#amelia sacks

[suellenewings]

[iconsrequestsworld]

fav or reblog if you save 🏝️

[tv-moments]

The Perfect Couple

“The Perfect Family”

Director: Susanne Bier

DoP: Roberto De Angelis, Shane Hurlbut

[xxrat--punkxx]

I haven’t even started the dlc yet and here we are designing charms-

[queen-of-bel]

is this game supposed to be an unplayable mess or is the pc port just fucking atrocious

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): explicit language, suggestive themes

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Part Five of Ink & Needle

You and Evie stake out 141 Ink. Amelia forms a plan. You and Ghost reunite.

Chapter Four // Chapter Six

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Sticky.

Sweaty.

Chest heaving.

Legs shaking.

And none of it the pleasant kind.

Your coffee is gone. It is somewhere down the street, splattered across the pavement, and likely creeping toward a storm drain. Whatever didn’t land on the ground spilled on you. It is in your hair. On your face. Smeared over the front of your coat.

The entryway floor of Amelia’s home is your refuge. You’re seated on the linoleum with your back against the door and legs outstretched in front of you. With shaking hands, you reach above your head to double-check the deadbolt. It’s locked, and yet it doesn’t smother the racing of your pulse.

How could it? You’re seeing things. Hallucinating. Who you saw simply isn’t possible. Of all the people in the world, how could it be him? How could it be Ghost? Your wraith. The man you took a risk on. The man who worshipped your body as if you were the only thing he’s ever wanted.

For a second time, you ran. Turned tail. Bolted.

Why? Why do you always run from everything? Why do you dart away the moment you start to get close? That’s the reality of your ineptitude to figure your shit out. When Ghost held you in his arms afterward, when those large, veiny hands of his caressed and squeezed your thighs, realization came charging toward you like a herd of stampeding animals. Yes, it was sex, but there were smaller moments—flashes of emotion—that you felt within yourself and radiating from him.

After it was done, you knew. The look of rejection and determination in his eyes when you glimpsed him through the cab’s rear passenger window only confirmed what you already understood. Your wraith claimed you in Riot Room’s green room. He branded you, inked your skin, took you within himself and then etched his essence into your flesh.

You told yourself in that moment that you would never be free of him.

And you were right. Unequivocally correct.

Not only did you run a second time, but he chased after you again. That realization is almost as earth-shaking as the fact that he’s just two streets over from Amelia’s home. Your wraith is within reach, and he still wants you, even after three goddamn years.

No, you say to yourself. It’s not possible.

Now you’re just making shit up to feel better. He can’t want you—can’t desire you after all this time. Ghost must have thought you were someone else, or he wants an explanation on why you left him hanging.

Is he someone who holds grudges? Will he threaten you like way he did that man who puts his hands on you?

I’ve killed men over less.

Unlikely. That wouldn’t make sense. While a pillar of darkness, with you, Ghost was anything but. The very idea of him being rough with you is immediately dismissed.

“Fuck,” you whisper at the ceiling. You blink rapidly and realize you’re crying.

One tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand. It’s the hand that held the coffee, and the sticky residue rubs against your skin, causing you to flinch away from your own touch.

Evie’s laugh startles you out of your stupor. You hear Amelia’s gentle chuckle as well. Their voices drift toward you from the direction of the kitchen. They can’t see you on the floor like this. You need to pull yourself together. Covering up the spilled coffee that stains your face and your clothes isn’t possible, but you can easily pass it off as a slip up. It’s these fucking tears you need to control.

As you shift forward in an attempt to try and drag yourself off the floor, the brown sack with the croissants scrunches under your fist. You glance down at it and wince. It’s smashed. Croissants are delicate, and they’re probably nothing but crumbs now.

You want to laugh but you’re afraid it might sound like you’re drowning. This entire situation is fucking awful. Ridiculous. You have no idea what to do about Ghost. And should you even care in the first place?

There is no debt owed. There are no strings with a hookup. Why are you spinning this idea that you are required to do anything about any of this? Ghost is not your responsibility, and a one-time hookup does not make you obligated to be his…anything?

The phantom of Ghost’s hands upon your thighs comes creeping up to the forefront of your mind. The slow drag of his fingers over your skin is so tangible that for a moment you almost believe that he’s really here, touching you, wanting to be closer.

Evie laughs again and that solidifies your resolve. You came to England for her. Evie’s husband is dead. He is in the ground and she is eight months pregnant. There is only you and Amelia here to take care of her. Evie is your priority.

Not Ghost.

Not your wraith.

“Fuck,” you repeat. Somehow, that one small word makes you feel a little better.

Peeling yourself off the linoleum is like removing a stubborn book cover sticker. It’ll either be perfect, or a straight up mess. You fall somewhere in between that spectrum.

As you enter the kitchen, Evie and Amelia don’t appear to notice you at first. They’re in deep conversation, and it isn’t until you’re nearly at the small breakfast table that they both realize you’re in the room with them. Evie’s stunning smile falters when her gaze falls on you. It’s a slow transition as she begins to take in your appearance.

Her eyes widen in concern. “What happened? Are you okay?” Evie starts to stand but you hold up a hand.

“I tripped,” you answer. It’s not exactly a lie. You did trip in your efforts to outrun your wraith.

Evie doesn’t need to know that information just yet, especially with Amelia sitting right there. You’ll have to tell Evie what happened, even though the very idea swirls the anxiety in your stomach around until you think you might puke what little coffee you did manage to consume before it met the pavement.

Evie settles back in the chair but the concern hasn’t left her face. “Hurt?”

Not physically.

“I’m fine,” you reply, setting the brown bag on the table. “But I’m a little worried for the croissants.”

Amelia grabs the bag and peers inside. “Oh dear. Well. At least you’re uninjured. That’s the most important thing.”

Using the table as a support, Amelia pushes up from her chair, and heads for the kitchen counter. Reaching into one of the cabinets, Amelia produces a large plate. Returning to the table, Amelia gently opens the bag and slides out the croissants onto the plate. An avalanche of broken golden pastry and crumbs follow.

You wince at the sight of the crushed croissants. “I’m going to change.”

Amelia arches an eyebrow. “Perhaps a shower?” She gestures toward your head, indicating the remains of the latte that have dried in the strands.

“That too,” you mutter, removing your coat and heading for the stairs.

After you shower out the coffee in your hair, you’re left with the final crushed croissant, and the rest of your day is spent making various phone calls on Evie’s behalf. By bedtime, you’re still working, but this time on actual paid work.

Evie sits up, propped against the headboard as she reads a book. You’re spread out at the end of the bed on your stomach, scrolling through emails.

“Evie?” you ask into the quiet.

“Yeah?” she replies, not looking up from her book.

You rest your chin on your elbow. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Evie marks her page in her book and sets it on the bedside table, resting one hand on her bulging belly. “What’s on your mind?”

Your work email pings and you briefly glance at it. Sighing, you turn back to Evie, ignoring the new email. After breakfast and the ridiculous amount of phone calls, you spent the rest of your time editing an instructional manual for a furniture company. The deadline is approaching, and you thought work might take your mind off the morning’s events.

But it didn’t. And your mind is still a swirling storm of anxiety that just won’t abate. You cannot stop thinking about Ghost and the intense look in his eyes when he realized it was you. The brief surprise became hardened determination, and that is what pushed you to bolt. Couple that with him chasing after you, and you’re an overflowing pot of boiling water.

Closing your work laptop, you push it to the side, sitting up until you’re fully facing Evie.

“Is it about this morning?” she asks softly.

How is this woman so goddamn intuitive? That kid isn’t going to get away with anything.

“Yes,” you reply slowly, drawing out the s a bit.

Her brows crease, and suddenly, Evie looks ready to fight God. “If someone hurt you—”

“No,” you say quickly, holding up both hands. “Stop. I’m fine. I’m just…” You trail off and then sigh heavily, rubbing your face with both hands as you try to figure out what it is you want to say.

Evie doesn’t speak. She waits until you’re ready.

Your hands drop to your lap. “I saw him this morning.”

Evie frowns. “Saw…him?”

You nod and lean forward a bit. “Him.”

Evie blinks, her lips parting slightly as her brain starts to piece the puzzle together. As it all starts to fall into place, Evie shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re having a laugh.”

Groaning, you throw yourself down on the bed, face-first. “I wish that I was,” you say, turning your head so your voice isn’t muffled.

“Are you sure it was him? Absolutely sure?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“That is not true,” says Evie with a bit of bite to her tone. “I’m just trying to process how it’s possible.”

“You and me both.”

Evie adjusts on the bed, and sits up a bit more. “But where did you see him? And more importantly, did he see you?” You wince, and Evie groans. “Tell me from the beginning. All of it. From the moment you left the house to when you returned. Every. Detail.”

Rolling onto your back, you tell Evie everything, all of it rushing out of you like water moving out of a tipped glass.

“Oh shit,” murmurs Evie as she absently rubs her belly.

“No kidding.”

“And it’s the same one from Riot Room? Ghost? That guy?”

You nod. “I am one hundred percent sure on that.”

Evie stares off into space for a few seconds while she absently rubs at the underside of her belly. She turns toward you abruptly as if yanked from her thoughts. “I need to see this man for myself.”

You bolt upright. “Absolutely not.”

Evie shrugs. “Then tag along if you’re that concerned.”

“That is not the point, Evelyn Green.” You throw one arm out to emphasize your point. “Ghost is in the past. We had sex—”

Evie interrupts. “According to you, it was,” she raises both hands, creating air quotes around the next words, “best sex you’ve ever had.”

“We had sex once,” you continue. “What more is there to say? I don’t need to dwell on him.”

Evie rolls her eyes. “Please. After that night, you changed. We all saw it. Even if none of us said anything to you at the time.”

You pause, pulling back a bit. “What do you mean?”

Evie sighs heavily. “I saw Ghost chase after you. I saw him standing on the curb. I saw him watching the cab drive off. And I saw your face when you turned away from staring at him.” Her head tilts to the side a bit. “The emotion on your face. It was like…it was like you knew you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Evie—”

“Shut up and listen to me.” She takes a breath. “Sorry. It’s the hormones. I’ve been moodier lately.”

And your husband is dead.

Evie winces as she adjusts on the bed. “When we arrived back to the hotel from Riot Room, did you realize you were smiling like an idiot in love? I know who you were thinking about. You told us every detail in the cab. And as you talked, you couldn’t stop grinning.” Evie removes her hand from her belly to rub at her lower back.

You stare down at your hands.

“A man doesn’t chase after someone he doesn’t want. Then you tell me that this morning, he ran after you? It’s been three years, and he still tried to catch you.” Evie shakes her head. “What isn’t clicking here?”

You open your mouth and Evie points at you. “Don’t make an excuse. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Then what’s your plan?” you sigh, playing with the hem of your shirt.

Evie’s lips purse and she taps the top of her stomach. “There’s a little café across the street. We can camp out. Watch the shop.”

“So we’re going to stalk him?” you ask skeptically.

“Yes!” Evie holds out a hand. “Give me your computer.”

Reluctantly, you do so. Evie rests it on her stomach. Opening it up, she starts clicking and typing away at the keyboard.

“What’s the name of the shop?” she asks without looking away from the screen.

“One-four-one ink,” you reply, scooting up beside her.

The tip of her Evie’s tongue is between her teeth. She taps away at the keyboard, entirely focused. She looks like Jade right now who always knows all the loopholes in finding shit out about people.

“Ha! Look at that.”

You lean closer and glance at the screen. You meet those dark eyes framed by pale eyelashes that look like halos. It’s Ghost on your computer screen. There is no doubt.

“That’s him,” you whisper.

Evie clicks through the various pages on 141 Ink’s website. Most of it contains information about services, ways to contact the shop, and a gallery of Ghost’s work. There is a very small “About” section that vaguely describes the start of 141 Ink, but nothing jumps out at you. It’s only two sentences worth of information. Other than that, the site is fairly normal.

All of this is right in front of you, and yet you still don’t have any additional information about this man. Ghost is just that. A ghost. A stranger. And yet, when you were in his arms, it felt so natural and comfortable.

Evie grabs her phone off the bedside table and opens Instagram. She enters 141 Ink into the search bar and taps on a result. She grins and hands you her phone. “Look at this. The guy has some serious talent.”

The photos and videos on 141 Ink’s Instagram are a lot more personal than the ones on the website. While many show pictures of completed piercings and tattoos, there are some that are much softer. Like the black German Shepard you noticed basking in the sun on the shop’s floor. There is a photo of him snoozing next to a waiting customer.

It’s personal. Sweet. And you can’t help but smile at it.

And Evie is right. Ghost is incredibly talented. Some of the work is simple and straightforward, but there are many more artistic pieces. They’re gorgeous, as if you’re looking into someone’s fever dream. The color, highlights, and dimension are all unnaturally realistic. Ghost certainly as an eye for this.

It’s such a strange thing to look at all this work, and think about Ghost. When you first met him, Ghost was a haunting shadow. A creature out of hell. Tattoo artists don’t have that same kind of aura to them. At the time, the possibility seemed out of the question. Ghost oozed danger, and you were certain he was going to snap the man’s neck who put his hands on you.

I’ve killed men over less.

It doesn’t make sense.

“Fine,” you finally concede. “We’ll scope the place out from the café across the street. But I am not talking to him.”

Evie rolls her eyes and laughs. “Sure thing.” She closes up your laptop and you take it from her, placing it on top of the nearby desk.

You slide in under the covers, and Evie returns to her book.

The following morning, you and Evie head for the little café across the street from 141 Ink. The sign outside the café says The Bird, and the logo is a blackbird on a branch. The inside is warm. Cozy. It’s early enough that you and Evie snag a corner table next to the window. Not knowing how long you’ll be there, Evie over orders as compensation for the server’s lost time.

When the food is delivered, the table is covered without a spare place to set anything down. It’s an absurd display, but Evie has money to spend, and the two of you will likely be here for several hours.

You fill up your coffee cup and the server tops off your mimosa glass. Evie stuffs her mouth full of pancakes. When the server turns around to leave, Evie grabs her backpack, digging around inside.

“Have some spy gear in there?” you joke, not expecting Evie to remove a pair of binoculars. You set your mimosa flute down on the table and cross your arms. “What is that?”

“It’s for research,” says Evie, shrugging her shoulders. She scans the café with narrowed eyes and then twists toward the window, holding the binoculars up to her face.

“I don’t know you,” you mutter, picking the flute back up to take a long sip. The bubbles in the champagne tickle your tongue, and you decide to swallow down the rest. It’s not like you’re driving. The two of you walked here.

Evie drops the binoculars from her face just as the server comes back to the table. You politely set the champagne flute down and the server uses their pitcher to refill your glass.

“Thank you,” you reply as they nod and turn to leave.

“What time does the shop open again?” asks Evie as she munches on a mouthful of pancake. “You said it was early.”

“It’s way past time now. I’m guessing the time I saw him wasn’t the actual opening time.”

Evie frowns and then holds the binoculars up to her face again. “I don’t see any movement inside.”

“This is absurd,” you say, waving your hand in the air.

“Wait!” Evie lowers the binoculars and you glance out the window.

Your eyes narrow slightly, gaze focusing in on the door of 141 Ink. There is movement. A shadow. A brief pause, and then, the door is opening.

Ghost is standing right there in the doorway as he guides the doorstop with the toe of his sneakers. He wears black joggers, a black t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie that’s open in the front. The hood is down but he’s wearing his signature balaclava. Beside him, the German Shepard appears momentarily before disappearing back inside.

Evie sighs appreciatively. “He is so large. Was he like that when the two of you hooked up? I never really got a good look at him.”

Maybe it’s the space between you and Ghost that makes you feel safe in your observation of him. He is the same, perhaps a bit softer in a few places where the muscles aren’t nearly so defined anymore, but you couldn’t really say for sure. From this distance, Ghost appears the same, but then again, you didn’t actually see all of him.

“He hasn’t changed,” you answer. “Not that I can tell.”

Evie chews around some pancake and then swallows. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Absolutely not, Evelyn Green.”

Evie points her fork at you. “Listen, bitch.”

“Evie,” you hiss, glancing around the café to see if anyone heard.

“I am trying to help you,” she says simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to go talk to this man. “And since you’re not going to do it. I’m going.” Evie stands up and cradles her belly, nearly waddling to the door.

“Evie,” you call out, but she ignores you.

You watch in horror as Evie crosses the street and strolls up to the open door of 141 Ink. She knocks on it, waves—likely at Ghost or the dog—and then steps inside. You itch to reach across the table and snag the binoculars to see what Evie is up to in there.

“Oh my god,” you murmur to the air, tossing back the rest of your mimosa.

Several minutes later, Evie reappears in the doorway, and you sigh with relief. But when she steps outside, Ghost follows her. He offers her his arm, and she takes it. The black German Shepard stands guard in the doorway as Ghost escorts Evie to the edge of the road.

When Ghost glances to the left, Evie looks up, sees you, and eagerly points at him with a big grin on her face. Ghost glances to the right, then the left again, before helping Evie across the road. When they make it to the sidewalk, they keep walking as Evie gestures at the door to the café.

Ghost opens the door for her, and when Evie steps inside, her grin is downright smug when she notices you. You can’t run this time. There is no escape from this.

“Thank you,” says Evie as she slides into her seat, her hand on her belly.

“People drive fast on that road,” he replies.

Ghost turns to leave and freezes when he sees you sitting there. You watch as his pupils dilate. Science says that when human eyes dilate like that, it’s because they see someone they love. It’s also a sign of the biological need to reproduce. And you’re watching it happen in real time with Ghost.

Your mouth does not form words. Instead, you simply stare, and Ghost stares back.

Ghost blinks and then he’s almost shaking his head like he’s not sure of where he is. “Enjoy your meal,” he says.

Your gaze drops, noticing the way his hands clench and unclench. You’ve seen him do it before. At Riot Room. When he hesitated in the seconds before touching you.

Ghost exits through the door, and your gaze follows him. He pauses right outside The Bird’s large window. Ghost pushes up his balaclava to his nose and lights a cigarette.

You follow him out the door where he pauses to push up his balaclava and light a cigarette. Then he’s jogging across the street, leaning against his tattoo shop to smoke. Ghost is looking directly at you, and you cannot stop staring back.

Those dark eyes are stones that crush your bones, and no one can pull you from your torment expect him.

It isn’t until he puts his cigarette out and goes inside his shop that you release a deep sigh. Turning back to Evie, you groan at the sight of her feral grin.

“How could you?”

Her grin only widens. “You’re going to be thanking me once you talk to him.”

“What did you say to him?” you ask, exasperated. Evie shrugs, and stuffs more pancake into her mouth, saying nothing. “Evelyn Green, I swear to God.”

Evie stuffs another mouthful of pancake into her mouth. The server reaches out to snag an empty plate and you address them, needing something strong. “Can you leave the mimosa pitcher?”

“Sure,” she laughs, bringing it back a minute later. You immediately pour yourself another glass and stare down at your own breakfast which is entirely untouched.

Evie points to your plate with her fork. “Are you going to eat that?”

“No. I’m getting drunk instead.”

The moment you and Evie return home, Amelia is already in the kitchen with a kettle on for tea.

“How was breakfast?” asks Amelia as she starts setting everything out on the table.

“Amazing!” beams Evie, nearly bouncing on her toes.

“Fine,” you reply, voice monotone.

Evie grabs your arms and gives it a good shake. “We should tell Amelia.”

“Absolutely n—”

You don’t even get your words out before Evie is charging forward. “Do you want to hear who we ran in to at breakfast?”

“Amelia doesn’t need to hear that.”

“Hush,” says Evie, waving you off. “Amelia, are you familiar with the tattoo parlor just a street or two over. Across from the café we went to?”

Amelia nods. “Oh, yes. I’ve chatted with the young man that owns it. Very nice. Very,” Amelia holds her arms wide. “Large. Those muscles on him always impressed me.”

Evie grins and you slouch into a seat. “During my bachelorette party, this one ran off with him for a bit.” Evie points at you over her shoulder.

Amelia tilts her head slightly in confusion and Evie makes a gesture with her hands replicating intercourse.

“Oh,” laughs Amelia, turning in your direction. “Did you?”

The kettle shrieks and Amelia takes it off the burner, carrying it over to the little table, setting it down on a neatly folded towel. Evie takes a seat to your left while Amelia sits across from you.

“I need every detail.” Amelia starts assembling the tea and you slouch further in the chair.

You leave out the act itself, not wanting to detail to Amelia exactly how good Ghost was in that green room.

“And you ran from him?” ask Amelia slowly.

“Twice!” says Evie and Amelia shakes her head in disappointment.

“It’s done,” you reply sharply. “It’s in the past. We need to let this go. I need to let this go.”

Amelia leans back in her chair. “This sounds like a second chance to me. Why don’t you go talk to him? At least find a bit of closure.”

Evie places her elbows on the table. “Or get it on in the tattoo parlor.”

“That too,” nods Amelia.

The alcohol sits heavy in your stomach. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Suit yourself, but tomorrow we’re all going to the pub. On Sunday’s I go to the Dancing Faun. The owner always puts on American baseball on the telly for me.”

“You watch American baseball?” you ask skeptically.

“Oh, yes.” She leans forward as if she’s passing on a secret. “It’s the uniforms.”

Evie cackles, and you roll your eyes.

The next day, near lunchtime, you, Evie, and Amelia all head to the Dancing Fauna. It’s on the same street that The Bird and 141 Ink are on. Amelia assured the both of you that it’s usually an older crowd and that people around your age typically don’t venture inside unless everything else is packed.

Which means you won’t see Ghost. You can cure your headache with more alcohol and call it good.

The outside of Dancing Faun is a deep, forest green with gold accents. The door is solid black. Amelia pushes on it and Evie follows behind with you bringing up the rear. It’s fairly dark inside. The only light comes from a few hanging lamps above the bar and along the wall. Several televisions display various sports including rugby and soccer.

“Amelia! Usual spot?”

You glance to the right and notice the bartender. He’s roughly middle-aged, likely leaning toward the higher end of forty.

“You know it, Ben,” replies Amelia.

“Already have it on. And you brought guests.” Ben’s voice is gruff but his smile is kind.

“Just the two. And only one is drinking.” Amelia gestures at Evie. “This one will need some tea and perhaps something to eat?”

Ben nods and wipes his hands with a bar towel, already moving into action.

Your gaze takes in the rest of the bar. There are only three people taking up seats. Two sit close to each other but with one chair between them. The third person is at the end of the bar, closest to the door and what looks like an entryway that leads to a flight of stairs and perhaps a back room.

As you focus on the man sitting at the end of the bar, you squint, confused at first. Then you notice the black German Shepard snoozing at his feet on the floor. Then the man is turning toward you, his balaclava pushed up to his nose, a beer glass lifting toward his mouth.

He stops. You stop.

Ghost is here. Your wraith. Yet again, the two of you are meeting in unexpected places.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Looking away quickly, you stare at the back of Evie’s head, following Amelia as she starts to introduce you to everyone in the pub. You smile when prompted, but you hear nothing of what is being said. You sense Ghost’s gaze on your back, and the very idea of his eyes on you sends a rippling heat of pleasure down your spine.

It’s not right. It’s not fair. Your body is betraying you.

Amelia turns and you follow her, nearly clinging to Evie in your desperation. Amelia pauses and introduces you and Evie to the two men sitting next to each other at the bar. Then you’re right in front of Ghost and Amelia is beaming at him.

“This is Simon,” she says casually. “Runs the tattoo parlor just a few shops down. He’s the only young one we allow around here.” Amelia grins and you want to flee all over again.

Ghost—or rather, Simon’s—gaze is fixated on you. Unmoving.

Amelia pats your shoulder. “I know the two of you know each other, but it’s been a while. How about you two catch up and Evie and I will go enjoy the game.”

“Amelia—”

“Sit,” insists Amelia, quickly ushering Evie away.

You’ve been betrayed.

Slowly, you sink down on the stool next to Simon—Ghost? What should you call him now?

“What will it be?” asks Ben, his gaze expectant.

“I’ll take whatever he’s drinking.” Ben shrugs and grabs a glass, filling it up before sliding it over to you. “Thank you,” you murmur.

Ghost sits up straighter, and shifts in his stool. He keeps one arm on the bar top, but the other rests against his leg, his hand poised on his knee. Your knee is touching his, and the very tips of his fingers brush against your jeans.

You have all his attention, that is very apparent.

“Hello,” you say weakly, unsure of where to begin.

“Hello,” he replies, and the sultry purr in his voice breaks something in you.

There is no going back.

Ghost—Simon? Is all there is.

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[eliteseven]

At this point ( I do not know who is where, doing what in Serena's timeline but...) for some reason I can just see the whole gang kind of popping in when Shadowheart gives birth and it at some point becomes this comedic event (tbh it is my personal HC that no matter what: Shadowheart and f!Tav have children, does not matter how) but everyone fills out a role that is just so perfectly timed. Like Lae'zel comes in with Xan and she berates Tav, that she did not build a proper birthing ground or something. And the list just goes on and on.

Also, I mean, it's moon magic and all but I do not think Isobel would be able to reproduce in any capacity. But if she could. Omg the little Aylin and Isobel look-a-likes with wings would be a menace.

If I’m bringing in the entire ensemble cast, I want CHAOS!!!! 👹

-Like, Xan playing with Aylin and Isobel’s winged babies and every single animal in the cottage chasing after them!! Knocking over all of Shadowheart and Tav’s carefully placed decor. 🥰

-Aylin and Lae’zel trying to give Tav an aggressive crash course in motherhood (she’s already ready and potentially better suited than both of them 💀 but anyway) and Tav just freaking out.

Aylin: “and remember, in the event that the little one can fly-“

Tav: “if she can WHAT?” 😮

-Wyll arriving with the Baldurian equivalent of a secret service security detail that gets on the way of everything. The cottage is already…so small. 💀 but he comes with like…a caravan of gifts and supplies so really they need the manpower to lug that up the hill, anyway

-Shads getting her first labor contractions and Tav just doubling over like a sack of potatoes because of the warding bond rings 😅

-Karlach coming with a whole wheelbarrow of stuffed animals to meet her goddaughter🥹💕 which she promptly dumps in their already-way-too-small bedroom until there’s no space to walk.

-Astarion fighting with one of the cottage cats for a rat that he “saw first 🙄” bc this is taking forever and it’s been over 12 hours since he last drained a criminal.

-Shadowheart begging Gale to cast silence across the entire cottage so she can finally get some fucking peace and quiet. His new lover from Waterdeep is having second thoughts seeing this weird family 😭

-Arnell, Emmeline, and Amelia staring at this group wondering how the fuck they saved Faerun. Jaheira finally has found her people: The Older and exasperated group™️

-Shadowheart complains that it’s taking too long and Withers just pops in out of nowhere with a classic “fate spins along as it should”, startling everyone, and Shadowheart nearly decapitates him in her pain

-Minsc suggesting that they name the baby “Minsc” 😭

-Isobel and Shadowheart finding common ground in being the only two relatively normal ones there 😅 makes them realize they might have a lot more in common than previously thought.

[morningstar-chronicles]

backstory - toh DR

okay so if you've been following me for a while now you probably remember bits and pieces of my first publicly scripted DR. i've changed my backstory a lot since then because honestly that one was kind of overly traumatic and i'm Too Tired to deal with all that

my birth mother died when i was an infant, my bio father is a human who ended up in the demon realm by accident and eventually became a witch hunter with belos (killed my mom)

i have no memory or recollection of this though because i was a baby

raised by my godfather/adoptive dad (darius deamonne)- he knows what happened, but my bio father doesn't know that he knows, therefore belos still doesn't know that he's going to defect

i've been going to hexside since i was practically a baby. despite being half-human, my bile sack is a normal size, so i never struggled in school. everyone knows i'm only half-witch, so i had to earn their respect by being great at everything all the time

amity and i actually have on-and-off beef for a really long time because we're both really competitive, but boscha likes me (and plus my dad is a coven head), so amity has to tolerate me. after she meets luz, she calms down and we're cool

i still have the same friend group i always did- boscha is my best friend, and my other friends are amelia, amity, skara, and cat. emira and i are also close friends (she and amity don't get along yet) but edric and i are kinda just acquaintences

i'm on the grudgby team. boscha is captain (although amity was captain for a while) and i'm star player

i regularly participate in the bonesborough brawl. i've won twice

[brave-symphonia]

Just beat Vicar Amelia, and wow, what a difference upgrading your weapon makes.

I upgraded my Ludwig's Holy Blade to +5, and Amelia took me two tries, and the first try I had no healing items and didn't summon help, and still got her to half health.

I think I kept staggering her, I heard that you can cripple her limbs if you do enough damage, so I think that was happening.

Felt so much easier than I remember.

I did have a little trouble figuring out where to go next, but I think I figured it out, I'm in some kind of woods now, although I do have two areas I haven't explored yet.

I stopped before a big room to the right of the Cathedral after two unique hunter enemies, because it looked like a boss room.

And I still haven't fully tried exploring the place I got to after being shoved in a sack.

[augment-techs]

BINGO BINGO BINGO TIME:

1) Javelia

2) Ollaiyon

3) Fizzy

Javelia: Due to your massive influence in art and headcanons and just the general scene that you've painted in my mind about them and what could have been if the producers and directors weren't cowards, I have quite the rotating meat sack of a soft spot for them.

Truly, they should have ended their series as a couple and would have made one hell of a nice pair to look at. Red and Black...when it's not BroTP, it's really rare. And they fit.

Ollaiyon: I tend to go back and forth on them depending on the season. In Dino Fury, I would have been totally okay if they ended up as just roommates, or there was an underhanded remark or hint at them banging on the side. In the aftermath of Cosmic Fury, I would very much appreciate them being each other's snuggle buddy as well as mutual rebound that could actually reasonable make it through into being actually good couple material. I do not like the idea of Aiyon with Zayto (way too much of a broken bridge for that) and Ollie and Amelia are BAD FOR EACH OTHER.

I'm also okay with them being basically the Gimli/Legolas of Power Rangers. All the hints are there, but the author/director, will never say a word.

Fizzy: You'd think since they were actually a canon queer ship I would get more than one bingo out of them, yet because they ARE CONFIRMED CANON I am also weirdly not that in to them? Like, if Izzy was given the opportunity to shine a light proper in Cosmic Fury and Fern got...more in general...I think I would be more inclined to lean in. But they are so...aggressively inoffensive...that they're just this side of kind of boring. They're the Disney's WISH of Power Rangers.

@skyland2703

[beautifulcrownmusic]

What are your Kit regression HCs?

(If you want stories based on the HCs I’d given you so far, feel free to send requests via the inbox.)

The Great Depression forced her to grow up quickly so when Kit can, she tries to regress to age six to nine.

Only Ruthie knows outside the family. She doesn’t quite trust Stirling, knowing how much of a fuss Mrs. Howard already makes about her not being more ladylike.

She tries to make selling eggs into a game by seeing if she can beat her previous time. So far, she’s only be successful twice.

If she’s not making newspapers for the household, she’s making positive lists about herself.

When needing some cheering up, she got to her Amelia doll for comfort.

Uncle Hendrick, no surprise there honestly, is the only one who’s not supportive but Mother assures her not to let his words get to her.

She once punched Roger in the face while regressed. Didn’t regret it.

Mother tries to make her feed sack dresses cutesy but not too childish.

The Robin Hood book she borrowed from her older brother Charlie is worn and dog eared from her reading it so often but Kit doesn’t care.

Sometimes she gets angry about the depression and how it’s ruined her life but is often told her feelings are valid.

Baseball makes her happy. She loves listening to games on the radio when she can.

[hell-aint-half-full]

(Artwork by Amelia Wray)

Godless Wolves: The Wolves of Blood Meridian and Their Relationship with the Violence of Man

In Blood Meridian, a camaraderie of sorts is established between the Glanton gang and the vicious, scavenging wolves, or lobos, of the plains. This may be as a result of a sense of mutually assured destruction between the two groups. However, McCarthy’s reverence towards wolves, arguably, runs much deeper than this. The kid explains that even though the gang had eaten little of any sustenance for many days, “[he] would never shoot a wolf and [he] know[s] other men of the same sentiments” (McCarthy, 2001: p.129). This suggests a kind of unwritten reverence towards the beasts. The wolves seem to uphold this relationship through their restraint from attacking and feeding on the gang themselves, but rather following them on their treks, “wink[ing] out there on the edge of the firelight” when the gang make camp, “and in the morning when the riders rose out in the cool dark they could hear the snarling and the pop of their mouths behind them as they sacked the camp for meatscraps” (McCarthy, 2001: p.41). As Gary Marvin puts forward in his book Wolf, in this location and time period, wolves were shot by everyone who could shoot. There even existed a profession known as ‘Wolfer’. In this, a ranger would hunt down wolves for their pelts and eliminate them due to their threat to crops, livestock, and humans alike. These Wolfers were treated as law enforcement (Marvin, 2012: p:98). This reverence, this mutualistic relationship, shown in Blood Meridian is not one shared throughout history. This forces a reader to question why such a peaceful relationship should exist in an otherwise brutally violent novel. The answer to this question, as I argue, is multifaceted.

It borders on impossible, in a presentation of wolves in media, to avoid conjuring up biblical connotations. In Ezekiel, menacing princes are likened to “wolves tearing their pray, shedding blood, destroying lives” (ESVB, 2001: Ezekiel. 22:27). Wolves are portrayed as being the manifestation of evil, savagery, and the corrupters of innocence; their ravaging of innocent sheep is referenced frequently throughout as a metaphor for this (ESVB, 2001: Acts 20:29). An image of a pack of wolves savaging the pure white lamb is one with which almost every person in Christian dominated nations is familiar. In this, the gang are much more like wolves than men. Both travel in packs, wandering, hunting others down for personal gain, culling their own weakest links, and butchering those in their paths. Their camaraderie must therefore be rooted in a sense of kinship. However, to push this idea further, the biblicality of the wolves and the gang, through their lack of godliness yet continued praying, deepens their bond. They are both God’s forgotten. Rejected. The Fall of Man, interpreted from the first three chapters of the book of Genesis, shows man falling intro depravity through their disobedience and sin. This creates a world tainted with sin which nobody may be free of, not even new-born babies (ESBV, 2001: Genesis). The gang, and the wolves, do anything but repent this original sin, and thus, God abandons them. Even when Hayward prays for rain and his prayer is seemingly answered, the rain is short-lived and lands like bullets (McCarthy, 2001: p.46). The Christian God may exist somewhere in the world, but there is “no God in Mexico” (McCarthy, 2001: p.33) or its borderlands. There is only violence and, as the Judge theorises, where God has abandoned his subjects, War will remain to rule over them in His stead. In this, the wolves of Blood Meridian and the Glanton gang are fundamentally linked through their existence as subjects of War, the God of the borderlands, and they behave accordingly.

English Standard Version Bible. (2001). ESV Online

Marvin, G. (2012). Wolf. Reaktion Books.

McCarthy, C. (2001). Blood Meridian or The Evening Redness in the West. Picador.

[2000sfm]

any suggestions for roles or reboots that would fit 30+ muses well? either existing or new ones!

we  would  love  more  older  muses  around  here.  some  ideas  for  older  muses  in  existing  reboots  are  listed  under  the  cut  since  it's  quite  a  long  list.  however  some  other  reboots  that  could  definitely  fit  30+  muses  are  :  13  going  on  30,  legally  blonde,  american  psycho,  mamma  mia,  how  i  met  your  mother,  the  office  &  desperate  housewives  !!

the  vampire  diaries:  alaric  saltzman,  jenna  sommers,  john  gilbert,  meredith  fell,  sybil,  liz  forbes,  lillian  salvatore,  josette  laughlin,  isobel  flemming,  carol  lockwood,  abby  bennett,  pearl,  mikael  mikaelson,  zach  salvatore  &  esther  mikaelson.

the  oc:  alex  kelly,  sandy  cohen,  kirsten  cohen,  julie  cooper,  jimmy  cooper

one  tree  hill:  dan  scott,  keith  scott,  deb  scott,  karen  roe,  quinn  james.

sons  of  anarchy:  jax  teller,  opie  winston,  donna  winston,  gemma  teller-morrow,  clay  morrow,  tara  knowles,  juice  ortiz,  tig  trager,  chibs  telford,  happy,  wendy  case,  half-sack  epps.

gilmore  girls:  sookie  st.  james,  christopher  hayden,  emily  gilmore,  richard  gilmore,  max  medina,  michel  gerard,  mrs.  kim.

pretty  little  liars:  ezra  fitz,  melissa  hastings,  wren  kingston,  ashley  marin,  meredith  sorenson,  veronica  hastings,  ella  montgomery,  byron  montgomery,  ian  thomas,  tom  marin.

sex  and  the  city:  samantha  jones,  charlotte  york,  miranda  hobbes,  mr.  bing,  aiden  shaw.

supernatural:  dean  winchester,  sam  winchester,  jo  harvelle,  bobby  singer,  john  winchester,  mary  winchester,  ruby,  lilith,  castiel,  ellen  harvelle,  jessica  moore.

friends:  phoebe  buffay,  ross  geller  (ross  gang),  janice  hosenstein,  gunther,  mike  hannigan,  carol  willick,  emily  waltham,  susan  bunch,  kathy,  jill  green,  amy  green.

criminal  minds:  spencer  reid,  derek  morgan,  penelope  garcia,  emily  prentiss,  hotch  hotchner,  jason  gideon,  david  rossi,  elle  greenaway.

grey's  anatomy:  lexie  grey,  mark  sloan,  derek  shepherd,  amelia  shepherd,  izzie  stevens,  george  o'malley,  cristina  yang,  alex  karev,  miranda  bailey,  callie  torres,  arizona  robbins,  april  kepner,  jackson  avery,  owen  hunt,  addison  montgomery.

true  blood:  bill  compton,  eric  northman,  lafayette  reynolds,  sam  merlotte,  tara  thorton,  pam,  alcide  heveraux.

jennifers  body:  nikolai  wolff

resident  evil:  chris  redfield,  albert  walker,  jill  valentine,  ada  wong,  barry  burton,  rebecca  chambers,  ashley  graham.

scream:  gale  weathers,  dewey  riley.

[tv-moments]

The Perfect Couple

“Someone Could Get Hurt”

Director: Susanne Bier

DoP: Roberto De Angelis, Shane Hurlbut

[barkspawn]

a: "you're so pretty." b: *nervous laugh* "im what?" a: "i said you're so pretty" (a then proceeds to kiss b) prompt with Elliott please🙏

Featuring: Dresses with pockets

<3

Amelia both loved and hated dressing up. Her hair was always uncooperative and her makeup was never even. The flower dance was no different. She decided this year to keep it simple. She was already wearing the new dress she and Emily had been working on and had already applied some basic makeup. 

She huffed as she examined herself in the mirror, ensuring she was good to go, knowing the walk itself would take some time. 

Quickly, she pinned some of her hair in an attempt at something different from her day-to-day, knowing she'd probably take it out by the time the dance even started. 

She started out the door, waving a quick goodbye to Loaf before making her way south toward the forest. 

She was able to fit her phone in the pocket on one side and her small pouch of coins in the other. 

Emily is a genius for the pockets. 

Emily was honestly a genius with sewing in general. They took Amelia's measurements one time and Emily made the entire dress and it fit Amelia perfectly. Amelia couldn't wait to see her and show her how nice it turned out. 

Elliott crossed her mind more than once. She thought about asking him to dance this year if she could gather the courage. She couldn't even begin to imagine actually doing so. If she remembered correctly, he looked incredible in his suit to the point where it flustered her. He had been her friend since day one and he took to admitting she inspired him. Once, he referred to her as his muse and she feared her heart might explode. 

Elliott was an incredibly attractive man, which made it all the more difficult when she started liking him. She couldn't help but think he was so far beyond her league. 

Her smile shone brightly as she approached the small bridge to the dance area, greeting Evelyn and George as she crossed. 

“You look lovely, dear,” Evelyn commented with a light touch to Amelia's shoulder. Evelyn hadn't been very subtle about her disapproval when it came to Amelia's tattoos, but she eventually understood that even if Amelia wanted to change them (she didn't), she couldn't. 

George gave a small hum in either a hello or agreement, clearly miserable being out here. 

“Thank you, Evelyn. The flowers are gorgeous,” Amelia looked around before her gaze came back to the older couple, “you've truly outdone yourself.”

The woman gave a bright smile and waved her off, “many years of practice. Thank you! Now, go on and don't let us keep you from the party!”

Amelia gave her thanks and walked into the large area, looking around curiously. Everyone seemed to look so nice, even if Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail looked miserable. Amelia was worried she was late with how many people were already there. 

She gave a few hellos on her way to the snack table, pouring herself a cup of punch. 

She felt a nudge on her side, looking over at Pam, who was laughing to herself, “hey, kid. I put a little extra something in the punch.”

Amelia opened her mouth to say something, but closed it, not wanting to start that issue. Instead, she gave a half-hearted laugh before giving Lewis a heads-up to make another bowl for the children. 

She didn't switch hers out, though. She might as well take the courage where she can get it. 

She turned and smiled brightly as she saw Leah, waving at her from a table along the side. Amelia beamed, making her way over. 

“Thank Yoba. I thought I was going to wander aimlessly forever,” Amelia teased as the woman pulled her in for a tight hug.

“Never!” Leah laughed, stepping back and looking Amelia over, “Em did a really great job! Then again I'm sure that you could pull off a burlap sack.”

Amelia shook her head, feigning shock, “you mean I could have worn a burlap sack? Damn!”

Leah rolled her eyes before leaning on the table, tall enough to do so while standing, “I definitely think Elliott will be happy with the dress,” Leah teased, heat growing in Amelia’s face before she added on, “or the sack.”

“Leah!”

Leah held her hands up in surrender, still laughing, “I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself,” she took a deep breath, looking around at everyone, “speaking of El,”

“Leah.”

“Have you asked him to dance?”

Amelia felt her cheeks still burning as she stole glances at the entrance to the field far more often than she'd like to admit. She shot Leah a look, making her groan. 

“Ames. If you don't ask him, you won't know. I keep telling you,” Leah put her hands on Amelia's shoulders, “he is definitely into you.”

Amelia frowned, sighing, “and if he isn't? Then I look like a fool and he–” 

Amelia caught sight of Elliott at the entrance as he politely declined to buy anything from Pierre. Leah must have noticed, following her gaze to the man, a grin growing over her face. 

Amelia's mind had gone completely blank and it seemed like she had forgotten how to breathe. Elliott looked nice every day, of course, but today, he wore a white suit, and although it was the same as every other suit here, he looked incredible. It was perfectly tailored, likely also Emily’s doing, and brought out every perfect feature the man had. 

“Breathe, Ames. Don't need you dying before you can even ask him,” Leah nudged her, bringing her back to reality. 

“You didn't tell me that he looked this amazing in a suit,” Amelia hummed before shooting a glare at Leah, who laughed aloud, “that's just a fact. Sure I'm biased but it's unreal.”

Leah shook her head as she waved at Elliott. He gave a bright smile as he played off his own double take at Amelia. Leah looked at her, who stood completely oblivious. 

Leah hugged Elliott as he approached, a quiet laugh escaping his lips, “well hello, Leah,” he pats her back, returning the small hug before he met Amelia's gaze, “and hello, Amelia.” 

She couldn't help but smile, “hey, El.”

“You look lovely,” Elliott started before looking over at Leah as well, “you both do.”

“We always look lovely, sir,” Leah teased before smiling briefly at Amelia, “you certainly look nice though, right Ames?”

Amelia was caught off guard, but smiled, “yeah, you really do.”

Leah was clearly already growing impatient with the other woman, “So, El, who are you dancing with this year?”

He arched an eyebrow, not seeing the look Amelia shot her, “no one at present. Why? Are you asking?”

Leah’s lip curled in playful disgust, “with you?” she furrowed her brow, “not my type, Romeo.”

He laughed and shook his head, “I take no offense to any of that other than being called Romeo. I'm hardly that… impulsive.”

Amelia laughed, taking another drink of her punch as Leah met her eyes. 

“Find someone fast then, not-Romeo,” Leah commented before starting toward the punch bowl, “I'll be back in a bit!” 

Amelia's eyes widened a bit, cursing her best friend as she left. 

“I always feel like she's part of some maniacal plan when she acts like this,” Elliott joked, leaning casually on the table. Amelia laughed, shaking her head. 

“El, somehow I don't think you're wrong,” she raised the cup to her lips once more before noticing he was looking down at her. She felt her face flush as she caught his eye, “do I have something on my face?” she touched her cheek, fingers cold against the burning skin. 

He smiled as if suppressing laughter at a thought, “not at all. Just admiring your dress. You truly do look lovely.” 

She cursed the blush rising in her cheeks, about to comment before he added, “pink is also a lovely color on you.”

She furrowed her brow, looking down at her dress before it occurred to her that he was commenting on her blush. 

She frowned, placing her cup on the table, “I can't help it. You come in here like an Adonis and start complimenting me,” his brows rose as she continued, “not to mention I blush if someone so much as likes my shoes. So don't pick on me,” she teased, turning to look out over the vast expanse of people and the dance floor. 

It was a long moment before he answered, his tone amused, “like an Adonis, huh?”

She felt her cheeks burning again, trying to will it away. She did say that, didn't she? 

“El, you know you look good. It's not like a secret.”

“Strange how it surprises me then,” he hummed, looking straight out over the people, taking in everyone, “and what about you?”

“Hmm?” she glanced up at him, trying to read his face, “I don't think I'm an adonis if that's what you're asking.”

He laughed aloud then, the sound sending a flood of butterflies through her being, “no, I'm asking who you will be dancing with.”

“Oh, uh…” she bit her lower lips, giving a slight shrug as she turned her gaze forward again, not meeting his eye, “no one. Just watching this year.”

“Well, that's just not acceptable. Perhaps we can change that.”

She laughed quietly, “I'm sorry?”

He looked down at her, who had finally looked up at him. He gave a warm smile before arching an eyebrow, curious as to if she actually didn't understand. 

“I'm asking you to dance with me, Amelia,” his smile grew when he saw the pink rise over her cheeks. 

“Oh,” she smiled, nudging him with her shoulder, “I guess I’d be alright with that.”

He put his hands over his heart, a pout playing at his expression, “you wound me, Amelia. Don't sound so excited.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, “maybe this is how I show excitement.

He laughed again, that beautiful melody. 

“I've seen you on several occasions far more excited.”

“Maybe this is just maximum excitement,” she teased, the microphone coming to life with minor feedback. 

“It's time for the long-awaited flower dance! Grab your partners and get ready,” Lewis called, yelling despite there being a microphone. 

Elliott offered his arm, Amelia wasting no time in taking it as they walked to the dance floor. She caught sight of Leah almost choking on a tortilla chip as she spotted the two, looking genuinely shocked. 

Amelia and Elliott took their places across from one another, this being the most annoying part of the dance. Though the longer she took imagining his hand on her waist and her hand in his, the more she realized it was actually about to happen. 

They met eyes as he, and the rest of the men, danced closer before bowing in exchange for a curtsy. He stepped in and took her into his arms, effortlessly dancing in their small space. She met his eyes once more during the dance, his smile faltering for just a second, though she noticed. 

The dance came to an end and people started to clear the floor. They made their way back toward the table. She barely heard his voice when he commented, “could you look at me for just a moment?”

Once they got to the table, she turned and looked up at him, her breath catching at the look he gave her. It was like he had just figured out some complicated issue and was marveling at the solution. But there was also a certain fear she didn't often see in his eyes. She looked over his features, worried that something was wrong. Was he leaving the valley? Did he notice that she had feelings and he had to turn her down? 

“You are very pretty, Amelia.”

Amelia laughed, the sound nervous and breathy, “I'm sorry, I'm what?”

“You're very pretty,” he tucked his finger under her chin, meeting her eyes with a decisive smile, “I’d even say beautiful.”

Before she had a chance to respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, his free hand falling to her waist as she stood shocked for a moment. She felt him falter for a moment, concerned for her lack of response. Before he could pull back, she reached up and touched his face, her other hand resting over his lapel. It was a long few seconds before they couldn't help but smile, their foreheads resting against one another. 

“I'd call you handsome,” she breathed, “but we already know I think you're an Adonis.”

He laughed quietly before pressing his lips to hers in one more too-short kiss, cut off by an excited yell from Leah, “I honestly was not sure if the whole leaving you two alone thing would work, but damn!”

Elliott kept his arm around Amelia, her heart beating hard and fast, “and I got a picture!”

Amelia laughed aloud, giving their friend a look, “you just take pictures of people kissing now?”

“I do when it's obvious that my two best friends who do nothing but drool over each other finally do.”

Amelia frowned. Elliott did not need to know how much she liked him. But.. He liked her too?

“I'm going to leave you lovebirds alone,” Leah grinned as she walked back over to see Emily. 

“You drooled over me then?” she teased, relishing the feeling of his arm around her waist. 

“I'm still not certain that this is real,” he joked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “this is the thing of old romance novels. Just… Being around you brings me so much inspiration. It's like…” he paused, looking down and meeting her gaze, “you're my muse.”

She laughed, leaning her head into his chest, “I promise I'm very real. I don't know if I could be your muse, that's so much bigger than me. Besides, the women in those books–”

“--couldn't hold a candle to you, Amelia. I truly believe that you are my muse,” he paused, smiling as she wrapped her arms around him in a hug, “I suppose this is when I invite you for a long walk on the beach, hm?”

She laughed, breathing him in. He smelled of the sea, yes, but his smell reminded her of when it rains and she would curl up by the fire with a new book. It just felt like comfort. Like home. 

“Only if there will be stars filling the entire sky,” she teased, “I could bring some wine.”

He smiled, “most romantic date Pelican Town has ever seen.”

[queen-of-bel]

WHEN is amane’s song coming out like can it just be now so i stop caring about milgram for another 2 years or however long it’s gonna take for fuuta’s third trial to release