I to have shunned your affection for so long…

Not long after, one of the older kids spoke her piece, “If a knight as chivalrous as him had loved me, I would never let him go, not even for all the mora in the world.”

For a few arbitrary seconds, [Name] is left at a loss for words.

Perhaps it’s the curse taking effect or maybe it’s the regret clawing from the depths of her eroding soul. Still, it remained clear that the young lady’s words were something she wished she had lived by all those centuries ago.

“Nor I.” [Name] concedes, acknowledging the boldness—the genuineness—of the child’s declaration with a look of understanding.

But no matter how we wish to change our fate, to pave a way for a better tomorrow, a waking moment where we aren’t suffocated by the crushing weight of regret—that was all they could remain as: wishes.

It didn’t matter how ardently we pray for it to be true, how earnestly we chant so we could forge it into being… because when the dust settles and the moon is at rise, only then we’ll know…

“You see, children, to speak of love is an easy task, even the most vicious of people can do it. But to wait and prove that it’s true—even when there is no guarantee of getting loved in return, that is an act of faithfulness that cannot be accomplished by everyone. It takes merely a few seconds to profess love, but doing it takes more than a lifetime. And to find someone eager to spend that time with you… is a blessing that not everyone is fortunate enough to receive.”

…that some tales are not fated for a happy ending.

The children looked at her in amazement, no matter the blights of her curse on her skin—how it can easily depict her a monster—Lady [Name] is still one of the kindest people they have ever been lucky enough to meet.

Love didn’t come in all the shades of the rainbow as the lady had hoped. Love didn’t come dressed in willingness as the knight assumed.

Perhaps, in their hearts, they knew.

Sometimes, love can come painted like a summer night: dark as it comes but scattered with a hundred million stars. Sometimes, love is cloaked in hesitance: a gentle wave by the shores dyed with the warmth of a thousand suns.

And sometimes… love appears in forms we least expect it to take.

“You turned him down? The Captain? The Commander of the Serpent Knights? The Captain?”

A young woman paced around the room, struggling to accept the story her friend told her only moments prior.

“Yes, Peruveere, I did.”

[Name] rolled her eyes at the other person’s restless mumbling, continuously taking apart the petals from the flowers. And as if sensing the follow-up questions of her inquisitive friend, [Name] quickly attached the rest of her answers not a breath later, “Yes, the Captain. Yes, the Commander of the Serpent Knights. Yes, the Captain. And yes, Il-Capitano, the ever-righteous, strong and brave, nigh-invincible Captain. I turned him down just as I had the previous time he asked, and the time before that, as well as all the other advances he had made. And I will continue to do so if he keeps insisting. It will not change.”

She tore another petal away from the stem, not sparing a single glance at the other lady currently losing her marbles over the simple matter of [Name]’s rejection of matrimony.

“But why?”

[Name] tore her eyes away from the busy streets and looked over her shoulder to her friend with a stare of utter disbelief, as though she, herself, could not wrap her head around the question directed at her. [Name] could not choose which one of her inner turmoils would best fit the situation at hand: ‘You know why’, was one, and ‘I cannot, in my wildest dreams, believe that you would really ask me that’, was another. Though it seemed that no matter the choice, it still would not be enough to convey the entirety of her plight.

“I know that look, missy.” Peruveere narrowed her cross-marked eyes at [Name], drawing lines in the air as if it would raise the stakes of an imaginary court to accuse her further. “Your thoughts are all over your face! Peruveere, you’re a fool to ask me that—a lunatic to even ask why—I question to this day why I am friends with someone as empty-headed as you.”

The obsidian of her hair shone under the golden light of the artificial sun, casting away the shadows of the locks of her hair that were colored in ivory.

“Those are your words, my friend, not mine.” [Name] smirked, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to face the fuming lady before her. “You know me, Peruveere, nothing in this world can persuade me into matrimony. If you wish to be tied to that man so very much, why don’t you marry him instead?” she offered, smiling faintly at the prospect of having to get rid of that persistent knight.

Peruveere scoffed at the idea, waving a hand in the air as though it would scatter her friend’s ridiculous suggestions.

Soon after, her expression morphed into something far too difficult for [Name] to interpret, “One day, [Name], you will wake up with your head in your hands and realize how wrong you were, and you will wish to have done things differently. You will wish that you loved him a little earlier so you could have loved him longer. And you will hear the echoes that my foresight was correct. The way I endeavored to inform you will come into light, and after all of that is said and done, only then will I trust that my earlier warning has been understood—"

[Name] let out a sound of alarm at the near cursing her friend was speaking, now it was her turn to wave her hands in the air as though it would rid of the baleful prescience. “Stop. Stop. Stop!”

Peruveere ignored [Name]’s superstitions and instead opted to convey her thoughts on all the privileges that [Name] would possess once she is married to the Commander.

“Every noble lady in the kingdom wants to be wed to Capitano! He’s got it all, you know, titles, wealth, power, influence—” Peruveere listed off his qualities from the tips of her fingers, explaining how each one of them would be beneficial to her and what it could mean for the years to come. Peruveere droned on and on until she finished at least ten laps on both hands, and [Name]’s ears were on the verge of caving in from how many times that brooding man’s name left the lips of her friend.

“And as your bestest, greatest, most fabulous, not to mention only friend, I have to root for you! I must! You two are practically born of the same soul! And to address your previous statement, no, I will not marry him on your behalf. Capitano is not what I look for in a man, he wears too much black, his friend on the other hand, oh my Dainsleif—hey! Where are you going?”

Peruveere quickly traced the steps of her departing friend, not quite finished with listing off the reasons why [Name] should accept the Commander’s proposal.

[Name] reckons Peruveere could never understand.

She wasn’t present at the time. She wasn’t even part of [Name]’s life when it all came crashing down. So how could Peruveere understand why rejecting Capitano hurts [Name] more than it did him? Especially when he was so persistent, so dedicated, treating her feelings as though being at the receiving end of it was an honor far higher than the heavens. Especially because he does all of that.

Capitano gave it all… and it was being wasted when she could not bring herself to return it despite every inch of her soul begging her to do so.

“A place where I won’t hear another mention of that man’s name—” [Name] saw Peruveere brace herself to question and quickly snuffed it out, “—or his accomplishments, his power, his oh-so-handsome visage, or anything even remotely related to him!” [Name] yelled, sick of all the iterating questions of why when she had already been so clear of her intentions. Peruveere, mother, even my sisters… all asking the same thing, and no matter my answer, they still won’t relent.

“[Name]…”

She snapped out of her thoughts, the consequence of her action hitting her with full force as she looked at the stupefied expression on her friend’s face. “Peruveere—I… I apologize, I did not mean to—”

Peruveere caught the hand that was reaching out to her, encasing them fully in warmth as she gazed at [Name] in a kind light. “No, I should be the one to apologize, [Name]. I shouldn’t have pushed you too far. If you don’t wish to speak about him or hear of his person, then I won’t tell of him at all.”

Peruveere’s patience ate at [Name]’s heart, flooding it with guilt. Words said on a whim that hurt her friend’s heart when all she ever wanted to do was ensure that [Name] could live with someone by her side.

Perhaps Peruveere did understand. Maybe she understood far more than [Name] could have.

“If only my family was as accepting as you.” [Name] could only smile at her kindness, squeezing the hand that held hers.

The two friends laughed at the thought knowing well that the heavens would fall before the great house of [L/n] weakens their immovable resolve. [Name]’s lineage wasn’t exactly known for being one of the friendly fellows of the kingdom, with their emotionless fronts, and closely guarded connections, it proved to be difficult to even just see one of their own walking down the streets as leniently as [Name] did. Their headstrong attitudes and unrelenting tendencies to stop at nothing to get what they wanted drove any and all coming acquaintances away.

It was a miracle that [Name] even had Peruveere for this long.

“I just… don’t wish to be unhappy all my life.” [Name] admits sadly, choosing to look at the dust littered on the cobblestone path.

“What do you mean?”

The chatters of everyday life seemed to blend in with all the colors of Khaenri'ah, until all that remained was the echo of the man loved by all… and yet loved only her.

She laughs and caught Peruveere’s stare with a net of fear—frightened of the uncertainty that came with a person like Il-Capitano. “I hear what people say about him, too, you know. The ever-righteous Captain, the nigh-invincible Captain, the brave and fearless Captain.”

“All good traits, are they not?”

[Name] gave her a pained stare, “When people put him in that light, he is. Yet all the same, it paints him in a different color… like he’s so far away. Don’t you fear that someone possessing such unprecedented righteousness is a latent danger? How… how could someone like that ever truly live? Will he ever truly confide? What if I am the embodiment of all that he detests—everything he cannot accept? Could he still bring himself to love me just as he proclaims?”

“You have yet to know that, [Name].” Peruveere shook her head, trying to coax her friend out of the spiralling doubt, “It isn’t fair to put assumptions on him when you haven’t given him the chance to act on how he really feels. He loves you. For eight long years he’s proven it, practically reformed the heavens so his adoration for you could be caged by the finiteness of this world!”

[Name] denied her friend’s suggestion, finding it too farfetched to be bled into reality.

How could she bring herself to believe his sentiments to be true when the prime of his promises to her had been broken from the moment he turned his back on her that fateful night?

I want to love you, I really do… but what would become of me if I gave it all to you once more? I know it’s tiring to love—to wait. I know I’m not the only one drowning in this ocean of grief when a thousand others were subjected to the same heartache.

But why does it feel like such a sin to love you now?

I don’t know how I’ll free myself from this fear—this soul-binding fear of leaving it all behind.

“Love is an illusion, Peruveere. We believe it because we haven’t seen what’s beyond that. That just as easily as you claim it to be true, it is just as easily gone—taken away before we know it.”

Because what if I did do it—leave everything behind? And what if beyond that, you will leave me, too?

Peruveere sighed in surrender. [Name] spoke words of fear, sentiments plunged in the depths of heartache, a great many things to project hostility but they all meant one thing: come and save me—if you truly love me, take me away from here. That much she understood, it was [Name] who was blinded by her shadows who remained cloaked in ignorance.

“But he might prove you wrong if you give him a chance.”

At her words, [Name] raised her head to look at her, and Peruveere took it as a sign to continue.

“Tell him of your grievances, what makes you happy, the things that upset you. Perchance you might find him a lot more flattering than he does you. He isn’t asking you for a thousand chances [Name], just one.”

‘Can I escort you to town, my lady?’

‘May I have the next dance, Lady [Name]?’

‘Please, do me the honor of accepting my hand.’

“And what if it doesn’t work?” She whispers, feeling the tears prickle at the back of her eyes.

Peruveere smiles, caressing the hills of her cheeks, “You’d be surprised at how often it does.”

The lady found herself tracing the paths of the past. How the pillars of her fear formed the walls that guard her frail heart. Underneath the mountains of rejection, blanketed by years' worth of injustice, numbed by the unrelenting march of time, there existed a version of her… who had once loved the knight more than there were stars in the sky.

“Are you so ugly that you have to hide behind a canvas of the evening sky?”

The masked squire pivoted on his heel, nearly swatting her head off clean with the wooden practice sword.

“Whoa—hey!”

A flock of birds flew away from the volume of her voice, shaking the foliage bordering the courtyard. A gentle breeze swayed between the falling leaves, scattering a palette of white and yellow petals in their wake, painting upon the once-green lands with their hue.

Domed by the artificial Khaenri'ahn sky, a young lady and a young boy stood face to face. One with a soul as radiant as the stars in the heavens crouching down to cover her head, and another dyed in the color of the midnight sun, entranced by her abrupt advent.

As if realizing the silence left by their strange encounter, the masked boy quickly got down on one knee and struggled to find the words to say, fearful that he might be offending a prominent figure in court. “I apologize, my lady. I did not mean to endanger you in any way.”

The young woman, as though struck by the reminder of their difference in status, quickly gathered herself: pulling her figure from the ground, patting away the micro spectacle of dust that had managed to touch her expensive dress.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat, every bit of her mannerisms hinting that she was not used to interacting in such a formal fashion—as though she was not used to interacting at all! She took a peek at his still kneeling form, not finding him the least bit familiar, he must be new. She memorized the slouch in his shoulders, the hesitation in his movements, the threads of obsidian hair protruding from under his ridiculous helmet.

“You are pardoned, please rise.”

A younger version of [Name] stood before the young boy.

“You are most kind, my lady.”

The one who would soon be known as Capitano.

The lady, curious of his reasons for hiding his face, went by the gardens to pursue an answer. Unfailingly, for three full moons and a crescent, she sought out his company. Finding even the most mundane questions of everyday life directed at him, yet the prime interest she had was not answered until the first fall of the snow.

“I hope you like the cakes. The helpers in the kitchen always seem to make far too much of it,” the young lady walked around the edge of the winter wonders, watching as the young knight trained even under the descent of the cold. “And because no one wants to share them with me, I am left to enjoy them all.”

The young knight, ever so subtly, turned his head in her direction, a small gesture to let her know that despite his straining routines he would always make room for the things she had to share.

“I’m glad to be the one who shares them with you, my lady.”

[Name] caught herself smiling at the knight, feeling as the flames stemmed from her racing heart all the way to the horizons of her fingertips, casting fire to the hills of her cheeks, the bowels of her soul—the embers in her mind.

No words followed those fleeting sentences, only the breaths of a diligent knight, and a lady brimmed with adoration. The heavens falling to witness the waltz of two souls, dancing to the melody of a tune made to bind for all eternity.

The knight ceased his practice, drawing nearer to the lady waiting by the steps.

She could have watched him from the balcony, or not at all yet here… in this place shrouded with the harshness of winter, closer to where he was—there, she stayed.

He began to wonder, when did I begin to see like this? As though all of the heavens and the earth only came into being so they could hold you. What greatness did I do… that I am worthy to behold you? That I am so fortunate to have existed in a time—a place where I could love you as much as I desired?

Driven by the intensity of his emotions, the knight turned his back and began to walk away from her.

The lady, unsure of what to make of it all, snickered under her breath. [Name] found his behavior strangely endearing, to think one of the most skilled in knighthood could have been rendered flustered just by the thoughts running in his head was something not even the greatest of alchemists could conjure.

With a small laugh, [Name] stepped a foot into the snow followed by another, slowly tracing the footprints the knight in front of her had carved into the winter treasures.

The knight, who had initially only intended to break away for a few seconds, took notice of the way his lady had started to walk upon the path he made. With a smile of his own, he began to take wider steps, knowing that she would surely start to struggle.

[Name] had to leap in her step to continue her little fun, but the added distance in the interval of his steps along with the weight of her clothes had her stumbling a few moments later.

The young knight, ever so quick in his steps, turned with swift haste, catching her in his arms before she could hit the snowy ground.

A different object, however, had fallen into the snow.

“Oh,” Her breath was painted white from the cold, yet her eyes reflected the deep blues of the irises that looked to her with such ardent affection. “You aren’t ugly.”

But stars did not shine, they burned. And just as quickly did the snow thaw, the reality of their distant worlds had dawned on them. Lightning painted the canvas of their skies, ripping it open for the rain to fall—dousing the embers of their adoration for one another.

“Please… I beg you, do not go.” An older lady clung to the cloths of a man’s armor, hugged by the artificial lights of the Khaenri'ahn sky… the two lovers held onto one another as though it was their last day on this land.

The man touched the lady’s cheeks, ridding the mar of silver water racing down the canvas of her face. “I must, my dear. It is my duty.”

The Serpent Knights have been called to defend the borders of the kingdom from the ill-will of the abyss. A duty that was promised honor, gratitude, and legacy whether they emerged victorious or not—whether they returned breathing or not at all.

[Name]’s father was a knight bestowed the rank Captain, prestige that came with the comfort of wealth, and the oath of power. But for her mother, who loved her husband dearly, all it came with was the looming danger, the never-ending saga of fearing for his life.

And even if [Name] was still beyond the sense of maturity, she could piece apart that much.

Many words were exchanged by her mother and father, promises of eternity, a love to last a thousand lifetimes and a thousand more after that, that her mother only needed to wait—wait, and surely, her husband would return to her.

Yet as selfish as it sounds, even if oaths were broken and lives were lost, her mother didn’t want her father to go.

“It is also your duty to stay by your family’s side! We need you—I… I need you.”

“But the people need me more.”

[Name] who was watching from behind a towering pillar, looked at her father in disbelief, feeling as the little crevices in her heart began to rip its surface clean. Silently coming to terms with the truth that knights and all that they were associated with will always, unfailingly, put their duty above any other.

The real world was not like the stories her father had told her. Knights do not stay with the people they love when a kingdom is in threaten for ruin… they go out there and fight for the kingdom they had sworn to protect.

Even if it cost them their lives.

Even if the price paid for a momentary tranquility is the anguish of a broken heart, a wife’s grief for the loss of a husband, a daughter’s heart shattered to a million irreparable pieces at the loss of a father, a family torn apart so another could live completely.

And as if the universe wanted to play, [Name] found herself looking into the abyssal canvas of his face on the far side of the courtyard, almost as if she was asking him the same request as her mother did to her father.

‘Don’t go…’

But she knew that this righteous knight, the ever so brave recruit, the nigh-invincible young Capitano was the same as her honorable father.

Even if the price paid for a momentary equanimity was the silence of a lover, the heartache of a soul left alone in the world, a heart once entrusted to the hands of those who had sworn never to break it, shattered by the same hands.

Because that was the price you paid for loving a knight.

The weight of the years numbed the pain, and the tears had blurred the memories. Yet all the same, it proved that no matter how deep the valley that severed their ties, it could not hide the lingering affection littering the oceans of their skies.

"Oh, Il-Capitano~ Commander of the Royal Army."

“We have most patiently awaited your safe return.”

“What an honor it is to have someone like you in the kingdom’s service.”

Nobilities and common people alike gushed at the arrival of the esteemed commander. One enshrouded in the colors of the night, with what looked like the heaviest coat in all of mankind draped over his shoulders.

He marched through the gates of the kingdom perched atop his tall, midnight steed. And as if feeling her drilling stare, that faceless helmet turned to gaze in her direction. A simple gesture, one which a stranger could have passed as nothing but a meaningless movement, but to [Name]… she knew, that it meant more to the knight than the praises sung at his name.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or the sadness clawing its way out of her soul. [Name] would have taken any other explanation, any other reason, so long as it wasn’t the one forcing its way through her throat.

For a fleeting second, everything had crumbled away. In the place of that tall, imposing, broad-shouldered knight was a younger boy, one whose eyes looked far too hesitant to urge the stallion forward, his form was slouched, often kneeling before her, he who had promised the world.

Yet when she blinked, both figures were gone, one buried under the weight of time, and the other marching forward, once again turning his back on her.

No longer a young, naïve, lovestruck squire but a revered commander, righteous, brave, and powerful.

Rumors in the plaza spoke about how the Commander never smiled, or that there was nothing in his life other than his duty and the endless battles against the abyss. But the conversation that sparked about the most was the mystery behind his mask.

Others spoke that his face had been scarred by his countless conquests that he had no choice but to hide it from his enemies, while some say that he was born unfortunate in the department of looks therefore forcing him to wear such a thing to shield his deformed face from the eyes of the public.

But [Name] knew otherwise.

“Isn’t this exciting, [Name]?” Her friend, Peruveere, looks to her with eager eyes.

The young lady was a descendant of the previous dynasty, named Crimson Moon. Peruveere was the one who had so boldly claimed to be her friend after [Name] had thrown a fistful of flowers at her by accident.

[Name] shrugged and pretended to be indifferent to it all, forcing herself to look away as she felt his stares burn holes into her very being. "Eh, I've fallen witness to better."

That was a lie, of course.

The only one that could ever hope to best him in anything was himself, and [Name] was sure that the ever so charming Il-Capitano, Commander of the Royal Army, knew that for himself. But [Name] would rather eat all the snow in her courtyard than have to admit that to his face or anyone for that matter.

"The cats loitering the streets would hiss at you for saying that. Even they admire Capitano." Peruveere shook [Name] back and forth as she eagerly watched as the fleet of soldiers march back to the palace grounds.

[Name] tried to ignore the incessant beatings of her heart at the mention of his name. One which she hasn’t spoken in a long, long while.

"He looks far more miserable since the last I saw him." She unconsciously whispers, tracing the outlines of his shadows until his figure is nothing but a speck in the far-off distance.

Then again, how long has it been since I last saw you? Certainly not long enough!

"Perhaps it's because you keep declining him." Peruveere perks, smiling pointedly at [Name] who was still looking in the direction of the castle.

The lady let out a bitter chuckle, of course, I’d never marry him!

Capitano returned to her all those moons ago, nearly after three years, he returned.

But by then, her heart had come to realize the weight of his promises. That next to his duties, they meant absolutely nothing.

"Oh, woe. His poor soul." She emptily comments, finally tearing her gaze away from the reminder of his broken oaths.

"Please, [Name]. Miserable, yes. But poor he most certainly is not." Peruveere hooks an arm with [Name] and dragged her to descend the steps of her balcony.

"Do tell, Peruveere." [Name] rolls her eyes at her friend's antics, with half a mind listening to her ramble on and on about the oh-so-amazing Capitano, as they walked the now-empty streets to the plaza.

"All that power and wealth to his name and he commands half the Royal Army." Peruveere boasts as though speaking about that man made his achievements hers as well.

She really does hold that… man in high regard.

"The miserable half?" [Name] jests, leaving a fuming noble lady on the side of the street.

And so, tired of the longing glances and hearing the rhythm of two souls crying for one another, the heavens had moved to have it ceased…

Far into the depths of the night, when the trees slept and the lands were blanketed in silence, [Name] found herself standing by the steps that led to a courtyard.

Although this time, the space before her was covered with blades of grass and blossoming flora, the breeze was not sharp but rather a gentle lull in the ever-growing warmth of the season—a great contrast to a time when this place was riddled with cold, covered in his footsteps, thriving in the words he had no intention of keeping.

‘My lady,’ he whispers, drawing nearer to her. Close enough that his breath tangled with hers as the warmth of his hand draped over the hills of her reddened cheeks. ‘My heart calls your name, unfailingly, every night. My soul desires to see you—far too much that it has my gaze lingering in everything that reminds me of you. Each day, this feeling in me grows and I fear that the skies can no longer house them.’

‘I love you, [Name]… most ardently, please allow me the honor of staying by your side—’

“[Name].”

The sudden call broke the young lady from her daydreams. She turned hastily to meet the tired eyes looking straight at her.

“Mother.”

With the golden light of the chandelier seeping past the windowpanes, the scenery before her nearly resembled a painting of the heavens… except, the subject’s face was dyed in colors of loneliness—her mother’s heart died along with her father many, many years ago.

“You have a visitor.” She states plainly before tracing back her steps to enter the house once again.

[Name] furrowed her brows in confusion at who could be visiting her at this ungodly hour. Surely, Peruveere was sound asleep by now, and even if she wasn’t, her mother would never go as far as tell [Name] of her presence when she was already known by her entire family—she’s my only friend, it would be strange for them to do so.

As she stormed her brain for any other acquaintances who might be brave enough to knock on the gates of her home, the sounds of heavy footfalls and the clinking of metal chains flew past her ears.

Until a large body loomed over her fretting figure.

Even if she dared not to look, the stranger’s shadow—all broad-shouldered and imposing—already told her enough that this was no acquaintance.

Are you starving for another rejection? You really are thick-faced…

“Commander.” She greets coldly, curtsying for the sake of formality, rising once more to bravely look at the nothingness that shielded his face.

For a moment, Capitano did not know what to say, rendered speechless by the weight of reality that she really was standing in front of him. No longer crowds apart, no wall stopping him from seeing her, no meddling audience.

Just him and her, at last.

“You look well, my lady.” He smiles, although it was quickly wiped away by the steely expression still plastered on her face as well as the realization that she could not see him.

“I have no interest in making small talk with you, Commander.” [Name] looks away, turning her attention to any other thing that wasn’t the darkness in the place of his visage. “Speak of what you want and be done with it.”

A faint click resounded in the silent atmosphere followed by a small sound of something hitting the earth. Capitano decides then, that if [Name] was going to drive him away no matter his intentions, it was best to just be honest and let all this tangled mess unravel thread by thread, even if it cut and strangled him in the process.

“Your mother… desires our union.”

[Name] spun on her heels at the imprudent claim, raising a finger to point at him daringly, “By that you mean—you desire this union.”

The now unmasked knight gently shook his head in denial, taking a small piece of parchment from the insides of his cloak, one which was sealed in the sigil of her house.

In a hurried panic, the noble lady swiped the paper from his hand, and every bit of him burned at the faintest graze of her touch.

With unbattered patience, Capitano watched as her eyes traced the ink that was bled onto the paper. He was over the stars, yes, but above all else, he wanted to know… if she wished for this to come into reality.

“You schemed this.” [Name] looks to him in disbelief, a line of silver brimming the horizons of her eyes. She clutched the paper so tightly that the mountains of her knuckles had been painted white, and the parchment had nothing left to do but rip apart at the center from the intensity of her hold.

Capitano awaited her to draw nearer, pressing his lips together before he whispered, “I did not.”

“You did.” She insisted, stopping in her trails once she was close enough to look him straight in the eye. “Because why now, out of the many times I have been suave by some nobleman did my mother finally agree? To you, no less. And I mean that in every possible offense.”

His ocean eyes searched the contours of her face for any hints of remorse, traces of hesitation, creases of consideration—even the littlest of faults, he would have accepted. If she was hiding them, her true emotions, even just a speck of the love he once held in the palm of his hands, then he must let her know that she was doing a splendid job.

“Why do you detest me so?” He asks softly, unconsciously raising a hand to caress her face but before he could, [Name] had already turned away.

The lady let out a loud scoff and began to walk away from him, blatantly avoiding his questioning gaze.

Unable to hide his frustration, the knight gambled his chances. "Tell me then, that I am not wanted."

[Name] halted in her steps, still looking in the direction of the bordering trees. Desperately ignoring the echoes of a treasured memory formed once upon a time in the same place she stood upon now.

“Leave, Commander.” She says, in a tone so bitter she could almost taste it.

“Look me in the eye, My Lady.” He urges demandingly, softly— “Step forth and tell me that you no longer want me. Scream at me. Command me to step aside, show me that I am the last man in this world you could ever want to marry. Then, my heart is yours to break.”

Capitano was not one to relent, choosing to close the distance between them in a few calculated steps, standing in front of her way.

“Tell me, what I did to have warranted your aggression. I will make it right, and I swear to you that I will do no such thing to tarnish your honor or be the center of your unhappiness.”

And after many, many years, [Name] finally gathered the courage she stacked upon one another and looked him in the eyes. That same pair of irises, dyed in the colors of the ocean that haunted her every waking moment.

“You Serpent Knights and your promises. Cease them already! You know you will break them sooner or later—you always do, unfailingly. And you always will.” She seethes, hitting his chest as if doing so would make the pain in hers hurt less.

“I will not.” He counters, raising his arms to wrap around her frame.

“You will. Don’t lie to me!”

“I won’t, and I would never.”

[Name] clutched a fistful of his clothing, pulling him closer to her—far too near that one push would have his lips grazing hers. 

“Alright then, swear to me right now that you—that you will not die. That when we are wed, you will return to me no matter what—there will stand no mountain, no ocean, nor lifetimes between you and me. Swear it. Say it to me right now.”

Capitano stares at her silence, long gone was the frail young lady who adored pastries. Her eyes shone in a vibrant light, the walls around her heart falling brick by brick to allow him the honor of gazing at the years of anguish she had endured by his single mistake, the passion in her eyes burning straight through his will to speak. This was the most she had ever spoken to him.

“I… ” He whispers, desperately fighting off the urge to just draw nearer and end this agony. I love you.

“You can’t.”

[Name] laughs bitterly, freeing her hold on him and walking past his figure.

No matter the years that passed him by, Il-Capitano remains the same righteous, brave, and powerful Serpent Knight. [Name] was not about to succumb to the shackles of matrimony with the inkling thought that she be a widow once the threat of war arose. She will not go down a sinking boat. Be married to a dying man.

“That’s a big promise.” Capitano swallows the lump in his throat as he watches her walk about the garden, ever so close to walking away completely. And he had this inkling thought, if she were to leave his sight right now, he would never see her again.

‘You’re drawing the shorter end of the stick with me,’ those were her words all those years ago, when his attempts were nothing but a flickering flame. Naïve, in the kindest words; half meant, in the worst.

Still, the way she had so kindly given him a choice on the matter had him steel his resolve. How easy it must have been for her to say no, tell him off—that she wishes to never see his face again, be near his soul, or be reminded of his existence—but she didn’t.

Even if it slipped her thoughts, what she gave him all those moments ago… was a chance.

One chance. One take. One moment to make it all right.

And all of the heavens will be damned if he did not take it.

Capitano did not speak of love to her, rather he showed it with every atom of his being. In every breath he took, all the gazes he sent her way, in his lingering but persistent affection. There, right along with him… his love had existed.

[Name] remains in silence, trying to suppress the trembling of her voice. He was not one to relent, not then… and most certainly not now.

It was useless trying to get soldiers to choose their personal attachments over the good of the many. That’s why I dearly detest them. Why allow yourself to love, to make home in the heart of another… only to leave and never return?  

Capitano waited for her, even when there was no guarantee that she could love him in return.

If she would have him, he would have all the eternities to tell her he loves her.

But here, when she is not so accepting of him, he would not do it.

‘I would rather live my days as the most unfortunate man to ever come into being than to live a life where you do not know that I love you.’

And his sentiments had sought him in his every waking moment.

“But for you, anything.”

[Name]’s world came to a standstill.

Every star nestled in the depths of the cosmos had ceased their dance. Blackholes frozen mid-spin. Nebulas that scattered like clouds lulling at the echo of his words. It drifted from galaxy to galaxy, in different timelines, in every version of existence.

"I would have seized the stars for you if you asked." He continues, taking step after step to close the distance between them, a silent promise that once she allows him to be near—a place in her life where he could stay, he would never leave.

Capitano could never have fathomed the gravity of those words, pulling every world she built, the doubts, the longing, every molecule of eagerness... they collided, spun, condensed, and burst forth to resound his words for all the eternities to come.

"The stars?" She echoes.

Everything began spinning fast—too fast. The colors around her merged, blurring her surroundings until all she could see was him. 

"Taken every single one of them." He affirms, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. "I would tally the heartbeats of every single thing that has ever lived on this planet, count the grain of sands in the deserts, drain the oceans, freeze the skies—you will only ever need to ask… and I will make it so. This is how much I would love you, if you will have me. You only ever need to say one word. Speak my name, and I am yours... from now until you are sick of me, 'til the last of the embers burn out into oblivion, until life ceases to exist—even beyond the destruction of nothingness—I am yours."

She allowed him to cross the distance between them. Not raising a hand in protest when the expanse of his palm had covered the plains of her cheeks.

She didn’t utter a single rejection when he touched her forehead with his, not even when his nose brushed against hers.

"In your acceptance, and in your denial... I am yours. In death and life. In the wake of destruction and reform. In this soul—before and beyond. Yours... and no one else's."

She didn’t do anything, even when the softness of his lips had descended on the meadows of her hairline.

Capitano, her memory reminded. Oh, but how could she ever forget? Not when he was looking at her like that—like one word from her would send him to paradise. She should be the one looking at him like that.

Because as it stands, [Name] was already there—in paradise—as though his soul was the shadow that guards her everyday life, the scent of flowers that follows her like daylight… the love that soothes her heart, every time he was away.

And so, the woman set her heart free and granted the knight a chance.

The lady and the knight loved with a love that was more than love.

Affection that was far from perfect, but they were made perfect for each other.

And so… love was made perfect for us.

The sound of waves crashing against the rocky mountains filled their hearts with ease. Nothing but the serene symphonies of nature pooling within the depths of their ears.

A thousand wonders brought by autumn descended from the trees, now looking as if they were reaching for the vast, multi-painted sky above. The breeze carried the leaves dyed in shades of vermillion and gold, scattering them across the earth.

The lady’s sudden laugh broke apart the peaceful atmosphere, making his heart tremble in delight as his head ever so slightly looked to her direction.

The way the late afternoon breeze danced with the threads on her head, eyes reflecting that of the sun which sat on the hands of the seemingly never-ending ocean. Her face that looked as if a painter spilled a bucket of orange dye on it.

His deep-colored irises stared at her with wonder.

And Capitano thought to himself, how could anyone… be as lovely as her?

Feeling his gaze fall upon her, the lady tilted her head in confusion, a small yet playful smile resting upon her lips. "What are you looking at, man?"

Raising his bare hand, the knight gently rested it on her cheek, leaning in to touch her forehead with his before momentarily closing his eyes only to open them and whisper...

"I'm looking at you, woman."

The lady wondered then how she could have endured denying the knight for so long when the light of his love was something she now no longer knew how to live without. She asks the heavens for answers, and sometimes even herself if the reason she was born long ago was so she could live in this plane of existence… and be loved by him.

The day the heavens bestowed upon the land a gift so majestic and wonderful that the earth has marveled upon it ever since its descent from the gentle hands of the clouds was beginning to dawn upon them once more.

At least... to the knight who loved her dearly, it was his interpretation of the special occasion. Her birthday. He was always so dramatic, that one.

His ocean-dyed eyes stared lovingly at the lady who stood not too far from where he was currently leaning against the threshold,

The knight observed the woman from a distance. His heart free from wickedness.

Ever righteous, they spoke of him. But with her, Capitano was certain he would do unspeakable things to those who dared bring her harm. Brave, still… he feared her denial—that a day will come when she realizes she did not want him anymore. Powerful, so why did he feel no power when he stood next to her?

Why was he anything but their depictions when she was the one standing in front of him? [Name] could have seen him as anything… yet she chose to see him as he was, as Capitano. No more, and certainly no bit less.

He loved her so, even more than his own life. And his affection for her flourished like fresh spring flowers each and every single passing day.

There was just absolutely nothing about her that he couldn't adore. The little things like how she would swivel and sway with the leaves when she danced with the melody of the breeze, exclaiming that the years of arduous dance practices had finally been put to good use, or when she would hum a tune when the silence was too heavy to bear.

To the knight, everything she did represented grace and beauty in a different light. She was simply just... heavenly.

When the light of the crescent moon penetrated through the curtain of clouds, the knight knew that the awaited day has been gifted to both him and to the woman he loved.

The gentle rhythm of waves crashing against the shoreline filled the silence left by the cold evening.

As quiet and light as a feather, he approached her, draping a shawl over her shoulders before sitting right next to her on the bench.

The woman was not the least bit startled by her lover's stealthy advance, far used to it more than she would have liked to admit. In the place of caution was peace; his presence helped calm whatever disaster was brewing up within her.

And ever so subtly, his warm fingers interlaced with her own. The little touches had flames burning at the tips of their fingers, crawling their way to the caves of their hearts, bursting forth to drape them in a blanket of fiery warmth.

"My dear, the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?" The woman's gaze turned towards her lover the moment his endearment left his lips—a far wanted term than the ever-so-formal my lady.

"Indeed, it is..." A gentle smile replaced the previous dazed expression that had been painted upon her face.

Nothing more was said within the next few passing moments. No words in all the letters of the worlds could describe the way their souls seemed to long for the other's presence.

"Thank you, my love." She spoke in a gentle whisper, leaning her head to rest on the expanse of his shoulder.

The midnight-eyed knight craned his head to face the lady who was still staring at the moon, admiring the way the lights above reflected the colors of her face.

"What for?" He questioned, unconsciously rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

She gave his hand a subtle embrace of her own, smiling at him with such gentleness that he was afraid she'd break at the lightest of caresses. "For staying..."

For remaining by my side even if there was nothing for you but denial. For your persistence. For your affection. For everything and anything all at once. That you’ve loved me even if I was the least deserving of it. Because you didn’t surrender.

You had so many chances to give it all up—so many reasons to grow weary and leave, but you didn’t. You found reasons to stay.

Caught off guard, the knight could only stare at her. An unexplainable blend of emotions swirling within the pools of blue that tinted his irises.

I’m happy to be at the end of your adoration.

He chuckled at her sentimental declaration, indeed... everything she did was absolutely breathtaking.

"Come." He urged, tugging at their entangled limbs, prompting her to rise to her feet.

"Alright, alright..." she laughs, "so impatient."

And with the flick of his wrist, Capitano interlocked their hands once more. His bare hand found anchor on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Resting his forehead against hers, he swayed her to a melody that was nothing but silence for the rest of the world and yet a string of sounds of the most wonderful tunes for the two of them.

Indeed, love does work in mysterious ways.

The commander unhooked his hands from hers, circling one around her back, while the other carded the threads settled upon her head.

"Happy birthday to you, my love." He whispers, his featherlight breath tickling the shell of her ear. "Make a wish."

Just as how he embraced her with utmost respect and adoration, she did the same for him: hugging him tighter as she muttered the words that made his heart almost leap out of his chest.

"Be mine."

Capitano tucked away the stubborn lock of hair behind her ear, gazing deeply into the depths of her irises, memorizing the lines etched on her pupils, the way her lashes would graze her cheeks in the stray moments where she blinked. I’m in love with you. He hung those reminders of her like stars, formed constellations in her glory so that he may be reminded that no matter where he went… a place exists—a time existed—where she and he lived under the same moon.

"Already yours."

But the angels, not half so happy in the stars, envied the love of the knight and the lady. And that was the reason as all men knew, had them move everything to have their love ceased…

Magnificent, that was what he was.

Rain clouds blotted the vast sky, casting shadows upon the face of the lady who stood by the loggia. Her feet freezing her to where she stood as her eyes settled on the dark gloom ahead. The once gentle gale of the season had turned sharp, as though they carried shards of broken glass along with their escape. She listened intently to the whispers of the people, carried by the trees who had lived long enough to tell the tale of a dynasty made strong by human hands.

Her vision, though still a bit hazy, had begun merging the two-layered images that had played out in front of her: the sun that was nearing the end of its time of the day—little twinkling dots that had scattered across the palette of colors that painted the sky, and him, the anchor amidst this hell-bound storm.

His words flew from one ear and out the other, all she saw was the crumbling castle, pillars that held every brick and structure made strong by humans be submerged into the depths of the waters below.

What a terrifying sight indeed, such treasures kept hidden from the cruelty of this world.

And ever so softly did she feel a gentle tug on her hand, a small affectionate gesture that had urged her to move forward in order to match the pace of the one in front of her. Slowly but surely, her sight had focused on a man whose back was turned against her, the gentle yet impactful approach of the frost wiping away the footprints he had imprinted as he had continued to lead her to his desired destination.

Up on that hill stood a tall gateway, towering pillars of nothingness standing on either side.

Embers descended from the sky like the first fall of snow, and the flames of the heavens shone brightly as though they were stars.

His feet carried him from the bloodied pavement and onto the grassy ground that had covered the small hill.

“Go.” He whispers, pushing her towards her escape.

It felt cruel to do this to her—to [Name]. To ask the only woman he loved… to let him go.

Their laughter resonated within the empty atmosphere of that scenery. Her smile, so bright it put even the setting sun to shame. But now, only the thought of reality remained, crushing them from its weight.

“No.” [Name] shook her head, latching onto his bloodied sleeve, preventing him from marching back to all that desolation. “Don’t go, please. I beg you… don’t—Capitano, please.” [Name] fell to her knees, the seams of her clothing dyed in the hue of life that stained his shoes.

“[Name]…” His hands blanketed hers, gently—desperately trying to pry her grip open.

“No. No, no… you—you swore to me. You promised me. You gave me your word.”

Her ears struggled to process what her Knight was saying. Everything sounded as if she was submerged in water and yet her eyes could see the knight tense and stagger as he fought to keep his own morals for her survival.

Capitano knelt before her, discarding the veil he put upon his head, just as he once did all those moons ago.

He knelt beside her and caged her face between his hands. Capitano took it all in, everything. From the way the threads laid upon her head shone under what little luminescence embraced them, her ears that pointed a little too sharply, the little dots that littered her skin, her eyes brimmed with silver, the rivers of water that raced down her rose-dyed cheeks, the tremble of her lips, ones that he had never got to taste—and he never will. He seized them all, plucked them one by one, and hung them like stars. He engraved them all in his darkened sky—swore to heaven and earth that he would look to them every night... because after this moment, he knew he would never see them again. “And I intend to keep it.”

Finally, as twilight settled upon the two lovers, the knight turned and faced the woman he loved so dearly—for the last time, the last time in a good long while.

"Wait for me, my love. Wait for me, and I'll come back to you."

Even with her silver-brimmed gaze, the magnificently terrifying sight of a giant wall frosting into creation had slowly seeped into the crevices of her being, serving as the cold that froze her heart.

Through the tears, she stared at his unmoving figure. This time, Capitano was facing the enemy.

“I hear what people say about him, too, you know. The ever-righteous Captain, the nigh-invincible Captain, the brave and fearless Captain.”

“All good traits, are they not?”

Il-Capitano.

“When people put him in that light, he is. Yet all the same, it paints him in a different color… like he’s so far away. Don’t you fear that someone possessing such unprecedented righteousness is a latent danger? How… how could someone like that ever truly live? Will he ever truly confide? What if I am the embodiment of all that he detests—everything he cannot accept? Could he still bring himself to love me just as he proclaims?”

The ever so righteous commander, the brave and fearless captain, the powerful captain.

“You have yet to know that, [Name]. It isn’t fair to put assumptions on him when you haven’t given him the chance to act on how he really feels. He loves you. For eight long years he’s proven it, practically reformed the heavens so his adoration for you could be caged by the finiteness of this world!”

But to her, he was simply just Capitano.

The commander she loved.

“I hope you like the cakes. The helpers in the kitchen always seem to make far too much of it, and because no one wants to share them with me, I am left to enjoy them all.”

“I’m glad to be the one who shares them with you, my lady.”

The kind and affectionate captain. My one love… Capitano.

“I love you.” She whispers to the wind.

It dawns on her then, that she never really said those to him. Capitano told it to her through a hundred thousand different actions yet she—she had never told him. Not even once.

“I love you…”

And now…

[Name] didn't fear if another war was to come, nor did she fear that he would turn his back on her and cast her away again—no.

What caused her heartbreak was the certainty that after this... nothing would follow.

She would be stuck in stagnancy; in an endless cycle of trying to figure out what she could've done better. How she could have changed his fate, free him from the holds of death. Wondering that if she did things differently then things wouldn't end up like this—that she wouldn't have to be forced to see him leave… when she wasn’t ready to let him go.

I just got you… don’t—don’t leave me so soon. Please…

Deep down, no matter how much she tried to deny, [Name] knew what would come once she opens her eyes.

“… thank you for the adventure.”

To my Captain—darling, dearest, dead.

   Many suns have risen. The lands are riddled with ruins of dynasties who once thought they would last for eternity. And the gods have been replaced… yet here, I remain. In this desolation, in the midst of destruction, cradled under a hundred thousand lights, I linger.

   The echo of your laughter haunts me—even if more than half a millennium has dawned. I have seen more than a myriad of faces, descendants of those who once believed they would parent no children… and every time I do, I am reminded of you.

   Of your ardent affection, and bold declarations. Your promises of eternity, and the dedication that came along with it—yet you were the first to fall, the first to stand against the ones who threatened our home.

   Your love will see me in forever. Just as you had sworn. You, however, will not.

   My Captain… my love, my darling… my dearest.

   When we crossed paths, my life began. As though the once monochromatic mundaneness of my every waking moment was dyed in thousands of shades of color by your dark, and brooding figure. I told you, didn’t I? That when I pictured my life beyond it all, it would not be with you. I spoke the words, ‘I would prefer to eat the remains of field tillers than be courted by the likes of you’, still, you did not relent. I once had thought that you were a madman, choosing me out of everyone else—when you could have had anyone, yet you declared your love was mine to hold. I told you that you were getting the short end of the stick with me… and you said the words, ‘I’d rather live as the most unfortunate man for all my days than to live a life where I cannot love you’. So dramatic, that you are. If you weren’t a commander, you could pass as an actor.

   Sometimes, love came as simple as staring at the moon—but sometimes, it was as arduous as forcing the heavens to align. Still, I loved doing both for you.

   My life began the moment you made yourself known to me. My Captain, my dearest… my one true love.

   I once had thought that the hardest thing in life was to find someone you couldn’t live without… but now it seems that it’s harder to live life without him—without you.

   My life began with you, so why is it that before long, yours had ended…?

   Your love was my haven, a paradise in this space riddled with chaos—comfort in a place destined to ruin.

   Oh, but how quickly did it all crumble. How hasty sunshine leaves when the rain clouds loom. And how the heavens cry when life is devoid of meaning… devoid of you.

   What would the gods ask me to do? Who will the abyss have me become? What more do I have to surrender to have you return to me?

   Tell me, and I’ll do it. I’d reform the universe if I must. I’ll make it so, if they would grant me another chance. Another life. Another universe. A next time—next life… to have even just a few more seconds with you. To have you tell me that you’ll be leaving—so I’ll be able to let you know… if I’m ready to let you go.

   But if fate is kind, if destiny permits, and you find the chance to come home to me—I’ll cherish our mortality, no matter how fleeting. Even if you return with a face blanketed in shadows, memories as fragmented as the skies above, a body crumbling from the cruelty of time... I would still know you. Your soul sings of love in gentle lullabies, whispers as warm as sun-kissed fire, tethered with hopes for another morrow. I would know you. Even if I am caged by darkness, drowned in silence, slipping from the threads of life… I will know you.

   And I will love you. I will love you all the same.

   My Captain. My darling… my love.

   In this space, in this life, how very fortunate was I to have loved and have been loved by you.

---

Domed by an endless blue sky, children of all ages slumbered for the welkin to shine upon. Stars drifted amidst the ether, sending all that lay within its path with promises of a home that differed in shape and size. Melodies of the late summer breeze echoed throughout the home of the hearth, swaying the curtains to the rhythm that it carried along.

[E/c] irises reflected all the hues the heavens had to offer, light that had traversed the bowels and lengths of the cosmos reached the ends of its journey when they drowned in the depths of her forlorn gaze.

“Thank you for accompanying the children, Lady [Name].”

Walking between the borders of dreams and reality, the Khaenri'ahn woman’s dazed figure snapped back to the present: eyes darting back and forth, left and right, desperately trying to search for the voice that rattled her solitude.

She has seen that face countless times, Arlecchino. The Knave. Wolf in sheep’s clothing, they call her. But to [Name], Arlecchino has always been kind. A little on the intimidating side yet remained kind either way.

Arlecchino was the one who took her from the Doctor’s hold and gave her a place to call home. She gave a stranger food and clothing, accepted her and let her be near the children.

Perhaps it’s that kindness that had her vision altering to picture someone else. The one who shares the same blood as that of a soul she knew so long ago.

It felt surreal—as though she was still stuck in that nightmare.

“[Name]…” A small voice called her from the side, before long, cold fingers clutched the hem of her sleeves.

The young woman turned her gaze to her friend, Peruveere. Her cross-marked eyes glistened with unshed tears, hands trembling from the weight of fear blossoming in her heart.

[Name] felt her heart drop at the vision before her. Blood stained her friend’s clothing, falling so freely down the concrete flooring. Part of her face had begun to be caged in frost, blinding her completely—yet she remained hesitant to freeze the one standing before her.

Fragments of her sanity had been lost… still, her heart remembered that the one in front of her was someone she would always love—even as the darkness threatened to swallow her whole.

Before [Name] could support the bleeding lady, a deafening sound shattered the earth, shaking the buildings, and marring the ground in deep valleys.

Peruveere looks to [Name]—an action she was surely going to miss, to see her beloved friend, her only friend, before the world ends—because she knew, seeing her won’t happen again for a long time.

What a great adventure it was… to have been friends with you. To be near close as sisters. Even when I was cast away by the rest, you remained. Even when you had nothing to gain from me, you remained.

“Run.” Peruveere gave her hand one last squeeze before she pushed her out of the balcony.

If fate allows, and destiny is kind… would you meet me in another life? Can I be born again… and take walks with you around the plaza? Throw flowers at strangers in another life? Talk behind other people’s backs in another life? Can we be friends again… in another life?

Can I have another chance… in another time… in another universe….

In another universe, in another time, another chance…

Lightning struck the place where [Name] once stood, then a blood-curling scream followed—Peruveere.

In the place of her ivory hair was a faceless entity, shrouded in obsidian and the colors of the sky. The hands that had once held hers so kindly had been covered by blades, claws in the place of fingers, a danger in the place of comfort.

“[NAME]!”

Thunder echoed in the skies, lightning broke apart the heavens, carving a way for the creatures of the abyss to swarm her home.

The woman had no strength to rise from where she had fallen, her eyes staring in shock at the way a wall of ice grew from the ground up—shielding her from the creature that overtook her friend.

Her only friend Peruveere…

Before long, the lady found herself looking into the void of someone’s face. Capitano.

Ringing in the depths of her eardrums was a rhythmic echo of stone crashing against the ground.

“My love.” She breathes, staring at him with hazed eyes as she looks to him and back over at the wall of frost. “Peruveere—something… I—I don’t—what is going on—she’s still out there, oh god—Peruveere.”

“[Name]—” Capitano caged her trembling hands in his, trying his best to rid of the blood that drenched the pads of her fingers.

“I—I’m never going to see her again.” She cries, gripping the hands that held her so tenderly. “She was my best friend, and I didn’t—I didn’t even hug her. I never even got to tell her that she was right. I’ll never get to tell her anything ever again—”

“—[e]? —[Name]? Lady [Name]?” The calls gradually faded into a dull echo, one tune called to her in a familiar way, warm, and kind… and the other was cold, and distant—the one that bled into reality.

[Name]’s search ended when she met a familiar cross-pupiled stare. A small, sorrowful smile carved its way onto her face.

“Ah, Peruveere… how nice of you to come back to life. Have you come to gloat on me and tell me of your fated premonitions.”

The Knave, far from the one called Peruveere, patiently corrected the immortal woman. “I apologize my lady, but I am not the person you speak of.”

Ah, I knew that.

“Oh. Are you certain? You look just like her, except your tongue is on a leash.” [Name] laughs softly, “Perhaps it’s better. I wouldn’t know if that fool could have stomached living for so long…”

More than anyone I know…

“Why is that?”

[Name] looks to Arlecchino with a playful smile, “Ah, are you sure you aren’t her? She used to ask me that countless of times. Always with the whys.” She laughs, caressing the side of her abyss-tainted face.

“I’ll tell you just this once, so listen closely… because she would have gone mad with grief—existing when all that she loves has gone.” She whispers softly, fighting back the tremble in her voice. No, she couldn’t burden this descendant with the memories of a friend lost in time.

But she took one look at her, the one they call Peruere, yet all she could see were the fragments of the one she called Peruveere.

If this was her way of telling [Name] the ‘I told you so’, she would take it.

Peruveere could gloat and gush and ramble on and on about the Knights of the Khaenri'ah and [Name] would be sure to listen.

“Though it would be nice to have walks with her again. And talk behind other people’s backs… throw flowers at pedestrians.”

They could take the longest way home, pick the food that would take hours to finish, watch the longest play at the theatre—anything, if it meant I’d get to be with you longer.

Arlecchino drew closer to where the Khaenri'ahn woman sat, shutting the windows close. “Maybe another time, my lady.” She offers kindly.

[Name] looks to the Harbinger with a small flickering hope. “Yes… another time, I’m afraid there exists no such thing as that for her.”

Her words had the white-haired woman stop in her wake, ‘I see’. “Then, perhaps, in another life.”

[Name] laughs bitterly, a droplet of stars falling from the eroding side of her face, “Another life… huh?”

"Can't you see?” She whispers, “That doesn’t exist. Not for me, or Peruveere. Not even for him who so valiantly declared his promises. There is no next time! There's no next life! There is no other universe. It's a nice sentiment, believe me, it is, but this is it. This is all we get. But god… what I wouldn't give to have a next time. A next life. To be given just another chance."

Another chance, and I’ll be true. Another life, and I’ll do you better. Another time, and I won’t waste a single second. Another universe… and I’ll love you right—far more than I could have here. Perhaps there, you can keep your vows, fulfill the promise you gave me.

I am here, my love… I’m still waiting.

I have faced many losing battles, the loss of my father, my dream, my heart shattered beyond repair. But in all of that, I had you. I had you and it was enough—enough for me to gather all my broken pieces and hope for another day.

Everything would be alright because I had you.

Everything would fall into place because you were there. And life would take on different forms, different meanings, different paths because I had you.

“I’m still here but where has he gone?” She asks.

But how would I find my way now?

Every ray of hope disappears before my eyes.

I'm not sure I even know what happiness means anymore.

My existence is no longer necessary in this world. The gift of life—the curse of immortality ever so potent, ever so meaningless when all else is gone.

“Tell me where to look—where to go, the promises I have to say, the gods I have to trick, what I must surrender. Only tell me the way… and I’ll do it. No matter the journey, no matter the hardship, no matter the cost.”’

My love, my dearest... my Captain, how I miss you so.

Arlecchino looks to the woman, unsure of what to say.

She has faced plenty of formidable enemies, even formidable allies… but not one as unconquerable as the grief that came with the curse of immortality. She knew only two others who hail from the same land the Lady [Name] had come from, but even they spoke none of the anguish that came with the price they paid.

How could she have stomached living for so long… when there was nothing left to live for?

“I’m still waiting… so he has to return. He has to come home. Come back to me. I’m still here…”

Maybe that was it.

She held onto this person’s promise of return. How cruel, to have been given hope by a dying man. To live in a world where another has gone is truly one of the greatest sorrows a soul can face.

“My colleague is from Khaenri'ah, my lady. They call him Pierro, perhaps he can be of service to you.”

In the wake of stars, the shadows of galaxies, and in forever... there, we remain.

Domed by the ether of the land of fire, a fragment of a soul exists. Clothed in the colors of the night with a face shielded by the void of his helmet that he wore so devotedly, unfailingly.  

Stillness blanketed his surroundings, only the songs of the seelies dancing in his midst and the faint droplets of water hitting stone echoed in the closed space.

It felt so long ago... that the embrace of the land was this mellow. The sensation was akin to receiving a hug from someone in the bleakness of winter: loving, comforting... warm.

It was just how he remembered it would feel like.

"You long for something." The Lord of the Night speaks, her voice sounding as though it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "Your heart screams at you to drop everything and look yet your mind shackles you to remain."

Capitano let the words settle—a statement, so it would seem—a question was its true form. No matter how the ancient being phrases her intentions, Capitano knew just as much that Yohualtecuhtin already holds the answers.

"Why do you hesitate, Outlander? Is she not all that you have ever wanted? Everything you have fought and lost to protect? The home you'll return to once the dust settles?"

The Harbinger let the ancient being’s words sink into the horizons of his shattered soul—a piece of what was once whole.

"She was."

Silence dyed the dust motes fluttering in the air. The Captain's answer seemingly weighing them down to stop their eternal waltz. Even the lullabies of the seelies floating the perimeter had dwindled to a whisper.

“Those blessed in sound will not know the turmoil of silence. A man raised in peace remains ignorant to the loss of war. And if the reason for my travels is my destination—I would have never left her side.” Should Capitano’s visage be free from the shadows of darkness, the reflection of an ocean of regret would be far too painful even for an entity as wise as the Night to witness.

“I returned to her, many times… but there was no one to return to.”

For years on end, that was something he struggled to accept. She doesn’t exist anymore. Not in all that ruin, not in the center of all this life.

But Capitano, in his grief, thought that anything could be brought to life.

He was free to dream, even the one he serves did not deprive him of that, but every fragment of hope he managed to stack upon one another was continuously knocked down by every passing sun that sought after him.

Capitano thought anything would be possible.

So, despite not believing in any deities, he prayed to every star, to every god that he knew that his beloved was alive. That [Name] was somewhere in this world, just waiting for him to return. Every meteor that grazed the sky and set alight the night in streaks of fire, he’d catch them all. Every aurora. All the full moons. Even for the slimmest of chances that he’d be heard—that his prayer would be answered.

He did not wish for a thousand things, not even a hundred, just one.

One wish for the heavens: to see her again.

Capitano did not need them to bring her back seven times, just once. Once and it would be enough. He would ask this of them, only this, and never again will he want anything more.

Only grant me this, and I will never ask anything of you ever again.  

Ignorantly he believed that if he wished for it eagerly and hopefully enough, the universe would move the stars to make it so.

But for many centuries, they ignored his prayer.

"Do you wish to know the horrible truth? When I close my eyes, her memory does not resurface. I cannot remember her laugh, or even tell apart her voice. All that remains is the waking thought that she was the only woman I ever loved—the only thing I ever wanted. And the Abyss took her away from me. The gods took her away from me! And all the time in the universe—all the power this world has to offer—couldn't fill the void she left behind."

Capitano's power fluctuates, threatening to burst from the nothingness festering inside him. He would have permitted it. Let the anger and sadness wreak havoc on the lands just as they did in their homeland. He would have done so—once.

All those moons ago when her image haunts his dreams, when her laughter echoes through the valleys, and her figure lingers in every turn. He would have let it all burn, bury everything in eternal frost so that they may see what it's like to exist when there was nothing left to live for.

Feel for themselves what life means when everything else is gone.

"So why do you linger?" The Lord of the Night asks patiently, calming… soothing, as though she knew the heaviness of the burden the Harbinger had been carrying for the past five centuries.

Why do I? Why am I the one permitted to live? Why are you the one trapped under the ruins of our home? Why?

"Because I am ashamed.” He admits.

“All humans fear death, Outlander. Even the bravest of warriors are afraid to fall.”

“No.” Capitano denies, clenching his fist to control his breathing, “To be wounded in battle is nothing to be feared—dying to defend your kingdom is an honor. But when I looked at her—when I looked at her as she watched me walk away when I swore to her that I was never going to do it again, all I felt was indignity.”

“When I fled and went forth with my escape, I saw her there. Waiting. Waiting just as I had told her to. I knew then, I would never see her again.”

Back then, Capitano should have frozen the entirety of the ruins of his home, blasted the debris inching closer to where she remained, subjugated the creatures of the abyss that threatened to hurt her—anything, anything to keep her alive.

But he didn’t.

“I am the only one left to remember her. The only one to speak her name. The sole monument that once upon a time, she, too, had existed. And when I think of her for the last time—when the echoes of her memory fade into eternity, only then will I know that I am worthy enough to meet her again."

The Commander of Khaenri'ah would have never spoken words plunged in the depths of cowardice. In the wake of the falling stars five hundred years ago, he would have done anything.

If she was taken to another world, Capitano would cut through the skies to find her. If she ceased to breathe in this space in time, he would transcend realities—search the bowels of the cosmos to see where she'd gone. If she were to ask to see him, even for the most fleeting of seconds, he would drop everything and come running.

He would have done anything.

And that was the part that riddled his heart in fear.

Because what if it wasn't enough?

Capitano was one of the most powerful people in the land. His name drove fear into the hearts of those who heard it, had them anticipating their deaths, finding their nights spent in restlessness at the thought that he’d take away their lives in the blink of an eye.

Crossing paths with the Captain was something you would not even wish on your enemies.

But this Captain—the one drowning in the oceans of his grief, chained down by his loneliness, awaiting the moments of his last breath... could care less for names and titles.

He reckons she would have reprimanded him for that. She'd even go as far as to demand him to take the matters of sovereignty and lordship a lot more seriously.

And he'd laugh at her, of course—a melody that could render even the most talkative of noble ladies to deafening silence. Always a stickler for the rules, that one.

At the end of the day, when the twilight settles, and the last rays of the sun slip under the blankets of the horizon, his mind would drift to the impossible and pathetic thought—one which he never fails to think about for every moon that rises, and all the suns that have gone—has she been reborn yet?

Having been serving under the majesty of the Tsarista, there was no way he would know for certain. Or at least, that's what he's been telling himself for the last few hundred years.

Capitano has seen the wonders of this world more times than he could count. He's met with a myriad of leaders and lords. Witnessed as the cultures of these mortal beings be brought to ruin and reform once more.

He closed his eyes for every reminder of her—thinking that it was better to live in ignorance of her presence than to have been led on only to be betrayed by his own heart, his own hope turned against him.

Capitano encased her memory in frost, put her in the deepest part of his mind where she could not haunt him. He forced himself to burn the desires of his soul—to see her, to hear her... to tell her that he loves her and that he would give anything and everything to change her fate. He numbed his heart to it all, compelled himself not to think about her.

For every venture beyond the walls of ice, past the snowy hills, and the frosty palace, Capitano felt her get further and further away.

And soon enough, her memory had altogether faded from his mind.

He'll wake in the dead of the night trying to piece together her image, guess the color of her eyes, remember what shade her hair was, what her smile looked like, the sound of his name when it was her who had said it.

He'd try desperately to replicate the scent that followed her like daylight, the clothing she adored, the sounds of her footfalls.

But nothing ever felt right.

He'd tell himself over and over again that he did not deserve to remember her—to miss her when he was the one who threw it all away. I miss you all the same. He'd whisper repeatedly that he was not allowed to hurt, that his heart had no right to break for all that he lost when he had the choice to keep her memory alive, but he didn’t. It hurts all the same.

Capitano would chant it like a mantra. A prayer for his punishment. But even as he tells himself that so long a time has passed—that he had no obligation to continue loving her, a ghost from a kingdom in ruins, a phantom in a land colored in life. I still love you... I love you all the same.

In the frozen wasteland of every passing second, the echoes of her joy would come rushing back to him. The warmth of her loving hold, and her fleeting touches saturated in adoration.

No matter what he did, where he went, who he met... Capitano always thought about her. Are you happy? Are you eating well? Do you get enough sleep? Have you fallen for another? Does he treat you right? Do you miss me? Are you looking for me? Do you—will you still love me?

Whenever he departed, Capitano went with the hopes that by some stroke of fate, he'd run into her. When he would turn the corner, she'd bump into him. Or perhaps walk past each other on the street. Go to the same tailor in town.

Or that I'd see you... even if it's from afar.

But it wasn't enough to just hope.

Yet that was exactly what he'd been doing for the last thousand suns that had passed him by.

He wonders, if he had only risen to protest—to deny the fate the heavens had set for her… would she still be here? Would he not feel this twisting sense of guilt knotting his stomach? Feel as the threads of his heart come undone at his powerlessness?

Capitano knew he should have done more. He could have tried, as soon as he was able—and he always was—as early as he attained power... he should have tried, to look for her, to get a glimpse of her shadow, just to put his heart at ease.

But he didn't do that.

Perhaps it's the gnawing fear of finding her soul nowhere in this world—that he'll finally see that he's left alone in this plane of existence, where she can only live in the memories he forced himself to shatter, fragments of it carried away by the zephyrs of grief.

“You speak of my longing, Yohualtecuhtin…” He spoke into the silence, his footsteps resonating in the hall of stones, “Surely, you would wish for the same. Wish to be closer to demise if it means you’d meet the one you love. To rid of it all so you’d reach the ends faster.”

Before he left, Capitano looked past his armor-clad shoulders to that big monument that housed the ancient spirit. He could almost feel the burning stare she was carving into his being.

“She alone has made me love the path to death.”

And only there, in the cradles of the infinite nothingness… will I be worthy enough to see you.

“Perhaps you should seek her for a final time. Not in the past where ruins lay, but within the warmth of a home, surrounded by the promises you spoke to her… maybe then, you and your beloved will find peace.”

Funny story, I almost lost this fic💀.

My laptop crashed coincidentally when I uhh ‘killed’ off Capitano from the reader’s perspective. Turns out my 1st drive also died along with it. The repairman told me he needed the 2nd drive (where this fanfic was stored) to get my laptop working again but I couldn’t do that (cuz it had this fanfic) because all my files is stored there. The panic I had was otherworldly—but I managed to create a solution.  

I came up with this idea as a form of revenge because of a post I saw on a page on Facebook saying Maviuka was Capitano’s TOTGA (I remember you Jhan, this is all your fault>:0). I didn’t read too much into it (cuz the update was like a day ago back then???) because at that time I hadn’t done the archon quest (and it was midterm week). I was so PISSED that I planned this fanfic in my dorm room instead of reviewing—so now uhmm… I think I might have gotten a little carried away ehe (BECAUSE EVEN I’M CRYING FROM THIS FIC) on another note, you’d think after I wrote a Khanrean kanreeyan Khanreyan STUPID FCKER prince Kaeya fanfic, I’d know how to spell kahnreeya khanrea— I don’t know how to spell it. I think I might have a thing for khaenriyan help ya know what, I take it back.

I hope you enjoyed it 💖

[bayambii]

fontaine hands . . .

warnings: swearing, 4.2 archon quest spoilers, hands, a little steamy in clorinde if you squint

characters: wriothesley, neuvelitte, lyney, lynette, navia, clorinde, furina and freminet

bambis comments: hai cuties!! i have an obsession with hands so i thought it would be a perfect first post LOL

WRIOTHESLEY

◦ jesus fucking CHRIST, this man has large hands. i mean like second to none in teyvat i would say

◦ his hands are bruised and often dirty. when they’re not inside of his gauntlets, his right is covered with dark bandages. he goes really soft when you take the time to clean his hands or even like his nails

◦just like massaging his hands while he tells you about his day, rubbing his temple with his freehand while he goes on and on about one inmate who always tries to pick a fight

◦speaking of his nails! they’re stubby and not painted. he doesn’t bite them they just like break off naturally due to the nature of his job and his gauntlets

◦he has silver rings for every finger it looks like, and he fidgets with them when he’s talking to anyone, rolling it around his fingers and back again

◦HIS HANDS SMELL LIKE TEA RAAAH

NEUVILLETTE

◦ skinny ass hands, but they’re long.

◦ he almost always wears his gloves, because underneath he has scales on his hands. his hands aren’t fully dragon like, still keeping a human like color, but many teal scales decorate his hands.

◦his fingernails are naturally tinted a little blue, and they’re on the longer side. he keeps them clean and pushes his cuticles back often

◦he’s often writing with his hands, rolling his quill/pen around his fingers when he thinks. his hands are skilled at writing, and can write rather fast.

◦a wrist roller. his wrists get tight from writing for hours on end and always makes sure to roll them out.

LYNEY

◦OH MY GOD. don’t even get me started…

◦another fontainian who’s hands are often concealed in his gloves. a magician never reveals his secrets, does he?

◦he has regular length hands, but they’re on the skinny side.

◦his hands are almost always clean, and have a very soft texture.

◦imagine lyney late at night practicing new card tricks without his gloves, using you as his test audience (he shows you all his tricks first anyway)

◦he has trimmed nails, that he paints black and red, to match his whole theme. they tend to be chipped however, and he needs lynette or you to keep repainting them.

◦his hands are obviously very practiced, and he takes great care of them

LYNETTE

◦she has smaller and skinny hands, very petite and cute

◦ due to her cat-like nature, her hands are very sensitive, and she prefers to keep her gloves on

◦ when she holds your hand she likes to keep her gloves on, just so she doesn’t get overwhelmed

◦ however, she likes taking her gloves off to hold your face, and memorize each and every crevice and dimple with her hands

◦ when she feels comfortable, she’ll let you see her hands, and trusts you to know her comfort level with her sensitivity

◦she keeps her nails long, and painted a teal. she often keeps up with her nail care, and looks after your nails as well

◦her hands smell like tea, like wrio, due to her often drinking and brewing the beverage.

NAVIA

◦ADORABLE HANDS, and very well kept!

◦ skinny and longer, and a little freckled near her wrist.

◦she only keeps a glove on one hand, and she prefers to hold your hand with that one!

◦very well kept nails, with sapphire colored nail polish adorning them. she seems like the type to get like gems and stuff put on her nails.

◦she knows you like her hands, so she always makes sure to put extra time into caring for them

◦her hands are incredibly soft, and don’t really get that clammy

◦navia would only get clammy if you were flustering her, which is not an easy feat

CLORINDE

◦beautiful lady, long skinny hands again however she doesn’t know how to look after her hands

◦ ITS NOT HER FAULT NO ONE TAUGHT HER OKAY!! before starting a relationship with you, she never put much thought into her hands!!

◦she often keeps her gloves on, and like washes her hands when needed but she doesn’t take care of her nails or put lotion on or NOTHING

◦her nails are stubby, and might have leftover polish from the last time you attempted to paint her nails

◦with handling her weapons, she has very tactful hands and is not very clumsy

◦where she puts her hands is very, how do i say, purposeful

◦she might feign oblivion, but she knows exactly what she’s doing with her hands

FURINA DE FONTAINE

◦oh ho ho? you want to see the dear lady furinas hands?

◦only furina would take this much care into something she’s going to just put a glove over but WHATEVER

◦she’s got small hands, with many jewels and rings adorning her fingers

◦she looks after her nails with the upmost pride, and keeps them constantly painted and pristine

◦like clorinde, she is very purposeful where she puts her hands. your dear lady knows you, and knows exactly what makes you flustered (and oh does she love that)

◦she would love to help you look after your hands, and even help you paint a most magnificent nail art on your nails oh ho ho!

FREMINET

◦smaller hands, with larger palms, with FRECKLES!! and i mean freckles .

◦freminet doesn’t necessarily have clumsy hands, due to his work on per and other mechs, but his hands aren’t as practiced as other fontainians

◦his hands can also get clammy due to his shyness, and doesn’t want to bother you with that

◦HOWEVER, you can hold his hand all you want underwater. there’s no risk there, and he’s fully confident. maybe he’ll work up to holding your hand above the sea

◦he is very shy, and earlier on in your relationship, and is careful if he puts his hands on you if he does AT ALL…

◦ often under the water, his nails are always clean but still stubby, and never painted (but he wouldn’t be apposed to you painting them) ((just be prepared for a flustered frem))