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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

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Monster Match #26: Duamutef (Lemon)

The Traveler's Masterlist

For @one-halloween: “My pronouns are she/her and my orientation is pan. I'm small (like 4'9") with waist length brown hair that's bleached in an ombre style. I dress in a kind of retro style (so like 80s acid washed jeans and crop tops). Uhh I love reading, writing and gaming as well as hiking and working on a car or something like that. I'm often quiet but around people I like I can be the jokester of the group.

Cliché but I like partners who are taller than me, and those I can joke around with. Someone who is also loyal and honest as well as loving and will take interest in hobbies. The things I dislike are dishonesty and secrets. As well as someone who takes life way too seriously and won't crack a joke here or there. Also someone who doesn't take interest in what others do. I was thinking if you could make it NSFW that would be great.”

You’ve been matched with Duamutef!

Duamutef is one of the four sons of Horus and one of the protection gods of the four canopic burial jars, specifically the jar which contains the stomach. In war, the most frequent cause of death was from injuries in the torso and stomach, and Duamutef protects this organ, both in life and in death.

Duamutef was originally represented as a man wrapped in mummy bandages; however, from the New Kingdom onwards, he is shown with the head of a jackal and is an example of cynocephaly which, in Greek mythology, is a creature with a human body and a canid head, specifically a jackal.

What gives a god their power was the belief of their followers; however, many of the ancient religions had either died completely or were far less worshiped during modern times, affording the gods of those pantheons less power. While some gods lamented this decline in their abilities, others found it freeing, and delighted in the opportunity of roaming the earth as they wished. One such deity was Duamutef.

As a lesser god, even people who followed the revival religion Khemetism didn’t tend to worship him as much as Anubis or Ma’at or his father Horus, so he decided to come to earth and travel the world, learning about an era with which he was unfamiliar.

Of course, you didn’t know all that when you met him. He introduced himself as Tua, an exchange student from Egypt. He was a mysterious figure and his age indecipherable to you. Sometimes he seemed young and boyish, easily a full foot taller than you, always smiling and laughing. However, there was this ageless look in his eye that told the story of a very old soul. He was tall and dark, just like in fairy tales, and already very popular on campus.

It surprised you when he took notice of you. You were a quiet girl, unassuming and not the type to draw attention, so his sudden interest in you was a little startling.

“Excuse me,” He said one day, coming up to you suddenly. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“That’s probably because we’ve never spoken before,” You said. “And I don’t think you know any of my friends.”

“An oversight. My apologies,” He said, smiling. “I make it my aim to know everyone in every place I go.”

You looked at him in alarm. “There are hundreds of people attending this college.”

“I am aware,” He said, still smiling. He had those deep, dark type of bottomless black eyes one could get lost in. “I’ve managed to at least introduce myself to most of the people, but it seems I have missed you. Forgive me.”

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal,” You said. “I’m nobody, really.”

“That’s not true,” He said. “Everybody is somebody to someone, and I’d like to be a friend to you. My name is Tua. May I ask yours?” He offered his hand to shake and you shook it, telling him your name. “Will you walk with me? The cafeteria is offering something called a corndog I’m eager to try.”

You laughed. “Don’t get too excited about that. It’s not exactly a culinary masterpiece.”

“But it’ll be new. I like new. I spent a very long time in one place, and now that I’m out in the world, I want to experience as much as I can.”

“Were you homeschooled as a kid or something?” You asked.

He laughed again. “Or something. My family had a lot of responsibilities many years ago, you could say. After working my whole life in the service of others, I think I’ve earned a vacation.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” You said. “It can be tough when your parents expect a lot from you.”

“That’s the truth,” He replied. “So, corndog? I’ll treat you.” He extended his hand toward the cafeteria.

You echoed his laughter. “I don’t know if I’d call it a treat, but sure. That sounds nice.”

From then on, Tua spent a lot of time with you. He seemed to go out of his way to seek you out. He said he enjoyed listening to you talk about things, saying that your perspective was entertaining. You didn’t mind his presence. He was earnest and funny and he always wanted to hear your opinion on things. He’d often come to the bookstore where you worked to get your recommendation for new books to read. He seemed confused by a lot of western culture’s practices and often asked you for advice or to explain things to him. His open curiosity and wonder with the world around him was very endearing.

You weren’t sure why he chose you to help him navigate life in the western world. Surely there were better candidates in the large pool of people who followed him around. He had a legion of fans who hung on his every word and shadowed him like love-struck puppies, but he dodged them consistently to spend time with you. There were more attractive people of several genders that he could have had his pick of, but he decided on you, and you were slightly baffled by it.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked you one day while you were ringing up his new purchases. He must have a significant library by this point. “There’s something called a farmer’s market I’d like to go see.”

“I can’t go tomorrow,” You said. “My friend’s car is acting up and he wants me to take a look at it. From what he’s telling me, it sounds like his alternator is shot, and if that’s the case, that’s a full day’s work.”

“You can fix cars?” He asked. If he had animal ears, you’d swear they had perked up when he said that. “How interesting. I don’t know anything about cars. Can I observe?”

You shrugged. “If you want to. Make sure to wear stuff you don’t mind getting dirty. It is very hard to get motor oil out of clothes, trust me.”

“Of course,” He said.

“Here,” You said, taking out a pen and running out a length of receipt paper to write on. “Here’s my address. He’ll be dropping it off around 9 A.M. and picking it back up after his shift at work.”

“Excellent. I won’t be late.”

“If you say so,” You said, handing him his purchases. “Here you go. That D&D book is a classic. I think you’ll really like it.”

“Much appreciated,” He said with a smile, nodding politely as he left.

He arrived the next morning carrying a sack of donuts and coffee. You were glad he already knew what kind of coffee you liked, because he drank his very strong and you wouldn’t be able to stomach it. You had to do a double take when he took off his jacket and revealed a v-neck black shirt and tight black jeans. Normally he wore a pair of slacks and a button-up, so this look was quite a change and you were having trouble not staring. He was skinny, but he had a lot more muscle definition than you would have suspected.

“I hope I’m not late,” He said. “There was an accident on the way here. No one seemed to be hurt, but there was quite a backup on the highway.”

“No, you’re fine,” You said. “My friend hasn’t even shown up yet. Let’s eat before he gets here. Eating with grease on your hands is a bad idea.”

Your friend pulled up as you were inhaling a bear claw. You introduced him to Tua, they exchanged brief pleasantries, and your friend took off for the bus stop down the road.

“He seemed nice,” Tua said.

“He’s gay and single, if you want his number,” You laughed as you popped the hood of his Honda Accord.

Tua laughed as well. “I appreciate the offer, but he’s not my cup of tea. Or coffee, if you will.” He took a big gulp, and you shuddered.

“I can’t believe you take that black. It’s got to be so bitter.”

“We didn’t have sugar where I grew up, so I’m used to it.”

Your head rocked back. “Where did you live that you didn’t have sugar.”

“Near Cairo,” He replied. “It was called something different when I was born, though.”

You made a face. “Cairo was founded in 969 AD. You’re not that old.”

He smirked. “How old do I look?”

You stared at him, trying to gauge his age, but blanked. “Let’s just get to work.”

The alternator was indeed going out, and while changing it out wasn’t rocket science, it was labor intensive work for someone as small as you were. You were actually glad to have an extra set of hands to help. In addition to the alternator, you also found a crack in one of the hoses that was also going to have to be replaced, as it was leaking coolant.

Both of you were elbow deep in grease by the time you decided to take a break for lunch. You went to order a pizza as he went in to wash his… self. He somehow managed to get grease all over his face. You had a sneaking suspicion he just liked getting dirty.

After putting in your order, you went back outside to clean up the area around the car and put away the tools you didn’t need anymore in their rightful place in the toolbox when you happened to look up to the bathroom window. You had to squint and blink, because something was… off.

Tua had taken his shirt off to clean up, but something was odd about his head. It was larger, darker, and blurry almost. It almost looked like an animal’s head. Maybe it was just how the frosted glass reflected the color of his hair, but it didn’t look… normal. Something on the top of his head resembling ears flicked back and forth. Something that looked like a snout opened and shut, as if inspecting its teeth. The head shook like a dog slinging water from its fur. You blinked, and he had put his shirt back on and his head looked completely normal again.

Were you going insane?

Tua came back out of the house, the water from washing his face and neck glistening on his skin. You didn’t realize how bug-eyed you were until he tilted his head in concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

You shook your head to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I thought I saw… nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Pizza’s on it’s way.”

“What did you see?” He asked neutrally.

“It doesn’t matter,” You said. “It was probably a trick of the light.”

“What if it wasn’t?” He asked in the same neutral tone, watching your face. “Hypothetically.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

He sighed, shook his head, and his usual smile was back in place. “No matter. What kind of pizza did you get?”

You let the matter drop, but it nagged in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

That night, your dreams were unusual. You dreamt of a dry place, of women in soft, sheer gowns and men in short skirted garments. Shaved heads and wigs.

In one of the dreams, a woman led you to a huge, grand hall made of stone. There, sitting on a throne of ebony inlaid with gold and jewels, was a man. He had a falcon’s head on a fit human’s body. He held a staff in his hand, and on his head perched a red and white pschent, the crown of Pharaohs. Behind him were four gigantic statutes of other men and women. He sat at their feet, surrounded by attendants.

The woman gestured for you to walk forward, and the man on the throne waved a hand. All of the attendants left him, leaving you standing there alone with him.

“My son has shown you interest,” The man said, his voice booming throughout the chamber, though his mouth never moved. “That is unusual. He and his wife have divorced millennia ago, and he has not taken interest in anyone for many, many years.”

“Your son?” You repeated. “Who is your son?”

“Know you not who I am?” He asked, standing and laying his staff against the armrest. “The god of the sky above and kingdom below. The wisest of my siblings, the most benevolent. Am I a stranger to you?”

“I’m sorry,” You said hesitantly. “I’m not really religious.”

He sighed. “I suppose that’s to be expected. The power of our pantheon has declined dramatically. I must be grateful that the revival in modern times has allowed us to rise from our sleep and reclaim any sort of rule.” He stood to his full height, which had to be at least seven foot. “I am Horus. You are a friend to my son, Duamutef, blessed with the head of a jackal, the animal of death, guidance, and protection.”

“The head of a jackal?” You asked. “Like a dog? So I wasn’t hallucinating? Tua really has the head of a dog?”

“In so many terms, yes. Tua, as you know him, asked for my permission to travel the world, and I granted it to him, hoping he would stop pining and bring his knowledge of the new world back to his peers.”

“How long is he allowed to explore?”

“Not that long,” Horus said. “A few centuries.”

You gaped at him. “You realize that since the industrial age, humanity and its technology is advancing very quickly. The world isn’t the same as it was ten years ago, and it will be different in another ten years.”

“Oh,” Horus said, seemingly baffled. “That’s alarming. In the ancient kingdom, it was as if time stood still. Once we gave humans the knowledge they needed to live and create, things carried on as it always did for over three millennia.”

“Things are different now,” You said, perhaps too boldly considering you were speaking to a god.

“It would seem so,” He replied thoughtfully. “Duamutef is eager to learn, however. As long as he sends back a report, I suppose he can stay in the mortal plane as long as he wishes.”

“I’m sure that would make him happy,” You said.

“I think you would, too,” Horus said, looking down at you. A falcon can’t smile, but you felt kind approval radiating from Horus’s body.

“I would?” You said. “I’m his friend, just a girl he follows around because I explain things to him. I’m not special. Besides, I don’t even think he likes me that way.”

“Aren’t you?” Horus asked patiently. “Doesn’t he?”

You flushed. You hadn’t really considered it. He seemed way out of your league. “Well… even if he did, how can I be worthy of a god?”

“You are worthy. You do not need me to tell you so, nor do you need him to. But he has chosen you, and I am pleased that he is happy and moving on. He has been alone for a very long time.”

“This is a lot to process, you know that?”

“Indeed,” Horus agreed. He turned and went back to the throne, sitting in it. “Take some time to think it over, but do not make him wait long. My son’s happiness is important to me.” He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

You woke covered in sweat and gasping. That… that couldn’t have been real, could it? Thank god… or gods… that tomorrow was Sunday. You needed a full day to just… deal.

Monday, you returned to school, both confused and… a little excited. There was something innately fascinating knowing an actual god was walking around campus, acting like a human. While you weren’t a fan of the fact that he was hiding it from you, you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Just this once.

You saw him in the courtyard surrounded by his usual fans. His magnetism suddenly made a lot more sense. You wondered why you were so resistant to it.

“Tua!” You called. He looked up, caught your eye and smiled, walking over. His gaggle of… worshipers?… followed behind him.

“I need to talk to you privately,” You told him in a terse undertone.

“That sounds serious,” He said, still smiling, though he looked concerned. “What about?”

“Your father came to visit me,” You replied.

The smile slipped and the color drained from his face. “Uh…” He said to his group, trying to laugh lightly. “Sorry, friends. Family business.”

They groaned in disappointment but thankfully dispersed. He took you by the hand and led you to the side of the Sciences building.

“What did he say to you? Was he angry?”

“No,” You said. “He told me he was pleased.”

Tua sighed in relief. “I’m glad. I was worried he was annoyed with my decisions. He said he wouldn’t interfere, but I’ve been concerned because I hadn’t heard from him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, folding your arms.

“What, that I’m a lesser god of an ancient religion that had almost died out, until the recent revival?” He said shrewdly. “Would you have believed me.”

“Your real head might have convinced me,” You replied. “The jackal?”

“Ah, yes,” He said. “I figured you had seen it the other day, but you didn’t press the issue, so I hoped you’d think it was a figment of your imagination.”

“Why didn’t you want me to know?” You asked.

“I did,” He said. “But I wanted to tell you myself, when the time was right.”

“When would the right time have been?”

He shrugged and looked at the ground. “I don’t know, I guess. I almost did, the other day, but I was nervous.”

“Your father told me something else,” You said carefully. “That you had been alone a long time. That your wife divorced you and that you had been pining for a long time. He also said…” You cleared your throat and swallowed. “That you had chosen me.”

He looked at you through his lashes, looking apprehensive. “Can… can we discuss this later? Somewhere private?”

“Come to my house after school. We’ll talk, okay?”

He nodded, looking self-conscious, turned, and jogged away, dodging his fan club and ducking into the Arts building.

Later that night, you paced in your living room, waiting for him to arrive. When you heard his car pull up, it took every ounce of willpower to not dash outside.

When he knocked, you opened the door to find him holding flowers and a gift bag.

Oh god.

“I figured if the cat was out of the bag, I might as well try,” He said. “Here.” He handed you the flowers, which were your favorites, and the bag. Inside was a book.

“Someone wrote a book about me,” He said. “Well, about me and my brothers. It was written while we were sleeping, so there’s a little missing, but I’m happy to fill in the blanks.”

“I don’t like that you hid this from me,” You said as you moved aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry,” He said. “I didn’t mean to hide it. Most people don’t look that closely. You’re the first person to see my true self.”

“That’s not entirely true,” You said. “I only saw an outline, a shadow.” You folded your arms. “So show me the real you. I want to take a good look.”

He took a deep, calming breath, and his body shimmered. His head elongated, black fur sprouted from his neck up, trailing down his spine and the middle of his chest. His normal modern clothes disappeared and the traditional gathered skirt of ancient Egypt appeared around his waist, ending at the knee. His eyes were silver and had markings around them. He wore no crown, but there were markings where a crown might have once sat.

“Is this what you saw?” He asked. Like his father, his mouth did not move when he spoke. Instead, his voice came from all around you.

“Something like it, yes,” You confirmed.

“Are you frightened?” He asked hesitantly.

“No,” You replied. “I’ve had time to come to terms with it. I think I’d be more freaked out if you had sprung it on me out of nowhere, maybe.”

“See? What else was I to do but keep it to myself?” He said in exasperation.

“I guess I see your point,” You admitted. “But no more secrets, okay? There’s nothing I hate more than people keeping secrets from me.”

“If that’s so, then… there’s one more thing I must confess,” He said slowly.

“I think I know what it is,” You said, bracing yourself. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

He cleared his throat and stood tall. “I have become… enamored with you. I don’t know when it started, but it came to me quickly. Perhaps it was because you didn’t fall into worship of me, as others have done. As gods, it is humankind’s natural inclination to bend the knee to us, but you did not. Perhaps it was your patience with me and my multitude of questions. Perhaps it was the extent of your knowledge. Perhaps it was all of those things. But I care for you. I do not expect you to return my feelings, but I would wish to remain close to you, in whatever form you desire. Friend, companion, lover. It is your decision.”

You laughed a little. “That’s a hell of a declaration. I mean, you haven’t even kissed me yet.”

He looked startled. “Is that something you wish?”

“I don’t know.” You moved closer, considering him. “Are you any good at it?”

He took your hands. “Well… it has been some time. I may be out of practice.”

“Give it your best shot,” You challenged.

His lips curled into a smile, and he pulled you into an embrace. Tall as he was, he had to bend to reach your lips. His kiss was light, but experienced, and he lingered for many minutes. When he pulled away, you were seeing stars.

“How was my technique?” He asked playfully.

You shook your head to stop it from spinning. “More than adequate,” You chuckled. “You’re not quite as rusty as you claim.”

“Ah, that’s good to hear,” He said, and kissed you again.

You weren’t sure how the two of you made it into your bedroom, but suddenly there you were, the bed right next to you. You began shedding clothes and pulled at the belt that gathered the skirt at his waist. It fell into a pile at his feet, and he stepped out of it, lifting you into the air and setting you gently down onto the bed.

You began to shake a little. You hadn’t had a serious partner before and while this wasn’t your first time, the sex you’d had before hadn’t been as… significant as this was turning out to be. Were you going to fast? You’d known him for months but it was only in the last few days that you’d known he was carrying a torch for you. It had been a lot to process, and still was. Were you rushing into it?

He seemed to feel you tense. “Are you alright?”

“I…” You struggled to find the right words and not sound insulting. “I feel like we’re moving to quickly? I’m not even sure how I feel, and we’re already in bed with each other. I just… feel…”

“Rushed?” He said. “It’s alright, I understand. This was a lot to lay on you at once. We can stop.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know if I want to stop. I don’t know if I want to keep going. I don’t even know for sure how I feel about you, or the situation. I feel really overwhelmed.”

“It’s alright,” He said. “Why don’t we just lay here for a while and be still and give you some time to find your bearings. I can leave you to think for a while, if you’d like.”

“No. No, stay,” You said. “Just turn off the light and let’s be quiet for a little while. I just want to think.”

“Of course,” He said, reaching for the lamp switch. The two of you were bathed in darkness. He lay next to you, and you allowed him to put his arm around you. You put your head on his chest and listened to his slow heartbeat. It was strangely reassuring: you almost expected him to not have a heartbeat at all.

At some point you must have fallen asleep. He still lay with you, his body illuminated in the moonlight, slightly propped up on the pillows, watching you sleep. He smiled when he saw you rouse.

“Good evening,” He said quietly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off,” You said.

“It’s no problem. I actually rather enjoyed it. You’re very cute when you’re asleep.”

“Don’t be silly,” You said, smacking his chest.

“I’m not!” He chuckled. “You make very adorable noises.”

“Hush, you!” You said, tickling his side.

“Hey, hey!” He exclaimed, squirming away. “Don’t do that!”

“Oh, is the big, bad god ticklish?” You asked playfully, dodging his arms and going in for more tickles. “Is he? Is he ticklish?”

“No!” He cried, trying to wiggle out of your grasp, whimpering like a puppy. “I shall retaliate if you don’t cease!”

“Oh yeah?” You taunted. “Whatcha gonna do about it, big man? Sniff me to death?”

“I may just!” He said, putting his muzzle in your ear and sniffling.

“Ah!” You squealed. “It’s so cold!”

“You like that?!” He said, tickling you back and pressing his nose to your neck. “Have some more, then!” He licked at your neck and shoulders. He grabbed your hands and held them above your head as you wiggled underneath him.

At some point, the mood shifted. The weight of his naked body on top of your naked body was exhilarating and made your heart race. His licks slowed and went from playful to deliberate and were interspersed with open mouthed kisses. He let go of your hands and touched your body. You instinctively pulled your knees up and wrapped them around his waist, holding him close by the back of his head and petting down the fur of his spine.

“Is this alright?” He asked heavily, breathing hard.

“Yes,” You whispered in reply. “Yes.”

Some more minutes of touching and kissing and licking later, he reached between the two of you and rubbed his knuckles on your clit, making you moan against his lips. He rubbed himself and you at the same time, then pushed the tip against your entrance, gently pushing himself inside of you. Your head fell back onto the pillow, your mouth wide open, your brows furrowing. He was thick and long, but no so that it was painful. You whimpered as he inched all the way inside and pulled out slowly, thrusting inward and pulling outward.

Slowly, but with gaining speed, your bodies moved together. Wordlessly, he flipped you so that you were on your stomach and pulled you toward him, reentering you and thrusting vigorously, while you gripped the sheets desperately, crying out in pleasure. You bit the pillow and shut your eyes as you felt the ecstasy well up in you, your inside walls clenching and contracting. He huffed and grunted above you, gripping your hips as your bodies smacked together over and over.

You could feel beads of his sweat dripping onto your back as he sped up again, groaned loudly, and spilled himself into you, gushing out with each jerk of his hips against your body. When he was spent, he withdrew and fell sideways as to not crush you. You lay on your stomach for a few moments, allowing yourself to catch your breath and cool down, before turning over and sliding into his arms. You’d change the sheets tomorrow.

“I hope this means you accept me,” He said sleepily.

“I always accepted you,” You said. “I just wasn’t sure what I wanted my role to be in all this. I’m still not sure. I think starting with a date might be nice.”

“Of course,” He said. “Anything you want. I am your humble servant, at your beck and call.”

“You’re not my servant,” You said firmly. “And I’m not yours. We’re partners or we’re nothing at all.”

“I understand,” He said, turning on his side. “So, my partner, where would you like to go for this date?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “This’ll be your first date on the mortal plane, won’t it? Do what you love to do: research it.”

He laughed. “That sounds like fun.”

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Match #Ancient Egypt #Egyptian God #Duamutef #Four Sons of Horus #one-halloween

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whatsortofschoolisthis · 3 years ago

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Name: Wednesday Anne Drew

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Birth Date: July 1st 1973

Species: (Human, Lycanthrope, Metamorphmagus, Vampire, ect): Human

Blood Status: (Pureblood, Half-Blood, Muggleborn): Pureblood

Sexuality: Straight

Alignment: Neutral Good

Ethnicity: Irish-American

Nationality: English,

Residence: Lives in North Devon on the left side of Rubin and her cousins, the Tuttle’s live on the right. Formerly from a small town in Appalachia West Virgina.

Myer Briggs Personality Type: INTP - The Thinker.

THE MAGE

1st Wand: Beech, 11 inches, bendy, and a unicorn hair core

The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. Such wizards and witches, having obtained a beech wand without having been suitably matched (yet coveting this most desirable, richly hued and highly prized wand wood), have often presented themselves at the homes of learned wandmakers such as myself, demanding to know the reason for their handsome wand’s lack of power. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation.

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.

2nd Wand: Cherry Wood, 12 inches, slight flexibility, and a Thestral hair core

Considered highly prestigious in Turkey, Iran, Uzbekistan, Russia, and Japan, cherry is an extraordinarily powerful wand wood and demands, to summize from Ollivander, “owners with the highest self-control and mental strength.” Though Ollivander specifies this for dragon heartstring wands, such qualities are recommended for any cherry wand owner, lest they desire for their wand to run the show.

These witches and wizards believe in fate or destiny, and so they believe things happen for a reason. There is acceptance that they don’t have complete control over what happens to them, but that they also have control over their own actions. They may be hyper-responsible as a result and may even blame themselves for events unrelated to themselves.

They try to live like every day as their last– they do not want any regrets to follow them like ghosts. In doing so, they can be honest to the point of bluntness and will try everything they can. They also try to see the beauty in everything, and believe immortality is more of a curse than a gift. As cliche as it may be– transience, to them, is what makes life on earth beautiful and worth it.

These people will fight on a day to day basis for what they believe in, which is one of the reasons for this wand’s reputation of choosing warriors. So, despite their acceptance of fate, they are a stubborn folk and refuse to yield.

With the belief of thestrals as omens and bad luck, that the wand maker and the owner must have seen someone die and embrace death as a concept, as well as the tricky nature of this core make thestral tail hair a rare core to have. Many times when a person is matched with such a core, especially in pure blood families, they will have the person try another thousand wands, just to avoid the image associated with it. However, when such a pairing is allowed to happen that witch or wizard will never find a more faithful companion. This core has potent magic, and is among the most intelligent and sentient of wand cores. Owners are social, gentle with others’ feelings, and love to have philosophic conversations late into the night. They may appear morbid to friends, and have a fascination with death. These people often have a superior sense of direction, and rarely become lost or lose their possessions. Curiously, most of the small group of known thestral hair core owners have neutral resting faces, leading other to think they are perpetually either melancholic, cranky, or tired.

Animagus: Scarlett Tanager.

Misc Magical Abilities: (Legilimen, Seer, Parselmouth, Obscurial, ect): None.

Boggart Form: A dark indistinguishable shape with red eyes and shape teeth, what a ‘haint’ might look like in Wednesday’s eyes.

Riddikulus Form: The creature turns into a dapper 1920s man dancing aggressively around

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?): Spruce forests, Cherries, and clean mountain air.

Amortentia: (What do they smell?): Exploding snap smoke, Fudge, and Pine (Jae Kim)

Patronus: American Beaver

Patronus Memory: Eating wild strawberries in her grandmother’s tree.

Mirror of Erised: A simple house with a one eared crup and a calico cat.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Reparo- She often breaks her glasses.

Ferula and Episkey- Spends a lot of time outdoors and gets hurt a lot.

Depulso- Will throw her enemies away with great force.

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim:

(I have no idea who this is)

Voiceclaim: Kate Micucci

Game Appearance:

Height: 5 ft 6

Weight: 140 pounds

Physique: Thin and Wiry.

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Brick Red

Skin Tone: Light

Body Modifications: Gets a tattoo of a lobelia flower on her wrist in her fifth year.

Scarring: Miraculously, only gets one from her encounter with a manticore

Inventory: (what do they carry on them?): a picture of her baby sister Rose, her wand, an exploding snap deck, knitting needles, a handmade book of ‘Granny Magic’ spells, a bookbinding kit, and a few galleons

Fashion: Usually wears Skirt/Sweaters, a bracelet her mum got her, and her tortoiseshell glasses. Every once in a while decides to wear something wild, usually on holidays.

ALLEGIANCES

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Affiliations/Organizations: Circle of Khanna, her family, and sometimes Hogwarts.

Professions:

- Magical Bookbinder at Florish and Blotts.

- Becomes a magical anthropologist and writes books/lectures about different magical traditions/systems, especially those in America. Also writes about the existence of Muggle Ghosts, usually known as shades or haints.

HOGWARTS INFORMATION

Class Proficiencies: Ghoul Studies, Magical Theory, and History of Magic

Astronomy: E

Charms: O

DADA: O

Flying: A

Herbology: O

History of Magic: O

Potions: A

Transfiguration: E

Electives:

Ghoul Studies: O.

Divination: E

Magical Theory: O

Quidditch: Ravenclaw Keeper.

Extra Curricular: Sphinx Club, Frog Choir, and Ghoul Club.

Favourite Professors:

Professor Flitwick: Trusts him with everything and tells him everything. Sees him (and Hagrid) as father figures.

Professor Sinistra- There’s really no particular reason why, she just likes her.

Professor Sprout- Reminds her of her Gran.

Least Favourite Professors:

Professor Snape- Whatever his damage is, Wednesday wishes he wouldn’t make it HER problem.

Relationships:

Brother: Jericho Jacob Drew AKA Jerry. Teams up with Danny during his initial search for the vaults and goes missing alongside him.

Misc Siblings: Her baby sister Rose age 4. Her cousins are the Ames children and Kit is also technically related. Maternal grandmother is Hannah Edelwood, she lives with the family and dies when Wednesday is 25.

Father: James Yaxley.

Stepfather: Noal Drew. She’s very fond of him and calls him Da. He’s originally from Dingle.

Mother: Ilse Drew (Nee Edelwood and Yaxley, First cousin to Saorise)

Love Interest:

Jae Kim: It’s a weird thing but they just decide they like each other and make it work.

Best Friends:

- Ben Copper

- Talbott Winger

- Tulip Kasarau.

- Tonks.

- Badeea Ali

- Charlie Weasley.

- Bill Weasley.

Rival:

- Merula Snyde

Enemy:

- Rakepick

- R

- Death Eaters.

Dormmates: (Who’s in your MC’s dorm with them?):

Tulip.

Badeea Ali.

Pets: Her calico Kneazle named Patches, Gray cat named Cranklin and a rat named Minnie. Has a toad that Jae gave her, his name is Robin. She and her mother share a Barn Owl named Specter. He is a terrible creature and despises children/teenagers.

Closest Canon Friends: Yes.

Closest MC Friends: None Yet

PERSONALITY:

- Very responsible but can be silly when she wants to be.

- Stubborn.

- Slightly morbid.

- Open Minded and welcoming to new ideas.

- Blunt, sometimes to the point where it hurts.

- Enjoys embarrassing her cousins, especially Hecate.

- A fighter, rarely gives up, but will accept whatever happens to her in spite of this.

MISC

- Witnessed her father’s death after an accidental shooting.

- Practices a mix of English magic and ‘Granny Magic’ from the Appalachian Mountains.

- Close to Sean, especially since they’re in the same house.

- Second Cousin to the Ames’s and a technical third to Kit.

- Has been living in England since she was eight. Has an American accent out of spite.

- Learned to bookbind from her stepfather, who binds books for both muggle and magic book collectors.

#harry potter hogwarts game #Harry Potter Hogwarts mystery #hphm #Wednesday Drew #I'm done making children now #I hope #found my old ipod with my old MC and ended up having to delete her #made a new one awhile ago

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dazaii-sann · 4 years ago

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CHUUYA'S BIRTHDAY FANFICTION: ONE-SHOT [HE’LL BREATHE TO LIVE]

TIMELINE: STORMBRINGER EXPERIMENTED CHUUYA

"Oi! Can you hear me?" A shrill voice called out, trying to draw the attention of a certain redhead. Nakahara Chuuya is quite tired of hearing that voice every single day. Its high-pitched noise will never cease to make him cringe, with a tingling sensation creeping its way to his ears. It makes him want to gouge his eardrums out and enjoy the newly-obtained serenity in that enormous, yet cramped white room. Unfortunately, it's a closed space, allowing echoes to bounce off its walls and resonate into several repetitions. The owner of that inhumane sound attempted to land his flesh against the other's, holding his shoulders to make Chuuya face him. That's a bad decision, really. Chuuya's body acted by impulse, ruled by a certain factor of god-knows-what. He immediately shoved those hands away, not wanting to prolong its warm touch. His system formed a defensive stance, shielding oneself from a foreign feeling. Warmth? What's that thing all about? Apparently, he doesn't have any clue in his possession nor a chance to find one. He's experiencing the exact opposite of what he had hoped for. He's the materialization of a being whom he doesn't want to become. An existence full of "what-ifs," that's how an 8-year old child is living, though it can barely be called as it is. "Oh sorry… Did I surprised you?" A young boy of about the same age as him asked the obvious. The redhead maintained his defensive stance, preparing to pounce at that annoying brat when he does something funny. "That's right! I haven't introduced myself today yet." The boy stood as if he's acquainting himself to his classmates during the first day of school. He beamed at the redhead, flashing a complete set of white teeth. "I'm Keita. Don't forget it next time!"

***

He's all alone in that darkness, again. He hates it. He hates it with all his life. It's slowly sucking him into the sea of nothingness until he can no longer breathe. Screaming for help might go in vain, now that he's falling into an endless abyss to the point of no return. He's at the bottom of the sea, unreachable by the rays of the early morning. His screams for help were drowned and swept away along with the current, his voice as good as mute. Did it reach the surface? Probably not. The redhead opened his eyes, revealing its hue. It's just ironic that his eyes looked like the midday azure sky even if he hasn't seen that exact same sky straight from those orbs of his. He's inside a tank filled with mysterious liquids. A sharp stabbing pain pierced his back. He felt that something was injected into his bloodstream. Minutes later, he writhed in pain. It felt like his body was about to get tattered in pieces. His eyes went heavy and he slipped once again from consciousness. When Chuuya woke up, a room of nothing but white welcomed his sight. He's there again… so does that mean…? He panned his head to the left, then to right, and found the person he's looking for. "There you are!" The boy approached the redhead like they're each other's close companions. "Oi, oi, oi… Don't tell me that you had forgotten my name again?" "You're Keita, right?" Chuuya finally engages in a conversation with the boy he keeps on avoiding for almost a week. "Yup! That's right!" The boy's cheek flushed, his smile reached his eyes. He's really THAT happy, wasn't he? "Oh! I forgot to ask your name! So… What is it?" It seems like Keita wants to know the redhead more. Somehow, it feels so different to be with this carefree kid than those lab guys." Chuuya thought as he assesses if the boy has any ill intentions and hidden motives but came out empty-handed He cannot explain it but there's a voice yelling inside of him, saying that he could trust Keita. "It's Chuuya." The redhead replied, much to the boy's delight. Keita was about to say something but his voice was overshadowed by the researcher's screams. "It seems that they're calling you now, Chuuya-kun. I guess this is a farewell, for now." Truth be told, Chuuya doesn't want to return to that hell. Without realizing a single thing, he clutched the hem of Keita's clothes. That's when he noticed that Keita's attire is quite different than the lab gown he's wearing. It's not a scientist's nor a researcher's working clothes either. It looks modern like the one he saw in a photo. A researcher said back then that that's how a human normally wears out there. "You're not leaving, right?" That question came out of Chuuya's mouth without giving it much thought. It's the first time he had said something along those lines. All his life, he's trying to push people away from his radius. He didn't expect that the time will come when he would ask someone to linger in its vicinity. "Of course, I won't. I'll be waiting for you here!" That's the assurance the redhead badly wants to hear before the darkness takes over.

*** Opening up to Keita is one of the good things he had done in his life. After getting swallowed up by the dusk and existing in a starless night, there's dawn brimming that always greets him a good morning. For the first time, he felt at home and comfortable by someone else's company. "You know Keita… I envy you." The redhead said, staring in the middle of nowhere. "You have all the things that I don't." His warm smile. His somehow unfiltered, yet expressive mouth. The way he cares for others. That feeling of openness. The emotions sitting in his eyes. His seemingly normal life. Why can't he have it too? He was born in the darkness and in a well-lit empty room, he found a companion covered in bright rays. It's too blinding. He can't help but close his eyes and once again, plunge back into the world to which he belongs. Keita laughs. "You asshole. Just wait and you'll see. And oh! Do you know that it's my birthday today?" "Birthday? What's that?" Chuuya asked in confusion. Honest, this is the first time he heard such a thing. "Well, technically speaking, that's the date you were born. Apparently, it's celebrated annually. Holding a birthday celebration might be shallow for some but it holds something much more important. Nothing's more perfect than appreciating one's existence, saying 'thank you for being born' to the celebrant so that he too, may appreciate his own." "Hey, are you really a child?" Chuuya seemed impressed by the boy's wisdom. "Of course, I just turned 9 today!" Keita said loftily as if he's proud of what he had become. "If that’s so…" Chuuya looked at him, trying to let those words out of his throat. "Thank you… For being born." Keita was taken aback by Chuuya’s words. He panned his head opposite Chuuya’s line of sight, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I hope that I could say that thing to myself too… Maybe one day. For sure." Chuuya said absent-mindedly, head panning above the plain ceiling. "By the way, what date is it today?" Keita was brought back to reality by that question. "Now that you mentioned it, It's April twenty nin-"

***

His body is floating… In an artificial body of water enclosed in a cylindrical tube. He’s back there again, to his hell, to his nightmare. Wait, nightmare? He wants to laugh his ass off. He can’t dream. It’s just him and his thoughts lost in the dimness of the night. Somehow, he’s afraid to fall asleep. If he lowers his guard down, someone’s going to take over him and he will cease being a human. No… He doesn’t want that. In this world where staying as you are is a grave mistake, can’t he just transgress that nonsensical belief and live as himself? Wait… Where’s Keita? Perhaps, he’s still in that white room. But where’s that white room exactly? There’s no reason to panic at all. He’s just there, waiting for me, like what he used to do. Or at least, that’s what Chuuya wants to believe. There’s this strange feeling inside of him, that he might not be able to see him again. “Hello, Chuuya-kun!” That voice… It’s Keita’s! And there he was, standing before him outside the tank, hands touching the glass container as if he’s trying to reach the redhead. “Don’t worry, those researchers can’t see me. You’re the only one who can anyway.” W-what? “Alright. I’ll keep this short. My time is running.” Keita looked straight into Chuuya’s eyes. They unbelievably share the same shade of blue. Chuuya’s brain formed a question by itself: “Who are you Keita?” “You are me and I am you.” Chuuya’s eyes went wide. What was that supposed to mean? “I only exist in your mind, perhaps because of the medicines they kept on injecting into you.” Keita’s not lying. His sincere tone is the incriminating proof. “The white room? It’s also a figment of your mind, a representation of the world you yearn for. A spacious, tranquil world of light.” The redhead didn’t expect any of this. He wanted to curse the world… for deceiving him once again. He thought that he already had someone to stay by his side but it turns out that no one’s actually there the whole time. “But you already have yourself.” Keita beamed at Chuuya. That smile… maybe that’s the last time he could see it. “Not that if you would look at a mirror.” “No… That’s not me, but a reflection of a monster.” “Monster? But you look like a human to me.” Words fly through each other’s minds without even uttering a single letter. A white light starts to chip off the remaining life of Keita, distorting his image in Chuuya’s sight. “I had already fulfilled my purpose… and that’s to shed some light unto you. I’m not needed here anymore.” Chuuya’s everything blur, tears mixing with the tank’s strange liquid. The scientists and researchers start to shout things like “emotional instability” and such but who cares? “When you had acknowledged my existence back then, I felt so happy! Not for myself, but for you. Chuuya…” The redhead shuddered. It’s the first time Keita said his name without the honorifics. “… Thank you… for being grateful for being born. Please, keep on living.” The white light shone with much greater intensity. The light seems to merge with Keita, taking the boy away with its particles. Keita turned his back, slowly vanishing along with the glimmer. "W-wait! Don’t go!” Words remained unspoken, but he’s hoping that Keita heard it as clear as day. “Oh! Before I forget it!” He smiled at Chuuya for the last time before the light completely erased all the remaining traces of his existence. “Happy Birthday, Chuuya! Thank you… for being born.”

***

"Please, keep on living." What is living anyway? How can you say you're living? He doesn't know… Because that right was taken away from him the moment he came into existence. Perhaps, he might not be able to fulfill that promise made between him and an afterimage of his longing to live a normal human life. No… it's not as simple as that. It’s a promise between himself and the person he wants to become… That he'll live no matter how hard it is to stay. Grasping its concept will surely take some time. He knows it. But he'll wait. He'll wait until someone comes to save him, to hold his trembling wrist with a tender touch, and to pull him out of that emptiness before black completely devours the remaining humanity he keeps on holding onto, clenching it ever so tightly. He'll wait until someone acknowledges him as a human being, a human worthy to harbor a heart and those so-called conflicting, yet beautiful emotions swirling inside of one's chest. He'll endure it for a little bit… because he's still him, not the entity people want to use as a weapon or tool that could be disposed of once he had already served his purpose. Maybe his anticipation might go to waste. Maybe waiting for that day when he could finally taste freedom from the shackles of his cruel life is just futile. Maybe there's actually no one to wait for. Then what's the point of holding onto that glimmer of hope? The light he's longing to be embraced with might be just a fragment of his delusional and desperate self but he clearly saw its distant flicker, and he cannot go back to not knowing. Whether it's fake or genuine… It doesn't matter anymore to a young boy who's craving to be bathed in its unfamiliar warmth. He might not experience how to truly live today, tomorrow, and the days after that… But at least, he'll breathe… until someone makes him feel alive.

-END-

#bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #bungo stray dogs #happy birthday chuuya

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bookswithelli · 4 years ago

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a darker shade of magic: review

synopsis:

Kell is one of the last Antari—magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black.

Kell was raised in Arnes—Red London��and officially serves the Maresh Empire as an ambassador, traveling between the frequent bloody regime changes in White London and the court of George III in the dullest of Londons, the one without any magic left to see.

Unofficially, Kell is a smuggler, servicing people willing to pay for even the smallest glimpses of a world they'll never see. It's a defiant hobby with dangerous consequences, which Kell is now seeing firsthand.

After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. She first robs him, then saves him from a deadly enemy, and finally forces Kell to spirit her to another world for a proper adventure.

Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they'll first need to stay alive.

review under the cut!

stars: ★★★★☆

First of all, although I rated this book 4 stars, there were some issues with it (mainly involving representation and characterization). I rated it 4 stars because I enjoyed reading it despite its issues, but I recognize that the mediocre representation may turn others away from this book.

characters & representation

Before I begin this section of the review, I would like to say that I am not visually impaired and therefore do not have any authority on that subject. My comments on the treatment of Lila's missing eye are merely based on my own observations and what I have heard from visually impaired people on the topic.

Lila:

A cross-dressing thief and aspiring pirate with a penchant for knives, Lila Bard brings to mind the likes of Inej Ghafa from Leigh Bardugo's Six of Crows and Elizabeth Swann from Pirates of the Caribbean. There were times when I really liked Lila; she can be sassy and morally questionable which is always interesting to see when well done. However, her character had a few issues that I wanted to address.

“Delilah Bard looked like a king. No...she looked like a conqueror.” pg. 289

When will fantasy authors stop romanticising conquerors and colonization?! This may be a smaller issue since aside from White London (which is villainized) there is no mention of it in the overarching plot, but this line just really bothered me. It makes me think that V.E. Schwab is a fan of adult and YA fantasy authors like Sarah J. Maas and others who write their main characters to be colonizers and romanticize it in the process. I don’t think this line was necessary at all, and I wish the second sentence had been removed or modified to something a little less problematic (e.g. she looked like a pirate/captain/etc.)

"How did you lose it...your eye?" -Master Tieren, pg. 327

It is revealed near the end of the book that Lila has been missing an eye for as long as she can remember, and she wears a glass eye as a replacement. This is all well and good, but the consequences of her impaired vision are never explored. The only reason the reader knows that Lila is missing an eye is because the author tells them. The narrative never discusses how Lila's lack of an eye affects her day to day life, and it's only brought into the story when it is needed for the plot.

It’s also worth mentioning that Lila is the only female character with a large role in this book, and no matter how “feminist” her character is, there’s not a lot of women in this book that are portrayed positively and with depth.

Rhy:

I actually really liked Rhy and I loved his relationship with Kell. I love sibling love in books and we so rarely get positive sibling relationships, so this was nice to see! It’s also really important to have queer people of color in books. However, I don’t think Rhy’s character is good bi/pan representation (I will refer to him as bi in this review for the sake of brevity, but it’s worth mentioning that neither term is mentioned so Rhy could canonically identify as either).

“He would flirt with a nicely upholstered chair, and he never takes anything seriously.” -Kell, pg. 254

As a queer girl who has identified as bisexual in the past and may in the future, this is bad bi rep 101. Schwab is perpetuating the stereotype of the “promiscuous bi”, or one who flirts and/or sleeps with everyone and everything. This is not a bad characteristic in itself, but it is harmful bi rep because that is the way every bi character is portrayed in media. It reinforces the idea that bisexual people in real life are all like this, and it also reinforces biphobes’ points of view when they say that bisexual people are more likely to cheat because they sleep with more people. This is pretty much the most common stereotype of a bisexual person, so while I doubt that Schwab intended to be harmful in her portrayal of Rhy, it shows that she did not do much research on LGBT+ rep when writing her characters. I do know that some bi people were not bothered by this; however, I believe that writers should stay away from stereotypes, especially when writing characters that are marginalized. Even though promiscuity is not an inherently bad trait, it is harmful when applied to bisexual people because it reinforces real peoples’ beliefs and affects real life bisexuals. This is especially important here because Rhy is the only narrative-confirmed LGBT+ character in the first book. It's not the worst representation I've seen, since Rhy does have a personality outside his flirtatiousness and promiscuity (in fact, it's confirmed that this is a coping mechanism for him) but it's certainly not the best, and I'm just tired of seeing bisexual people represented this way in fiction.

Kell:

I know a lot of people who didn’t like Kell very much, and that is understandable. However, I found him really compelling. It’s refreshing to see a male lead in this genre who’s not jacked and a brooding asshole whose only redeeming quality is his dick size. He’s definitely moody, but not to the point where he becomes an abusive alpha male type guy (yes, I am aware that this is a very low bar). I genuinely enjoyed his character because he’s flawed. He’s stubborn and moody but he’s incredibly caring and he genuinely wants to help people. He feels alienated from his family so he rebels and gets himself in trouble. His character is written well because he’s not perfect by any means, but he’s still likeable and you still root for him.

Holland:

Holland is what every YA love interest wishes they were. Honestly. He’s given no excuses for his actions, and yet he is still sympathetic. You understand that he is under the control of Astrid and Athos, but you also understand that all he has done for years is carry out their orders, and that changes a person. His story is heartbreaking, but that doesn’t change what he has done. He knows it, Kell knows it, Lila knows it, the reader knows it. Honestly, if he were in a YA fantasy romance, I bet Holland would be the love interest; his female “mate” would change him for the better, and he would never face the consequences of his actions. That makes his arc in this story all the more enjoyable. Holland is one of my favorite characters of all time, and not because he’s a perfect “book boyfriend” or whatever, but because his story and character are genuinely interesting and executed well.

worldbuilding

I loved the worldbuilding in this book. There was a bit of an info-dump in the beginning, but I’m willing to look past that because the world was so engaging and interesting that I forgot about the dense first chapter once I got past it. Each London has a distinct feel, and they are all almost tangible. The descriptions of each made me feel like I was in the Londons along with Kell and Lila. It seems like the system would be complicated, but Lila sums it up well:

“There’s Dull London, Kell London, Creepy London, and Dead London.” -pg. 198

After the initial info-dump, Schwab weaves information about the magic system seamlessly through the book, leaving enough mystery for the reader to wonder at what might happen in the next books, but never leaving out so much that the reader is confused. I really appreciated the rules that existed around magic. It’s draining, and Antari magic requires blood, which means there is a limit to how much you can perform at once. Magic is seen to affect the world beyond the characters and their main conflict, which I was very happy about as well. There are too many fantasy novels where the magic system has no rules and only exists to further the plot, but in this world you can see it everywhere. The politics of Red London and White London are affected by magic, even where it is not necessarily relevant to the plot. You can see small amounts of magic being performed in the streets of Red London: spells to protect from thieves, etc. Magic is normal for the people in Red London, and it is treated as such in the text.

pacing & plot

This book flew along. I’ve read it multiple times now, and every time, I can’t stop until I finish. And then I want to move along to the next book immediately. It manages to keep up a great pace and still build up to an exciting climax. Schwab’s lyrical writing is not flowery, but it draws the reader in and carries them along the story effortlessly. It’s very engaging and accessible language, which makes it a good stepping stone into adult fantasy (especially if you’re coming from YA).

Overall, I really enjoyed this book. The representation that it gets praised so highly for is disappointing, but aside from that I enjoyed most of the characters and the writing was beautiful. The plot and world were engaging and made me want to read the second book immediately (even though I’m on my 3rd or 4th reread). I would recommend this book for fans of YA fantasy who want to get into adult fantasy - this book is categorized as adult, but I found it a lot easier to read than other adult fantasies. For me, this book is a reminder that you can recognize the flaws in a book and still enjoy it, so remember to stay critical, even of your favorite books :)

#adsom #a darker shade of magic #kell maresh #lila bard #rhy maresh #holland vosijk #ve schwab #booklr #review

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yet-another-greek-myth-gay · 4 years ago

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Since I am currently very deeply invested in Hogwarts Mystery, I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time developing my version of Jacob’s Sibling in my mind. I’m kind of proud of the character I created, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to put her out there in the character universe of Hogwarts Mystery OCs.

Now, full disclosure, I’m not an artist. I don’t have any beautiful drawings attached to give you an idea of what I’m visualizing (at least, not any I drew). More or less, this is just going to be a bunch of word vomit about the character I’m crafted, and I’ll probably go back and edit it a bunch of times as I think of more details. If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d love to hear people’s opinions of her! Thank you to anyone who reads, and I hope you like her as much as I do!

BE WARNED THAT THIS CHARACTER SHEET CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR HOGWARTS MYSTERY.

FULL NAME: Helena Winifred Bancroft.

NICKNAME: Most people call her Nellie; only her mum calls her Helena. She also occasionally gets Nel, and Jacob used to call her Pip, short for Pipsqueak. Her and Rowan also had unique nicknames for each other, with Nellie calling Rowan “smart girl” and Rowan calling Nellie “sweet girl.”

DATE OF BIRTH: March 11th. She’s a Pisces.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood.

FAMILY: Nellie’s family consists of her mothers, a pureblooded Auror named Juliette and a muggle school teacher named Carolyn, and her half-brother Jacob. (Juliette is mum, Carolyn is mama.) Both her and Jacob’s respective fathers were muggle men that Juliette was involved with in the past, and neither are involved in their lives. The Bancroft bloodline is matrilineal, and while not necessarily famous, prides itself on producing particularly powerful witches.

BACKGROUND: She grew up in a small coastal community, where she was an avid swimmer, frequent visitor of the beach, and overall just a total water baby. Her family was comfortable financially, but chose to live fairly humbly, and Nellie was content with that. While she occasionally played with the local muggle children, most of Nellie’s time was spent either following Jacob around like a little shadow or playing with the fairies that lived in her mama’s garden. (She spent all her time telling them how pretty they were, so they tolerated her.) Unsurprisingly, she was a bit of a loner.

HOUSE: A proud Hufflepuff, just like Jacob.

DREAM: First and foremost, to find Jacob. However, in the long term, she’d really like to own a Hippogriff sanctuary and work as a breeder (with entirely moral methods, don’t worry). They’re by far her favorite creature, and she wants to spend the rest of her life working with them.

DEEPEST SECRET: That she wonders all the time if Jacob is worth saving. Growing up, he was her best friend and her hero, and there was no one she loved more. But watching how he changed in the last year or two prior to his disappearance, and hearing some of the stories at school, she honestly wonders if the loving brother she remembers exists anymore. And if he doesn’t, is the boy he left behind someone she wants to bring back?

She’s also been hiding a growing resentment toward her mum. While Jacob’s disappearance took a toll on them all, she sometimes feels like her mum’s put so much of her emotional energy into missing Jacob that she doesn’t have enough left to love her anymore, and she secretly hates her mum nudging her to find Jacob, even if it’s at the cost of her own happiness and safety.

...sometimes she wishes it had been Ben.

MOST TREASURED OBJECT: For years, it was her seashell locket, a gift she’d gotten from Jacob for her sixth birthday, with the little sculpture Barnaby made her for their Valentines Day date coming in at a close second. Now, it’s a spare pair of Rowan’s glasses, which Nellie had kept on hand since their first year, given how often Rowan misplaced hers.

WAND: Nellie’s first wand is ten and a half inches long, made of pear wood with a unicorn hair core. Her second, which she purchases in her fifth year, is eleven and a quarter inches, with an alder wood base and a phoenix feather core. Lastly, her third, which she gets after she graduates and keeps for the rest of her life, is ten and two thirds inches long, built from beech wood, and possesses a unicorn hair core.

PATRONUS: An African Bush Elephant.

ANIMAGUS: A Kooikerhondje dog.

BOGGART: Jacob’s corpse, shambling towards her like a zombie, sobbing about how she failed to save him.

BEST MEMORY: Jacob trying to teach her spells when he came home for his first break in his first year of Hogwarts. She would’ve only been five—they’re six years apart—so it’s a faint memory and she couldn’t do any of them anyway, but it was still happy enough to stick with her.

WORST MEMORY: The year Jacob disappeared, their mum mandated that he come home for breaks. (He’d been staying at school the past few years, but with everything that was happening, their mothers wanted to keep an eye on him.) He was on edge the entire time, bitter and aloof, and when Nellie tentatively tried to get him to play, he exploded at her about wasting his time. In that moment, his face twisted and red with rage, his tall, lanky body looming over her, Nellie didn’t recognize her brother at all, and that scared her more than anything. For the longest time, that was her worst memory.

Now, her worst memory is being in that forest grove, staring down at Rowan’s unmoving body, her gaping mouth and empty eyes. Even decades later, Nellie has dreams about it. Certainly, no memory will ever be worse than that one.

QUIDDITCH: After being trained by Skye, Nellie played as a Chaser for two seasons and a Beater for one, before retiring to a reserve chaser. There just wasn’t enough time, and she didn’t really have the competitive spirit for it. However, she remained friends with Skye, Orion, McNully, and Erika, and still enjoyed training with them to keep her skills sharp.

GREATEST STRENGTHS: Nellie is an overwhelmingly compassionate person. Her mama likes to joke that Nellie could spend all day waiting for a scoop of her favorite ice cream, and she’d still offer it to the first gloomy person she saw on the street. (Basically, if there’s a little pink heart next to a choice, that’s the one she’s making. Empathy is definitely her highest stat.) She never fails to go out of her way to help people, even if it’s to her own detriment. She just has a very warm energy, which makes it easy for people to feel safe confiding in and depending on her.

GREATEST WEAKNESS: Unfortunately, Nellie’s compassion is a bit of a double edged sword, and she can be guilty of stretching herself too far trying to please everyone and, subsequently, letting herself fall to the wayside. She’s also embarrassingly naive (a negative consequence to her desperate belief in the inherent goodness of people), and has a tendency to get a little too emotionally invested in things. She also stakes a lot of her personal value in her ability to keep others happy—if she isn’t capable of keeping those she loves safe and content, she feels she has no value at all.

APPEARANCE: In short, Nellie is about as far from intimidating as any one person can get. She never surpasses five feet tall, nor does she develop past her scrawny adolescent physique. Her face is round, with a little button nose and big ocean blue eyes. She’s covered from head to toe in freckles, and has a slight case of buck teeth with a tiny tooth gap, though nothing she considered worth getting braces over. She also has a scar on her thumb from the time her mum tried to teach her how to whittle. It didn’t go well.

However, her most defining physical characteristic is her hair. Curly and sandy blonde, she grew it long for the first fifteen years of her life, only cutting off the occasional inch to keep it healthy. It was very carefully maintained, because although Nellie doesn’t consider herself a vain girl, she loved her hair, which grew to reach her thighs at its longest. It was the only feature of hers she considered genuinely and objectively beautiful, and she prided herself on it. In the summer after her fifth year of Hogwarts, she chopped all that treasured hair off into a bob, her only reasoning being that it was more practical. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Rakepick had grabbed her by her exceptionally long braid when she’d tried to run to Merula’s aid in the Buried Vault.

STYLE: Nellie dresses exactly how you’d expect a stereotypical Hufflepuff to dress. She favors bright, pleasant colors, likes embroidery and floral print, and values comfort over anything. Her current favorite outfits both involve overalls, with one consisting of denim overalls with embroidered butterflies on the chest pocket and a white t-shirt, and the other being a pair of faded overalls that she personally painted with flowers, despite being an absolutely terrible artist, and a yellow turtleneck. She pretty much always wears a pair of light weight, embroidered boots, and is never seen without her seashell locket.

VOICE: I picture her sounding similar to AnnaPantsu. There’s a reason she was able to make the choir, after all! (Even if she ultimately surrendered her spot to Merula.)

BEST SUBJECT: Unsurprisingly, Care for Magical Creatures. Her kind nature and respect for all magical beings makes her a bit of a natural. She’s also proven herself to have a knack for Divination. She’s no Seer, but she’s pretty good at deciphering omens and swears that she does sometimes see visions in crystal balls. She’s also decent at Transfiguration.

WORST SUBJECT: Anyone would suck at Potions if Snape spent the entire class glowering at them the way he does at Nellie! It’s awfully hard to focus when your professor is breathing down your neck, staring dismissively into your cauldron like you’ve already made a mistake. She also just has a really poor memory, so any class that requires her to follow a sequence of meticulous steps is going to be one she struggles with. She also has difficulty in History of Magic for a similar reason—all of those dates and names just go in one ear and out the other.

BEST FRIEND(s): Rowan. Nellie loves every member of her eclectic group of friends dearly, but Rowan was her first friend, and will always, always be her dearest. For whatever reason, they just clicked perfectly, and completely got each other. Her death changed Nellie irreversibly. For at least a year after Rowan’s death, Nellie wore the spare pair of glasses she’d kept for her everywhere. Even once she stopped, they were almost always in her bag. Nellie was eventually able to manage again, but she never really moved on.

The runner up was undoubtedly Bill. He completely adopted her as (yet another) younger sibling, and they never quite lose that closeness, even when Jacob comes back into the picture. After all, Jacob can’t replicate the experiences Nellie had with Bill. While he was doing his part to protect Nellie as best he could, and that’s admirable, it wasn’t him that was by Nellie’s side throughout every trial she faced at Hogwarts. It was Bill, and Jacob would never be able to imitate the connection that gave Bill and Nellie.

In the wake of Rowan’s death, Nellie also develops a surprisingly close friendship with Erika Rath. They’d already been developing a friendship, but Rowan’s passing was the catalyst for them growing closer. During one of her training sessions with Erika (which Erika had told her she could sit out of, given the circumstances, but Nellie insisted), Rowan’s glasses fell off, and cracked. The damage was minor and entirely fixable, but Nellie had a complete breakdown, allowing herself to cry for the first time since Rowan had died. And Erika sat there with her, holding her tight, the entire time. While the rest of her friends were tiptoeing around her, not sure what she needed and scared of saying the wrong thing, uncomfortable in the face of such overwhelming grief, Erika took everything Nellie threw at her in stride. The fits where all Nellie could do was scream and cry, the anger that had her beating her fists against the ground and snarling threats brutal enough to make her sick, the guilt that left a hollow pit in her stomach and made her wish it had been her instead. Every ugly thought, every wave of emotion, Erika stuck with Nellie through them all, keeping her grounded her during a time where she felt she could completely drift away. It’s impossible to describe the sort of bond that gives people.

WORST ENEMY: For a while, it was Emily Tyler. With Merula, at least she has qualities that Nellie can respect—her ambition, her bravery, her fierce determination—and they’ve had a few moments where it feels like some genuine bonding has occurred. She may not approve of a lot of Merula’s behavior, but at least she can sort of understand her. But Emily Tyler is just so superficial and mean spirited, and Nellie simply can’t stand her. Now, though, it’s easily Patricia Rakepick.

LOVE INTEREST: Barnaby Lee, though not at first. Nellie housed an absolutely fierce crush on Skye Parkin for a while, but it quickly became apparent that Skye didn’t return her feelings. To Skye, Nellie was like the sister she never had, and Nellie didn’t want to jeopardize that. There was also some sort of tension going on between her and Merula in their fifth year, but nothing ever came of it. After the events that transpired in the Vault, Merula decided Nellie wasn’t worth the trouble. It’s one of her biggest regrets.

Barnaby was actually crushing on Nellie long before she had any romantic feelings for him—ever since that first duel, actually, when she completely whooped his ass while apologizing after every blow. (A scene I actually explored here.) It took a little while, but Nellie eventually fell for Barnaby’s good heart and noble nature. He may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but he never fails to make her feel cared for. He can make her laugh when nobody else can, and although she’d loathe herself if he got hurt for her sake, it honestly feels a little nice to have someone trying to protect and take care of her for once, instead of the other way around. They also both love magical creatures, so a lot of their “dates” just consist of them hanging around the Care for Magical Creatures paddock and feeding whatever they find. Random little fun fact, Nellie’s pet name for Barnaby is just to say “Barnaby dear” as though it’s one word, and it never fails to make Barnaby feel super giddy.

PETS: Whoo boy, Nellie’s pets. First and foremost, there’s Astrid, her Lesser Sooty Owl. A remarkably intelligent bird, Astrid is usually found occupying the rafters above Nellie’s head, watching over her like a worrisome mother. She usually sleeps in Nellie’s dorm, rather than the owlery, and has a habit of picking at knots in Nellie’s hair (and, surprisingly, Rowan’s as well) with her beak as though she’s trying to straighten them out.

While she adores Nellie, Astrid is notably less fond of Klepto, her mischievous Niffler. If Astrid is like Nellie’s mother, Klepto is like an obnoxious toddler, always causing trouble and fussing for her attention. He’s remarkably clingy, enough so that Nellie’s taken to hiding him in the dorm rather than keeping him in the grasslands. (She can’t help it! He throws a fit if he can’t sleep pressed against the soles of her feet!)

Then there’s Flora, a particularly slothful fairy who has taken to riding in the pockets of Nellie’s robes, content to spend the rest of her life being carried around and lavished with compliments and sweets. Her and Astrid have a sort of tenuous truce, since they both have a bit of a fierce streak when it comes to defending Nellie.

There’s also a Hippogriff and a Common Welsh Green on the grounds, both of which Nellie is determined to befriend, but that’s still a bit of a work in progress at the moment.

FUN FACTS:

• Nellie ends up going grey—or white, rather—fairly early. Her hair’s almost entirely white by the time she turns thirty. She’s insecure about it for a while, then decides to just embrace it. It looks elegant, and Merlin help the person who tries to tell her otherwise.

• Given how incredibly physically affectionate Nellie is and how much she adored Rowan, it’s no surprise that she almost always kissed Rowan on the top of the head when saying goodbye. Just like she did in the forest grove, chest tight with anguish but eyes painfully dry.

• Barnaby and Nellie are married by the time they’re twenty. Maybe it’s a result of almost dying young on multiple occasions, but Nellie wasn’t keen on waiting. She didn’t want to take the risk of never getting the opportunity.

• Nellie has always wanted a big family. After how fractured hers became when Jacob disappeared, that desperate desire only increased. Fortunately, Barnaby, with his tiny, miserable family, wanted to create a large, happy one just as badly.

• On that note, they end up having five daughters: Ivy (Ravenclaw), Jade (Ravenclaw), Miri (Hufflepuff), Aurora (Slytherin), and Rowan (Hufflepuff). Many were surprised Nellie waited until her last child to name one after Rowan, but the truth was, she just wasn’t ready. She’d always known she wanted to, but it always felt too soon.

• As a frequent visitor to the Burrow, Nellie grew close with all the Weasleys. She actually babysat Ron and Ginny a far bit after she graduated Hogwarts.

• Bill and Jacob never get along. Though Bill can logically understand that Jacob was trying to protect Nellie, he can never really forgive Jacob for the distress he put Nellie through. And while Jacob understands that Nellie needed support and he wasn’t there to provide it, some part of him resents that Bill stepped into his role as Nellie’s brother.

• Although they were once close as sisters, Nellie and Skye’s friendship definitely changed for the worse in their sixth year. The drama surrounding Nellie getting trained and befriended by Erika all occurred in the month leading up to Rowan’s demise. Having Skye—someone Nellie considered a close friend—be so caught up in her own grudges and jealousy that she called off their friendship in a fit of anger not even a week after Rowan had died, while Erika—a friend she had only just started to make—acted as her rock throughout the whole grieving process, really changed Nellie’s perspective on Skye. To be fair, Skye did eventually apologize, and they picked up the pieces as best they could, but things were never the same.

• While Nellie focused more on the changes her friends went through after the events in the Buried Vault, there’s no denying that she changed as well. She hardly slept her entire sixth year. She cut off all her hair, and she jumped with every loud noise. Her naivety, one of her defining traits, withered, and left only wariness behind. She went from trusting everyone, to trusting no one. Then Rowan’s death came, and she crumbled completely. For a long time after it, she couldn’t function at all.

Thank you to @treebels, for the lovely artwork.

#i know she's a little lame but i really love her okay #she's like my baby #my meticulously constructed baby #hogwarts mystery #harry potter #hogwarts #hphm #hphm oc #jacob's sibling #helena bancroft #nellie bancroft #hogwarts mobile game #spoilers #hphm spoilers #hogwarts mystery spoilers

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lunaschild2016 · 5 years ago

Text

Belief - Part 4 (Edit)

Rating: M

Devi is Dauntless. Through blood sweat and tears she made a place for herself three years ago when she left her life in Amity behind. Not once in that three years has Eric Coulter even deigned to look her way. Not until that night. Now she has nothing but his attention. Eric/OC AU [Smut, Language, Romance]

Part 4

There comes a time in a girl’s life when she has to reevaluate things. Like when she wakes up for the second time in a week, hungover as hell, in place not her own, wearing clothes that aren’t hers, and with no memory of how the fuck any of that happened.

Once again my friends have abandoned me.

I sit up in the bed I’m in and look around. The bed is comfortable like mine and the room is simply furnished. But that’s where the similarities between my room and this one end.

There isn’t much to go on here to give me an idea of where I might be. The only furniture in the room other than the bed is two bedside tables, a dresser, and a small armchair. All the basic stuff that most apartments are furnished to start out with. The walls are bare and stark white. All the bedding and furniture are black. The curtains are black and keep out any light, making the room completely dark with only the tiniest sliver of the sun peeking through where the two curtains meet in the middle.

There is absolutely no personality at all in this room and it almost seems like it’s never even used.

There are three doors in the room with two doors on one wall that I know will lead to the closet and bathroom. The wall that the head of the bed is against, is the one that has the door leading to the rest of the apartment. There is a bedside table between it and me and no sounds seem to be coming from the other side of it, so there’s no hint for me there.

However, glancing in the direction of the door provides me some clue when I see on the nightstand a tall clear glass of water with a plate beside it where it looks like a few pills, hopefully, aspirin, is waiting for me. There also looks to be a small slip of paper beside it and that has me scooting from the center of the bed where I woke up and scrambling to pick up the paper and read what it says.

Take these. Drink that.

Whoever wrote the note, and left the water and aspirin, has way better penmanship than I do. It’s small, neat and precise. Making me wonder if they used a computer to spit it out. Maybe I should hesitate to take pills left me by some unknown person, but even though I don’t know where I am or who might be here, I don’t feel unsafe. So, I do what the note instructs and then stumble my way to the door I think the bathroom is behind.

I flip on the light and have to blink for a second at it assaulting my sensitive eyes. It takes a second or two for my vision to clear, allowing me to get a good look at myself in the mirror. Not that I particularly care to look at what must be a complete mess.

My reflection is another surprise and mystery for me. I completely expected to wake up and find my makeup ruined and running over my face. Giving me raccoon eyes and a clown worthy smile. But my face is completely free of makeup. It also looks like my hair, definitely mused from sleep, was also recently washed because it looks to have dried while I slept too.

I panic for a second and run my hands over my body, but I already know that what I’m worried about didn’t happen. If someone helped me wash up, it was completely non-sexual, or at the very least no actual sex took place. Of course, there probably isn’t a way to know for sure until I find the person and ask them; but judging from the same frustrated, pent up feeling I started my night out with, I can pretty much guarantee nothing happened.

Between the pills, water and other signs I find as I look around the bathroom, I know whoever’s place I’m at has at least been trying to make sure I’m okay and taken care of.

I smile and blush a little when I see a new tube of toothpaste and toothbrush, both still in their boxes, waiting for me next to the sink.

The clothes I had been wearing are neatly folded and on the bathroom counter right next to a new set of folded clothing. The new clothes are the normal nondescript workout clothes that most of the women in Dauntless wear. A black sports bra, tank top, and leggings. They are so generic that they could be mine or anyone else's for all know. And beside that is a pair of sneakers with a pair of rolled-up socks stuck inside of one of them. Again, they could belong to anyone, but unless someone else likes to take their shoes off by pressing down the back of them because they can’t be bothered to untie them, then these are definitely mine.

Another clue that lets me know this is all my stuff is the small, colorful burlap pouch that I hand painted and sewed together to hold makeup and toiletries, is on the counter beside the clothes.

So did I go and grab my stuff and bring it with me here to...wherever I am? If I did, why? And where is Ash at? Even if I decided not to hook up with him he still would have made sure I either got home or let me sleep it off at his place.

I put my hand on top of the pile of workout clothes and feel the crinkle of paper and find another note written in the same precise handwriting with two words on it.

Wear this.

I feel the first bit of uneasiness filling and a nagging in the back of my mind that’s trying to give me some clue as to who these notes are from. There is something about the bold script and tone of words that provide the clues that I’m simultaneously denying and dreading. But there’s nothing I can do to change what’s already happened. What I need to do is get answers. I can’t do that unless I get my ass in gear.

I brush my teeth and root around in the pouch to see that it looks like someone just threw a few things I might need in there. There is some moisturizer, a couple of my hairbands to put my hair up, and deodorant. It isn’t much but they are all the basics at least.

Once I’m dressed, I carry my club clothes out of the bathroom to find a bag sitting on the small armchair that I hadn’t noticed earlier. Granted, it is the same deep black color that the chair is so in the dark it blended in. I would have completely passed it by if I hadn’t spotted my heels on the chair as well. The bag turns out to also be mine. The one I carry to and from work. Its technically a leather purse but the style is that of a backpack. Big enough for me to shove an extra pair of scrubs in along with anything else that I might need during long days at work.

I feel a surge of relief at finding it and quickly grab it and unzip it to try and find my phone and hope I can get answers from it. I’m quickly disappointed though because all I see are things I normally keep it, minus the scrubs and also minus my phone and keys. My clutch is in there but when I opened it up all I find in it is lipstick and condoms. I scowl and shove my heels and clothes into the bag then work the zipper closed on the overfilled bag.

I look at the door that will lead to the rest of the apartment and hesitate. I can finally hear some kind of sounds coming from the other side and I know I’m going to need to face whatever...whoever...is out there.

Might as well get it over with.

As soon as I open the door the smell of food cooking and coffee brewing hits me full in the face. That smells inviting enough that I take the first few tentative steps forward into the hallway. Like my apartment, the hallway to the bedrooms is short and really only has just enough room for the doors to the rooms. What wall space there is that’s free we filled with my artwork. Here it’s crammed with bookshelves that are crammed with books.

This makes me pause to look over them with a frown. No one I know would have bookshelves filled to almost overflowing, even if they are all organized neatly. I don’t even think the person I had a suspicion it would end up being, would have that kind of thing in his home.

So who the hell did I end up going home with?

All hesitancy is gone. My temper at my carelessness is simmering and making me plow forward, only to stumble over my feet with a gasp when my body wouldn’t stop the forward momentum I desperately wanted it to stop.

“You,” I gasp out in surprise before I could stop the word from spilling out.

My eyes are locked on the man standing in the open and well-lit kitchen in disbelief as Eric turns from the stove with his hands full of plates. He takes one look at me and sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before he shakes his head and mutters something that I can’t hear. He steps forward and motions with his head towards the island eating area.

“Going to go out on a limb here and say that you don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

My mind starts working overtime trying to figure out how Eric once again got involved in my night out.

I remember a few things. I remember not feeling as up to the night of dancing as I had been when I planned it. I remember the thought of dancing with Ash feeling wrong and a slight pang of disappointment that it wasn’t going to be someone else I was dancing with. I also very clearly remember when things probably went downhill for me. When I realized that it was Eric’s hands and presence I was craving and that nothing and no one but him would do it for me. I decided a few more drinks would help me to get over that.

Big mistake.

He moves over to sit on one stool, leaving the one on the other side free, and it’s clear that he means me to sit down and answer his question. I slowly do both. When my bag is on the floor, my butt is on the seat and my breath has found its way back into my lungs, I finally answer.

“It’s all pretty much a blur,” I reply without looking at him. I train my eyes on the plate he sits in front of me without really seeing what is on it.

“Well, that’s just about par for the course.” Even with the coldness, there is a weary undertone to it. I chance a look at him to see he’s studying me with a frown. “Do you blackout every time you drink?”

I scowl at him, but it’s really for myself as I shake my head and answer. “No. I do have a fairly low tolerance but I only have issues when I combine alcohol or overdo it.”

He nods and the frown deepened. “Well, I’d say you hit both of those last night then. Should have stuck to the wine.”

“You were there?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks to my plate, pointedly. “Eat up. You’re going to need energy for what I have in store for you.”

I’m almost afraid to ask, especially with his lips twitching on the sides. “What’s in store for me today besides work?”

“Oh, you aren’t going to work.” I immediately stiffen and go to protest but he stops me. “The weekend is over and the normal staff is back. Plus there are a few more being added to the rotation from now on. So the days you were supposed to have off from the clinic but didn’t, you’re getting them now. We will also be doing the training and assessments that should have already been done since you have free time. ”

I frown in confusion. “How is that possible?”

He shrugs and picks up his fork, answering while not looking at me. “Erudite owes us.” There’s something about the set of his shoulders and tone that tells me he’s said all he’s going to say on that.

With a sigh of resignation, I finally look down at my plate and really see what’s on it. The wonderful smells turned out to be a spinach and cheese omelet with sides of sliced avocado and bacon. The food is surprising, delicious and a very welcome distraction.

It’s also perfect hangover food and I dig in without speaking, sipping the coffee in between bites. It’s not like I would really know what to say at the moment anyway. It doesn’t stop my mind working hard trying to process everything while I eat.

Obviously, I’m in Eric’s apartment. He got clothes for me in some way. I can only guess by using my keys that are missing? But why would he bother?

It’s also obvious that he took care of me last night while being clear that nothing sexual happened. Again...why?

Why….to everything, but I find myself mainly embarrassingly wondering, why we didn’t do anything? Does he just, not want me, and all of this is really him playing with Four or me or both of us?

“You think any harder and your head is going to explode. You’re wincing. Did you know that? Every time a new thought enters into your mind, you wince. So why don’t you just spit whatever it is out and stop killing yourself.” Eric grumbles out after putting his fork down on to his empty plate.

He has his hands steepled over the plate and has his eyebrow raised while glaring me down.

I set my own fork down as well since my plate is just as empty as his. I raise my chin while my eyes narrow as I look at him.

I mean to demand where he got my stuff from and why my phone and keys are missing. I mean to demand them back and confirm that he didn’t invade my privacy by rooting through my things at home. I mean to demand what right he thinks he has to have done any of that, to begin with, no matter that he’s a leader of the faction.

That’s what I mean to do but what happens instead leaves my skin hot and flushed with embarrassment.

“Why didn’t we do anything last night? Do you even really want me, or is this just some bullshit game with Four? Because if it is, you can just stop. I would rather not be the pawn in whatever messed up game you’ve cooked up.”

My jaw drops in astonishment and mortification at what spilled out of my mouth in a rush but I don’t have time to really think about it and find a way to change direction because Eric is already in motion towards me. I didn’t even get past the first question before he was standing and moving slowly around the counter towards me. His movements are fluid and casual but his expression is anything but.

His blue eyes seemed to have turned to the color of ice as they bore into mine and hold me completely paralyzed and barely able to turn my body to face him after he moved behind me.

“As I’ve told you before, twice now counting last night, it isn’t my style to hook up with someone that is obviously drunk no matter who they are or how willing they might be.”

I’ve heard the tone these words carry before. The hushed quiet one. The tone that you can equate to the sound of a blade being drawn from a sheath.

All of Dauntless fears this tone and I would be lying if I said I’m not and have not been affected by it before. But how I was affected then is nothing like what’s going on now.

Because there is a look in his eyes as he comes closer that shows me raw hunger. And the heat coming off his body sets me to fire, putting what I felt in the exam room to shame. I’m so paralyzed and captivated that I don’t even realize he’s moved me, turning my body for me to face him so that my back is now against the edge of the counter.

His eyes aren’t the ice I compared them too. They’re blue fire, an inferno is raging behind the gaze I can’t break free from.

“Eric….I…” I gasp out when his breath hits my face and seems to trigger my own inhaling of the breath I hadn’t been able to take.

His hand whips out to grab the back of my neck and he squeezes, firm and gentle until my head falls back slightly. He’s so close that my legs just opened right up for him and he slipped in.

“No, you don’t get to speak.” He hisses out and stops me from continuing on. I don’t even know if I would have been able to continue anyway. “Do you honestly believe that I would care enough to bring just anyone into my home? Do you think I would bother to take care of just anyone because they were wasted? I wouldn’t, and you know that’s true. I might make sure their friends were looking after them and they didn’t kill themselves, but that’s about the extent of the effort I would make.”

While he speaking he uses the hand that isn’t at the back of my neck, with the back of his fingers, to lightly brush over my neck. Slowly and teasing. My body arching into his touch and my nipples going hard as his skin made contact with mine.

He pauses in speaking and moves the hand up so that two of the pads of his fingers brush across my mouth, causing me to moan slightly. His eyes crinkle at the sides as a small smirk of pleasure tilts his lips and he changes the touch so that now it’s his thumb brushing across my lips.

“Open up for me, little one.” It’s a raw, low command that has some dark part of my brain snapping forward at, following along. The nickname and command have me insanely aroused.

I open my mouth and he slips the thumb between my lips. What happens next happens on instinct, spurred on by the silent command in his eyes and I follow it again without hesitation while my eyes never leave his.

My mouth closes around his thumb, my tongue swirls around the tip and down the length and then I gently sucked. His nostrils flare and he gives a deep inhalation of breath as a rumble of pleasure sounds in his chest. He moves even closer until the thick and hard bulge of his thigh pressed right up against the apex of legs. I was already burning and wet, wetter than I have ever been or ever thought I could be, but I was wrong. He presses firmly against me in a pulse and I feel like there is no way he won’t notice the flood that must be pooling at my core, just as the immense heat seems to be as well. I suck deeper on his thumb and moan around it, plainly expressing just how good I’m feeling and what I want.

I’m not the only one showing that at least. If his eyes and groan didn’t let me know then the outline of his bulge definitely does. His eyes are what hold my attention. They are wild looking with hardly any color left to be seen, just the black of his pupil. And when he speaks again, its pure gravel, full of ragged lust.

“You have no fucking clue how much I wanted you last night, little one.” Between his breath fanning across my face and the low pulsing tenor of his words, I feel electrified. Like I could break apart at any second just from his words and presence alone. “You think this is a game,” he pauses again and removes his thumb from my mouth but uses it to open it slightly while moving his face closer to mine. “That this has anything to do with number boy? You’re wrong, Devi. This has always been about me and you. If you want to call it a game so be it. But be warned that I don’t intend on losing.”

Then he consumed me.

There’s no other word for the kiss that followed that proclamation. The fire in me that won’t back down from a challenge, ignited at those words. My hands reach up to his neck and claw at him. I can’t tell you if it’s to get him to stop or to make sure he never does.

A war is being waged between us with this kiss and the way his body is dominating mine. It’s a war that I’m quickly losing and it makes me feel like much more than just a stupid contest of wills is in jeopardy here.

It feels like my heart and soul are in the line and it scares the ever-loving shit out of me.

He breaks away from the kiss with a feral growl and shoves away from me. It so sudden and forceful that it leaves me quickly grabbing the sides of the stool to steady myself.

He backs up slowly, and I watch in fascination as the change takes place. First, he takes a step back and his breathing slows down. Two steps more and his eyes, that were so wild just seconds ago, start to focus back into his familiar cold blue ones. At three steps the emotionless mask that defines Eric is firmly back in place.

He doesn’t say another word as he moves forward calmly and reaches for the two plates and cups on the counter. He busies himself cleaning up the remnants of breakfast and our dishes.

Meanwhile, I’m still hanging onto the stool for dear life and just trying to coax my heart from throat back into my chest and the air into my lungs.

After he has everything in his dishwasher and that started, he calmly turns back to face me.

“Time to head out for training. We’ll be doing a warm-up, going out for a run and then heading to the training room to go from there. Lunch and dinner will be in the mess. Leave your bag here and we can get it after.” His eyes light up and he smiles at me. A smile that’s completely predatory in nature. “I have you for the next two days.”

He walks past me and goes to the door while I’m left frozen. This isn’t going to be good at all. I can just feel it.

*********************************************************************

I groan as I sink into the water of the bath and let out a ragged sigh of relief once I’m submerged fully under the hot water with the bath salts still dissolving in it. The last two days have been all kinds of torture for me. It was bad enough that I’m using my precious oils and salts to relieve the aching and stress my body has endured.

Eric took advantage of the last two days and rung every single second from it. From breakfast until a couple of hours after dinner, I’ve been with Eric.

I let the heat of the water work on my aching body and reflect over my time with Eric

***************************************

The first day with Eric has gone exactly as he said and planned.

We warmed up with some stretches after getting outside of the gates that our transports use to leave the compound, and then went on a run that pretty much covered our entire sector. When we got back, he barely let me get water and a breather before we went to the training room or the torture chamber as I started to mentally call it, until lunch. After lunch in the mess hall, we went right back to it until dinner.

That’s a total of over nine hours spent in a similar way as when we were at the gun range, where Eric proved he has no concept of the words ‘personal space’ at all. He continued to show me just how little he thought of the concept.

First, had been when we were working out. I went into that at least a little confidence because that is one aspect I’ve been keeping up with.

At least twice a week I meet with my girls and we do about an hour of working out together. So I just knew this was at least something that he couldn’t catch me out on. That he wouldn’t be able to use it against me and need to get in my bubble to show me how wrong I was doing things.

That was promptly shot to hell.

My workouts, the workouts my friends and I blow through, are nothing to what Eric subjected me to after he had me tell him what my normal workouts consist of. I think he thought I was pranking him but when he saw my blush and figured out I was serious, well...the feared trainer he is to every initiate came out in full force.

There was one big change from how I know he is during initiation though. And that was when he would push me to do something that I would tell him was impossible or ridiculous, then he put himself through it right alongside me. I know for a fact that isn’t his normal behavior and called him on it.

He told me that I was right, but he was showing me that he would never ask someone to do something that he didn’t know they were capable of or that he wouldn’t do himself. He said that it might take breaking them down to get them built back up, but it was all to make them stronger. It was clear he had every intention of doing that same thing with me.

He was going hard on me and that meant my temper flared on occasion because of that. But it was also because there was the added element of what happened every time our bodies came into contact. There was a charge of heat and electricity that was impossible to ignore and was so distracting that it would throw us both off. This seemed to upset him and he would just come at me harder.

He also still did the talking thing too. Which combined with the physical torture made it feel more like an interrogation. That was always going to have me reacting defensively. So, I started launching questions right back at him. To my surprise, he was answering.

Well, he mostly answered them. He wouldn’t even acknowledge the ones that were a mirror of how personal he got with some of his for me.

By the time lunch rolled around I was at a breaking point and wondering if I really wanted to put myself through this again with Eric. My nerves were strung out from the aggressive pace Eric set to get everything that needed to be done in only two days. My sexual frustration levels were approaching nuclear meltdown mode, and my mind couldn’t even handle the barrage of information being requested by Eric along with what he was giving me back.

Before we went to lunch I would have said that if I was given an out and another option of anyone else handling things, I would have leaped at the chance. That was until the opportunity arrived and it turned out, I didn’t want to at all.

Eric and I went to the mess for lunch, just as he said we would. I expected to sit with my friends, but they were either already gone and back to work or not there at all. Eric was determined that I would be eating on the leaders level anyway and at least I knew Tori would be there.

I went into lunch a sore, grouchy, and bitchy mess. My hair all tangled and frayed on top of my head in a haphazard bun. My tank was still drenched in sweat and I’m sure I reeked from it too. I wouldn’t say I looked worse than I ever did in initiation, but I had to be damn close. I know I was in just as foul of a mood as I had been back then.

Hunger won out over any issues I might have had about being dragged along with Eric, grumbling moodily the whole way, much to his amusement. We took seats beside each other and across from Tori.

She was looking at me and barely restraining her laughter, but I could clearly tell that she was doing this and it earned her a glare from me while I flipped her the bird.

That made her chuckle while she pushed food my way. I looked over everything and loaded up on once I saw that the selections for leaders seemed to be loads better then what the plebeians on the lower level are offered. There were few veggies available, but there was a bowl of roasted red potatoes that also had green beans tossed in a garlic butter sauce. I grabbed that and some grilled chicken while nabbing a few of the dinner rolls Tori pushed my way.

While I loaded my plate, Eric casually poured us both glasses of water from the big pitcher sitting on the table. When he slid mine towards me I accepted with a blush and noticed Four sitting on the other side of the table from me, glowering at Eric. I ignored him and concentrated on my plate. I knew I didn’t have to worry about him starting anything with both Tris and Tori at the table.

Since Tris came along, Four had mellowed out a bit. He could still be a dick and a little overbearing when he had it in his head he needed to protect someone or he was worried about them. Personally, I always thought that he was in instructor mode all the time and didn’t know how to turn it off. Talking to everyone like they were his initiates and needed to do his bidding. I knew from the first time I had Tris in a bed at the clinic that she wasn’t going to be someone that would follow anyone blindly, and that underneath her quietness was a girl with a backbone. It was actually me bonding with her during her initiation that led to me and Four moving beyond old awkwardness from ours. But since they officially became more than just boyfriend/girlfriend, something they are keeping quiet for now, her closeness with me has prompted Four’s protective instincts to make his alpha gene activate. I guess Tris looking at me all worried and asking if I was okay is what caused that to kick in and had him trying to interfere.

Oh, he didn’t come right out and say, ‘Devi you need to do your testing with someone else other than Eric’. In fact, he never even talked to me at all. He directed the conversation at Eric, reminding him of some important meetings and several proposals up for review, and was now really the time to take off for something he knew Zeke would be able to do with me? Wouldn’t it be better for someone of my rank to be tested by Zeke anyway?

It was all masked as leader business but I saw it for what it really was. Four was interfering and trying to step in because he thought that dealing with Eric would be too much for me.

Before lunch, I was mentally complaining about everything and doubting that I could handle another second with Eric if it was anything like the morning had been.

Maybe it was to spite Four.

Maybe it was to prove something to myself, Eric, Four, and everyone else that had ever doubted me.

Or maybe it was all of that. All of that and Four’s challenge of Eric and my, what I thought, right to be in Dauntless. It felt like initiation all over again.

Whatever it was had me slamming my fist hard down on the table. Dishes jumped and flatware clattered in all directions. The table conversation stopped along with the other tables on this same level that were around us. It’s enough to know that attention is on me but I don’t let that in. My only focus is Four as I let all of my ire and frustration come through in the way my eyes hold his when my action got his attention.

As mad as I am, I do remember that Four is trying to come from a good place. So I take a few calming breaths before I start talking finally.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t it say in the by-laws, that it is up to the Senior Leader of the faction to determine what training and when it is needed for all standing members of the faction?” At times like this my accent is a little thicker, my voice just a bit huskier, and I speak slowly to make sure that I’m understood completely.

I’ve been told it makes me sound menacing but I don’t see how. If it does though, then I welcome it right now.

Four’s lips thin and his skin flushes because he knows I’m right. He might have been counting on the fact that most of Dauntless unless they are really involved in the running of the faction, aren’t aware of details like that. I’m only aware of it because Eric informed me of this on our run. It took me worriedly questioning him if he would be in some kind of trouble for stepping away from all of that work I saw piled on his desk to do my training and testing. That was when he let that and another big fact drop.

Four doesn’t answer me vocally, instead, Tori answers as she sees that Four isn’t about to. I also see her glance Eric’s way and I realize, with some surprise, that he’s amazingly silent and has been this entire time. Like her, I guess I would have expected him to have some kind of snarky remark aimed at Four. I let myself glance over at him and while I do see his posture is even more rigid than usual, he isn’t even looking at Four at all. He’s looking at me, his face free of expression other than maybe curiosity.

Maybe he’s just going to wait to see how this plays out. Let me fight my own battle here. Is it wishful thinking on my part to think that maybe he isn’t stepping in because he knows I’m completely capable of handling this on my own?

“That’s correct,” Tori confirms and I look back to her, give a small nod of acknowledgment, then look back at Four as I can continue.

“Isn’t it also correct, that because of my own position being considered in the ranked officer tier, only an officer of greater standing who also has the training sanction, can oversee my training and score me?”

Again Tori nods and I see Four’s shoulders slump a little but I still carry on. This time I don’t bother to phrase it as a question, just me stating a fact that he knows I definitely know now.

“It’s also true that I brought this on myself by not doing the yearly required training and assessments that all members, but especially ranked ones, are supposed to go through. Two years automatically makes it so that the Senior Leader is the only one that has any say about what I can do to correct something that could see me thrown out. So I have to ask Four, is that what you want? Would you like to see me thrown out?”

“You know I don’t, Devi.” He replies softly. I can hear the apology in his tone.

“Then you need to let me do this and not try to interfere again.” I let my tone soften as well.

I knew where this was coming from on Four’s part. I’m not completely overwhelmed with anger at him that I don’t recognize a friend’s worry. However wrong it may be of me, worry equals fear in my eyes. Fear that I’m weak. Fear that I don’t belong.

And that causes me to feel fear that he might be right. That just like the life I left behind in Amity was a lie, my life here is a lie too. Instead of making me feel like running or denying the fear, I’m choosing to face it, to fight it, and to prove that fear wrong.

Four holds my eyes for a bit longer than I’m comfortable with, while he seems to be searching my expression for something but he finally gives me a nod and a small sideways smile. Beside him, Tris grins at him and they share a look that almost seems to me as if she’s sending him a silent ‘I told you so’ message.

The table around us seems to let out a collective release of breaths as I glance over at Eric who just casually raises his glass of water and takes a drink, but not before I see a slight tilt of his lips in a smirk.

The rest of lunch is spent listening to the others talking shop about this or that. A tiny amount of annoyance at being ignored starts to take root in me even after I mentally remind myself that it's not like I ever really like to talk at the meals I’m able to hastily grab on occasion.

Which is why Tori probably just let me eat in peace. It takes Eric asking me a few things about the clinic to bring me out of the sulking I was doing about something I would usually be grateful for. It isn’t until the end of the lunch when I realize that the questions he had and the conversation that took place was actually really pleasant.

More than that, I could tell that Eric hadn’t just tossed aside that file he took from my office, but he actually paid attention.

This realization also brings forth the whispering in my mind that my calling Four out on his attempt to interfere wasn’t all about proving him wrong it was also because deep down I didn’t want it to end.

After lunch, it was right back to the training room and workouts until dinner time. There were no big surprises or confrontations. Just more of Eric’s questions while touching and teasing me.

It wasn’t until after a few more hours of training after dinner that Eric finally gave me my keys and phone back.

Explaining, reluctantly, as we stood in his apartment where I had to go to get my bag, that he had in fact used the keys to get my stuff from my apartment after trying to call Sadie first. But when he got to there, she was just getting back and grabbed it for him instead.

Eric even more reluctantly let me leave after I had my bag. I was so tired and felt like such a mess that I didn’t bother to get mad about this, instead, I had all but begged him to let me go so I could just go home and get a shower and go straight to bed. He only let me go after giving me a warning threat that I better be in the training room by 0700. If he had to come to find me it wasn’t going to be a pleasant day.

I didn’t bother with a bath that tempted me for a second. Instead, I just did a quick shower, took the aspirin Sadie shoved at me and then crawled into bed. I passed out grateful that my mind and body were agreeing with my need for blessed sleep.

It didn’t stop the dreams though. A crazy and tangled combination of dreams that I woke up unable to remember many details on other than Eric was in them and that they left me feeling just as confused as I had spent most of the previous day feeling.

The next day, today, was even more intense. Trying to cram what normally is spread out over a week into two days means that Eric set a brutal pace and had even harder expectations of me.

We finished the weapons portion of the testing first thing in the morning and then went into a short warm-up before the run. This time the run was through an obstacle course that saw me climbing, jumping, rappelling, crawling, and balancing across a variety of different obstacles. That closed out the first part of my morning and lunch was again in the mess hall at the leader's table.

This time there was no confrontation with Four because he wasn’t even at the table. Neither was Tori for that matter. But Tris, Uriah, Marlene, and Zeke all were and I got a brief on what the last portion of the day would contain after Tris and Mar cast sympathetic looks at me.

Eric had saved the best for last.

While I wasn’t being asked to have a ranked fighting match, I still had to prove I know what I’m doing against an opponent. I don’t know if it was really because no one else was available or just because Eric wasn’t willing to let anyone in on this at all, but it was made clear I would be going against him.

I had been seriously concerned about the thought of having to fight Eric. It wasn’t until we got to the training room that he informed me how it was going to work. I had to score a certain about of points and strikes against him. And if I could last a set amount of time, then that would add to the points as well. Before we moved into that portion he was considerate enough to work on my forms with me first.

I won’t lie, the ending of today was heading towards a complete disaster.

I did everything Eric demanded of me to prepare for the final physical assessment, and even did it without much complaining on my end, even though I felt completely wrecked by the end of it.

I passed with a total of 79 from the maximum 100 points I could have gained. According to Eric, being five points over the minimum passing score was nothing to be happy about.

I disagreed and then we argued, with him using that to point out everything I could have done better and then having me do them again. Just to show me that I could and there was no reason for me not to have done them the first time.

Dinner time was passing me by very quickly, making my already bad attitude get rapidly worse. It didn’t help that I could tell Eric had no real reason for us to still be doing anything, but I couldn’t figure out why he was insisting on it. It got so bad that I just lost it and straight out started cursing him out.

I reached my limit of putting up with him and his demands as well as his attitude that was just getting worse, and I had no clue what I was doing wrong to cause him to act like he was.

“Carajo! I don’t know what is making you even more of an estúpido than normal, but I am not going to just sit here and put up with this mierda.” I snap at him and slap my hands against his chest after the final time he snapped at me for, in my opinion, no reason.

In the last hour, Eric’s cold and emotionless expression morphed into nothing but sneers and scowls. Now he scoffed angrily at me. “You’ll take whatever mierda I throw at you because if you don’t, as you so generously informed Four, I can send you packing.”

I stamped my foot in anger and frustration. My temper was getting worse as dinner time got further away. “Vete al demonio!” I yelled and whirled away from him, determined to end this and get myself some dinner.

Eric wasn’t having it as he grabbed my arm and spun me around. I lost balance but he was also pulling me forward at the time so that I slammed against his chest. “Where do the fuck do you think you’re going? You don’t get to leave until I say you can. Until I’ve signed off on that fucking paperwork, you’re mine.”

“I’m hungry, Eric!” I try for anything but the whine I know is coming, but don’t succeed.

“Fine. Then we go to my apartment and we can have dinner there.” He snaps at me, his face all contorted with anger.

“Fine!” Not that he was asking at all, but I yell out my agreement anyway.

His mouth snaps shut and he looks down at me, the anger melting slightly from his face.

"Good.” He agrees with a nod and then pulls me with him out of the gym and to his apartment.

He wasn’t holding my hand or anything. I doubt Eric even knows how to do something like that. His huge hand stayed wrapped around my wrist the entire time, even when he stopped pulling me. As if he was afraid I was going to just slip off as soon as he was distracted. For some reason, I like it.

After getting to his apartment his demeanor didn’t improve much. At least not at first. Especially when he was rummaging through his refrigerator and cabinets with a look of intensity and then something that had looked like a flash of defeat when he saw all he really had was stuff for breakfast. The frown got deeper when he explained to me that’s the only meal he ever has time to actually have there, so he doesn’t bother with getting anything else.

When told him that breakfast for dinner was actually something I did for myself a lot, his mood got better and he set about making me another omelet. The dinner that followed was so similar to that breakfast I had with him in his apartment that I couldn’t help remembering that morning.

I couldn’t help but remember our kiss and wondering why he hadn’t tried to kiss me again in our time spent together. Yeah, sure he’s touched me over the last few days, but not really like he did that morning. Then I spent the rest of the dinner wondering if I should be feeling as disappointed and hurt by that as I am.

We talked though, so I didn’t have much time to really dwell on any of that. We talked about work and what I could expect when I went back. That there is now going to be more staff from Erudite available during the week beyond the normal hours they had been staffed for, possibly even overnight, and that would also carry over on the weekends.

He hinted at meetings with Erudite to talk about more, which led to him telling me about the fact that there are several big meetings with all the factions over the next month or so. Things that will hopefully lead to improved conditions for Dauntless overall. He complained about how long the process has been taking since the downfall of the corrupt leaders here and in Erudite too.

Dinner was...pleasant, honestly.

Even if it started out a complete wreck. At the end, Eric started to turn back into being surly, like he didn’t want me to leave and was upset that he couldn’t command me to stay. Instead, he insisted on walking me back to my apartment.

At the door, I turned to tell him goodbye but never got to say a word. Once again I was pressed up against something while he was kissing me stupid.

It rattled me so badly I almost shoved the door open and just pulled him inside and straight to my bedroom. I think I would have if the door hadn’t opened and Sadie had squeaked out an apology saying she thought she had heard me having trouble opening the door.

Eric had already pulled away from the kiss to look at her and glared her back before looking at me again. His hand was still at the back of my neck and his eyes were dark. “I’m going to busy with meetings and other bullshit I couldn’t get out of for the next two days.”

I swallowed and nodded numbly. He had already informed me of this earlier during dinner when we were talking about, not only what I would be going back to at work, but what he was expecting for him too.

“You told me, Eric.” I breathe out as he brings me closer to his body.

“I’m telling you again.” He growled out then closed his eyes. “I will make sure to have time with you again but I don’t know when that might be exactly.” He frowned for a second before pulling back and looking at me. “What I said about being prepared for me anytime still stands.”

He left with a smirk as I tossed a curse word at his back. His chuckle had made me smile before I went into the apartment and slammed the door behind me. Sadie and been wide-eyed and waiting for me.

“Sorry, I really did think you were having trouble getting in and thought it be because you were so worn out.” Sadie babbled out her apology that I wave off tiredly.

“Está bien,” I mumble out then sigh and repeat it in English for her benefit. She’s used to this by now and has picked up some Spanish from me, just not enough to actually be able to hold a conversation in it.

I move further into the living room, distractedly following a routine that feels off. I go to the kitchen and pull down a glass and fill it with cold water from the pitcher we keep of it in our fridge.

As I’m drinking it, Sadie watches me carefully. “I didn’t see you at dinner. Are you hungry, did you eat, or did he keep you...occupied...in the training room?”

Her question is cautious and probing. Probably wanting to find out more about what she saw at the door. I just don’t have the presence of mind to be able to handle that right now. “I already ate. We did run over dinner a little but got food somewhere else.”

I finish drinking my water, clean the glass and put it on our drainer on the counter. Our apartment doesn’t have a dishwasher, so we have to clean the few dishes we have in the small kitchenette by hand.

“Devi, what’s going on with you and Eric?” Sadie asks me softly before I go into my room.

“Nothing. He was just doing the assessment for me but that’s done now.”

We both knew it was a lie, but it was one I was planted firmly in my mind. I still had major doubts that this was anything for him other than an amusement. Maybe a challenge. Just because I am different from the other girls in some respects doesn’t mean that in end, after he gets what he wants, I won’t become just like the others then.

*****************************************

Back in my bath, I sink under the bathwater so that the tears I refuse to acknowledge combine with the liquid in the tub. I come up when the need for air is greater than my need of denial.

Disgusted with myself I climb out of the bath, into some pajamas and sink into bed. I am grateful when my body and mind do agree for once and sink into blissful sleep.

*****************************************

It feels odd not waking up knowing that I’m going to be seeing Eric as soon as I step out of my door. I know we were only following that schedule for two days but it felt like much longer.

Despite a solid eight hours of sleep, I’m still sluggish as I get up. I contemplate going to grab a coffee from the bakery but I don’t think I can even manage that at the moment.

We have coffee here but it’s the instant kind. Our tiny kitchen can’t handle too many appliances and Sadie and I decided not to bother getting much anyway since we aren’t here so much with both of our jobs.

I fill up the kettle and put it on one of the portable induction cooktops we have, take out the jar of instant coffee and blearily measure it out into my mug then wait for the water to boil. While I’m waiting, I hear my phone buzzing from in my room.

I shuffle in to get it and shuffle back into the kitchen, temporarily forgetting why I have my phone in my hand in the first place until it buzzes again, reminding me about my unread message. I blearily look at the screen and catch the name of the sender first.

I bite my lip and stare at it with a scowl, cursing myself for the flipping in my stomach while I debate actually reading the message and wondering how Eric even has my phone information.

He did have the thing for an entire day, Núñez.

The scathing mental reminder does little to improve my mood when I realize that there is no way I’m not going to check the message. So with a sigh and my stomach fluttering, I click the message and read it.

-Since you now have lunch free, Leader’s level...or I come to find you.

I scoff and toss my phone down as I turn to pour the now boiling water into my mug and stir the mixture before I can add sugar and cream to it. I grumble the entire time, alternating between feeling elated that he wants to have lunch together, to pissed he’s making it an order for me to be there.

I decide that he’s had things his way for two days but it’s time to get back to reality and I can’t just put my life and plans on hold because of his whims. I need to get back to work and my mostly well-ordered life. I take leisurely sips of my coffee and completely ignore the warring going on in my mind and the itch I have to reply to him.

My phone buzzes with another message and this time I see his name flash on the screen as it comes in. I snatch up the phone and click on the message before I have time to change my mind.

-If I have to come to find you it won’t just be you I’ll make life difficult for, little one. Your choice.

I let out a loud growl and stream of curses as I throw my mug at the wall. It shatters and the liquid in it goes in all directions, some even landing on me and burning where it hits but I’m so angry I don’t even care.

Sadie rushes in, eyes still closed from sleep, but backs up as I spin around and brush past her while still yelling in Spanish.

I was going to reply and tell him to fuck off, but this kind of message is best delivered in person.

I yank on my boots, grab my keys and slam out of the door. The entire time I’m stomping my way to the leader offices I’m still verbally fuming out loud.

I have no clue what people think when they see me. I must look like a crazy mess because if someone gets close they jump back like they’re afraid of me or something.

My hair is up in a crazy and messy bun. I have no bra on, and just a black thin-strapped tank top along with my black sleep shorts. I’m muttering in my customary combination of the two languages and I’m shouting ‘fuck you Eric Coulter’ occasionally.

I actually hear one guy tell me to hurry up and get past him with that shit.

I finally make it to the leader's floor. A door opens towards the end of the hallway and out steps Eric. Arms crossed over his chest and a smug smirk on his face. I can see the damn thing from all the way where I’m at. As I get closer my anger elevates even more.

I don’t know why the smirk on his face starts to fade, but it does. By the time I’m standing in front of him he looks angry as hell. He jerks me into the office and slams the door behind us.

We both start to speak, our voices are raised and trying to talk over each other. I don’t know what he’s saying exactly while I’m yelling at him, asking him just who the hell he thinks he is. He doesn’t answer, he just continues to gesture wildly at me while scowling. Then I realize what he’s pissed about and the only response I can think of is to grab him by the front of his open vest and jerk him towards me. My back hits the door when his body crashes against mine and I don’t waste time in raising up on my toes and claiming his mouth hungrily.

His complaint about me being dressed like I am where anyone can see me is cut off by the kiss, which he starts to return just as fiercely as I started it. It feels like he’s using whatever feelings he was having and now communicating them with his mouth. Which is fine with me because that’s what I intended to begin with.

I shouldn’t be pleased that he was getting worked up about something I was wearing but there is a small part of me that is. Not because I’m okay with him trying to tell me what to do or what’s okay for me to wear at all, but because I could see something in his eyes and the way he was looking at me. It scared me enough that I needed to stop him from saying anything more while at the same time taking something I’ve wanted again so badly.

He groans as I bite on his bottom lip, then takes command of the kiss.

He also scoops me up so that I can wrap my legs around his waist while he backs up away from the door, and starts to walk. He’s carrying me and squeezing my ass while we go, kissing the entire time until we end up at a sitting area that’s in his office.

I expect him to toss me down on the small sofa and then pounce on me. He seems like he would be that type. Instead, he plops down onto the sofa with me in his lap and straddling him. Our tongues tangle as we kiss deeply.

One of his hands keeps squeezing and kneading my ass and hips while he pulls me tighter against him. The other hand makes its way up to my hair, where he tugs firmly to free it from the bun I had it in. I moan loudly into his mouth when he then twists it in his hand and pulls my head back, exposing my throat to him.

He greedily moves his mouth down it and begins to lick and suck in all the right places while my hands tangle in his hair. I rock against him needing more, especially of what I feel he has straining to get out to meet me right where I need him most. I feel like I’m about to combust with the heat and how much I need him right now.

Our breathing is ragged and becoming even more so with each second. I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin as he whips the hand he had on my hip up to shove the top of my tank down. Then he scoops my breast up while moving his mouth down at the same time.

He’s released the hold he has on my hair just enough that I can move it to look down and watch him. I see that he’s looking up at me like he wants to watch me watch him. I bite my bottom lip in anticipation and whimper in impatience as the second seems to last forever before his tongue snakes out and flicks against my stiff nipple.

My eyes flutter closed and my head falls back with my low husky moan of pleasure. I know that was just the beginning. First, he uses his teeth. Grazing and nipping at the taut flesh. Testing how far and hard he can go. My hips rock faster and my moan gets deeper with pleasure when it gets it just right. I feel his smirk against my skin just before he wraps his lips around it completely and sucks, licks nips, and repeats all over again.

I try to gain more friction as my hips move faster and can only groan in frustration when it’s impossible to achieve what I want with both of us still in our clothes. Eric growls into my flesh, letting his own frustration be known. Then he releases my nipple with a plop only to immediately claim my mouth again.

He stands abruptly with me still in his arms and walks towards where his desk is in the room. I gasp into his mouth when I feel and hear the sound of him shoving things off his desk and them hitting the ground. I try to break free from the kiss to take a look at the havoc but I’m barely free before he reclaims my mouth and lowers me to the desk.

I moan with anticipation as he positions me at the edge of it and I move a hand towards his pants only to have it stopped. We both pull back from the kiss, me scowling at him and him frowning with a hungry look in his eyes.

“Not that, not yet. I don’t have the time to do that properly.” He says with real regret and frustration. “But I can at least get you off before I have to go.”

His hand is already moving against me through my sleep shorts as he purrs that last bit out. I bite my lip and shift against his hand. I refuse to beg. But it’s oh so tempting to. It’s right there on the tip of my tongue as he presses his palm into my mound and rubs in a slow circle.

The pendejo knows exactly what he’s doing to me with that knowing smirk lingering at the edges of his mouth. His blue eyes glinting with a dangerous light. He also looks serious and focused, as if this is taking every bit of his willpower to not give me what I really want.

What we both really want.

Eric moves his hand to slide against my thigh and through the wide leg of my shorts then repeats rubbing me with the flat of his palm but this time with only my underwear on.

I whimper for more and Eric finally takes pity on me. He presses his forehead to mine and is breathing heavy as he moves the cotton material to the side and his fingers finally make contact with the slippery mess I’ve become.

“You need this badly, don’t you?” He says on his exhale of breath after he groaned and slid one finger into me.

I can’t answer, I’m to busy moving my hips to get more and moaning into his neck where I moved so I could lick and suck on the vein that’s pulsing there. That stopped and I had no choice but to answer when he withdrew his finger at the same time as grabbing my hair and tugging my head back.

“Tell me you need me.” He demanded in a voice that is raw with hunger and lust.

My face scrunches up with the effort to resist giving in while the throbbing ache inside of me just increases when he flicks his thumb lightly over the swollen nub of my clit. He wasn’t giving in and the throbbing just got worse.

“Sí, maldición. Te necesito ... Quiero decir ... Necesito esto.” I cried out in desperation.

That desperate cry out was turned into a gasp of pleasure once again as he slid not just one finger, but two firmly into me. He pulled my hair again to bring my mouth back to his and swallowed the rest of my cries.

Between the sound of his fingers pumping into my wetness, there was also the sound of his pleased rumblings and my muffled moans. Even as I was building to the release I desperately needed I was also feeling disappointment and longing for more.

Eric tore away from the kiss and held my eyes. “Let go for me, Devi. Come for me now, little one.” His tone was soft but it was all command in delivery. With the power of his own fierce need for me.

I saw this behind the intensity of his eyes that were glittering with it. I felt it in the way he held me in his arms and felt the way he worked to control his body, the clinch, and release of the muscles where they came into contact with me. His labored breathing that had the faint growl under it coming from a face tightened by need.

It wasn’t my words being returned but it was just as potent and it pushed me over that edge I had been hanging on to. My body shook as my voice rang out my pleasure.

“Fuck….yes.” Eric ground out loudly, almost as if he had just come undone himself. He kept pumping in me until I clenched my thighs a little and whimpered with the sensitivity that I started to feel.

He slowed and then pulled his fingers out, kissing me the entire time. I could feel his smile against my lips. I can feel the thud of his heart where I have my hand against his chest and it tells me that he was just as affected by all that as I was.

We start to kiss in a slower, more sensual manner when the door swings open with a thud. I jerk back in surprise and wrench my head around to see who it might be. Marlene stands there with wide eyes, looking between the two of us in surprise before her expression turns frightened and she stammers over her explanation. I can only imagine the glare being sent her way by Eric right now.

“Sorry...you just...not answering….they’re on their way in...sorry…” She got out in a jumble before she slams the door shut behind her.

“Shit,” Eric mumbles with a sigh.

I turn back to look at him after staring dumbly at the closed door, wondering how long it’s going to take for this tale to circulate Dauntless. I catch Eric just as he lifted his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean and grins widely at my wide eyes and whimper.

“It’ll have to do until I can get a taste straight from the source.” He leaned in and whispered just above my lips before kissing me again.

I flush, moan and clench my thighs together all at the same time as I wrap my arms around his neck and lose myself in his kiss again. We only breakaway when his phone buzzes loudly from its place on his desk.

Eric grunts in disapproval but lets me pull back.

“I still expect you at lunch.” He remarks casually but with narrowed eyes.

I huff and squinted mine right back at him. “Threatening people is not the way to do things.”

He gives a wicked chuckle and shakes his head. “Yeah? It seems to have worked just fucking fine for me before.”

I scowl and push him back as I try to get down from his desk but he grips my hips with a mocking lifted an eyebrow.

“No conmigo, no lo harás. Te lo dije antes, no soy una de esas chicas estúpidas …”

He reaches up and grabs my face, all humor has gone as he interrupts me. “And I’ve told you that you are different too. I never dated or even considered dating any of the girls before you. You alone can say this, Devi.”

My mind is a blank in shock, unable to process this. Somewhere in my mind, I hear yelling for me to say something instead of looking like an idiota. My mind finally kickstarts and I frown at him.

“When did this happen?” I ask him with a scowl.

“What did you think has been happening for the last few days?”

“You being an insufferable, demanding ass is what I thought. Never once did you ask me on a date, Eric.”

“Me making us breakfast, me taking on your training myself and taking time off to do it so I could show you how important you are to me. Lunches and dinner together. Those were dates, Devi.”

Of course, Eric would be the type to see those as dates.

I roll my eyes and shove harder this time. “By your definition, they might be. You didn’t even ask me, Eric. You commanded me to be there. I had no choice in the matter. Maybe all those other girls would just be happy to have a minute of your time but I like to have a say in the matter.”

“You had a choice. Four gave you one, and if you had looked like you wanted to take it, I would have known. But you didn’t, Devi. Tell me why you didn’t take the out he gave you if you didn’t want that time with me just as much as I wanted it with you?”

I start to walk around his desk and avoiding answering the question while searching for the keys I know I left my apartment with. I train my eyes on the floor while he follows closely behind me.

When he gets the idea that I’m ignoring him and his question he grabs my arm to stop me.

“Tell me you don’t want to see me. That you don’t want this.” He barks out when he spins me to face him.

“I do dammit! Alright! But you can’t just force me, or think it’s ok to not ask the question, Eric. It’s not okay to just think that what you consider a date is what I consider a date. Did you even think that I might not want to spend an entire day being physically punished and interrogated as well? That if I’m going to go out on a limb here with you and do this dating thing that I’ve sworn never to do again, that I might want some kind of say in it?”

Eric looks thunderstruck for a moment before he pulls me closer and frowns. “I spent time with you in the only way I could justify taking off from the crapton of work I’m under, Devi. I wanted and needed to get to know you better, and that’s my way of doing it. I’m never going to be some soft guy that’s going to sing to you or make love to you under the stars. But I’m also not going to be that guy that will start something with you only as a way to pass time until something better comes along. You aren’t the only one that has the market cornered on fucked up past relationships.”

“How would I know that about you, Eric? You know about me because you forced the answers from me but when did I get a chance to find out anything about you like that? You made me answer those questions but refused to do the same for me. This has all been on your terms.” I spot my keys by the sofa and pull from his grasp to scoop them up. “You wanted to get to know me? Well now you have, and you should have no problem understanding how I feel about having no say in my life.”

He’s still standing there, scowling at me when I open and slip out of the door.

My progress back to my apartment isn’t much better than the way I made it from there this morning. The entire time I’m walking I try to keep myself from hyperventilating or screaming or punching something….maybe all three things at once.

The entire time I’m getting ready for work one phrase keeps running through my mind. The lines of a song Sadie had played on repeat for the first month after a breakup from her last boyfriend.

‘I’m sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind. Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life. What is happening to me….’

Fuck...what is happening to me?

#fanfiction #divergent fanfiction #eric coulter fanfiction #divergent au #eric x oc #romance #smut #fluff #angst #eric coulter #oc #jai courtney #diane guerrero

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years ago

Text

Games People Play

Rating: Teen

Genre: Fluff/Minor Angst

Word Count: 8343

Summary: Baz gets dragged to a party by Dev. Simon gets dragged to a party by Penelope. Hijinks ensue. Based on "spin the bottle" request.

Read on AO3

AN: Oy vey, this took longer than I wanted. Work keeps giving me the goddamn morning and closing shifts so I've been exhausted beyond belief. But now I'm down to four shifts a week so more writing time :D Shout out to @carryonmylovelies for being the best writing helper/encouragement this side of the cosmos. Love you hun <3 Hope you guys like this!

———————————————

Baz

“Baz,” Dev whines, draping himself all over my back like some annoying floppy blanket. “Please?”

“You being pathetic is certainly not going to change my mind,” I say, focusing intently on my own notes. We have finals in a week, dammit, and my cousin is more focused on this.

“But I need you there! To be my wingman!”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think I would be a good wingman?”

“Okay, less of a wingman, more of a support.”

“And since when am I a good support either?”

Dev plops himself on my desk, pushing a pile of my perfectly stacked notes. I scowl deeply. Fucking hell, I’m going to strangle him, blood relation be damned.

“Please, Basil? I’ll get you a new bullet journal or something nerdy like that.” He flicks my stack of leather notebooks.

“Nice try, but no cigar, cousin.” I push my glasses further up my nose. “I have far too much studying to do.”

He groans and slumps further against the wall. “But Agatha is might be there! She’s finally single again after three bloody years. This could be my chance!”

I scoff. “Sure.”

Dev glares at me so hard his eyes become slits. “A man can dream.”

“A man can hallucinate, especially with the right help.”

He leans over, arching over my very important homework. “Y’know, I heard Simon is going to be there too.”

Oh. Fuck. I freeze up, heat rising to my face instantly. A grin spreads across Dev’s stupid face. Bloody hell, I wish I had never told him about my stupid crush. Him, Niall, and I were all drinking cheap beer and playing truth or dare. Apparently that beer was strong to get me to answer “who’s your biggest crush?” truthfully. It’s not something I’m proud of, crushing on my gorgeous idiot roommate. But it exists, and it makes me- he makes me very weak. Damn Dev for using it to his advantage.

“He hates parties,” I mumble.

“Yeah,” Dev leans closer, “but rumour has it, Penelope Bunce is dragging him there. Something about getting him to have fun since his breakup with Agatha. Maybe he could have fun with you.”

I immediately throw a notebook at his stupid face so I don’t have to see it. But it’s also to hide my stupid bright red cheeks. The rational part of my brain knows that’s a one in a billion shot. Snow hates me. He thinks I hate him. It can’t happen. But my lovesick side desperately wants to be hopeful. Maybe, just maybe...

“Fine,” I grumble.

Dev straightens up. “Huh?”

“Fine, I’ll go with you to the stupid party.”

Dev grins like a kid on Christmas. “Yay! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Baz!”

He throws his arms around my neck, bringing most of his weight along with him. I push him off me before I’m strangled. “Yeah, yeah, you owe me, arsehole.”

“I thought Snow’s presence was your payment.”

“No. I expect five mint Aero bars by no later than next week.”

“Ugh, fine. Small price.” He jumps off my desk, then gives me one last squeezy hug. “You’re my favourite cousin.”

“That’s not saying much, considering your other cousins are my demon siblings.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Good point. Party starts at 8 in Fraternity basement. Meet me at my room at 7:45. Bring your game face and cologne. Maybe Snow will like the smell.”

He dashes off, but not before I chuck a pen at his stupid head. It just misses. Dammit. I sigh and hold my face, rubbing it up and down. What the fuck am I doing? This is idiotic. Snow hates my guts, I’ve made sure of that. I decided early on it was easier to just make him hate me from the start than confess my feelings and have him destroy my pathetic gay heart. Snow will always despise me. A party won’t change years of fights and snark and anger. No matter how much deep down I might want it to.

The door slams open, making me jolt. I don’t even need to look to know who it is.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Snow,” I say.

“Fuck off,” he growls like an animal. His uniform is in its usual disarray, tie loose and shirt rumpled. On anyone else I would call it sloppy. But on him, I find it ruggedly charming.

“Pleasant as always, I see.” I push up my glasses and turn back to my notebook, instead of looking at his stupid bronze curls and mesmerizing plain blue eyes.

“I don’t need your shit today, Baz.” I listen as he violently throws open his desk drawers. It sounds like a cabinet in a hurricane. Snow is always a force of nature, in both good and bad ways.

I sigh sarcastically. “Alright. Be as loud and pissy as you want, not like anyone else lives here. Don’t you have chemistry right now?”

He growls again and slams his drawer particularly loud. “Forgot my notes.”

“Ah, I see. Didn’t know you could take any.” The comment is out of my mouth before I can stop it. Sharp comments at Snow have become reflex at this point.

He gives the leg of my chair a good kick, rattling my whole body. I glare at him over my glasses, and he glares right back. Bloody hell, he’s so damn attractive. I look away before my face turns red. Luckily, Snow stomps away again, and I’m left in blissful peace.

Fucking hell, this party is going to be a nightmare.

———————————————

Dev

I’m putting the finishing touches on my amazing hair when I hear the knock.

“That Baz?” Niall asks me, voice all nasally from his clogged nose. He’s on his bed, reading some football magazine while surrounded by a mountain of tissues.

“Probably,” I reply. “He’s willing to go to the party with me.”

Niall scoffs but it comes out as a cough. “Sorry I have allergies.”

“Excuses, excuses.” I waltz over to the door. “Baz is my true friend.” I fling the door open, and my hands immediately drop. “Oh my god.”

Baz raises one eyebrow at me. “What?”

“What the ever loving fuck are you wearing?!”

Baz looks down at his perfectly pressed navy slacks, buttoned to the collar white shirt, and polished black oxfords. “Have you gone blind, cousin? It’s a shirt and slacks.”

I groan and shake my head. “I can see it’s shirts and slacks, Baz. Why are you wearing it?”

“Because it’s good party attire.”

“Mother of God, Basil, you- I just-” I groan again, grabbing his wrist to haul him inside. “Get in here, we have to fix you.”

“Fix me? But-”

“You’re not wearing a suit to a high school party, end of story.” I push him down onto my bed by his shoulders. “First off, this goes.”

I reach out and ruffle his slicked back hair. He smacks my hand away. “Hey!”

I shove a finger in his face. “No one under forty slicks back their hair. And if they do, they’re an arsehole.” I hand him my wide tooth comb. “Comb it out. Now.”

“Why?” Baz hisses.

“Because you don’t want Snow to mistake you for a tight arse banker, right?”

Baz keeps frowning, but starts combing it out anyway. Good. “Next, you’re not wearing these.”

I take his glasses off his face. Baz gapes and tries to snatch the spectacles out of my hand, but I’m too fast. “Dev! Give those back!”

“No! They make you look even more nerdy, and right now we’re making you look cool.”

“But I need them to see!”

“No, you don’t. You only need them to see stuff that’s super far away. This basement is not that big, you’ll be fine. Honestly, I think you wear these to look smart.”

Baz frowns, but he doesn’t protest. He knows I’m right. I nod and go to Niall’s dresser, sorting the messy piles on top that should be in the drawers.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Niall asks furiously, but I can’t take him seriously with that high pitched clogged nose voice.

“Baz is going to borrow some of your clothes.”

“Why not your’s?”

“I’m a head shorter than Baz. You two are the same height.”

Baz scowls. “I am not wearing Niall’s clothes. He dresses like a wannabe club cruiser.”

Niall leans over and punches Baz in the arm, hard. Baz growls and punches back with just as much force. Seriously, are they still five?

“No,” I say, “Niall dresses like a normal teenage boy. And tonight you’re going to pretend you’re one too.”

I throw more clothes onto the floor, until I finally find something good. I grin ear to ear. Yes, this is perfect. I turn around and toss the clothing right at Baz’s face, hitting him with a small whack. “There. Wear these.”

Baz takes them off his face and gives them a once over. He looks positively disgusted. “Absolutely not.”

“No bitching. Put them on or we’re not going and you don’t get to gaze longingly at Simon from across the room.”

He looks indignant, and I’m worried he’s going to punch me. But instead he just huffs and stomps to the door, heading to our communal washroom I suppose. I lean to the side to shout at his back. “And you’re wearing Niall’s sneakers! Not those bloody oxfords!”

He flips me off before slamming the door hard. I chuckle and flop back on my bed.

“What would he do without us?” I sigh.

“I think he’s considering finding out,” Niall replies, then sneezes loudly into a tissue. He slowly brings it away. The whole kleenex is covered in snot.

“You’re disgusting” I say.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles. “I hope Baz ends up killing you.”

I smirk, laying down on my crossed arms. Baz won’t kill me. I’m going to have my chance with Agatha, he’ll have his chance with Snow, and we’ll both be happy. Everything will be great.

———————————————

Simon

Everything sucks.

Why am I even here? I’m tired, I’m sweaty, I’m still getting over Agatha, and this party sucks. It’s just a bunch of my classmates in a dingy basement, totally pissed out of their minds, stumbling and bumping into each other. There’s not even any dancing. What’s a party without dancing?!

“I’m bored,” I groan, flopping against Penny, cheek pressed on her head. She sighs and pushes at my side.

“You’re bored because you refuse to leave this wall next to the snack table,” she replies. “Go mix and mingle, bloody well talk to someone other than me.”

“But everyone else doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true, Si, lots of people like you.”

I scoff and cross my arms. Penny’s usually never wrong, but this time she is. People don’t like me, they’re fascinated by me; the weird orphan scholarship kid, the headmaster’s pet project. Only Penny and Agatha actually like me and know me. (Well, Agatha did like me.) And then there’s Baz, who just straight up hates me. Posh prick. Just because I wasn’t born with perfect hair and pretty eyes and a silver spoon shoved up my arse like him he thinks I’m lower than dirt. At least I don’t dress like a nerd. That’s one advantage I have over him, I guess.

“Are you going to leave any snacks for the rest of us?” Penny asks.

I look her in the eye as I shove a bunch of crisps in my mouth. “I’ve captured these crisps in the name of House Snow.”

Penny rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I never should have introduced you to Game of Thrones.”

I smile wide, crisps filling my chipmunk cheeks. Penny laughs happily. Well, maybe being here isn’t too bad. I turn back to look out at the party, still grinning. But then my mouth immediately falls open, chip crumbs spilling on my shirt.

“Simon!” Penny yells. “What are you, five?!”

I dust the crumbs off my shirt, quickly chew and swallow, and point at exactly what I’m looking at. Or more precisely, who. “Penny, Penny, look. Tell me I’m not crazy, is that Baz?!”

Penny squints, pushing her glasses up her nose. I watch as her brown eyes go impossibly wide. “Holy shit, it is.”

“Holy shit,” I echo. Because...this is insane.

In the years I’ve known him, Baz has always dressed like a posh nerd. Uniform crisp and pristine, glasses down his nose like some snooty scholar, and raven hair gelled to oblivion. But tonight, he’s very different. For one, he’s not wearing his glasses, making his cheekbones look even sharper and deep sea grey eyes more visible. His hair isn’t gelled either. It falls in his face in a lazy wave. Most shocking of all, for the first time ever, he isn’t in businessman attire. He’s wearing a torso hugging charcoal grey v-neck, white trainers, and black skinny jeans. Since when does Baz wear black fucking skinny jeans?! And they’re like, really tight, showing off every toned muscle he’s gained from playing football. I can’t stop looking, holy shit.

“Simon? Hello? You still in there?” Penny is waving a hand in front of my face. I blink rapidly, snapping out of my jeans induced trance.

“Uh, yeah, Pen, I’m here. Oh my god, what is going on with Baz tonight?”

She shrugs, looking more like me than herself. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s decided to change up his style.”

“I seriously doubt that. He’s been wearing the same kind of clothes since we were all eleven, Pen.”

“People can change.”

“Not Baz.” I narrow my eyes, examining his strange outfit with careful precision. “He’s plotting something.”

Penny sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Simon, for the last time, Baz is not some vampire supervillain.”

I scoff, crossing my arms with a frown. “Says you. I just haven’t proven it yet.”

“Whatever, Si. How about you try to have fun tonight? That’s why we’re here, remember?”

I hear what Penny is saying, but I’m still watching Baz. He’s got his arms crossed, leaning on one foot, a frown on his face. But that last one could just be, y’know, him. Everything about his face is designed for pouting. Either way, he doesn’t look happy to be here, no more than me. He must not like that his plot isn’t working or something. I keep glaring at him as I shove M&M’s into my mouth.

“And you’re gone,” Penny sighs. “I do not get your issue with him.”

“You don’t live with him,” I grumble through my candy.

“No, but I feel like I know way too much about him because of you. Seriously you need to stop obsessing over him.”

Baz lifts a hand to tuck a piece of his raven hair behind his ear, showing off the pointy tip. I stroke my chin. What’s the purpose of that? Is he trying to distract me? Is he trying to pretend he’s all cute and innocent and not evil? Strange, very strange...

“Hey! We’re playing spin the bottle!” someone shouts. “Who wants in?”

I stay on my wall. I don’t have anything against spin the bottle, but I’m busy, and not really in the mood to kiss a few random classmates. Plus I haven’t seen Agatha yet, but she might not be here. I’d rather not run into her.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on my arm and someone is dragging me away. I look over at Penny, who has a determined expression on her face.

“Pen, where are we going?” I ask, fear filling my voice.

“You’re going to play spin the bottle.”

I inhale sharply. “What?! No way!”

“Yes way! You’re going to go have fun, dammit.”

“Is spin the bottle supposed to be fun? I thought it was just embarrassing.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never played. And I’m not going to play cause I’m in a serious relationship.”

“Great endorsement,” I mutter. I try to wriggle out of her grip, but it’s no use. She’s like a bloody pitbull. Eventually, she turns to face me, hand on her hip.

“Simon, you can’t mope and overthink about Baz against a wall the entire time. Just try this, see if you have fun. You haven’t had fun in ages. You can stop anytime, just try please.”

I sigh, body and ego deflating at once. “Fine, I’ll try.”

Penny smiles a bit. “Good.”

She lets go, but I keep walking towards the loose circle of tipsy British teens. I recognize most of them. Trixie, Keris, Rhys, Gareth, and Philippa. (Luckily no Agatha, that would be awkward.)

“Hey we’ll join!”

We all turn to the left. “Oh god,” I groan.

Baz glares at me as he sits next to Dev, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes are deep sea grey daggers trying to stab me in the head. Why did he have to sit so close to me?! Luckily there’s a slightly drunk boy between us, wobbling back and forth even though he’s sitting. Hope he doesn’t get sick on any of us, especially if we’re supposed to be bloody kissing.

Oh fuck, what if I have to...no, no way. There’s very little chance that will happen. The universe can’t hate me that much.

Keris raises her hand. “I’ll go first.”

I lean my cheek on my palm. I really don’t care who goes, as long as it’s not me. Keris grabs the vodka bottle and gives it a good hard spin. I follow the spinning with my eyes, watching as the low orange light reflects off the glass. It’s kind of hypnotising, almost makes me want to sleep. Christ, I’m bored.

The bottle finally stops, and everyone either laughs or groans. It lands right on Trixie. I burst out in fits of giggles, clutching my stomach. Okay, maybe the universe sucks, but at least it has a sense of humour.

“You cheated!” Gareth declares.

Keris snorts and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I can totally cheat at spinning a bottle, Gareth.”

“If there is you found a way!”

Keris shrugs. She turns to her left and kisses her girlfriend right on the mouth. The really drunk people whoop and cheer. Some of my more immature male classmates gasp or gape like fish. Penny just sighs behind me. This isn’t unusual for her. I’ve heard many rants from her about Trixie and Keris’ snogging in her room. This is probably mild for her.

The couple separates with a little pop. Both girls are grinning ear to ear. A few boys are still gaping, which is kind of gross. I glance over at Baz, to see if maybe he’s having any sort of reaction. But he’s still as stone faced as ever. He seems to be having even less fun than me. That’s one plus, I guess.

“My turn,” Trixie singsongs. She lays a delicate hand on the bottle and spins it. It lands a foot away from me, and for a second I think it landed on Baz. My heart rate jumps a beat. Holy shit, did that land on him? But when Dev raises his hand, I let out a long breath, feeling relieved for some reason.

“I don’t think you want to kiss me,” Dev chuckles, and everyone else chuckles along with him. Except Baz, because he’s a creature of darkness who is physically incapable of laughter.

“The cheek okay?” Trixie asks

Dev shrugs with a small smile. “I’ll take it.

Trixie leans forward on her knees and Dev follows. She plants a big wet kiss on his cheek. Rhys gives a sarcastic whoop and holler. Gareth gives his own over dramatic “oooooo” and pumps his fist. As she sits back, Trixie rolls her eyes, going back to slum;ing on Keris’ shoulder.

“You two are so mature,” she drawls.

Gareth and Rhys keep giggling and high five each other. I chuckle under my breath. It’s immature, but just a bit funny. Dev takes the bottle in hand and spins it hard. I’ve heard rumours he has a crush on Agatha, so whoever he gets he’ll probably be disappointed. I’m getting bored again, leaning on my hand. The bottle lands on Philippa. The cheering duo gets punched in the arm by Keris before they get out too many whoops or hollers.

Dev looks at the ground, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, you wanna, Philippa?”

Philippa flicks her eyes over to me for a second. I’m not sure what she hopes to see. Honestly, I feel kinda bad for not being what she wants me to be for her. I look down, because I’m not sure what else to do.

“Sure,” Philippa replies.

I lift my head just enough to see what happens. Dev and Philippa crawl towards the centre of the circle. They both look very nervous, both lacking in experience or alcohol or probably both. He leans forward, eyes closed and lips pursed. She does the same and closes the distance. The kiss barely lasts half a second, but drunk people still cheer like it’s a Manchester FC game. Dev and Philippa scramble to their seats with bright red faces.

Philippa spins the bottle without saying anything. I’m barely following at this point. Pretty sure I’m going to leave after this and go stuff mint aero bars in my mouth. That’s the best breakup therapy in my opinion. I hope Baz hasn’t eaten my entire stash.

“Simon?” Penny taps my shoulder forcefully. “Simon, it landed on you.”

My head snaps up, only to see everyone staring at me, some looking very confused and concerned. I look down at the vodka bottle, the top pointing right at me. My eyes go wide. “Oh,” I squeak.

Philippa is blushing all the way down to her neck,with a small smile. She plays with the end of her hair. “Do you want to?” she asks.

I gulp, fiddling with my fingers. I’m nervous, but not really reluctant. Philippa is nice enough and I know she likes me. Maybe it’ll be nice, maybe I’ll feel something. What’s the harm?

“Uh, sure,” I say with a slightly forced smile.

Philippa’s smile gets a bit bigger. Fuck, am I leading her on? I don’t want to hurt her. This is a terrible idea, shit. She crawls forward, closing her eyes and sticking her face out. I shuffle towards her, squeeze my eyes shut, and kiss her.

It’s slightly longer than her kiss with Dev, but not by much. Long enough for me to realise her lips are smooth and smell like vanilla. Other than that I feel...nothing. It’s not that Philippa is bad. I just don’t feel a spark or anything close. I used to feel something with Agatha. Not a lot, but there was a stomach drop or a heart flutter at first. Not now. Part of me is scared I’ll never find anything like that again.

We separate, everyone is still making their obnoxious cheers. They’re laughing and smiling, so I try to smile back. The only person not so happy is, weirdly enough, Baz. He’s got his arms crossed and the corners of his mouth threaten to break out of his cheeks just so his scowl can get bigger. What’s got his knickers in a twist? Maybe he has a crush on Philippa. Well, pissing him off is a benefit I guess.

“Your turn, Simon,” Philippa says meekly, smiling and blushing at the ground.

“Um...” For a minute, I seriously consider standing up and running like the wind. But everyone is looking at me. I guess one more time couldn’t hurt. “Okay.”

I grab the bottle and give it a firm spin. But I guess I’m slightly on an angle, because it spins to the left like a wayward football. People scramble away to not get hit, giggling and clinging to their friends. I’m just focused on where it lands. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can bow out gracefully and stuff my face with chocolate. It slows bit by bit, and finally, it stops. I snap my head up to see who it landed on. I’m met with a pair of panicked deep sea grey eyes.

Oh fuck.

Baz

That’s it, God hates me. There’s absolutely no question now. Of all the people he could’ve landed on, why did it have to be me?! This is an absolute disaster. Panic washes over my body like a nonstop tidal wave. Dev laughs and slaps me on the back, like this is some football goal at a match. I want to shout at him for being a numpty and run away to a very dark corner where I can just die.

But I’m frozen, staring at a gaping Simon Snow.

“Oh fuck,” a drunk guy slurs to his friend, trying to whisper but failing horribly, “don’t they like, hate each other?”

Snow’s face shifts from shock to a deep, deep scowl. He jumps to his feet. “Yeah, we do. So this is not happening.”

I manage to stifle my sigh of utter relief, but my silence is probably odd. So I cross my arms and stick my nose in the air. “Good. Like I would ever want to your chavy mouth on mine.”

Fuck, why did I add that last part? I hope I’m not blushing and giving myself away. Snow is turned around, ready to leave, but throws a fiery look at me over his shoulder. “Fuck off, Baz,” he snaps.

“Very eloquent, Snow. Forgot to mention your mouth is stupid too.” Except it’s not stupid. It’s full and soft looking and fucking beautiful, and I wish he wanted to kiss me with it.

Snow balls his fist and looms over me. “Well, your mouth is naturally made for frowning.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, very nice. Your’s can’t form proper sentences.”

“At least I’m not spouting shit all the time!”

“Either follow the rules of the game or leave, Snow.”

Bunce rubs her nose under her glasses. “Simon, let’s just go.”

She takes his arm but he doesn’t listen to her for once, shaking her off and menacing over me more. “Oh, you want me to kiss you, Basilton?”

Oh fuck fuck fuck, what is wrong with me?! I didn’t drink anything. I think I’ve just lost my goddamn mind. I need to get out of here before I burst into flames from pure embarrassment.

I stand up, brushing off these ridiculous jeans. “Of course not. I would rather go back to our room than have my lips torn up by your dry ones.”

Simon growls like a caged animal. And it should not make me as excited as it does. “My lips are not dry.”

“Guys,” Gareth says slowly, “maybe you should just-”

“The constant bleeding and scabs would disagree.” Leave Snow, for the love of God, just storm off with Bunce, please.

“Oh yeah?” Snow leans forward over the drunk boy in between us. “Well, I bet if I kissed you, you would like it, arsehole.”

If I wasn’t blushing before, I certainly am now. I am literally going to explode on the spot any minute. I scoff and look away.

“Like hell I would.” Yes, I would, and it would be awful.

“Fuck you, you would!”

“Never!” I snap, digging my nails into my arm.

Snow growls once again. “I bet my goddamn sword history book you would!”

He’s leaning closer now, close enough I can smell his cheap soap. It makes my pulse quicken terribly, like the thump of a rabbit’s foot. “It would be easy winnings.”

“Says you!”

“Yes, and I’m right!”

“No you’re not!”

“I am!”

“Why don’t I prove it, huh?!”

“Fine, go ahead!”

I don’t even have time to process what I said. Because Simon Snow immediately grabs my collar and kisses me.

Holy fuck.

Simon

I just want to prove I’m right, and stop his stupid mouth. I hate when he throws insults at me. And now it seems for once I’ve actually shut him up. We’re both frozen in place, me shoving my mouth on his. I faintly hear everyone gasp around us. But I’m too focused on kissing Baz. Oh my fucking god, I’m kissing Baz!

He’s just standing like a statue while I hold his collar with a death grip and squeeze my eyes shut. He’s really not moving at all, not even a twitch. Is he surprised? That would make sense. Scared? I won’t hurt him, not right now. It’s just a kiss.

Baz’s lips are colder than Agatha’s. Softer too. Like silk sheets on a chilly night. It feels kind of nice, actually. When his top lip slightly slips between mine, I swear to god, my brain short circuits. Scratch kind of, this feels really nice. Sensation spreads from my mouth through my whole body. Why does this feel so much better than when I kissed Philippa? Or even better than Agatha? This is so confusing and amazing my brain is about to explode.

I don’t even know how long we spend with our lips pressed together. I tilt my head to the side a bit, just for a change of pace. And even though it’s crazy, I swear, for a moment Baz relaxes and pushes his mouth forward. Pushing his mouth closer to mine. Oh my god. Is...is Baz kissing me back? It feels so much better.

My hands slide around to the back of his neck, and Baz’s hair is soft of course. I think about grabbing it, but Baz suddenly pushes me away. It happens so out of the blue I stumble back in shock. I expect him to be angry, to punch me in the face or at least shout until he’s blue in the face. But Baz, he looks, scared. What’s there to be scared of? His eyes frantically dart around, chest heaving, until he looks back at me. I’ve never seen someone so frightened in my entire life.

Baz turns and bolts away, slamming the door behind him.

The entire room is silent for a long, awkward moment. You could hear a bloody pin drop it’s so quiet. I’m frozen, mouth hanging open. I can’t even process what just happened. So many things are going through my head right now, turning into a mushy goop of mismatched ideas and fears. I look at Penny.

“Pen, I- what just- I...” I can’t form words. My mouth and tongue feel so unbelievably useless, even more so than usual.

“Simon-” she starts. But before I hear what she says, I’m off running. I don’t know why I’m doing it, but I have to follow Baz. I just have to.

———————————————

It takes me way, way too long to find him. I search all throughout the Fraternity before I remember just how bloody dramatic Baz is. He wouldn’t hide away in the building, he’d go to where he always goes when he’s upset. Not his room or an alcove like a normal person. The Wavering Wood.

I run across the great lawn, wind whistling in my ears. The trees get larger and larger until I finally reach the edge. It’s dark out, so I have to navigate mostly by my other senses. I feel rough bark, sink into on wet dirt, hear the leaves crunch beneath my boots. I squint, trying to see in the darkness. And when I catch a glimpse of black shining in the moonlight, I dash towards it.

Baz is sitting under a tree, legs pulled up to his chest, face buried in his knees. Raven hair fans around him. I watch his back heave and shudder. Fuck. I don’t think he’s okay.

Slowly, I walk towards him, careful not to make too much noise. I don’t want to spook him, no more than he already is. But of course I step on a fucking branch, the snap ringing through the whole goddamn woods. Baz’s head bolts up. His eyes are wide and scared like a deer caught in the headlights. Tear streaks stain his cheeks. We keep staring at each other, until Baz looks back at the ground.

“What do you want, Snow?” he asks. He’s trying to be intimidating, but his voice is too strained to scare me.

“I, uh...” Fuck, what do I want? Why am I here? I’m not Baz’s friend. Quite the opposite, really. Yet it hurts to see him like this, so I start walking towards him, fiddling with my belt hole loops. “I wanted to see how you were doing. You um, ran out of there pretty fast...”

He snorts unkindly. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to follow, Snow.”

I groan, rolling my head back. “Man, I’m actually trying to be nice, there’s no need to be an arsehole.”

“Since when do you care about me?”

I shrug as I sit down on the grassy ground. I’m cross legged, facing Baz and his dagger stare. “You looked scared back the party, and then I see you here crying. I’d be worried no matter who you were.”

He rolls his eyes incredibly dramatically. “Of course, Mr. Hero. Any kittens that need to be saved from trees? Probably more pertinent than me.”

“You’re the one crying in the woods, so I think you take top priority.”

Baz tries to wipe away the tear marks, but they stay the same. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, you’re obviously upset.”

“No matter what, it’s none of your business.”

I look down at the ground, playing with my shoelace. I know what I want to mean, but I’m not sure how to get the words right. Everything I’m considering seems dumb. Baz will throw anything stupid back in my face. Actually, stupid or not, he’ll throw it back. Might as well just go for it.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. I flick my eyes up, and Baz is gaping at me, his eyebrows are all scrunched together.

“You’re...sorry?” he says, genuinely confused for the first time in his life.

I rub the back of my neck. “Y-Yeah, I’m just, really sorry.”

“For what?”

What the hell does he mean? What else could I be talking about? I look right at him. “For like...kissing you when you didn’t want it. It was stupid and impulsive and really rude to you. You should never kiss anyone when they don’t want it. So I’m really sorry.”

“You...think I didn’t want you to kiss me?”

“Um, yeah. I thought you said I could, but then you ran out of there pretty fast afterwards. So I’m just super sorry, Baz.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, only filled by wind whistling through the branches. I keep looking at the ground. I’m not sure what Baz’s expression, and I’m not sure I want to see. I hope he’s forgiven me. I honestly don’t know what to do if he doesn’t.

“Thank you, for the apology,” he says slowly. “But you don’t have to feel bad.”

My head snaps up. Baz is looking away now. And in the pale moonlight, I can see a faint blush going all the way to his ears. I’m not worried anymore, just unbelievably confused. “W-What do you mean?”

Baz plays with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, I’m not upset that you kissed me without my permission, because you had it. I did say you could. We both made an impulsive decision.”

“Then why did you run off so fast?”

He twists the hem so hard I’m afraid he’s going to tear it. “Because, it’s just embarrassing to have your first kiss in front of your entire class, no matter who it is.”

My eyes go impossibly huge. I swear they become bigger than the moon. Holy fucking shit. “That back there was your first kiss?”

His blush gets worse, spreading down to his neck. Baz has always been so cool and calm. I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s strange, but kind of makes him seem more human in a way. He nods slowly.

“Oh,” I squeak. I inch closer, trying to comfort him, before remembering that I’m the last person Baz wants comfort from. Especially after I embarrassed him. God, I feel like a prat. “I-I’m still sorry then. I didn’t mean to take that away from you.”

“Stop saying sorry, Snow,” he sighs. “It’s really fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was okay with it, because I li-” His lips press together before he says anything else. He plays with a loose strand of his hair, looking nervous and shy, still blushing so hard his entire face is red. The gears start turning in my head. I’m not as oblivious as everyone thinks I am. I can see things, they can just take a bit longer. And I think I see something very big now.

“Wait,” I say slowly, “do you...like me?”

Baz bites hard on his bottom lip and clenches his fists. A few more tears fall down his cheeks, but he doesn’t wipe them away, not even acknowledging they exist. My mouth drops open.

“For how long? Have you, uh, felt like that?”

He finally looks at me, his eyes wet and vulnerable. I’ve never seen him like this before, not ever. He doesn’t look like a villain, or a bully, or even an arsehole. He just looks like...a boy.

“A long time,” he whispers harshly, like he’s forcing the words off his tongue. “Almost since we met.”

And I thought I was done with surprises for the night. My heart is beating twofold, but I’m not sure with what emotion. Everything is so jumbled and twisted up right now. “O-Oh. Really?”

Baz rolls his eyes, though he looks more annoyed than genuinely angry. “Yes, really. You think I would make that up?”

“I don’t know! I’m not sure I know anything about you anymore...” I nervously scratch at the back of my wrist until the skin turns red. Nothing is processing, nothing makes sense. And one question pops up immediately. “If you feel that way, why have you always been such a wanker?”

Baz lets out a small snorty laugh, and immediately covers his mouth. But it’s kind of adorable. And I kind of want to hear it again. “Very well put question, Snow.”

“Are you gonna answer it or keep being a wanker?” I’m not angry, just tired really.

“Fine,” he sighs. He goes back to twisting his hair and shirt, chewing on the corner of his pouty lip. “I was a wanker because it was easier.”

“Easier?”

His face lowers even more, nearly behind his knees. “Easier for you to hate me, than for me to confess my stupid feelings and innevitably have you break my heart.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, almost offended that he thought I would be so cruel. But Baz looks even more hurt. I think that his feelings matter more right now. “Oh. Okay. You thought I would really hurt you?”

“You were straight as an arrow and already madly in love with Wellbelove when we were 11.” He traces the dirt with his toe, scuffing the pretty white trainer. “You would’ve hurt me even if you didn’t mean to.”

“Oh,” I squeak.

Baz scoffs with the corner of his mouth pulled up. “That’s your favourite sound tonight, Snow.”

I let out a sort of scoffing chuckle. He’s an arse, but funny. I’ve never noticed how funny he can be in his own biting way before. “Well, you keep dropping bombshells, it’s perfectly reasonable. Honestly you’re lucky I’m not exploding everywhere.”

He laughs, still small, but doesn’t cover his mouth. He doesn’t hide. “Yes, well, cleaning up bits of you off the forest floor wouldn’t be my favourite activity. It would be more fun than your snoring though.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Yes you do, I would know. You’re like an adorable little fog horn.”

We both laugh, starting small and getting louder and louder. Baz even begins to giggle, fucking giggle. He sounds like a thousand little silver bells. I shouldn’t be laughing. Usually I would be offended by his jabs. I’d yell and scream at him for being a dick. But he’s laughing, smiling, all with a playful glint in his deep grey eyes. I wonder, is this what Baz is really like? When he isn’t trying to make me hate him?

“I like this,” I blurt out. Baz stops laughing immediately. A confused furrow forms between his brows.

“Like what?” he asks cautiously.

“This, right now, what we’re doing. Being nice and honest.” I shuffle closer, knees nearly touching his. “I like this better than fighting.”

Baz’s pouty lips fall open slightly, just barely half an inch, and his eyebrows raise. I think that’s Baz’s equivalent of completely, utterly shocked. “Seriously?”

I grin as wide as I can. “Yeah, seriously. Do you, uh, like it too?”

I expect Baz to smile, to laugh, to be happy. But instead he looks scared. Even his hands are shaking. I reach forward, but Baz pulls away, wrapping his arms around himself. Another tear falls down his face but he quickly wipes it away.

“Why were you crying?” I ask quickly. “Was it just like, embarrassment?”

Baz slowly shakes his head, more black hair falling in his face in a lazy wave. “N-No, it’s just...this can’t be happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t stopped hating me, that can’t change.”

His voice is so small and scared. I blink rapidly, tilting my head to the side. “Why not?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, staring at his own lap. “Because I’ve made your life hell for years! Because one stupid kiss and a few laughs can’t change things after so long.”

I move even closer. I can see every crevice in his face the moonlight hits, every sign of his tears. Oh. I think I get it, sorta. I kissed him, and Baz wanted it, but he was sad because he was sure it would never happen again. That’s a reasonable conclusion. At least, it was.

“Maybe it can’t change everything right away. But,” I reach forward and touch his wrist, just lightly, and when he doesn’t move away I stay there, “we could try, y’know. To change things.”

He doesn’t look up, but his brows wrinkle together again, and I find it unbearably adorable. “What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” I say quickly before I lose my nerve. “I mean, I’m not a very great boyfriend, if my last relationship is any clue. But if you want this, I want this.”

I stare at the ground, too nervous to look at Baz’s face. I don’t let go of his wrist though, and he doesn’t move away, but it’s still silent again. Every passing second makes my anxiety build up and up like a shaken soda about to blow. Will he run away? He ran away before. I don’t want him to go, not again. I don’t want to lose him. (Fuck, that’s dramatic.)

“You’re an idiot,” Baz sighs, and it makes my breath hitch. “But you can have...this, if you want.”

My head snaps up so fast my neck hurts. Baz is finally looking at me, eyes soft and open. I’ve never seen him like that before. A grin spreads across my face. I probably look stupid but I couldn’t care less.

“I do,” I say, “I really do.”

He smiles softly. Slowly, he turns his hand around and fully holds mine. His skin is colder than most people’s and strangely rough for someone so posh. His calluses scratch perfectly against mine. It feels incredible, somehow so much better than holding anyone else’s hand. Just like that kiss.

“Hey, uh,” I nervously run my thumb over his tepid skin, “can I, um, maybe...kiss you again? Like in a nicer way?”

Baz chuckles, squeezing my hand. “Yes, you lovely moron, you may. If we’re going to date, you need to fix your gram-”

I get up on my knees and shut his cute smartarse mouth by pressing mine against it.

Baz

Bloody hell, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. Because for the second time in one night, Simon Snow is kissing me. And this time he really wants to, because he likes me, because he wants to be my boyfriend.

It’s not forceful or angry like before, just firm enough to get me to stop mocking him. I freeze for a moment, the shock hitting me like a truck. But slowly, bit by bit, I let myself melt into it. Snow tilts his head to the side, so I do too, letting our lips slip together. Simon does this thing with his chin that drives me insane. At first I try to mimic exactly what he does, shoving back with my body and mouth, but I quickly realise I have zero idea what I’m doing. For once, Snow is the expert. So I let myself relax, giving up control for the first time in my life. Snow pushes me against the tree and places a hand on the side of my face. He delicately runs his thumb over my cheekbone, like I’m something good, something precious to him. Is this a fucking dream?

His hand moves farther back. Calloused fingers slip through my hair as his tongue slips between my lips. It’s warm and wet and the best thing I’ve ever felt in my entire miserable life.

“Baz,” he sighs quietly between our mouths.

No, this isn’t a dream. My imagination has never been this perfect.

I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him flush against me. “Simon,” I groan. He kisses me harder, clenching a fist in my hair to better shove our faces together. Suddenly my breath feels short, and I push lightly at Simon’s chest. He moves away instantly.

“Sorry,” he says. He’s out of breath, unsurprisingly. I am too.

“No it’s okay, just,” I sigh and run my hands up his sides, “this is quite a lot for a second kiss. I just need a breather.

Simon giggles quietly. He falls forward, tapping his forehead against mine. I press my hands into his back, feeling the muscles through his shirt. We stay like that for awhile. I don’t mind. I would stay with Simon in my arms forever if I could.

“Hey,” he whispers, eyes still closed and leaning against me, “I’ve got a question.”

“Is it a sensical question?”

He pinches the back of my neck, just lightly. Not enough to hurt but enough to make his annoyance clear. “Yes, arsehole. Why were you at the party? You hate parties.”

“So do you.”

“Penny dragged me to it to have mandatory fun. So what’s your reason?”

I chuckle quietly. “Funny enough, Dev begged me to come with him because he wanted support for when he hit on your ex-girlfriend.”

Snow reels back, eyes wide and mouth falling open. “Seriously?!”

“M-hm.”

“But Agatha didn’t even come!”

“Yup. So it looks like I’ve had far more romantic success tonight than my cousin.”

Snow snorts out an adorable laugh. His hand trails forward across my jawline. It leaves sparks of sensation on my skin. He plays with a piece of loose hair in front of my face. “Y’know, I like your hair like this. You should leave it loose more often. Save some money on hair gel.”

I chuckle again, and Snow follows. Soon it turns into a loud laughter from both of us. I’ve never laughed more in my life than I have tonight. Once I calm down, I look up at him, smiling brightly. “M-hm. And you’re someone to take fashion advice from?”

A small part of me worries Snow is going to scowl and yell at me for being a prick. But instead he smiles too and rolls his eyes. I let out a small breath of relief. Everything is different now, and I love it so much more.

“Yeah, well, I know a good thing when I see it.” His hands goes lower, trailing over the soft v-neck. “Like this shirt. It fits you well.”

“Really?” I croon, trying to hide the fact that I’m exploding inside.

“Uh-huh. And these jeans. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you in them.”

I grin so much my cheeks happily ache. “Well, I’ll let Niall know you like his clothes.”

His mouth drops open. “This is Niall’s stuff?!”

I cock an eyebrow. “You think I own clothes like this?”

“Well, no. But I, uh, kind of wish you did. You should definitely buy more jeans...”

His cheeks are cherry red. I’m pretty sure mine are too. I hold his waist tighter, tilting my head up towards his. “I’ll be sure to get some on my next trip into town.”

He smiles again, looking like a ray of sunshine. “Can I come with?”

God, he’s like an adorable little puppy. “I don’t see why not, Snow.”

He leans forward and brushes our noses together. “You called me Simon before.”

“No I didn’t,” I singsong.

Snow pushes even closer to me, warm lips against my ear. “I like it,” he whispers. “I like it when you call me Simon.”

How have I not melted into the forest floor yet? I don’t feel like a real person anymore. Just the remnants of a pathetic gay teenager who’s melted into a puddle after having all his dreams come true in a single night. I hold him tighter. Because I’m not letting him go anytime soon.

“Simon,” I sigh, just before I turn my head and kiss him softly. He reciprocates immediately, and I’m in absolute euphoria. I know we have to move eventually but I don’t want to anytime soon.

“Best spin the bottle game ever,” Simon giggles.

“Damn right,” I whisper, just before pulling him back into a searing kiss.

My god, I’m living a charmed life.

———————————————

AN: Main worry with this fic: I feel like things move too quickly, but at the same time I didn't want to drag it out. Like we all know what's going to happen, best not to beat around the bush lol. Either way, this has flaws like anything I write, but I still like it. I thoroughly enjoyed writing Simon's reaction to Baz in tshirt and jeans lol. Hope you peeps liked it too, see you next fic :)

#carry on #snowbaz #baz pitch #simon snow #penelope bunce #dev #niall #normal au #spin the bottle #mysnowbazfic

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fantasyfandommaiden · 5 years ago

Text

ML Counsellor AU: Tikki’s Closure

Carmine, after gathering items of at Farmers Market with Adrien, asks of Plagg a small favour, to have Tikki come to her apartment tonight in an attempt to help the kwami of creation with something. When Plagg inquires What it is, Carmine only gives one word. Closure.

[[MORE]]

After the eventful shopping trip at the farmers market, Carmine waited until the sun set before beginning the rest of her preparations for her next guest. She had prepared the right materials, she had cleansed the area with sage, and had taken a long cleansing shower. Gladiolus, her ever faithful ferret familiar, had taken it upon himself to make sure that each of the candles were in the exact position they were suppose to be, as well as bring over the matches that they would need to light the candles, before laying down on the table in front of Carmine.

She had braided her long red hair, and wore a simple black dress, and her usual pendant and ring as always. Carmine made the tea and waited for her next patient... she hopped she had gotten the message anyway...

~~~~~

While in her apartment a few hours later, Carmine had finished explaining the linage spell to Adrien. He was about to leave to go home and requested to use the bathroom, leaving herself and Plagg alone. Perfect.

“Plagg, I have a favour I need to ask of you.”

“Only if you tell me why you need that filthy fleas bone.” The kwami responded, still glaring at the bone within the glass bottle. “I thought this guy burned with a part of Paris, how did you find his bone? He doesn’t even deserve to be reduced to a pinkie! Frollo deserves nothing!”

“It has to do with the favour.” Carmine explained to him calmly “I need you to send a message to Tikki tonight, and ask her to come here.”

Plagg finally tore his eyes away from the bone to look at Carmine with a raised brow “... why?”

Carmine remained quiet for a moment, thinking it over slowly on how to respond to the tiny god “... I wish to offer her the chance to have some closure.”

~~~~~~

Carmine And Gladiolus looked up as she saw a red dot phase through her wall and float towards her with a small, If hesitant smile. “Good evening Carmine.”

Carmine returned to small smile with one of her own “Good evening Tikki, I see you received Plagg’s message.”

Tikki gave a small nod “Yes. We are able to send messages to eachother, although it is as draining as it is for our holders to use our Miraculous, so I was surprised to receive one asking me to come tonight.” Tikki informed her, looking at Carmine with a slight curious gaze “Why have you asked me to come?”

Carmine looked at Tikki with an even gaze “How much has Plagg told you about me?”

“If you are referring to your magic, I’ve known for awhile.” Tikki said in a sage like tone, slowly floating down to the table to sip at the small tea cup provided for her “Your magic, although not strictly under the creation domain, I can still feel it somewhat. It took awhile for me to realize it, since I haven’t been around a true magic user in a few centuries.”

Carmine gave a small smile “That makes this a bit easier than.” She said, brining out a large leather book, looking towards Tikki “... I know how in our last session, we were discussing closure, and how you never got to have proper closure with some of your previous holders.” She began, looking at Tikki, who looked like she was about to interrupt but Carmine stopped her “Before you ask, I would never, and have never, altered someone’s mind in that way. It goes against my belief that somethings need to be worked out before you use magic. If I have never used magic to erase a phobia, or force someone to find closure. It can cause damage more than anyone can heal... I’m suggesting something even more... ‘old school’.” Carmine told Tikki, who looked around at the table.

Carmine had out white candles, as well as some sage, and other herbal items. Tikki also noted the bone in the glass jar, glaring at it.

“... I needed the bone of a long dead priest in order to preform this ritual, as a sort of anchor into the veil.” Carmine explained to the kwami, as Tikki looked back at her, eyes widened “... you want to preform a seance.”

Carmine gave a small nod “Only with your permission, and only if you are up to it. I know it can be a lot, and this might be me over stepping my bounds but-“

“Joan.”

Carmine blinked, looking at Tikki with a soft expression as the Kwami looked at her, almost trembling “... I want to speak to Joan... I want to apologize for not being there for her.”

Carmine remained silent, before simply nodding “Very well. I will warn you, that the spirit that will appear will have the appearance of his or hers most strongest memory, and with how she passed on....” Carmine trailed off, remembering how the great Joan of Arc had been burned to the stake. Tikki said nothing, continuing to look at Carmine with her slightly trembling form.

“Will... will she truly appear?” Tikki asked, looking at Carmine, who nodded.

“There is a variation of this spell, specifically for holders of the Miraculous, however I would need the hair of the current chosen, willingly given of course, as well as your saliva. I couldn’t ask of that, mainly because I have never done the spell before and wouldn’t want it to backfire, and also I imagine the Guardian wouldn’t be please if I had those items would be?”

Tikki gave a slight shake of her head “... no he would not.”

“So we do the general version. Or, as general as the Rosewood family can be.” Carmine said as she opened the book and began turning the pages to find the correct one, Tikki still sat in silence.

Carmine lite the white candles that were all over the table with a match before sitting down again, looking down at the book in front of her before she began to speak the incantation, holding the pinkie bone tightly in one hand.

“I call to the place beyond the veil,

Where spirits go whether they be strong or frail.

I humbly speak out this request,

However know I do not do this out of humour or jest.

I ask to speak to one who is among the depart,

Please let us speak to Joan of Arc.”

The candles, which had began to flicker when Carmine first began to speak, all glowed an eerie blue colour as each small flame floated off its respected candle, margining into one ball of flame that continued to float TIL it was in the chair opposite of Carmine and Tikki.

A shape began to form, and Carmine readied herself for what was about to appear. Like she said, the spirit would appear with how it looked during its strongest memory, and Carmine feared that that memory would be Joan being burned alive. She was surprised, however, when a young woman with short hair appeared, wearing a spotted tunic with armour, and a soft smile, not a burn mark on her.

“Greetings.” The ghost said to Carmine, to which the woman only nodded in reply, looking down at the small kwami beside her who had gone completely still, her face showing an expression of pure shock as she stared at the French woman in front of her.

Joan looked towards where Carmine’s eyes were, blinking slightly before giving a bright smile “Greetings Tikki, it is good to see you in good health-“

“Joan!” Tikki finally cried out, flying towards the ghost only to be stop by Gladiolus bitting onto her tail, Tikki tried to protest but seemed to remember the spirit would not have a body for her to hold.

Tears gathered in her large blue eyes as she stared at the ghostly Specter, who looked at Tikki with a soft, somber smile “Joan, I am so sorry! I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you! I’m sorry for what happened, for everything those bastards did you! You didn’t deserve it! You were young, and glorious! You were an amazing Ladybug, and you were so... so...” the kwami let out a soft hiccup as large tear dropped fell from the Kwami’s eyes onto the table, her entire form trembling as Gladiolus slowly released the Kwami’s tail.

Joan continued to look down at Tikki with a sad smile “Tikki, you have nothing to apologize for, as I told you before I renounced you.” The spirit said gently to the trembling kwami “Even if I was to replay that day a million times I would not change a thing. I did what I felt was right, what my intuition told me was the right thing to do.” Joan said gently “I do not blame you Tikki, and more importantly, you should not blame yourself.”

Tikki continued to cry and hiccup, looking at the spirit in front of her “Y... you didn’t need to die that day, you were young, so very very young...” the kwami cried, the fat tears still falling from her eyes.

Joan gave a small shake of her head “Oh Tikki... everyone must die one day. ‘Even creation must one day come to an end’, you told me that.” She said with a small smile “I have no regrets Tikki, and nether should you. You need not forget about me, but do not focus on me. Focus on your new bug, who is doing amazing, I might add.”

Tikki hiccuped once again, a small smile on her face “... She is a very good bug, she reminds me a lot of you. So passionate and kind...” she said softly.

Joan’s form began to fade slightly, and Tikki panicked, looking at Joan “Joan!” She looked back towards Carmine, to beg her have her stay but stopped short at what she saw.

Carmine, who had been eerily quiet, was extremely pale, a layer of sweat was all over her, her hair even appearing to become wet. Her body was trembling slightly, not from fear, but from concentration on the task at hand. Gladiolus had one paw on her, as if to offer some semblance of support for his mage as he glanced between Carmine, to Tikki, to Joan.

Carmine glanced down at Tikki, her eyes a some ember colour, as she gave a weak smile “Keep going, I’m fine...”

“It’s not wise to lie, Mlle Regal.” Joan said in a slight scolding tone, looking at Tikki with a small, sad smile “... as you’ve stated, her magic domain isn’t exactly creation, however it is not necromancy either... this is taking a toll on her.”

“I am fine.” Carmine insisted, her eyes which had dulled slightly from their ember colour becoming brighter again momentarily “Just... out of practice... keep going Tikki, I’ll be fine.”

Tikki let out a soft, sniffling sound. She wanted to say it was fine, that she was fine... but she knew Carmine would know she was lying, so she turned to Joan, a soft smile on her face “... let me tell you about my Ladybug...”

Tikki spoke of Marinette for awhile, than of how Paris was know in the so far future, as well as how people now remembered Joan not as a villain but as the hero she was. Every so often she would look back towards Carmine, who was still so concentrated on the task at hand, who was no doubt using every bit of her magical will to keep Joan here, but would still give Tikki a small, strained smile, and told her to continued.

This continued on for another fifteen minutes before Tikki finally looked at Joan sadly “... I think I’m ready to say goodbye...” she said to Joan softly, who in return gave Tikki a small smile.

“Goodbye Tikki, And thank you.”

“G... goodbye.” Tikki said, the tears returning however she still smiled at Joan as her spirit slowly disappeared, Carmine murmuring softly under her breath to release the spirit as the candle lights returned to each of their candles.

The moment each candle light returned to their candles Carmine suddenly slumped onto the table, panting heavily. Gladiolus began to lick her face, nuzzling it as Carmine looked over at him, giving him a weak smile “I know Gladio... don’t worry, I’ll be fine...” she said, feeling utterly exhausted. Doing a spell outside of her domain for that long would have consequences, she knew she would not be able to do any major spells for at least another three days, and even minor ones would probably hurt her. She looked towards Tikki, who was still starring at the chair where Joan once sit “... Tikki?”

Tikki slowly turned, her eyes red from the tears, to the point where it looked like she only had her blue irises for eyes, but she smiled at Carmine “... thank you.... thank you so much. I feel so.... so light now.... thank you.” She said with the utmost sincerity. Carmine’s gave a small, tired smile back, only nodding in response.

It had been totally worth it to give the Kwami of creation the closure she needed.

#ladybug au #ml au #carmine regal #counsellor au #tikki #ml angst #ml tears #previous miraculous users #ML Joan of Arc

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stormcloudrising · 6 years ago

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The Feather Represents the Blue Winter Rose on the Show

March 23, 2019

For all its importance in the books as a symbol of the daughters of House Stark and more importantly as a link between Lyanna and Jon as mother and son, there is barely a mention of the blue winter rose on the show. As, R+L=J is probably the most important plot point of both the books and show, one would think that the symbolic blue rose motif would have been included in the latter.

Now yes, we did see glimpses of some blue roses on the show but it was in a most surprising of locations—on the stain glass windows in the throne room at Kings Landing. This is interesting choice of location and it was most likely chosen to indicate that Jon is the rightful Targaryen heir to the Iron Throne. The roses in the windows were shown in the background on four occasions that I can remember.

The first was the scene with Sansa and Septa Mordane when they discussed her marriage to Prince Joffrey; the second occurrence was again with Sansa when the newly crowned Joffrey had her stripped and beaten; the third time was when Tywin rode his horse into the throne room; and of course the last appearance that I remember in Dany’s vision of the destroyed throne room with either snow or ashes falling from above. As an aside, because of Dany's torch, I tend to think that the droppings were ashes and not snow. When she placed her torch on the floor, there wasn't any change to the flame, as one would expect if it were lying in wet snow. However, let’s get back to the topic at hand.

As there were a number of scenes in the throne room, there could have been more sightings of the blue roses that I missed. Nonetheless, those appearances of the symbolic motif were presented as just background noise when one would have expected that because of its importance to the story, its appearance would have been a central plot point.

Surprisingly, Dan and Dave did not go that route and one can’t help but wonder why that was the case. Why did they leave out such an important symbol of Jon’s connection to Lyanna? I think the answer is that they didn’t. They simply changed things on the show and made the motif a feather instead of a rose. I think that they went this route because of their decision not to film the Tourney at Harrenhal. My thinking is that they didn’t film the tourney because they wanted Rhaegar’s connection to Jon via Lyanna to remain a mystery until the latter seasons of the show.

Some will argue that almost everyone knew that Rhaegar was Jon’s dad and so there was no need to hide the linkage by replacing the rose with a feather. To that I would answer that there are still fans who have read the books who don’t believe that R+L=J. More importantly, those of us who have read the books tend to forget that the vast majority of the viewers of the show have not done so and most likely never will. It seems pretty obvious that D&D’s writing are more for those viewers than the rest of us who have read the books. This actually makes sense when you consider that it was these viewers who were blown away by the many surprises in the earlier seasons and who spread the word that GOT was not your typical fantasy story. This was a major contributor to the popularity of the show.

However, while I can see them not wanting to introduce Rhaegar into Jon and Lyanna’s story too early, they still needed a way to connect all three. They seem to have decided that the best way to do so while keeping to the theme in the books was with a motif other than the blue rose. The question then became what and how.

With Ned and Robert being the only two still alive that were directly connected to both Rhaegar, Lyanna and the events of the past, it made sense that they were used to set up the linkage. All that remained was a decision on the choice of motif to use as the replacement for the rose.

They decided to go with a feather and while this may seem like an unfathomable choice for some, I think that the choice was made for the specific reason that it could be tied to Sansa’s arc. So they went with a feather as the motif and had Robert place it on Lyanna’s crypt in the first episode of the series where it sat gathering dust until season 5, episode 4 when it was found by Sansa. What a coincidence!

Sansa finding the feather was not the only coincidence in the scene. There were two others. I could be wrong and if so, please correct me and I will update but I believe that the only reference to flower in the entire series was in this scene when Petyr told Sansa the story about the Tourney of Harrenhal and Rhaegar placing a crown of blue winter roses in Lyanna’s lap. Hmm! Why do we get a reference to the flower for the first and only time at that moment when Sansa is holding the feather that symbolically connects to that particular story via Robert, who placed it on Lyanna’s tomb? The second coincidence in the scene is that Sansa does not place the feather back on Lyanna’s tomb but instead walks out with it in her hand.

As @thelawyerthatwaspromised pointed out in her fabulous breakdown essay on history of the feather and its importance in Sansa and Jon’s arc, the writers then created a throwaway scene between the daughter of Winterfell and Myranda for the sole purpose of showing the audience that Sansa was now wearing the feather as an adornment on her wrist. It is obvious that on the show, the feather represents the blue flower motif from the books and so if she is not meant to be seen as the Blue Winter Rose, why is linked to Sansa both literally and figuratively? I think that their reasoning is really not that difficult to understand.

In both the books and the show, Sansa is symbolically tied to birds and as a result feathers. I believe that this symbolic connection will be shown to be of major importance in the last two books as I discussed in my Alayne Stone essay.

In the books, her connection comes as a result of the Hound branding her with the moniker “little bird.” On the show, he does the same and Cersei also constantly refers to her as little dove. And of course, in season 4, episode 8, we get the full impact of her bird and feather symbolism as “Dark Sansa” makes her debut when she descends the staircase of the Eyrie in the gorgeous black feather dress that she made for herself. But what do Sansa and feathers have to do with the Blue Winter Rose?

Well, as I have argued, I think Sansa Stark is the most symbolic blue winter rose in the story. Yes, all the daughters of House Stark through the ages can be considered symbolic of the blue flower—including the one of Bael the Bard fame, Arya, and of course Lyanna. However, I believe that the one who most symbolize the characteristics of the flower is Sansa as I discussed in my Of Sansa Stark and the Glass Menagerie essay series. In fact, I think that while the sweet smelling blue flower in the crack in the Wall from Dany’s vision is about Lyanna as Jon’s mother, it is quite possibly more indicative of Sansa and her connection to Jon.

Part of the reason for this opinion as I discussed in the Glass Menagerie essay is the belief that the jonquil flower is symbolically representative of the blue winter rose. In ancient times, it was actually considered a rose. In fact, many biblical scholars believe that it is the famous Rose of Sharon referenced in the biblical poem, Song of Songs or as it is also known, the Song of Solomon.

The famous poem is a romantic celebration of the sexual love between a young couple. However, at its heart, it is also tells the story of the seasonal renewal of the land. Many biblical scholars are of the opinion that this Song of Songs tells a story that is very similar to the ones of various ancient cultures wherein the fertility of the earth is dependent on a sexual encounter between a man and a woman—generally godlike deities.

One interesting thing about the Rose of Sharon referenced in the poem is the description of the ancient location from where it received its name. This is the description of ancient Sharon.

The Plain of, the area where the coastal plain widens south of the slopes of Mt. Carmel, extending about thirty miles south to the Yarkon River north of Joppa. It varies from about eight to twelve miles in width. In Israelite times, the dunes supported an impenetrable oak forest. Pastureland would have been on the fringe of the forest (1 Chr 27:29). The rose of Sharon is kind of a crocus growing as a “lily among brambles” (Song 2:1-2). Thus the biblical picture of Sharon is a forbidding jungle of oaks and swampy marshes rather than a fertile or productive plain.

Society of Biblical Literature

The description of the Plains of Sharon is extremely similar to that of the River Styx and it’s surrounding marshy landscape. In ancient Greek mythology, Styx was the name given to the river that led to the domain of Hades. He of course was the Lord of the Underworld who kidnapped Persephone from the Vale of Nysa while she was out picking flowers. And it just so happens that the flowers that were used by Hades to entice the young goddess and bring her into his clutches was none other than the narcissus jonquilla or in other words, the ancient rose. Today’s modern roses are hybrids and look nothing like their ancient counterparts.

As has been suggested by many in the fandom, through her abduction by Petyr Baelish, he of the demonic last name, Sansa is the symbolic Persephone of the story. Petyr even attempts to tempt her with a slice of pomegranate as Hades did with the mythical daughter of Demeter and Zeus.

I mentioned this bit about Persephone and the Rose of Sharon to show that Sansa is symbolically connected to the both the jonquil flower as well as to the ancient in-story character who bears its name. I am of course speaking of the mysterious woman from Florian and Jonquil fame. The real world myths about the jonquil flower along with textural clues…including the drawing of the famous pair that appears in The Hedge Knight have led me to the conclusion that the ancient Jonquil was the original Blue Winter Rose of House Stark.

As I’ve stated, based on how it has been used on the show, it seems obvious that he feather motif is playing the part of the blue winter rose in the story. If Jonquil was indeed the original Blue Winter Rose, it could also explain why the feather is so closely connected to Sansa in the show. However, this raises a question.

If the blue sweet smelling flower in the crack in the Wall that Dany saw in her vision is meant to signify her connection to Jon and their future marriage as many in the fandom argue is the case, shouldn’t the feather as the stand-in for the winter rose on the show be tied to her? Why isn’t the feather connected to Dany? Curious, don’t you think! If further proof is needed that the true romantic arc in the story is not Jon and Dany but rather Jon and Sansa then there is no greater evidence than the feather. And as Sansa is never shown returning the feather, it means that she still has it.

There is one last thing that I want to discuss before I end. If Sansa is the Blue Winter Rose, a fact that on its basic level cannot be argued with as she is a daughter of House Stark; and if the feather is the playing the part of the flower on the show—meaning that Sansa should also be seen as the feather; then what is the symbolic importance of it freezing in the teaser as it applies to Sansa?

I proposed that it implies that Sansa is in danger not just from the actions of Cersei as things come to a close but also from the Night King. Yes, everyone is in danger from the White Walkers but my tinfoil is that Sansa faces a specific threat from the Night King and that is what is implied with the freezing of the feather and Arya and Jon pulling their weapons and stepping protectively in front of her.

Now, the scene of the three in the crypts won’t be in the show. Rather like the first teaser it is meant to set up the theme of the season. The first teaser with ice and fire meeting over the Trident on Aegon’s Painted Table is meant to show the theme of the danger that both forces will pose to the realm. And I think that the second is meant to showcase the danger of the White Walkers to the Starks as a whole and possibly to Sansa in particular.

For this reason, I am most curious to find out what is on the scroll that Sophie mentioned was given to her by the prop guy as a keepsake of the show. I think that it’s quite possible that the scroll in question was the one Sam was shown taking from the Citadel and that once revealed, the contents will have something to do with Sansa…maybe even a drawing of an ancient woman that looks like her. My tinfoil is that it will be a drawing with a face that is similar to the one in Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus.” Just three more weeks to go to find out whether my theories end up being pure tinfoil or whether I’m onto something in regards to the books and overall story. Can’t wait to find out!

#sansa stark #jon snow #blue winter rose #got season 8 theory #jon x sansa #jonsa

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clown-bait · 5 years ago

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Monster Family (Monster Roommate AU) Ch4

Pennywise agrees to hang out with his mate and gets LIT in an Applebees. Believe it or not this chapter is semi based on personal experience. I'll let everyone decide what part that might be.

CH4 LIT

“Oh great she brought the ball and chain.” Freddy groaned as his friend walked through the doors of the only with a bar in town the three of them weren't banned from. Trailing behind her a very uncomfortable Robert Gray groaned in annoyance when he realized they were in a family restaurant.

“Peachy there are children here!” he hissed in annoyance as the scent of delicious screaming baby assaulted his nose from the dining area.

“If I can control my self in an arcade full of street fighter virgins you can handle being in an Applebees for a couple hours. Besides we can't go to any regular bars since we have to pass Chucky off as Freddy’s kid.”

Pennywise huffed in annoyance at the mention of his tenant. “Then we could do this at our own home. You cant even partake in this anyway.” he grumbled

“Pen the point of going out is that it prevents me from getting stir crazy and doing something to piss you off again out of boredom. You better get used to atmospheres like this anyway with kids on the way.”

“I won't be bringing them to cesspits of noise and grease such as this.”

“Then you're sure in for a surprise Jingles havin’ kids is just traveling from one cesspit to another!” Chucky laughed in his booster seat while pouring another colorful mixed drink into his sippy cup.

“The fact that you've gone this far for entertainment is pathetic.” the eldritch spat as his tennant flipped him off. “Does your wife know you've started stooping so low as to play baby just to enjoy a night out?”

“Does your’s know you've been sniffin’ her panties while she’s at work like a creep?”

Leech deadpanned as she sat down “Hi Chuck I’m literally right here, also Pen that's gross.”

“Says the woman who fucked a spider.” Pennywise grunted as he tested one of the colorful drinks on the table.

Freddy groaned and took a deep drink “Aaaaand this is why we don't let you bring him.”

“Yeah Fred you're one to talk, pretty sure this whole Chris rebound thing you're going through has led to some weird rendezvous. The Bye-Bye Man comes to mind-” the vampire sneered and a clawed hand was shoved across her face.

“SHH don’t fucking say his name! Fuck now he’s gonna find me and ask why I haven’t called.”

Leech continued to tease the dream demon as her disguised clown began his second "hurricane". At least the drinks were sweet and he was able to quell some of the hunger within him with the sugary alcoholic beverages. Leech glanced over at her mate noticing the nearly empty glass.

"Woah slow down there tiger I know you’re large but that's gonna hit you fast"

"Peachy Pie I’m not human do not worry for me. Instead continue insulting Krueger I was enjoying that."

"You're my ride home you better be able to teleport while drunk."

"I’m fiiinneee"

"That response alone is suddenly filling me with so many regrets." she groaned.

"Lighten up Fangs they water the drinks down anyway." Freddy rolled his eyes and flagged down their waitress for another round of drinks. Robert let out a loud hiccup and giggled as Chucky silently observed with interest. Several moments later the eldritch began to sway slightly, barely hearing the conversation anymore and instead letting a literal wandering eye drift around the room hungrily resting on potential targets.

"Jingles is drunk" Freddy nonchalantly grunted.

"Are you shitting me?" Leech growled and glanced over to her mate who seemed normal until he turned to her his cheek split open at the side revealing a fang filled maw underneath.

"Yeess?" the eldritch attempted a suave look on his out of control face and tapped too many fingers over his chin as his hooded eyes drifted apart.

"Jesus fuck Pen control yourself."

"Im aaaaallways in control darling." He purred getting all the way into her personal space as drool fell from from his lips and onto her shirt.

"Oh my god its like owning a fucking mastiff with you sometimes." Leech groaned and playfully shoved him away despite his persistent growls and chitters against her skin. “Put the teeth away honey you're in public”

“Get a damn room.” Chucky yelled and the eldritch's head snapped in his direction roaring horribly in annoyance.

“Fangs uh he's really becoming a problem someone is gonna notice this.”

“Its weird that he got fucked up so fast, he only had two watered down drinks.” Chucky said as he studied the disguised clown.

“You're right give me your water” Leech hastily grabbed the clear liquid in front of the dream demon and tipped it against her mate’s lips. Freddy moved to stop her but stopped when Robert Gray’s face opened unnaturally wide to dump the liquid down in one gulp.

“FANGS! That was pure vodka.” Freddy yelled.

“Why the FUCK do you have a cup full of vodka?”

“Why the fuck not?” he growled and popped a small chocolate into his mouth. The eldritch stopped his swaying and stitched his face back together the room becoming much more clear as his eyes aligned once more.

“Who tried to poison me?” Robert groaned rubbing his temples completely sober. Freddy and Leech both stared at him dumbfounded. “HOW?!” they both shouted. Robert cocked an eyebrow.

“Belief.” he said simply and plucked a chocolate from Freddy's hand plopping it into his mouth. “I function on belief and imagination. I am serious about the poisoning which of you was it?”

“So what you're telling me is if I believe that apple juice could make you shitfaced it’ll happen.” Chucky smirked.

Robert sighed in annoyance knowing his three companions well enough now that his question will never be answered. “In a way yes.”

“Don't even try it Chuck.” Leech snarled but stopped when she felt her mate’s hand on her shoulder.

“Tricks will not work he has to absolutely believe it will happen.”

Freddy finally spoke up waving a gloved hand to get their attention “Uh guys….What happens if I believed that there were some pretty interesting party drugs in that candy.”

The vampire and the eldritch both froze.

“Please tell me you didn't.” Leech grabbed her friends stripped sweater

“I did.”

Chucky sighed and took a long sip of his drink “We’re gonna get banned from fucking Applebees.”

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

Pennywise had blinked and suddenly he was no longer at the restaurant. There was music that was loud and pulsing and sweaty bodies bumped into him from all sides. How did he get here? His limbs felt like jelly and he was holding some type of weird blue beverage. He took a large gulp of it to sooth the dryness in his throat and made his way back to the red lights that must be the bar. Despite being disoriented he did feel good, giggly even. He hadn't even realized his human disguise was part-way to “clown mode”, his face baring his trademark makeup, but he did notice that the other people around him were dancing he should probably as well. He needed to blend in after all. So he began to sway and move to the music leaping through the air dramatically like an acrobat. It felt like a full 27 years had passed as he performed but if he stopped the illusion would be ruined. Thus he had to keep dancing. As he swayed and stumbled in euphoria he bumped into the first face he had recognized in this new location who nearly fell from the weight of the cross faded eldritch colliding with his spindly frame. “Holy shit Jingles there you are!”

“Krueger!” the clown nearly shouted and pirouetted with the grace of a ballet dancer.

“Have you been drinking more?”

“I found a pretty blue drink on a tray! Pretty and sweet!”

“You're a riot Jingles.” the dream demon laughed “Who'd have thought you'd have it in you to steal drinks.”

More of the clown's human disguise melted and he giggled uncontrollably grabbing the dream demon into a back breaking hug.

“Pennywise is glad to see you my friend yes he iss! I was so lost in this strange new place!”

“This is the cenobites nightclub idiot also put me down jesus!”

“Mmmm but you are warm and small!”

“Save it for your girlfriend bozo.” Freddy shoved his tall drugged companion back and straightened himself.

“Peachy!? She's here?"

"Man you really are messed up. She's the one who dragged your ass here after you nearly mauled someone at Applebees. Said it was my fault and put me on babysitting duty."

The clown dramatically tapped his wet chin then grinned wide with an idea

"Krueger I wish to dance with my mate fetch her for me!" He growled puffing out his chest in a display of cockiness.

"What do I look like your servant?"

"........are you not?"

"Fetch your own woman.” Freddy grunted and left deciding the nosferatu could deal with her beloved man child herself.

-------

Leech sat in a private room her housemate in a stolen booster seat beside her chains hung from the ceiling as a high stakes poker game took place below. The vampire ripped off her sunglasses in annoyance.

"Seriously Pinhead turn some fucking lights on in here."

"You are the one insisting on wearing eye protection indoors."

"Its a bluffing tactic!"

"Fangs no one actually wears sun glasses outside league games except for assholes like you and Krueger."

The nosferatu snarled and ripped her glasses off. "If I lose I'm blaming all of you."

"Learn to lie better trashpire. I fold." Chucky sat back in his booster seat taking a drag off a joint much to Leech's annoyance.

"You've been folding a lot. Also Chuck, pregnant stop smoking."

"Fangs we're playing against a goat and a guy with no eyebrows. I don't think either of them has ever made an expression other than neutral in their immortal lives." The doll grumbled snuffing the joint out and putting it back in his front pocket. He turned to the growing bump under his friends shirt "Take note kids uncle Chucky is doing this for you now so you wont eat me later."

Leech rolled her eyes at him "I raise."

"You have nothing left to bet idiot." The doll shouted and Pinhead smiled at his cloven hooved companion.

"Nothing physical."

The vampire cocked her eyebrow with interest a low purr formed in her throat "Are we raising the stakes?"

"Fangs, Jingles will kill me if-" the doll was cut off quickly by a cold pale hand to his mouth.

"Quiet Chatty Cathy. Continue."

"I have a very lovely crock pot, stainless steel 4 different settings, no stick. All you have to wager is a simple IOU." The dark furred goat hissed into the air like a whisper.

"Why the hell would a vampire need a crock-"

"DEAL!" Leech slammed her fist on the table fangs gleaming in her wide smile. Chucky gasped like a fish in protest. The large black goat let out a horrible guttural hiss.

"Shake her hand hell priest and the game will continue."

"Sire I believe that crock-pot was the one you borrowed from me-"

"SHAKE HER HAND"

Leech grabbed Pinhead's hand before anything else could be said. "You have no idea how much blood pudding I'm going to make with that thing."

"Well this definitely won't come bite all of us in the ass later." Chucky sighed and slumped back in his booster seat.

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

Pennywise felt amazing. Lights flashed all around him as people brushed against him from all sides. Normally this would repulse him but tonight touch felt good and the loud noise vibrated his form's bones making his muscles tingle. A woman touched his arm and his skin melted from the feeling. Why was he here again? Someone he was looking for, someone he actually liked. Then there she was, in her messy platinum wig bobbing in the ebb and flow of the dance floor. He felt his body tingle with excitement and he pushed other monstrous creatures out of his way to get to his precious queen. "Hiya gorgeous~" he purred his usual greeting to her and pulled her to him kissing her deeply. He felt like the most romantic suave person in the room and Leech felt amazing against him. Her lips were warm and soft she smelled of fresh flowers sending tingles up his spine. Then the moment was broken when a voice that definitely was not his mate's came out of her mouth and the intoxicated Pennywise realized the person he just passionately kissed was not the mother of his children. He realized it a second time when an icy cold claw pulled him back and broke his cherry red nose.

I think he might be in trouble.

#pennywise #pennywise x oc #pennywise fanfiction #horror fanfiction #freddy krueger #chucky #Charles Lee Ray #pinhead #slasher fanfiction #it fanfiction #monster roommate au

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wavemaker9 · 5 years ago

Text

Just something short as a follow up to the idea of gil getting toni to realize that he’s built a lot of his personality based on other people’s wants. Lead in is basically Toni comes to the realization that his belief about being the most comfortable and himself with his friends could also be bullshit and Francis tries to reassure him he hasn’t noticed a change like that + toni’s an adult who knows how to not hang out with people he doesn’t like, so he really shouldn’t worry about secretly not liking his best friends.

Title: Existential Characters: Antonio, Francis

Antonio nods, his stare still a little distant, and acknowledges the point that his friend has made. It’s reassuring, in a way, but not in all the ways he could use right now. Still, he’d rather not drag down his friend with his own, weird sort of existential crisis he’s dealing with at the moment. Thus, his eyes finally flick back to Francis’, and he smiles at the other, something that feels more fake in the fact that he knows it’s fake. “That makes sense; thank you.”

Francis’ eyes rest on him for a long beat. There’s a glass of wine in his hand, one that seems to feel more posed than held there. Then those brown eyes close with a faint shrug and a sigh. “Yet your concern don’t seem that reassured?” His voice balances the phrase delicately on the fence between statement and question. It’s not a question in the way that Francis is uncertain if it’s true, but it’s not a statement either, given how he raises his tone on the end and gives a pause after the words to sip at his drink. He wants to confirm why the statement is true, rather than simply that it is.

Antonio catches on after a few moments and grimaces slightly at being caught. He feels it was the smile, but he’s not sure if that’s because that was the actual weak link or if it feels to him to have been the weak link. He guesses, though, that either way he’s been outed, so he might as well confess. “Well, I mean-.”

“Or rather,” Francis speaks up, catching on himself as he lowers the glass from his lips, “You have more than just that concern?” This time it is a question in its most basic state. Francis is relatively confident in his guess; it’d make the most sense given what he can tell about his friend. However, he’s not certain, especially in the more detailed point of what other concerns Antonio could have, and so he waits for confirmation.

Antonio sighs softly, nodding and sinking a little in his seat. His own drink of wine, a deep rich red filling a quarter of the glass, is set aside so that he can bring his hands together in his lap. “I guess it’s just-... I can’t get what he said outta my head, y’know?” One hand comes up, running roughly through chocolate locks, the soft curls bouncing at the disturbance. He scratches at his hair as a way to burn through some energy, before adjusting his already comfortable enough seat on the couch for a similar reason. “Everything I do, I hear Gilbert in my head asking if I really like it or if I just think I do.”

Here he leans back with another, harsher sigh. His arms reach out, stretching to lay across the back of the sofa as he tilts his head back further so that he’s staring at the part of the room behind him instead of at Francis. “I know I like hanging out with you two- I love it! But what if I’ve just convinced myself that I do? I know I like cooking and dancing and- and a lot of things, but maybe I don’t know that? Maybe I don’t know on any of them? Maybe I don’t know anything at all?” He leans forward again and releases another sigh, each one filling itself with more and more frustration. “I’m second guessing everything I say and do- I question my actions even when alone now! It’s-,” he cuts off to let out a guttural sort of breath, a more fitting word of his struggles than any others he could come up with. “I used to be so confident in everything I did. Since before I even left my aunt’s house, I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted in this world; I never had any doubts- not like this.”

Here the breath he releases feels more worn, half-defeated in tone. “I know Gilbert wasn’t trying to fuck me over when he said that, but he kinda did?” Sharply, his eyes lift up from where they’d ended up, staring across the room at a far shelf and its items. They connect with Francis’ as he adds a reassurance that he’s not mad at Gilbert for saying anything though. “I’m glad to know that I do this. That I mold my personality so much based on others, but- but now I don’t know how to stop knowing, y’know?”

Francis nods, but can tell that Antonio is not fully finished speaking, and so he allows himself another drink from his glass instead as he continues to listen.

“I just don’t know what to do about it! I dunno how to do anything anymore without questioning it all. I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore, Franics. I feel like my whole identity has been shaken down to- to grains with those words.” He lifts the hand that had been in his hair back to it again, but this time it holds in the strands a little longer, fingers tangling in the waves and curls, tugging slightly, a mild show of how he’s feeling that lasts as long as it takes for him to lean back into his seat again. “I knew I wore a mask with most people. I very carefully crafted it! But Gilbert’s pulled it off and pulled another one underneath it off that I didn’t know I was wearing and now I’m- I’m- I’m struggling to find a mirror, y’know? I just wanna see what I look like underneath and I can’t find a goddamn mirror!”

There’s no anger in his words, but the rushed volume behind them still lashes out into the air with a force not entirely intended. It’s enough to get Francis to finally set his own drink down, fully recognizing the trouble his friend seems to be going through. With easy, fluid movements, he stands, steps across the space between the two pieces of furniture, and sinks back down onto the seat next to Toni. Antonio takes a deep breath as Francis’ hand lifts to rest on one of his shoulders, patting gently in reassurance. Francis waits, giving room for the other to settle his fraying state and get back to some place more stable, before speaking up.

“Antonio,” he finally says, his voice a little softer and gentler than it usually is, “you are the mirror, my friend.”

Green eyes fall on Francis with a raised eyebrow resting above one, but he isn’t intimidated by the initial doubt. “I’m serious,” he continues, “you don’t realize how much who you try to be reflects on who you actually are.” He pulls his hand back at this, but only so that he can use it in combination with the other hand to gesture a little as he speaks.

“Everyone does this to some extent, y’know? Admittedly, probably not to the level you have, but everyone is influenced in some way by those around them. You know, I changed the style of my handwriting more times than I could count when I was a teen, trying to copy ones that I’d seen and thought looked nice.” He gives a soft smile to accompany the soothing tone he’s trying to keep, tilting his head enough to make better eye contact with the other as he speaks. “People change their hair or clothing to appeal to those they look up to or respect. They work out bad habits around people who would look down on them for having them. People change for others, often-.”

“Yes, yes, I know but-.”

“No, no, no,” Francis counterinterupts, “see I don’t think you do. My point here is not, ‘Everyone does this so you don’t need to feel uncertain about it.’ I understand that’s not what’s upsetting you.”

“So what is your point, then?” Antonio asks, though his tone and body language are eased enough where it’s clear there’s no intent to rush the other along out of frustration or impatience. It’s a genuine question, and so Francis genuinely answers.

“My point is that doing these things, even to the extreme you have, doesn’t reduce your identity as a person to any lesser extent than my own or Gilbert’s or anyone else’s.” One of his arms slip back up, looping around Antonio’s back so a hand can carefully, supportively grip at a red-clad shoulder. “Gilbert is the most honest of us, sure, but that hasn’t stopped him from second guessing himself often enough.” Francis leans in so his mouth is a little closer to Antonio’s ear, the corners of his lips pulling a touch wide as he whispers, “Don’t spread this around, but even I’ve been guilty of it.”

Antonio laughs sharply, bending over a little in his seat before letting the hold his friend has on him help right him once more. “No! That’s surely impossible!” he counters back with a heavy flare of sarcastic dramatics added to his words, mimicking an expression of shock while turning to more fully face the other.

Francis himself lifts a shoulder and tilts his head in the same direction, both leaning to the side away from Antonio, a pose of lamenting the fact that’s been revealed. “Ah, but it’s true!” He closes his eyes to really hit that look of remorse before sparing a laugh, too. His holds a smoother quality to it than Antonio’s laughs tend to have, though both are better off than some of the genuine, hearty laughs that Gilbert tends to give. When the chuckles end, Francis returns to his point. “I don’t let it bother me for too long, though; do you know why?”

It takes a few moments before Antonio realizes that Francis is actually waiting for a response, rather than just letting a slight pause follow a rhetorical question. He shakes his head, considering trying to offer up a suggestion, but ultimately figuring it’d be better to just let Francis give the right answer than hold them both up to give him time to figure out what would work as a guess.

“Because,” Francis continues once given that headshake, “whether you wear a mask or not is not what’s important.” He’s quiet for a half beat, before quickly adding, “Not that I’m saying we don’t prefer when you’re more honest with us, but-,” which gets another short chuckle out of Antonio. “No, seriously though,” he continues, smile widening again as Antonio’s soft laughter slips away to just a grin. “It’s not. You can wear a mask if that’s what makes you feel more comfortable; it only matters what you make that mask look like.

“Truly,” he presses further on, “what is more telling about who you are as a person is not that you are honest with everyone or that you are honest with nobody. It’s what those truths or lies are saying.” Francis’ grip on Antonio’s arm eases with a couple gentle pats, arms folding casually across his body instead. “You have arranged so many things together to make this mask, but you haven’t borrowed everything to do it, right?” This time the question is entirely rhetorical, not even a breath of space left following it for Antonio to say anything. “I know your standards are high and I know that, whatever traits you’ve picked to make this mask, they were chosen because you thought they were important; you thought they would make things better. Antonio, you try to be determined and clever and strong and confident and caring and a million other good qualities to have. You’ve picked the qualities you show based on the qualities you value, and that is the Antonio that we know and like. That’s the mirror you’re looking for.”

Antonio is quiet, eyes drifting from staring directly at Francis to somewhere vaguely to the side of him. Francis is quiet, too, watching Antonio to see what his reaction will be. There’s a worry that the long delay is from Antonio trying to break down everything Francis said, and that Francis will have to try and explain it again if it becomes too much of a challenge to work out, but then his own concern is reassured by arms pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Antonio says, squeezing the other tightly, to the point where Francis lets out a breath of discomfort at the tightness. “That helped a lot, truly.” He pulls away when he can feel Francis patting at his shoulder, but his grin stays open and wide.

Francis smiles, too, sparing a few words to dismiss the importance of the help, before standing again to return to his seat. Both of them reach for drinks at about the same time, but only Francis actually gets a taste of his, with Antonio touching glass to lip, but stopping in thought before he could finish the action. After a beat, he turns to look back to Francis, allowing the glass in his grip to drift slightly, though still hovering in the air a little below the line of his chin.

“Y’know, Francis, I gotta say, given everything?” And he grins wide at the other once more. “I’m glad that I don’t ever gotta doubt having you two as friends.”

#ignore this #i'm not as pleased with it but i also knew i wasn't going to have motivation on this for more than a day so better to get it done now #the boss kid #yay story time #misskhep

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