#and what she meant was I preferred staying at a house where I was given food.

[rowanhoney]

Wait I’m more mad

[apomaro-mellow]

Mafia Part 1

For the occasion, Eddie was given one of his dad's old suits. It didn't quite fit as well but it would have to do for now. He tied his hair up in a bun and put a hat on top of it. Wayne was dressed similarly and it was like this that they entered the Marini home. Eddie couldn't remember the entire reason everyone was gathering. Could've been a birthday party for all he knew. But being in the main house meant good drinks and a chance to rub elbows with the folks up top. Which obviously meant more money.

Wayne finally let the leash off to go and talk with some of the older guys and Eddie got to go off on his own. He sat with Tonio, a man shorter than him despite being ten years older and Swirly, who looked like a breeze could knock him over.

"Why do they call you Swirly?", Eddie asked.

"'Cause when I stab guys I like to flick my blade around. It's my own personal touch."

"'Personal touch'", Tonio laughed. "You're just a classic narcissist."

"It's art."

"It's ghoulish."

"You wanna talk narcissism...", Swirly trailed off as he took a sip of his drink.

Tonio whistled like a rock falling down a well. He must know who Swirly was talking about.

"Who?", Eddie asked, preferring to stay in the loop.

"The little prince", Tonio sneered.

"Steve Harrington. The boss' son", Swirly provided a better answer.

"Harrington, huh?", Eddie said, just meaning to get a feel for the name but the others must have thought he was asking another question.

"The last boss had a daughter, just an absolute peach of a dame", Tonio said. "But she went and fell for this outsider, Harrington."

"He'd done some deals with us, but he wasn't family", Swirly said. "Until he married into it."

Eddie nodded, getting the picture. "So Steve Harrington should've been Steve Marini?"

"He could've been Giuseppe Alessandro Italiano-Magnifico. Won't change him", Toni nearly snarled, starting to spoil the air with a bitter scent before reining himself in. Eddie was eager to find out how someone so high on this world's food chain had earned the disdain of one of his underlings.

Eddie moved around a bit. Tonio and Swirly were basically footmen. Always in the streets, rarely in the room where the big decisions were made. Eventually Eddie came to a circle of young men closer to his age. Young bucks who were also looking to rise up. Some of them were already related by blood, cousins and nephews. Others were like Eddie, boys down on their luck, doing little jobs here and there for the money. But when you gave to the family, there was always the chance that you could be brought into the fold.

You could be sponsored.

Eddie had heard of it. Heard it could be a grueling process depending on who was vouching for you and for what. Wayne had been sponsored a few years ago. It had been an odd time when he didn't see his uncle as much as he'd been used to. But by the end of it, Wayne was able to invoke the Marini name if need be.

It was power. It was respect. It was everything Eddie wanted. They were seated at a table outside in the backyard where they could be louder. As they were wont to do. Sometimes the conversation switched to Italian, which left Eddie in the dark, but before too long it was back to a tongue he knew.

They started talking about what they'd do to be sponsored and then it turned to what they wouldn't do.

"What if they ask you to be celibate?"

"They're not gonna ask that."

"I heard they made a guy cut off his knot."

"Get outta here!"

"Nah, it wasn't just the knot, it was his balls too."

"They don't want eunuchs!"

"An alpha's only good for his knot anyway."

"What's a beta good for then?"

"Fuck if I know."

That caused both raucous laughter and jeers from the betas in the crowed. And just because Eddie had to be a pot stirrer, he spoke up.

"What about omegas?", he smirked.

"They got holes, don't they?", one alpha said.

"Everybody needs a warm body", a beta answered.

"If they're the right omega they can set you on easy street", another alpha, answered. He'd introduced himself as Tommy. Hagan, not to be confused with Tommy Corns who got caught holding up a pharmacy last year.

"The 'right omega' meaning your omega?", another guy piped up.

"He ain't Tommy's yet. He's still gotta woo him", a different one cackled.

"Aww, you sweet on someone Tommy-boy?", Eddie jabbed.

"I'm not sweet on anyone. Just got my target locked."

"On?", Eddie pressed.

"Who else but the best? Pretty soon, you'll all be calling me 'boss'", Tommy looked so sure of himself.

Ah, so he was after the cream of the crop. Eddie wondered how many of these guys were after Steve. Probably not many if Tommy was openly gunning for him.

Wayne found him and put an arm around his shoulders as he brought him back into the house. "There's someone I want you to meet. Mind yourself and don't get any ideas."

“What? Me? Ideas?”, he grinned cheekily.

“I mean it. We’re here to do our jobs and keep our heads down.”

Wayne brought him before a man in his late forties, thick, dark hair, graying around the edges. Next to him was a young man. Both were dressed in perfectly tailored suits. For a second, Eddie thought that he was being brought before a fellow associate. But he quickly realized these two were far above that. Especially with the way Wayne deferred to them.

Eddie was so caught by a scent that he almost missed what was happening. Lavendar and pine, wafting around him in a way that reminded him of freshly laundered linens.

It was during introductions that he realized. This was the omega everyone was talking about. Steve Harrington.

And he was looking at Eddie like he was a stray dog.

Steve looked him up and down. “You’re the Munson boy?”

“Sweetheart, I think I’ve got a few years on you to be called ‘boy’.” Eddie hissed when that remark earned him a pop on the head from Wayne.

“Please forgive my nephew. He’s not around polite company often.”

“If he’s yours Wayne, I’m not worried”, Harrington Sr. said. “I know in time he’ll prove himself to be loyal and a worthy addition to the business.”

While the older men talked, Eddie’s eyes were glued to Steve’s, who in turn hadn’t looked away from him yet. There was something behind those eyes and Eddie wanted to find out what it was. Eddie knew what it was like when people looked down at you. Steve was doing that, sure, but it was more than that.

It was almost like he expected something to happen. If Eddie were more bold, he would have made another comment. But he wouldn't dare do so in front of such a powerful man. Steve's father, James, could have had him killed with just an order. He wasn't about to antagonize his only shot at a not-shit life.

Eddie would have done so if he could've gotten to Steve one-on-one. But after that little meet and greet, Eddie was taken to talk to other men. And every glimpse of Steve he got, he was glued to his father's side.

Little prince indeed.

Part 3

[buyukvalidesultan]

What I would do if I was Rhaenyra Targaryen in HotD

I wouldn’t allow a single rumor of my maidenhead being take outside of marriage exist. I was named heir to distance Daemon from the throne that would include distancing myself from him regardless of whatever emotions I feel towards him.

It is an unfair world where the men have the upper hand and when I -a girl- have been named the heir I can’t do anything that would jeopardize that, meaning I would have to abide by the rules that society has put in place for me. If I wanted sexual pleasure I’d find a male servant and kill him afterwards to ensure his silence.

Take a little plan-b tea too.

Criston continues to be a regular loyal Kingsguard.

As soon as Alicent gets pregnant I’m killing her. Any hint of a male heir could put my position as heir in danger. I’d have to make it look like she died in childbirth along with the baby.

I’d marry Vaemond Velaryon instead of Laenor. He’s a gay man and having a husband who prefers men to women would not do my reputation any favors nor give me the heirs I need to secure the succession if he can’t get an erection. Not a risk I’m willing to take.

Vaemond is also an ambitious idiot that I can manipulate.

House Velaryon is really the only option since they’re a house that already have dragons, I can’t risk bringing dragons to any of the other houses, especially a great house.

When Otto is dismissed I’d have a loyal servant stationed in Old Town to keep track of his doings. Since he’d most likely want his position as Hand of the King back, I’d send a message for the servant to wait for a good moment to poison Otto.

Once married to Vaemond I’d stop having relations with servants, I can’t risk my children being born illegitimate becuase Vaemond most likely wouldn’t stand for something like that if he were to ever find out, and to have children I’d have to stop drinking moon tea.

After giving birth to Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffery I’d bring Jacaerys to King’s Landing with me as he is my heir and he needs to gain experience if he is to become king after my reign. Lucerys and Joffery would stay with Vaemond on Driftmark.

Occasional trips would be made to both Dragonstone and Driftmark. Dragonstone is the seat of the heir so I’d spend a moderate amount of time there, then go to Driftmark to spend time with Lucerys and Joffery.

While there I’d plant doubts in Vaemond’s head of Laenor’s sexuality and who would succeed to the seat of Driftmark if his nephew didn’t have any interest interest in women. Which the obvious answer would be Laena and her daughters, something Vaemond clearly wouldn’t like as he always wanted to be lord of Driftmark himself.

Driftmark is a valuable ally to have but I’d need a person easy to manipulate, or at least someone I trusted that was close with the future head of the house. They also had dragons which meant by all means I shouldn’t make them an enemy but I should also monitor their ambitiousness to make sure they do not wish to climb higher and replace House Targaryen.

Unfortunately during my trip there I would also hear of Laena’s death so my stay there would be lengthened.

Viserys eventually arrives with Jace and the funeral is held.

Just a day after the funeral Laenor mysteriously dies.

To let the situation die down, Jace, Viserys, and I would all return to King’s Landing where Viserys’ condition would gradually worsen.

The position of Hand of the King remains vacant after Lyonel’s death. With that I’d betroth Jace to Lord Jason Lannister’s daughter, Lady Cerelle Lannister. Then make a brief suggestion to my sickly father that the brother of Lord Jason, Tywin Lannister, shouldn’t become Hand of the King.

To help my position as heir, I would also need the support of the commonfolk to ensure minimal rebellion. Alms would be given to the common people, and I’d hand out money on my nameday.

Money wouldn’t be an issue but it would hurt to have a little extra to pay for my extravagant tastes in jewelry and silks.

Positions on the small council would be sold to the highest but most loyal bidder.

With ongoing trips to Driftmark, I’d also have marital activities with Vaemond and give birth to Aegon then Viserys, causing me to stay at Driftmark longer than expected. This brings upon the decision of temporarily moving my court to Driftmark for the next four years, until 130 AC.

After a long stay I return to King’s Landing, this time without Jace.

Jacaerys will be sent to Dragonstone with Cerelle where he will be allowed to hold his own court and listen to the grievances of the people there. A loyal servant would be sent with him and send reports to me by raven in order for me to monitor how he rules over the people of Dragonstone. While Cerelle will gain practice on being his consort and hopefully grow closer to him.

I will continue ruling as regent for the next two years with a close eye kept on House Hightower, finally after many years of waiting I receive word of Otto’s demise. But yet another issue arises.

Vaemond’s ambitions once again come to light with Corlys’ recent injury.

Vaemond and Rhaenys both arrive to King’s Landing with Luke, Joffery, Baela, and Rhaena. Jace also arrives from Dragonstone with Cerelle and court is finally held.

Vaemond petitions himself to be Lord of Driftmark which I would swiftly reject, instead I would compromise with Rhaenys as she is still a dragon rider and I’d rather not have her as an enemy, especially while pregnant.

Daemon would not be allowed to be in attendance. Knowing his temperament he’d most likely kill someone and this situation needs to be solved without bloodshed.

This would be taken as the perfect opportunity to have Lucerys betrothed to Baela.

Vaemond would be named as Regent of Driftmark during Lord Corlys’ sickness to appease him for the time being.

After the tense situation is over, to lighten the mood, I’d have Jacaerys and Cerelle’s wedding take place. A large feast and tourney would also be held. Surprisingly, Viserys felt well enough to attend and join in the celebrations.

A few days after the celebrations are over I let Rhaenys return to Driftmark with her grandchildren and my children while I kept Vaemond occupied and stalled him on his return to Driftmark.

After a few days passed I would finally let relent and him return to Driftmark and by the time he got back I received word that Lord Corlys had returned to good health.

Sadly, Viserys passes away. This sends me into a small spiral of panic but I soon recover, realizing I had prepared myself for this day.

The coronation goes by without trouble and my reign finally begins.

A few months go by quickly and Visenya is born, but sickly and frail. Unfortunately, she dies before her first nameday.

About a few months after Vaemond and Joffery move into the Red Keep I’d have Vaemond poisoned, my succession has been secured, I have heirs and he’s no longer needed.

This was NOT spellchecked. I tried making this as unbiased as possible.

The previous post with Alicent was mostly for fun, but I decided to get a lot more serious with this one.

[grae-98]

Treatment

Set between 1880-1890, You have been feeling and acting off. After visiting the doctor's he sends you off to stay in Pelican Town where you are set to receive treatment for your condition. Upon arrival you learn the doctor administering these treatments is better than you think.

Harvey/ unnamed reader

2nd pov

3867 words

trigger warnings: reader is diagnosed with hysteria, mentions of depression, cheating/ adultery, doctor/ patient relationship

smut tags: fingering, cunnilingus

notes: i do have this posted on ao3 if you'd prefer to read it there. I kinda interested into making this into a short series, if you're interested let me know!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

 Treatment

“I believe we may need to seek alternative treatments for this type of abnormal behavior you wife seems to be displaying.” The nameless faceless doctor assures your husband. “It seems to be Briquet’s syndrome. To put it simply for your wife, here it is defined as-“

“Are you calling me hysteric doctor?” You cut in before he could even care to explain his own definition.

“Darling! I’m very sorry doctor as you can see my wife is surely not well. What would be the alternative treatment you speak of?” His statement was that of pure fact with little to no concern for his own wife.

“Normally I would recommend a simple rest cure, but I have a clinic I can recommend on the coast. It will also give your wife access to the sea air, which as you know is good for her feminine liquids.” He says “The doctor there is a friend of mine. He lives in a small area in the country called Pelican Town. I would recommend your wife stay there until she feels her symptoms lessen.”

“I see doctor thank you. I will be sending her soon, my grandfather happened to have a cottage in that area.”

That was all the preparation you received. Not even two weeks after meeting with the doctor you were being packed onto the train to be set off. Settling your skirts as you sat to look out of the window. The countryside was getting denser the further you traveled. The lush trees were scarcely letting in the midafternoon light. Checking your gilded pocket watch there was only 20 minutes left of the journey.

You were angry, you were alone, and you were left to stay in his grandfather’s hunting cottage with only two members of staff. Yes, you could dress yourself, but how were you meant to prepare meals or launder your dresses let alone mend them. But maybe this doctor will be able to help with whatever imaginary issues are at hand.

Stepping off onto the platform and taking in the surrounding environment. It’s all very quaint. You’ve been there only once before during one of your husbands hunting trips. It seemed like any cottage house that you’ve visited but now this one you’ll be staying in for heaven knows how long. The clearing of a throat brought your attention to in front of you. A tall man with light brown hair and well-groomed facial hair stood before you. His clothes were tailored handsomely but seemed to be worn in

“Hello, pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Dr. Harvey, you must be my newest patient.” He holds out his hand crooked slightly to the left. Staring at it with mild shock you place your hand in it to make a slight squeeze to greet him back. He quirks his eyebrow up at you taking the hand put before you. He seemed rather young to be a doctor. He didn’t seem to have any grey to his hair nor many lines to his face.

“Yes, it seems so. I didn’t realize for my treatment you would make house calls. I would have figured I’d come to your clinic.” You say as you drop your hand from his.

“Normally yes but given the nature of the treatment I would have thought you might be more comfortable in your own home.”

“And why might that be?” The doctor seems to flush at this statement and looks to the help that is beside you.

“Please do take that inside. I will be in shortly.” You shoo away the man helping you carry your suitcase.

“You haven’t had any discussion of your treatment before coming here?”

“I cannot say that I have. I feel as though I have been spirited away and left from my friends.” You say with an awkward giggle.

“Ah, well I see. I will discuss it with you further after we have a bit of a chat. I would like a better list of your symptoms before starting.”

“Yes, very well. Please do come in, I haven’t anytime to explore yet. I am sure we will still find some place to speak.” Opening the wooden door.

“My apologies, I was told you were to arrive yesterday.” Harvey removed his hat and his coat upon entering the cottage.

“I’m not sure who told you that, but as you can see, I have just arrived. I’m sure I will still be able to make time to answer your questions about my diagnosis.”

He seems very caught off guard by the direct statement. The same man who took your case earlier drops off a tray to pour tea. With a quick thank you the man is seen off. You sit in what seems to be a very old couch across from the doctor. Pouring one cup for yourself and one for him. He leans over to take his cup as you begin to speak again.

“I am very well aware the doctor who sent me to you says that I am hysteric. I feel that is not the case. I am bored, there is hardly anything for me to do. I find the typical ladies’ activities to be rather dull. My husband clearly does not love me otherwise I wouldn’t be talking to you right now. I have long been disinterested in my husband and he me.”

“When you speak of disinterest?”

“I mean that my husband and I have not been in… amorous congress in quite some time.” You give a slight pause in the middle of the statement to find the right words to say.

“And do you find yourself frustrated with the lack thereof?”

“On occasion.” You answer truthfully. Harvey seems to be writing down everything you’ve told him thus far.

“Aside from those, do you feel any other physical symptoms that weren’t there before?”

“I do, yes. I find myself often fatigued. I feel as though I cannot sleep a wink at night, and I do suffer for it in the day. Some days I feel ravenous with hunger and other days I could hardly be bothered to eat a crumb. It all feels very strange to me, and that is what I told the doctor. Look where that’s gotten me.”

Harvey nods solemnly and scribbles more notes into his small leather-bound journal.

“Well Missus we will be able to rectify some of these odd behaviors of yours it’ll just take some time. I will be back tomorrow to begin your treatment; I would prefer to give you a little while to settle in your temporary home.

“Thank you, Dr. Harvey, I shall expect you tomorrow in the morning say around 3pm?”

“Yes, very well. Gald to meet you.”

“You as well doctor.”

It was early the next morning when you rose. Something about the fresh air allowed you to be able to sleep much deeper than you are used to. It was a lovely way to wake, with no lingering tiredness or aches. Placing bare feet on the floor you open the windows outward to let in the light and cool ocean air. Taking in a deep breath you move your way back to bed to ring the bell to signify that you’re awake.

After a simple breakfast of eggs toast. The eggs tasted a lot fresher than you were used to than in your own home. However, there wasn’t much time before the doctor would come to visit and you had a few things left to do before seeing him. Writing letters to your friends back at home to explain your journey and explain the place where you are staying now.

Three pm came upon you far too fast for your liking, but it was nearly at 3 o’clock sharp that Dr. Harvey came calling. He greeted you with the tip of his head as he walks into the room to find you sitting in the same place you were yesterday.

“I hope you hadn’t waiting for too long.” He speaks as he takes his seat across from you.

“Unfortunately doctor that’s all I seem to do.” He nods taking a seat.

“I came to discuss with you about the method of treatment that I had mentioned yesterday. After our meeting I strongly recommend this course.”

“Do please explain.”

“You will undergo a treatment that will involve you being able to expel your feminine liquids. Since you and your husband do not share each other’s company, and it is difficult for a woman to expel them herself. What this means is that I am to stimulate to for you for your health.”

“I see.” You blush at the doctor for even mentioning it.

He clears his throat before speaking, “I can feel your hesitancy, but I can assure you this will be relatively quick.”

“How exactly will you ‘stimulate me’ doctor?” You ask in meek voice attempting to sound more emboldened than you are at the moment.

“Easily. I will place a hand on your abdomen and the other I will massage until I feel that you had a paroxysmal convulsion.”

“I see. You said it would be relatively quick?”

“As quickly as I can.” He says with simply too much enthusiasm.

“Alright then. Let us try this new treatment then.”

You bring him to your bedroom for your ease and comfort he told you. It only occurred to you now as you slide your bloomers from under your dress that this man was going to see you. Doctor Harvey has you lay on the bed in such a way that he can stay standing. Sliding your dress up your legs you ask him a question.

“Doctor, how many patients have you done this treatment for?”

“Plenty while being trained on the treatment, but none since I came to practice here. Are you feeling nervous at all?”

“I am yes.”

“I will do my absolute best to ease any discomfort you may have. You will feel a slight pinch in the beginning but it should get better over time.”

He did not lie to you. As he entered a single finger to your entrance there was the familiar drag of skin to your dry opening. Sucking in a pained breath he stopped for a single moment.

“As I said it’s worse in the beginning. I will be better soon I promise.” He looks at you with concern in his eyes. You can tell he doesn’t want to be doing this anymore than you want it. Nodding to him the doctor moves his finger once again.

You feel your muscles relaxing while he moves his finger in a gentle front and back motion. Slowly coaxing the tingle from your belly; you begin to shift your legs higher onto the bed they were already perched on. Then just like a canary you sang a song. The dampness that spawned from a desert was amazing. The glide of the doctors’ finger within you had you singing a praise you didn’t know you could sing.

“Oh stars, Doctor Harvey this is incredible. Please don’t stop.” He responded by pushing the hand on top of your stomach just slightly harder while adding a second finger. Breathing heavily you look down to the doctor to see his sleeve rolled to his elbow, forearm flexing as he pushed his fingers into your newly soaked heat in earnest. Rolling your head back as he moved the hand on your stomach down slightly.

“I’m going to try something tell me if this doesn’t work, okay?”

He began to add more pressure to the top of your monds while pressing his thumb to the hood of your clit. The reaction was instantaneous, your hand grabbing to the one holding you. Wrapping your fingers around his wrist like you’re trying to ground yourself as your hips are now shaking to meet his thrusting fingers. Staggering breathing between throaty moans and cries of him to not stop whatever magic he is doing. You can hear the unmistakeable squelch as he moves his fingers is rapid movement. You feel like you’re on fire like everything is you is burning. The dress you’re wearing suddenly feels like a 40-pound weight, the muscles in your stomach begin to tighten so deeply they feel they’re about to cramp. Your free hand that’s not holding onto the doctor grips the covers beside you. You know you’ve been near screaming when you feel the two fingers leave your body. Breathing heavier than before you sit up to the edge of the bed.

You watch the doctor grab a linen from his bag to wipe off his wet fingers. Casually curling the rag around each of his fingers and down the palm of his hand. He looks to you as you stand and attempt to fix yourself in the slightest.

“Thank you Doctor, that was a very informative treatment. Although, dare I say, Mrs. Harvey must be a very happy lady.” You say towards him with a smile on your face. He responds with a laugh.

“Heavens, there is no Mrs. Harvey. I am unwed; however, I’m happy that you are feeling better after just one treatment. We will have to continue this for at least a few more weeks, just once a week to make sure you’re well and comfortable. “

‘No wife?’ you think to yourself ‘How has this man remained unmarried? Certainly that was incredible and it was unlike anything felt before.’

“I do not know how long I may be here. I don’t see why we shouldn’t make this twice a week to speed up recovery time.” You hope that you’re not coming across more crass than you intend to be.

“I can understand your desire to go back to your home, but I would rather not try to rush your recovery. Your symptoms seemed to be mild at the very least so just once a week should be okay for now.”  Slight disappointment washed over you.

“Next week then Doctor?”

“Next week.” And with that he left.

Six weeks have gone by since coming to Pelican Town. The spring was now turning to summer and the heat was getting slightly more intense.  Although you’re by the ocean so the blazing sun doesn’t seem as blistering as it would at home. Living in the country seemed to have its perks. The small community seemed to be the backbone of this town. There weren’t very many people to get acquainted with and the home in which you’re staying doesn’t have the space to host but nonetheless you’ve managed to make a few friends here.

You made fast friends with Robin who is aware of your condition and promises to keep things quiet after she heard your cries from an open window during a treatment. She is the local carpenter and was coming by to offer her services when she heard the cries. Even with that she offered nothing but support and understanding. Her previous husband tried to have her institutionalized after the birth of her first son before his death.  Thanking the heavens above for your husband who apparently loved you enough to not send you there.

Your treatments otherwise have been very helpful in restoring a delightful mood. Today is a day for Dr. Harvey to come and visit. As the weeks have progressed you’ve invited him later and later to have him join you for dinner.

As the clock tolls 5 o’clock there is a sharp knock on the door. You hear the voices down the hall.

“Doctor Harvey, will you be joining the lady for dinner this evening?”

“If the lady wishes it, I would be glad to.” Harvey responds back. You can hear the rustling of his coat being collected and the footsteps of his approach. It almost feels like a response on these days. Once the footsteps come close you feel your body light with want.

“Doctor Harvey, it’s good to see you.” You say, smile plastered on your face. Standing to greet him. You move your way across the floor meeting him behind the couch. With a quick glimpse behind him you grab his forearms.

“It is good to see you as well. I am to take that I will be joining you again this week for dinner?” He says to you as you look up to him giving his arms a reassuring squeeze.

“As you know I get rather lonely here. What better company than the wonderful doctor that’s treating my illness.” He laughs as you lead him to your bed once again.

This will be the eighth treatment from him, and he will need to reassess after the tenth has been finished. Hoping your time with the kind doctor doesn’t come to an end too soon you pray that he will find some reason to keep you here longer.

You’ve become accustomed to not wearing anything under your dress on the day the doctor comes to visit, and each time the nerves wrack up your spine.

“Feeling giddy today it seems?” He spoke as he rolled his sleeves up once again. It doesn’t seem like you will tire of looking at the pale skin of his arms. Knees backing into the side of the mattress.

“In truth doctor I’ve been having impure thoughts. I used to not have anything like this before.” You loosened the cover that sits over your corset. Allowing you more cooling air to hit your mostly covered chest.

“And what type of impure thoughts are they?” He asks as he helps you slide your dress further up your thighs after you lay in your designated spot.

“I don’t think I should tell you.” You say to him while he pulls up the chair you brought in for him around the week four mark.

“I am your doctor, I think you should tell me.”

“I want to know things that I shouldn’t want to know.”

“Now you have piqued my curiosity. Do tell me.”

You take in a short breath before answering, “I want to know how your moustache feels. How it feels against my legs, my chest, my arms, here.” You stop to point to your mouth before continuing. “And most of all. Here.” You open your previously held together legs to show him the growing damp.

You swore you heard him let a slight gasp before he traced a finger to your outer lips. His eyes scan your half-dressed body to meet your own. He tilts his lip to give you a smirk.

“I believe some of that might be arranged.” He spoke so softly as he lifted your left leg into his hand. Lightly pressing kisses to the inside of your calf. You sigh in content when he moves his mouth higher up your leg. Trailing feather light kisses until he reaches the inside of your thigh where he planted a hot kiss. You open your legs a little further urging him to meet your center and offer you release. Even slower than before he marks wet lips to where your thigh dips. Steaming breaths cloud his rounded spectacles as his mouth hovers over you.

“Harvey…” You whimper. He takes one quick tentative lap with the tip of his tongue against you. You shiver, hands planted firmly onto your knees as you spread them as far as they can go. Fully displayed for the man, slick lips puffy from the morning when you failed to achieve what he can do successfully.

He lets out a shaking breath before muttering something. Before you can ask him what he said his mouth attached itself. Lips suctioned onto the sensitive part of you that he has learned to maneuver with his thumb. Gasping for breath you keep griping the tops of your knees until he dips his tongue into your entrance. Hand sliding down to his hair, and he moans into you. The vibration alone causes you to moan back like it was a call.

“Gods above!” You exclaim. Hand feeling his hair for the first time and it was so soft beneath your fingertips. You mistakenly move your hips up to meet his muscle and he lets out a low growl using both of his hands to keep your hips in place. He laps at your sex with hunger and want to push his head further into you.

Your moans begin to fall off your lips in words of praise and delight. Both hands now twisting wildly into his hair when he lifts the bottom of you. Placing your legs on his shoulders he grips your butt to raise it from the mattress. You start to chant his name like it’s the only word that’s in your mind. He moans into you again and this time you could nearly faint.

“Fingers, Harvey, I need your fingers!” You cry as you feel the intense tightening begin to threat. He obliges and pushes the two fingers into you. The combination of the licking and sucking with the pump of his fingers makes you claw at the sheets. Crying as the damn broke, he began to slow his fingers.

“No, please don’t stop. One more, one more please.” Who is he to deny you. He removes his mouth from you to speed his fingers once again. Curling the fingers your eyes are squeezed shut. Legs held open my sheer force of will, toes curling against the cover. The intensity is so great for this. Your legs begin to quake, breathing labored as moans keep falling from between your lips. His hand moves slightly faster the obscene noise coming from your body would leave you embarrassed if not for how much enjoyment you were getting out of this. You open your eyes to find Harvey palming himself through his trousers. Prominent bulge showing through the tan fabric. You whimper again as you reach your hand out towards him just to feel. That’s all you told yourself. He lets you feel the thickness of it through his trousers. You could feel the heat of him seeping through into your palm and when you look up to see his face you’re awestruck.

Glasses tilted slightly, naturally wavy hair falls in a mess on his head, some even sticking to his forehead, moustache matted down against his parted lips, cheeks flushed and panting heavily. You threw your head back against the mattress whole body shaking against the surface. Harvey let out the longest and loudest groan as you looked down in horror. Shooting up so fast it nearly made you topple over

“I- I am so sorry Doctor Harvey! I didn’t realize that I could… Did I make water on you?” Harvey had no worded response. He quickly reached out to cup your face to haul you in for a kiss. Moaning once again but now into his mouth that tasted like you. Your lips parted only to meet again after heads changed directions. Your hands threaded their way through his hair again. Touch starved and lonely the both of you. As you broke apart you looked into each other’s eyes.

“Oh no.”

[ashwhowrites]

Well, it's a little bit angsty - inspired by something that happened to me once, which you probably will be able to tell by some of it. Eddie and reader argues about something and Eddie, being Eddie maybe letting his insecurities getting the best of him again says something like "well, perhaps we shouldn't be together then if it's so hard to communicate with me" or something like that. But it's what the reader does that hits him like a nailgun to the balls. She doesn't just drop off stuff he's had at her house, she also sends back every gifts he's given her, notes, all of it. And when he calls her to ask why, like "the teddy bear I got you at the fair was yours, why do you give it to me?" and she's all "because I don't want any reminders of idiots that turned out to be a big waste of my time." And that just shakes Eddie - like he realize that he may have broken up with her but the fact that she doesn't want any reminders of him or their time together just breaks his heart and makes him realize what a mistake he's made. Preferably a happy ending, but make him work for it :)

-@somethingvicked

It does not have a happy ending, I'm sorry....but the way I wrote him. I don't think you'd want him back. I hope that even though I changed the ending, this is what you were looking for

⚠️no part 2

never proofread

Dating Eddie started amazing. He was the perfect boyfriend, he always tried, and he actually cared. But lately? It seemed like he could care less where their relationship stood.

He got too comfortable and gave up on her. It was like their relationship was the last thing on his mind and everything was more important than her.

She understood they had different interests, and that meant they would spend time apart. But now, it was like he never came back to spend time with her. She never felt so alone being in a relationship before. She didn't feel wanted or needed. And she was tired of feeling like that. He didn't want to be with her? Fine, she'll make it easier.

She didn't give herself time to overthink, just walking straight into his trailer.

Eddie could feel the anger coming off of her, rolling his eyes as he knew another night would be spent arguing.

"what are we fighting about today?" Eddie snarled out. His eyes stayed on the tv, flicking through channels.

Y/N already knew this was going to be hard. And it hurt so much more knowing he was different. She'd walk into his trailer and he'd race to kiss her. He never wanted to let go. He stopped touching her months ago. And here he was, snapping at her, not even glancing in her direction.

"nothing, actually. I'm done Eddie." She sighed.

Eddie tried to hold back his chuckle. A mocking sound in his throat and it made her shiver.

"Oh, okay. You said that last time. What's the problem now? I'm too comfortable? No that was two weeks ago. I don't try anymore? That was last week. I don't love you? Not good enough? Don't satisfy every possible need you have? Not good at communicating? That's what yesterday was about, right?" He scoffed out.

Every word hurt her more and more. But everything was the truth. And the fight yesterday clearly didn't settle into his brain.

"actually, yesterday we did fight about your communication. Did you forget the part where I asked you to call once your anger settled down and we could talk like mature adults ? Or did you just decide not to care?" She snapped back

Eddie rolled his eyes. Shutting off the tv and turning his full body towards here.

A fake big smile on his face.

"you have all my attention, baby. Is that what you wanted?" He said

She had to hold herself back from slapping him. She cannot believe how much of a prick he has become over the last few months.

"Wowwww, you are such an asshole." She laughed, no humour behind it. "You once again just blew off everything I said! Did you miss the part AGAIN where you didn't fucking call me? It makes me feel like you don't care!"

"If I don't seem to fucking care, WHY BE WITH ME?" He lashed out. Throwing his hands in the air as he screamed.

But Y/N had no reaction. He did this every single time she tried to bring up an emotion she felt.

"I'm not anymore. I'm done with this relationship. I can love myself way better than you ever did. " She said, a smile on her face as she turned around. Walking towards the door.

Eddie watched as she walked out the door. He brushed it off. She'd be back, she always came right back.

~~~

It's been a few days since the fight, and Eddie still hasn't found it in him to care. He wouldn't cave in first, he never did and he never will.

He hasn't heard from her since. She never called and never came back to his trailer. But he expected her any day now. Spending his days watching tv and hanging out with his friends.

He came stumbling into his trailer after a Saturday night out at the bar. He could hear Gareth driving off as he walked up the steps. Finding himself tripping over a box with his name on it.

He was too drunk to see what it was. Kicking the box to the side as he walked inside. Walking the few steps to the couch and throwing himself on it.

Not even seconds later, he was passed out.

~~~

Y/N hasn't spoken to Eddie in days but she felt so good. She hasn't bothered to call or stop by his trailer. She caught herself thinking about him, but she knew that wasn't going to just stop. She kept herself strong and enjoyed how much lighter her shoulders felt.

She packed up a box of everything he's ever given her. She didn't need a reminder of someone who made her feel like she was nothing. Every letter, teddy bear, bracelet, ring, just anything he has ever gifted to her. Not like he'd remember any of it. The last thing he ever gifted her was months ago, back when he still loved her and wanted her.

When she arrived at the trailer, she noticed his van was there. Preparing to hand him the box, she took a deep breath. Knocking on the door as she waited for him to open it.

She knocked a few more times and waited and waited some more, but he never opened the door.

The last time she saw him was a good enough goodbye for her. She dropped the box at the front door, giving the trailer one last look. His home didn't bring her comfort anymore, it wasn't a safe place, nor her happy place.

Now it was just a trailer.

~~~

Eddie felt like his head was pounding. He groaned and felt the couch beneath him. He slowly sat up, yanking off his shoes. He rubbed his head as he walked to grab some water.

His hand dug in his pocket for a cigarette, opening the front door to go smoke. Then his eye caught the box from last night.

He lit his cigarette, inhaled the smoke, and bent down to grab the box. He knew what it was and who it was from. He could tell by the handwriting it was from her. But he was confused as to why the box was so heavy, he could not have left that much stuff at her house.

He smoked his cigarette as he dug through the box. T-shirts, rings, bracelets, and normal things she liked to wear during their relationship. But then he saw stuffed animals, ones he bought her, even the pink bear he won on their anniversary. Why would she give those things back? All she talked about was how she treasured and adored all the gifts he gave to her, and now they don't mean a thing?

Eddie felt the anger inside of him. He was just so bad of a person that she wanted nothing to do with him? Like their relationship meant nothing over the last two years? He smashed his bud into the ground and marched inside.

He raced to the phone, punching in her number.

"Hello?" Eddie tried to ignore how much he missed her sweet voice. She hasn't sounded like that in weeks.

"The teddy bear I got you at the fair was yours, why do you give it to me?" He asked, he didn't bother to cover how sad he felt. It was like a punch in his gut. Was she really not coming back?

"Because I don't want any reminders of idiots that turned out to be a big waste of my time." She snapped, the sweetness in her voice was gone. The cold-hearted tone returned and Eddie hated that. It was like the second she heard his voice, she flipped the switch.

"I wasted your time?" He choked out. The hangover was killing his head, but her words were killing his heart.

"Bye Eddie. Please don't call again."

The tone rang in his ears.

This was it. She wasn't coming back.

She wasn't in bed, cuddling the pink bear and thinking about him anymore.

She'll go back to sleeping in her own shirts, cuddling a new stuffed animal, and moving on from him.

She told him not to call, and that was like cold water down his back. She always asked him to call, and now she begged him not to call her ever again.

He lost her

And now he's stuck with a box of their memories, and she has a clean slate.

tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila

[marshmallowprotection]

Do you know why Saeran interrupted Rika when she was showing her true feelings in After ending 3rd day? The first time I saw this I was amused. There must be something behind that request, right, because it's like well.... Who wants ice cream?

I think, before anything, we have to remember that Saeran went into that day knowing that he wouldn't survive the next. He wanted to do everything he could to get closure and make peace with everything before his untimely death. He understood that even if the RFA did all they could for him, his Father could more likely than not kill him just before they arrived to save the day.

So, to make his plan work, there were only a few options given to him, and he took those choices and made the best of them. His choice, in that moment, was to make do with what he had.

Confronting both Jihyun and Rika was important to Saeran's healing journey at that moment. He knew that if he was going to die, he had to find peace, and that meant navigating a conversation with the two of them about the past and present. When he speaks to Rika, he says what's in his heart, but he doesn't say everything he could say. While he's in Jihyun's house, he knows that not only does he need to be on guard because of MC and Saeyoung's safety, he needs to make sure the secret agents don't do anything rash.

Even though the secret agents are being paid to turn a blind eye, that doesn't mean they wouldn't step in if Rika and V didn't hold up their end of the bargain. Saeran knew that. He knew that if Rika became as angry as she could be, not only would the agents hurt them, but they would hurt Saeyoung and MC in the process. Contrary to what most people would prefer Saeran to feel, he doesn't want Rika or V to be in a situation where they suffer, even if they've made Saeran suffer.

He doesn't want anyone to suffer ever again.

So, when Rika begins to spiral, Saeran steps in to say something that would placate her and distract her from her collapse. The visual novel you're talking about is one where Rika slaps the shit out of Saeran in response to him not being Ray. Ray, the son Rika molded out of fear and trauma in Mint Eye, who would always be dependent upon Rika and never abandon her because she promised to never abandon him.

Saeran understands what Rika wanted, she wanted a family that had no choice but to stay with her so she'd never be left behind again. He saw how she abandoned Mint Eye when they didn't pan out, he saw how she made a deal with the Prime Minister to get herself a family that would be forced to stay with her no matter what, and he saw the pain in her heart that brought her to that place.

He knows what she's dreaming of, but he doesn't mince words in saying that she won't be able to have that.

Because he won't go back to what she forced Ray to be.

More than anything, as he's gone on his healing journey, he's realized that he doesn't want to live his life in hate. He confesses that he does posses hatred, and that a part of him DOES hate her, but he doesn’t want to be consumed by that feeling. He offers her kindness when he knows most people wouldn't give it to her, and there's a part of him that doesn't want to give it to her either, but he would rather choose kindness than continue to live in agony the way that she and Jihyun have.

He has seen them destroy each other and themselves, and he doesn’t want to live that way. He wants to live his final moments in peace, choosing kindness and love instead of hatred and anger, and he knows that doing so will only cause Rika to spiral more and more. After all, I need to ask you, do you remember what Rika's final words were to GE Saeran in Ray Route?

Him saying that he wants ice cream is a diversionary tactic, but it is also a way to placate her. He gives her what she wants in a sense, prompting her to do something that'll make her feel like they're a family, and it gives him an opening to spend more time with the MC away from Jihyun and Rika. But, he also denies her what she wants, because he makes it clear that he's not going to play along, and he's going to spend the rest of his life fighting if his plan doesn't work out and he's forced to stay there.

That is a proven fact, because one Bad Ending has Saeyoung and Saeran forced into a comatose state because, as Rika says, “It’s a shame you have to sleep all the time… you two put up such a fight to escape when you’re lively.” 

In my opinion, that ice cream comment isn't something that comes out of the blue, it's a sure way to stop her from spiraling and making things worse for all of them, but it's one way he can impart a single form of sympathy toward her. He understands what's going through her mind a lot more than she realizes, and she doesn't like that. She doesn't like that because she's been living in anguish and denial for so long that confronting the truth does nothing but tear her apart on the inside. 

We could argue left and right if this was a kindness toward Rika on Saeran's part, but I can confirm that it was more-so for the sake of Saeyoung and MC. There's a part of Saeran that doesn't want to hate Rika, either... and that part didn't just come with him learning how to forgive himself and accept what happened. It's that part of his heart that never wanted to be cruel to begin with... even if people were all but cruel to him.

Her sudden “transformation” after her heated conversation with Saeran prompts Jihyun to tell him about Mother Choi’s murder. I'm not happy about the way he did that, because it seemed less like it was for Saeran and more like it was for Rika's sake. Because, Jihyun understands Rika will never change unless she confronts the crux of her devil.

The point of no return prompted her to take her plans for Mint Eye with Mika seriously, and create something that allowed her to have the perfect family where nobody could leave her ever again, even if they knew she was a “devil”. 

And by changing, I don't mean "Rika is forgiven for all the horrible things she's done because she confessed to doing them." I mean, changing as in, "Confronting what she's done to everyone by taking accountability for her actions, doing the right thing by helping Saeran and then handing herself over to the authorities to server her prison sentence out with an admission of guilt. Knowing that she may not be forgiven by anyone, and that her actions are chosen because it's the right thing to do, not because she believes she'll win people back into her life for FINALLY doing the right thing."

Rika begins to confess everything she's done wrong in front of Saeran and he knows her psyche is fragile.

As vindicating as it would be to hear her own her damn words in that moment, he knew there was only one option. Saeran had to distract her long enough to get Saeyoung and MC out. That's why he opens his heart the way he does once Saeyoung and MC get far, far away. That's when Saeran is wholly truthful, more than he was during the day, because he can finally speak freely without the fear of losing his love and Saeyoung.

Nothing holding him back.

Never again.

But, I'll admit, if you look at the conversation without context, if you have someone confessing they've committed countless crimes like that in front of you, and you just blurt, "WHO WANTS ICE CREAM?" Yeah, that sounds silly.

[whiskeybeforesunset]

Ghosts Part 2 | Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: Reader is with Joel and Ellie as they continue their stay in Jackson. As always, slow burn. Bittersweet talks and heated arguments. Maybe a bit of a different kind of heat as a treat. 

Warnings: Arguing, Joel enters a room before knocking as sees the Reader somewhat undressed (think swimsuit), with that Reader’s body is mentioned but no specific details are given, out of character Joel, shamefully little about Ellie in this chapter.

Author’s note **IMPORTANT PLEASE READ**: For those who have enjoyed the story so far, I’m wondering if you have a preference on how I handle the events of Episode 8. I understand the importance of that darker storyline, and that some readers may prefer it remain in this adaptation. However, I don’t believe Ellie’s SA is necessary in what is meant to be a love story. There are also several logistical issues as to how Ellie may have been captured if there was still an adult able to hunt for/protect her. Right now, my favorite alternative is either Joel or the Reader having a bad case of the flu (fever so high they could die), so there’s still a potential danger without having to include that particular storyline. Plus, everyone loves a good sick fic. Let me know if you guys might enjoy that, if you have any additional thoughts I would love to hear them. 

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

___

The heaviness between you and Joel dissipates as the lights sputter back on and voices around you begin to discuss the movie. Tommy suggests you and Joel come over to theirs for a late night drink, but Joel swiftly declines and begins to make his way towards the nearest exit. You give Tommy a sympathetic shrug before following Joel outside. 

You step out into the cold night air just in time to see Ellie swiftly making her way back to the house, at least you hope that’s where she’s going. She just needs some alone time, you tell yourself. It’s not like she has much of an opportunity for it traveling across the country. He seems to consider following her, but slows his pace upon noticing the familiar tree in his path.

“Y’know,” you say, slightly out of breath as you jog up to be beside him. “I was thinking about taking the scenic route back. He peers at you through the corner of his eye. Looking back up to where Ellie was last visible he exhales slowly, creating a puff of steam as he does so.

“You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like.” He accepts your offer with a short nod, and follows as you turn and begin the alternative path to your temporary home. 

In the absence of the bustling movie-goers, a silence once again falls over you. Looking at Joel, you notice his eyebrows are set in a way that makes him look more irritated than usual. Who knew that was even possible? Still, there was something about him that was just so… striking. Not in that way, because Joel is well, Joel… right? But still, you can’t deny the way the sparing lamp light accents his more rugged features. It certainly causes one’s imagination to-

Joel clears his throat and you suddenly become very aware of the fact that you are staring, and presumably have been doing so for a long time. You quickly swivel your head away from him, hoping the cold would provide a good enough cover for the pink on your cheeks.

“So,” you start, desperate to clear the thoughts at the top of your mind, “Maria seems like a good fit for Tommy.” He huffs out a laugh. The sound of your boots against gravel count out the seconds in which you wait for a longer response from him. 

“Well, I think it’s sweet.” A small smile comes to your face at the idea of your friend being able to live a fulfilling life in Jackson.

“Sweet, huh?” Joel asks, not so much denying the label as he is surprised that you’re saying it.

“Yeah I mean, it’s nice to know there’s a chance of ending up with something like that. Even in this world.” You elaborate.

“I didn’t think you the type,” he looks at you and says with a slightly amused tone. 

“Yeah, well,” you return his gaze. “With the right person of course.” You both stay like that for a moment, your eyes glance at his lips as he opens and closes them, debating whether or not to say something. 

“What about you?” You hesitantly ask, immediately regretting it as Joel turns his head to face forward again. Although you briefly wonder if you had really said anything at all due to his lack of response. You’re eyes still on him, you watch his face shift through emotions. 

“I, uh,” he pauses looking down at the gravel path. “I reckon I’m passed that sort of thing now, not really an option anymore.” He turns his heading, as if to avoid your reaction. 

“Oh,” is the final word said as you two conclude your walk to the house silently.

Upon entering you remember your plan to talk to Ellie, but decide against it when you see Joel heading for the room she’s staying in. It’s probably for the best, he’s always better at talking her down anyways. You sigh, and decide you’ll finish off this very confusing day with a hot shower. Might as well while you can, right?

…

Turning the shower head off, you notice yelling you hadn’t previously made out through the water splashing on tile. 

You make your way out of the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom, trying to catch snippets of the argument as you dry off and begin to get dressed. A door slams and loud footsteps make their way up the stairs. 

You make a mental note to check in on the two of them -separately- sometime tomorrow. However, this plan is scratched as Joel bursts through the door. 

“Oh,” Joel’s rage-filled face quickly fills with embarrassment and something you can’t quite make out as his eyes scan over your body. “Sorry, I, um-” he stutters out, turning so that he's perpendicular to the doorway. 

“It’s fine, Joel.” You offer him a reassuring smile as a blush comes over your face. After all, he didn’t see anything he wouldn’t have seen at a public pool back in the day. Even if the context is a bit more… intimate. 

“Tell me, what’s so important that you had to immediately come and speak to me.” You say in a joking tone, grabbing something to finish covering yourself up. Joel turns to you, eyes slightly unfocused. His brain yet to recover from the unexpected scene discovered upon his entrance. 

“That one sounded a bit more heated than normal.” You add, hoping to jog his memory.

“What? Oh, yes. Yes. We uh,” his gaze hardens as he regains his composure, also taking a moment to close the door. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” You respond, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and adjusting to his more serious tone. 

“Look, I think it might be best if going forward you take Ellie alone.” Your eyes quickly look up at him. He remains standing near the entrance of the room, arms crossed and face turned slightly to avoid your gaze. 

“What?” You say, blinking rapidly as your mouth finally catches up to your brain. It feels like it’s processing a million thoughts per second.

“This last month, all I’ve learned is how weak I’ve become.” Joel says, bringing a hand to his creased brow.

“What are you talking about?” You challenge, unable to understand how he came to this conclusion. 

“Tess.” At the mention of her name, the room goes quiet. “If it wasn’t for me she…” he sighed and began pacing around the small room. 

“What happened in Kansas City, I’m too slow and deaf. Christ, if you weren’t there.” Joel takes a deep breath before continuing. “She’s only 14, and all I’ve done so far is put her in further danger. And you…” You shake your head saying his name to begin to dispel what he is saying but he cuts you off.

“I’m weak.” He says quietly.

“You are not weak.” You respond at a similar volume.

“Lately there are these moments… like earlier today,” he states, finally sparing you a glance. “That’s not the first time it’s happened, it’s just the first time you’ve seen it.” 

The room goes quiet as you process this new information. Joel comes to sit next to you at the foot of the bed.

“I have these dreams,” he says shakily. “I don’t know what happens in them, I can’t remember. I just know that when I wake up, I’ve lost something.”

Cool water drips from your hair and onto your neck, dampening your shirt. You sit in shock, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m failing in my sleep. It’s all I do, it’s all I’ve ever done is fail her.”

“You’re not-” you start, but as you turn to look at him you are met with a teary eyed glare, begging you not to continue. You close your eyes and rub two fingers against your temple, questioning the events that have brought you to this point, sighing as you lay back on the bed.

“She likes you more.” You say casually as you stare at the ceiling, changing the topic slightly but still remaining on subject.

“No she doesn’t.” Joel says in a dejected voice. You heard a rustling of fabric as your averted gaze allows for Joel to wipe his tears without feeling judged.

“Yes she does.” You state matter-of-factly.

“Trust me, after the… talk we just had, no she doesn’t.” He says sharply. You stare at the motionless ceiling fan debating whether or not to ask.

“What’d you say?” You question, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Same thing I told you.” He says in an exhausted tone. 

“Well, I can see why she might hate you then.” You say half joking. He turns his head to glare at you but doesn’t respond. “What’d she say?”

“She… she said she wasn’t Sarah.” His response causes you to sit up.

“She knows about Sarah?” You ask, he nods in response. You sit for a minute trying to form a response, before you can, Joel speaks again.

“She won’t want me there. You’ll be fine, better, without me.” He says as he begins to stand up.

“Well what if I want you there?” You say, standing to your feet. The exclamation surprises you as much as it does him. He turns back to look at you. You feel your face begin to tighten as the reality of the situation begins to settle in. You aren’t a fool, you know what happens if you leave alone with Ellie tomorrow. By the time you return to Jackson, Joel will be long gone. You’ll have no way of getting in contact or finding him again. If he goes now, you know it’s goodbye. 

“What if I need you?” You say, embarrassed by the wavering in your voice. The light from the bedside lamp reflects his dark eyes. His hand reaches forward momentarily, before returning to his side, balling up into a fist. 

“Tommy’ll meet you at the stables tomorrow morning.” He says, not acknowledging your words as he looks at the wooden floor boards below. “They’ll be a horse ready for you.” Joel quickly exists before you can reply. You feel a rise in your gut as the slammed door echoes throughout the room.

“God dammit!” You yell, throwing your bag across the room. 

Your anger fades observing your scattered belongings. Deep torrid breaths become shorter and more broken as you feel tears start to form in your eyes. Your throat tightens and you suppress a hiccup from escaping. 

You bite your lip and shake your head, wiping the tears away. Crawling into bed, you tell yourself you don’t have the liberty to be upset over disagreements with your now ex… companion. You have a job to do, keep the kid safe, get her where she needs to go. That’s what’s important, you reassure yourself before turning off the light. 

Sleep does not come easy though, as the events of the day replay in your head. You shift onto your back and stare at the shadows running across the ceiling, unable to keep the image of Joel’s heart broken eyes out of your mind. 

[doueverwonder]

The Visit

Y'all guess who's back to writing (finally); everyone say thank you to @hetagrammy for talking to me about IreNor which made me want to write again and for beta reading; she is a person of many talents.

Welcome back to world building the fics, couple of notes + human names;

Because I can I hc Faroe and Iceland as Norway & Ireland's kids; Alisdair has right to be worried he's not just an asshole.

Alisdair = Scotland Molly (or Máire) = Ireland Sigurd = Norway Ida = Faroe Islands

TW: for references to domestic/sexual abuse (character accusing another of it, nothing is actually happening)

ao3 link here

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

It had been too long since Alisdair had seen his sister, a couple decades at least. He didn’t even know where she was living, what she was up to, if she were even alive. When you knew as many people as centuries of life could afford you it was easier to find someone though, he assumed she was living in an abbey still; which one he wasn’t sure but that was his first guess to start looking. That was the clue he had given: his sister Máire, she lived in an abbey, made her living writing manuscripts. Even threw in her goldsmithing hobby, and a rough description based off the last time he had seen her. As he was sure there were a thousand Máire’s who helped write manuscripts in Ireland alone.

This wasn’t what he expected, out of all the places in Ireland, Dublin, a viking settlement, was the last place he expected to find her. He had heard of the city, which seemed to be a rather large hub for the Scandinavians now. He couldn’t believe how many boats were in the harbor, they lined up endlessly. He remembered one of the last conversations he had with her, he had half begged her to stay away from the coasts; convinced himself the farther inland she was the safer she would be. As usual anything he, or Dylan, asked of her spurred her to do the absolute opposite. Considering this is where she was living maybe Arthur had asked her to stay away from the coasts as well, she would happily let herself get captured if it meant spiting Arthur. 

He kept his head down, not wanting to draw attention with all of them around here. Reasonably he didn’t trust these people, he had already lost Shetland, Orkney, Caithness, and Sutherland; not to mention the Isle of Mann. Four girls and a boy, all fathered by the Norse personification and promptly left behind. It wasn’t uncommon for nations to leave their children in their own land until they were older; didn’t mean he had to like how recklessly he had them; nor did it mean he couldn’t feel bad for the bairns.

He came to the house he had been told; it took far longer than he expected, and had to go through what seemed half the clergy in the country before someone knew where she was. Only finally finding out from a priest that seemed ten years too old to be alive, but here he was. It was on the outside of the city, a small house looking like it wasn’t made to be a long term shelter, there was a small area of farmland around it. He opened the gate making sure to close it behind him so the chickens that milled about wouldn’t get out. A cat sat on top of an overturned crate, gazing over him lazily. That surprised him, Molly had never been much of a cat person preferring dogs, said they were more useful. 

He dusted himself off as he stood at the door, he didn’t need Molly immediately scolding him over his appearance. He knocked heavily, she tended to daydream and not hear things too lost in whatever she was doing. He didn’t want to just walk in either lest he scare her, or he had the wrong house. The wrong Máire. He hoped not. 

The door opened, he smiled expecting his sister. Expecting for her to throw herself into his arms for a hug, they had never been apart for so long he was so excited to see her. His face fell, instead of his sister stood a man, just barely taller than him, blond with blue eyes, dressed as a northmen. The Northman, Sigurd, the source of all his troubles stood in front of him. Molly must have been here, it was too much of a coincidence there is no way he was here and she was not at some point. 

“Where is she” 

“No hello?” it infuriated him how calm the other was, Sigurd was always infuriatingly calm, even when facing Alisdair. 

“Where is my sister?” Alisdair started again, his voice firm but loud, “Where is Molly? What have you done with her, you heathen?!” he spat the word in his face. 

Sigurd looked upset, but was nowhere near losing his temper as Alisdair was, “She is fine, and I do not–” 

“She can not be fine if you are in her house I–” Alisdair stopped, a small voice, clearly inquisitive, asking something. He looked down, a child no older than four, maybe five clung to Sigurd’s leg. He was going to brush her presence off, Sigurd had plenty of bastards, all of which deserved to hear the truth about their father regardless of age. His gaze lingered on her just long enough for her to look up at him. He froze suddenly, the girl was blonde and blue eyed, just as her father was; but the shape of her face, the way the frizzy curls framed her face… that was Molly. Sigurd must have noted his new interest and he shooed her away. Alisdair’s trance broke as he watched her go. 

“Where is my sister?” he demanded again, this time peering over Sigurd’s shoulder trying to see into the house. He wanted to see the girl again, he wanted to see her closer, that had to be his sister's child. 

“I already told you” He stepped to the side to block Alisdair’s view, “She is fine, why are you looking for her?” 

“I’m not allowed to see her?” 

“I didn’t say that” 

“Then where is-” 

“Sigurd? Who’s at the door?” He froze, moments away from pushing the other man out of the doorway to get into the house. The voice was Molly's. He needed to see her, he needed to know she was okay, he needed her alone, he needed to know she wasn’t being kept with him against her will. 

Sigurd stepped to the side so Alisdair could see in the house, Molly came into view and seeing her face took some of his anxiety away knowing she was okay. Knowing she seemed unhurt. The relief was short-lived, his eyes fell on the small girl he had just seen now rested on her hip, he froze seeing her swollen stomach. 

Molly froze, she just stared at him for a moment, he tried to decide if that was a good thing or not.  “Alisdair!” the hesitation morphed into an almost forced looking smile, there was a panic in her eyes that he knew shouldn’t be there. “I thought I heard your voice, but I didn’t want to hope too much!” 

She moved as quickly as she could over to him, she handed the child to Sigurd and hugged Alisdair tightly, his eyes didn’t move from Sigurd, he put his arm around Molly not in a hug, but as if he were trying to protect her. It was impossible to not assume what he was, the stories he heard, the things he had seen, he wanted him dead. Everything played out in his head, he couldn’t touch him while he was holding her; the girl was at no fault for her fathers actions. 

Molly let go of him, though she stayed close, smiling up at him. “I swear it seems you’ve gotten older since we last saw each other, you have to tell me everything, how are you? How are Arthur and Dylan?” 

He opened his mouth to answer, but every thing that came to mind had to do with what was in front of him. Her smile wavered, she was always good at knowing what he was thinking, “Silly me, you’re probably exhausted, come in, come in, we can talk later” she hugged him again quickly, this time taking the chance to whisper “wait til Ida goes to bed” 

He tensed once she let go, swallowing heavily, he assumed Ida was the girl. He nodded, but put his gaze back on Sigurd. He couldn’t help but take note of how heavily Molly kept her grip on him as she pulled him into the house, how she kept her distance from Sigurd, how she had whispered instead of asking aloud. Every instinct screaming to get Molly and Ida away from him. But he stayed quiet as Molly took her daughter back from Sigurd. 

“Mo réaltín,” Molly held the girl up a bit to be closer to eye level with him, “meet your uncle Alisdair.” 

~~~~~~~~~

The sun had set long ago, Alisdair sat watching his sister, Molly looked exhausted, her head rested on Sigurd’s shoulder, his arm around her. It infuriated Alisdair, he hadn’t gotten an answer yet, he hadn’t been given reasons to not kill Sigurd where he stood. If he threw him in the sea, it would take him longer to come back. The only punishment Alisdair could see fit for what he had done to her. 

“She’s long asleep” Alisdair commented, hoping to spur the conversation. He had spent all day with the small girl going on about all the things she liked (playing tag with the children down the road, the pictures in the windows at church, when her father told her stories about the gods); her favorite foods (pickled fish among them); the names of all the chickens (though she noted she preferred the sheep). It was easier to talk to the niece he didn’t know existed, ignore how she had her fathers nose, and her smile was too much like the Danes’. Ignore how she spoke Norse, and stumbled over the bit of Irish she proudly tried to speak to him in. 

Molly sat up a bit, she looked over at Alisdair, “what do we need to talk about?” 

He hesitated, he knew she knew, “can we go somewhere else?” 

“I’ll leave” Sigurd said instead, “I’m not making my pregnant wife go outside at this hour” 

“Wife?” It pissed him off hearing him refer to her that way, he spoke as if Molly weren’t in the room “My sister wouldn’t marry a pagan, much less willingly carry his children.” 

“But she did, and she is, so apparently you don’t know her that well.” Sigurd didn’t move from Molly’s side, he felt he held more power over Alisdair with her in his arms. “And I don’t like what you're implying about me” 

“I’ll say whatever I want about you because I know the truth.” 

“And what is the truth?” 

“I know what you viking are like.” Alisdair stated it plainly, “You show up, and take what you want without asking. That’s what you did with her; you were tired of just trinkets, jealous of your men getting to take whoever they wanted.” 

“Alisdair, sto-” she started but before being able to get anything beyond his name out was cut off. 

“And you knew the best way to make her stay with you was to have something to hang over her head,” he threw one of his hands towards the other half of the house where Ida was asleep, before gesturing to Molly, clearly trying to accentuate her current state. “You would have a dozen children just to keep her with you” 

Sigurd’s face barely changed, but Molly could feel him tense. He sat up straighter, his jaw clenched tight enough she could hear him grinding his teeth to keep himself from saying anything, 

Molly knew Sigurd wouldn’t say anything, he wasn’t a pushover but he wouldn’t want to distress her or wake up Ida either. He would hold his tongue until morning. She stood suddenly, “Alisdair, outside. Now.” She turned to Sigurd, assuring him a small walk wouldn’t kill her. To spite her brother she took his fur with her, pulling the oversized garment over her shoulders as she followed Alisdair outside.

As soon as the door closed behind her she faced him fury in her eyes “What the fuck was that” 

“Molly you don’t have to pretend to—“ 

“I’m not pretending anything!” She huffed loudly, “He is my husband, I love him, he hasn’t done anything I didn’t give him permission to.”

Alisdair was desperate to get her to admit something, anything to prove Sigurd had done something to her, that he wasn’t just being rash. “How do I know you're not saying that because he’s still right there?” 

She huffed stalking off expecting him to follow her, he did right at her heels. Admittedly he was having a hard time keeping up with her, which was embarrassing to admit considering she was at least six months along already. 

They were well out of hearing distance when she started talking again, repeating her earlier statement: “Sigurd is my husband, I love him, he hasn’t done anything without my permission. We didn’t plan Ida, or this baby, but I love being a mother and he’s a wonderful father.” 

A silence fell over them, as they kept walking. Alisdair knew Molly had no reason to lie to him, not when he wasn’t around to hear her. But he couldn’t believe she would fall for him, he couldn’t rationalize with everything that had happened that she would be okay being with him. 

“We can wait a few weeks so he doesn’t suspect, we’ll leave in the middle of the night, I’ll carry Ida so she doesn’t wake up. He won’t know we’re gone until–” he ignored everything she said. He didn’t think she was genuine, something must be wrong. 

“Alisdair.” She stopped suddenly, turning to face him, “I’m in no condition to travel, and even if I was I wouldn’t go with you” 

“I’ll come back for you in a few months then.” 

Molly went quiet looking up at her brother, she didn’t know how to tell him what she needed to. “I’m not going to be here in a few months.” 

“You’re going back to Norway with him?” 

“No. Once summer comes, and once he’s able to go get the rest of his children we’re all leaving for Iceland.” 

“No.” he didn’t even need to think about it, he wasn’t going that far away, he wasn’t letting her go that far from home. He wouldn’t be able to check on her, he wouldn’t be able to come get her if something happened. 

She sighed, “You know that means nothing,” she turned around going back to the house, “I’m going with him, I’m sorry you don’t trust him, but you can’t throw accusations around, especially after he’s been nothing but kind to me” 

“Nothing but kind?” if Alisdair wasn’t so angry he would have laughed. “You call what his people do to you, to me, kindness?” 

Molly stopped, she looked at the ground sighing. She faced him, but didn’t move any closer, “Seventy years ago now there was a raid on the Abbey I was living in. For some reason or another they decided I wasn’t to die with everyone else and brought me here…” 

Alisdair thought he had it, he thought he had his gotcha. That Molly was finally admitting the horrible things he had done to her. 

“Sigurd paid them off and let me go back about my business, not asking anything in return. That is what I call kindness, Alisdair.” Molly sighed, “It’s been too long, because you think I’m stupid now, enough so to let a man manipulate me into things, even if he had forced Ida on me I would have found a way out for both of us. You should know that.” 

Alisdair was taken aback, he hadn’t been trying to imply Molly to not know what she was doing. His assumptions had nothing to do with her, everything to do with him. He just got here, he had only seen her for a day. He thought he would show up and Molly would still be the same as the last time he had seen her, he thought she would still be his little sister and nothing more; he supposes he wasn’t always right though. 

“I know I won’t be able to stop you; but I can’t stay around if you’re going with him.” 

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” They stopped in front of the house, “But I was hoping you would be around when the baby came.” She opened the front gate not looking at him, “you are welcome to stay for a few days, but I expect you to apologize to Sigurd if you do” 

“I’ll find somewhere else then.” 

Molly nodded, “I’ll get your things then, he may not want you in his house if you don’t plan on taking anything back.” 

“Wait.” Molly stopped looking at him, he came here to check on her. She might be insisting she was fine, but he didn’t trust Sigurd, he couldn’t start trusting him just on Molly’s word either. He couldn’t help but feel as though he was admitting defeat, but… “If I apologize you’ll let me stay?” 

“I will,” she shrugged, “But you’ll have to see what he says” 

“I’ll stay, if I’m allowed.”

[fagsex]

see no evil 1971, occasionally billed as 'blind terror' starring mia farrow is genuinely an interesting and creative take on the home invasion and stalker subgenres in horror, especially for its time. spoilers because i am about to ramble about this film.

many seem to prefer the billing title 'blind terror', as did i for a portion of the film. the terror and dread it builds as the audience knows whats going on and the protagonist is literally blind to it is stomach churning. from the beginning, you feel sympathy for farrow's protagonist, a young woman recently totally blinded by a horseriding accident, even more devasting as we learn she was a champion/award-winning racer, but you can also empathize with her desires to be more independent, even moving in with her cousins. she was clearly a very capable woman before her accident, and even moreso, i would say, afterwards. shes kind, but shes headstrong, and unafraid to do what she pleases or speak her mind. she rides a horse she hardly knows in the mud, in the rain, smiling. you can tell how free and safe she feels, and it is a taxing sport. shes confident and it keeps her alive again and again. despite obvious appearances as a damsel in distress, you dont really feel pity for her, you are moreso scared FOR her, because she is just so personable.

with that is the title see no evil. this mainly refers to the fact she cannot see the many corpses of her family members littering her home, and cannot run anywhere but foreward, nor hide. this in itself holds a great deal of tension. the audience ourselves cannot see the evil either. the antagonist cuts off at highest his breast, and usually centers around his knee downwards, showing a pair of emblematic cowboy boots, first seen walking out of a gorey, sensational double feature that is meant to comment on young sensibilities to horror and keenness towards the vile.

however, it holds a seconday meaning as well in function to the plot that makes me heavily prefer it for the films billing title. on appearances, characters are consistently jumping to conclusions and judging each other, endangering themselves and those around them as they do. farrow's sarah's family treats her like glass, and as if shes newly weaker than the rest of them. they see her as in need of protection, and are unable to protect themselves at the hands of a psychotic stalker. at one point, she is driven to her boyfriends house, and her family member driving her becomes enraged at a caravan blocking the road. even when theyre very quickly moving the way, he incessantly lays on the horn, scowling, and making his comments about his disdain for [romani]*. despite having no way to perceive the scenario, outside of his comment about his dislike of the people, sarah remains positive and understanding, explaining theyre not hurting anyone, and she sees nothing wrong with them. upon arriving at her boyfriends ranch, she makes it clear they can only continue if she is given her autonomy, and when she is allowed to ride a horse she cannot even see, cannot even judge, she is at home. she is fully confident in the horse and its abilities, and holds no fear. she is never once mistaken in this confidence.

later on, when she returns home and the next day discovers her family murdered, and the gardener barely alive, he reveals to her that theres a bracelet in the hall, with a mans name on it. he dies before she finds it, and she is left without the name on it. as the killer returns, she blindly flees and finds easy home in the camp of the [roma]* people they encountered earlier in the film. a mother quickly takes her in, takes care of her, and listens to her story. when her son, tom, comes home, they read the bracelet together, and perceive this name as that of his brother who they see as trouble, 'jack', mentioning they told him to stay away from 'her'. they want to protect him, but cant bring themselves to hurt her, and drive her out just far enough off the road to where she cannot be immediately found, nor immediately die.

meanwhile, her boyfriend and his friends who live and work at his home/ranch with him, return to her home, find the murdered family, and seek sarah. tom finds his brother jack, and begins to scold him and chide him heavily for what hes done, for ruining their lives. jack cries that he hasnt done anything, he had in fact went to see sarah's cousin sandy that night, which was mentioned around the beginning of the film, and left when no one seemed to be present.

when sarah's boyfriend finds her covered in mud, grime, and utter filth, it is not by sight, but by sound. she dredges through stretches of wet filth to try to save herself, never despairing at the waste around her, until she finds a way to make noise, which finally attracts her freedom. she is taken to her boyfriend's ranch, tells her story, and is suddenly left under the care of one of the ranch hands as he, and several other hands, leave. all he had taken from the story was that one of the [romani]* did it, and everyone makes disparaging comments about them as a whole.

they then hold the mother, and her two sons at gunpoint, threatening them and throwing what they view as due harassment, before jack explains that the bracelet found is not even his, he doesnt even wear them, he just had gone to the house to visit his girlfriend at night because they knew her parents wouldnt approve, that his family discouraged because they Knew how theyd be. the bracelet, in fact, says 'jacko'. they didnt even see it right, and leapt to conclusions that they viewed as so very obvious due to their prejudices and their clouded perspectives.

jacko, the killer, the stalker, is in fact a ranch hand of sarah's boyfriend, who was left alone to supervise her and watch over her. jacko wears starry cowboy boots, levi jeans, a tight white shirt tucked into them. he has bright blue eyes, and fluffy sandy blond hair past his ears. he is attractive. and when we saw him before his face, he was very obviously overtly confident in his actions and knowing he was going to get away with what he was doing. he seeks his bracelet in her pockets as she bathes, and when their hands brush, he doesnt even think before he begins to strangle her under the water, without even a lapse in thought. she is saved at the last minute by the friends, with the [roma]* family in tow, watching with a final sense of calm.

conclusions are leapt to again and again about guilt and prejudices. the camera work also ensures that any potential suspect for the booted killer is always shot above the knee, and all obvious candidates are innocent, such as the gardener, the boyfriend, and all men in the roma camp. jack, the boyfriend of her cousin, isnt alerted to the murders of his girlfriend's family, because of how they seem him, and he knows they will judge them both. he is immediately seen as the guilty party. even his family, knowing how people see them, fear the worst, and begin to pack up their lives, knowing they will never be seen, let alone found, as innocent. how the audience sees characters (archetypes like the Boyfriend, the Gardener/Butler), is taken into account, and played with.

how sarah 'sees' the world is portrayed is naive, and innocent, and you can feel you are meant to lambast her for how she perceives everyone and everything around her. but she is visibily the most confident and intelligent person in the film. she gets herself out of certain danger time and time again, by avoiding perception, and relying on anything but it. she survives. she keeps herself alive, and she maintains justice. when she says the [romani]* arent hurting anyone, at the beginning of the film, and later on when jack is the primary suspect, the early statement feels like a form of dramatic irony. and yet, when we reach the end of the film, we realize she was right. they werent. the mother took her in, tom couldnt bear hurting her even when he thought she could tear their lives down, jack just wanted to be happy and date a little higher up girl. theyre happy to see her safe at the end. the killer, the psychotic stalker was an all around boy next door that we first seen walking out of a (fictional) double billing of 'rapist cult / the convent murders', clear commentary on who we see as killers in a horror movie audience vs. who actually is. hes familiar with the victims family, they let him into the house. the mother is found dead in her living room chair, in comfort. the daughter, undressing in her bedroom. the father, the kitchen. at ease in their own domains in their own home, they knew him, and let him in. they saw him, and perceived him as innocent. when he saw sarah was absent, he killed them all.

he watched her move around the house, around her familys corpses, blind. so much of the film revolves around sight, perception, and its unreliability. often we hear that our sight is our most trustworthy sense, that seeing is believing, but the film goes above and beyond to portray this as incorrect. for an english, 1971 film, this is certainly an interesting twist in the horror genre. the little, blind, waifish blonde mia farrow is a confident, near fearless 'final girl'. the detested outsiders/foreigners/other are kind, and open their hearts and minds to the innocent. the angry villager like hands of the ranch are wrong. the psychotic stalker is a lithe blond prettyboy that the protagonists boyfriend trusted enough to leave her in the care of. expectations, perceptions, are turned on the head.

this is a lot to say what is obvious. this is a lot of repetition of the same concepts and meanings. but with a tight 1h29 runtime from 1971, it is very well done. despite mia farrow leading, and many other strong british actors assisting, it is very little spoke. about in horror, thriller, drama, or crime communities. it is a horribly underspoken of film. i enjoyed it quite a lot. the visuals (lol) are lovely, and the subversions are excellent. part of the reason i wanted to state all of this was due to the fact i was upset they were cheaping out and making the random roma boy the stalker, but this was the first red herring that had me in a while. it reflects the audience's, even well meaning, presuppositions. i liked it a lot

*the terms roma/romani were obviously not used in the film. i substituted the more broad slur that was used in the film for this terminology instead. the characters were unlikely to actually meant to be roma/romani, and the term was likely meant to be a broad term for travellers/nomads/people who live in caravans, as it typically is even today in england and other european countries. however, who knows!

[alwaysteveswife]

Snow Ball | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader.

a/n: This is a moderately short piece of writing I found in my notes 😃 it's one of the first ones I wrote in general like with Steve, so it's not as amazing as others, still I'm fond of it, hope you like it <3

It happens in the finale of the second season, on the same night as the winter formal. In this version Steve was going to attend the ball.

Warnings: Nothing, maybe a little bit of dislike towards Nancy, but only that (in my defense, I was very angry with her after what she did to Steve 😞).

Number of characters: 4,533

"Are you sure you don't want to go? We still have time to go to your house and find something you can wear" Steve muttered, looking at Y/N.

"I already told you I'm not going, Steve" she laughed, finishing adjusting the collar of his shirt, "The idea of going to a dance is dancing, and doing that with a broken foot doesn't sound like fun to me at all" she picked up the tie, ready to start adjusting it, "Besides, Nancy's going to the party, and I don't feel like seeing her tonight.

"I still don't understand why you hate her so much" He grabbed the car keys and hugged Y/N's waist to start down the stairs.

"I don't hate her, it's just that if given a choice between being with her or a wild tiger, I'd definitely choose the tiger."

"That sounds like you hate her to me" He opened the car door once they were outside, helping her into the passenger seat.

"We're going to go get Dustin, right?" She changed the subject quickly once he got in the car, she didn't feel like talking about Wheeler right now.

"That's right, after I pick him up I'll drop you off at your house" Steve started the engine and put the car in gear.

She nodded softly, opening the window to get some fresh air. The ride was silent, neither had a topic to talk about, and Y/N didn't want to distract him while driving either, so she preferred to stay quiet as they made their way to Dustin's house.

Unfortunately, Dustin had never been good at keeping quiet.

"Hi, Steve" The boy greeted as he got into the car with a big smile on his face, "Hi, Y/N."

"Hi, Dustin!" Y/N turned quickly to give him a high five.

"Are you ready to party, kiddo?" Steve started the car again, this time smiling big.

"Sure am!" He rested both hands on the seat backs, leaning out to look at them both "Are you going dressed like that, Y/N?"

"Oh, I'm not going" she lifted her leg as best she could, pointing at it with her hand "Fracture."

"Right, I forgot" he turned to look at Steve "Does that mean you don't have a date for the dance?"

"No, I might ask some other girl to be my partner for tonight, I'm not too worried about that."

"Dustin, keep a close eye on Steve, there's never a shortage of girls after the one with the girlfriend" Y/N joked, laughing under her breath.

"Roger that, Miss Y/L/N" He nodded proudly.

Steve just laughed as he parked the car in front of her house. She wasn't in the mood to spend the night watching Nightmare on Elm Street and eating whatever knick-knacks her parents had left behind before heading off to Grandma and Grandpa's house, but she didn't have a choice either.

"Well, gentlemen, I guess this is goodbye" she unbuckled her belt and opened the door, ready to have a 'spectacular' night "By the way, the suit looks great on you, Dustin."

The boy smiled at her, showing her his new teeth. She got out of the car and walked to the door, pulling out his keys to unlock it.

He turned to look at them one last time to wave goodbye.

Once inside her house she sighed heavily. She was exhausted by everything that had happened these past few days and couldn't understand how those guys had the energy to go to a party after the hell they went through.

Just as Y/N had predicted, today was nightmare on Elm Street, which meant spending an hour and a half watching youngsters being chased by a psychopath appearing in their dreams, while she enjoyed a nice jar of chips and a glass of booze.

She was getting to the part where Freddy was taking his first victim and, just then, her doorbell rang. Her paranoid side came out. She stood up, gripping the TV remote tightly in defense. Y/N turned the knob, ready to strike whoever was on the other end.

"Hello again."

It was Steve. He was no longer wearing his suit jacket, just his shirt and untucked tie.

"What are you doing here?" a sense of relief and happiness washed over her.

"I didn't feel comfortable being at a party while you were here, alone, so I decided to keep you company" he smiled as he held up his hands full of bags "And I brought burgers."

"God, you're the best non-boyfriend in the world" Y/N stepped back from the doorway so he could walk through, smiling big.

"What do you mean, not-boyfriend?" he asked teasingly, sitting down on the couch and setting the burgers on the little table.

"It's the term I put on our relationship, it will be that way until one of us takes the final step" she sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

After all, the night didn't turn out to be as boring as I thought it would be.

Masterlist

[gregorygerwitz]

Burzek + Sparks Fly (part 4 of the Speak Now series)

you touch me once and it's really something you find I'm even better than you imagined I would be I'm on my guard for the rest of the world but with you, I know it's no good

From the time she left the doors of the expensive private school until she walked through the front door of the big house she called home, Kim was free. It didn't matter how long it took, as long as she was home by curfew, and it wasn't like her father or step-mother really cared about what she did. As long as she didn't end up in the paper, jail, or dead, the time was hers to do whatever she pleased with it, and she had a few preferred ways of spending that time.

Most days, she would sit at a table in her new usual café until Adam was done with his shift, and then they would walk as far as they could until the sun started to go down. Sometimes, they ended up at the bookstore, browsing the shelves and reading the summaries on the back without actually buying anything. Other days, they went to the lake, and walked along the water until they reached the spot where they shared their first kiss.

When he wasn't working, they met up to spend hours walking and getting dinner, or lunch on the weekends, and sharing stories about their lives. There was even one weekend where they got the entire day to themselves without any parents calling or demanding to know where they were, without school to prioritize or homework to work on, without anything to focus on but each other. It was perfect, and Adam made sure to take every Saturday off that he could so they had the time to use.

The first time they went to his house was the first time Kim stayed out past curfew.

His father was out working for the night, some vague explanation about an extra patrol shift given in a text. They ordered a pizza and sat on the couch to watch a movie, close to each other under the blanket spread over their laps. If anyone had seen her in that part of town, she would probably get a lecture from Thelma about the family's image, but she couldn't even bring herself to care about the potential consequences. She was having fun in a way that had seemed impossible when her brother left, and she was happy just to enjoy what freedom she had while she still had it.

They both knew the inevitable was going to come, some day. Kim would graduate high school in a year, and follow in her brother's footsteps by going to college as far away from Chicago as possible. She wanted to be where no one knew her name, where she could do anything she wanted to do without worrying about the family image and looking over her shoulder for cameras.

Sitting there, all but cuddled up to her boyfriend on the couch in the quiet living room of his home, she was getting a taste of that kind of freedom. There were no cameras following her around in Canaryville, if only because no one thought to look for her there. She could watch movies and make out with her boyfriend until after curfew, and not leave for home until after midnight. It would definitely make her life at home harder for a week or so, but it was worth it.

Because there was something about moving from the couch to a bed that made her feel giddy. And something about the way Adam held her made her feel warm. And she would withstand a thousand lectures about staying out late if it meant she got to do it all again.

[cantfightmoonlight]

"¡Aye dios mio!" Jas exclaimed as she got out of the car door, slamming the door behind her as she wandered around to grab her dad's bags. She had opted to meet them both at the Daily Drip for coffee and drive with them up to the cabin given that it wasn't the easiest place to find and she wanted to have a minute to get a read on how they were feeling about the whole 'got married without telling you' thing, before she introduced them to Nico. But, she hadn't realized that it meant she'd be bickering with one dad in Spanish the entire car ride up to the house. "¡Ni siquiera lo has conocido todavía! Dale una oportunidad y por favor no actúes como el tipo duro. And don't do the whole good cop, bad cop, thing okay? Por favor, te lo ruego," She pleaded as she began to lift out the first suitcase only to be told off by her fathers.

"¿Qué estás haciendo? Déjame tomar eso. Es mi equipaje. Debería ser yo quien lo cargue y no es mi culpa que nadie sea lo suficientemente bueno para mi hija," Manuel grumbled out, his words streaming out a mile per minute as he took the suitcase from Jas. Proceeding to unload the other two bags Sammy had brought with him as well.

"English, por favor. You're both speaking too fast," Sammy pleaded as he climbed out of the car himself. "You'd think I'd have picked more of it up after all this time," He let out a sigh as he moved to kiss him husband lightly on the cheek for carrying in their stuff for them.

"She had no problem learning. I don't know why it's so hard for you," Manuel rolled his eyes lightly over, though a smile found its way across his lips at the show of affection his husband gave him.

"Anyways," Jas cleared her throat, motioning to the cabin behind them as she started to lead them both inside. "This is the house. I can show you both to where you two will be staying with Noel while Nico and I will be out in the RV and I already changed the bedsheets, so please don't try to change the room arrangements. Okay?" She looked over at Sammy as if for her to help her out here as Manuel chimed in again.

"Wha- no. No. We're not kicking our daughter and her imaginary husband out of there room. We'll sleep in the RV. You two can have the house with Noelia-" He started to attest.

"Oh for the love of- He's not imaginary," She groaned out, pinching the brim of her nose as she tried to resist the eye roll that was surely coming.

"Well, he's imaginary to me since he didn't seem to exist two weeks ago."

"Manuel," Sammy tsked, despite the corner of his lips itching ever so slightly up at the quip.

"What? She set me up for perfectly for that one and you know she did."

"Okay, are you two done or are you ready to meet my very real husband for the first time, preferably on your best behavior?" She whined out, shooting them both a pleading look as she heard the door behind her swing open.

She wasn't sure how much of their conversation Nico overheard from inside the house given his super hearing, but she had a feeling it was likely more than she would have wanted. Thunder's footsteps were heard first as the pup went barely towards her parents. Manny's face lightly up as he practically scooped the rather large puppy up in his arms with ease. "And who might this be? Is this the boyfriend we heard nothing about?"

"Dad!" Jas exclaimed. Shooting him a narrowed eyed look as she glanced back over her shoulder and gave Nico a sheepish smile. She had tried to prep Nico as much as humanly possible for what he might be walking into, but she was quickly realizing there was no way to humanly prep someone for all of this. "Anyways," She let out a small gulp as she glanced back helplessly over at Nico who was now standing beside her. "Dads, this is Nico. Nico this is the dads."

@nicocastillo

[shads-shipposts]

My lovely followers (all 5 of you), y'all are gettin' fed this week.

Have another snapshot of the dynamic between Shadow and Allan ✨

This takes place right before the Karaboudjan casts off from the docks, so the harbor pilot is there

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

Allan narrowed his eyes at Shadow. Why was she up here? Didn’t she know to stay out of sight? Though, he supposed she technically was, given Neil had called him into the stairwell to talk. 

“What is it?”

“Shortie wants to watch the launch. Reckon I can take her up to the fo’c’sle to watch from there? We’ll stay inside.”

Right, Shadow was obsessed with ships. 

He turned his attention back to Shadow, a bit surprised at her oddly subdued and almost shy demeanor. 

Now that she wanted something from him, it seemed she lost a lot of that fire and snark. 

Something to know for later. It was nothing personal, as he did the same for everyone he met. Too many close calls and backstabs demanded he always have some contingency in place, a hard lesson learned. Even Tom, his closest friend by a long shot, wasn’t safe from Allan’s record of weaknesses. Knowing how to get under someone’s skin, or knowing how to make them compliant, was just smart. 

But despite knowing Shadow for a short time, if he didn’t think he’d have to coerce her for any reason. As long as his requests were fairly reasonable, she seemed happy to follow his command. He certainly had her loyalty more than Sakharine did. 

Having the allegiance of someone who knew the future of a high stakes race to riches was invaluable, and Allan sought to keep it. 

But that wasn’t what softened his heart. 

“That true, kid?” he asked, arms crossed. “Want to see the cast off?”

She nodded, meeting his gaze. Her cheeks were slightly red, and she was scratching her arm like she did when she was nervous. But to her credit, she did keep eye contact. 

“Well, stay out of the way.” He reached out and ruffled her air, allowing a small grin when she hissed and swatted his hand away. 

“Ruffle my hair one more time and I swear…” 

“Swear what?" He shoved her shoulder. "What’s little ol’ you gonna do?” 

Shadow smacked his hand and jabbed a finger at him. “Kick you in your little ol’-“

“Okay, Shortie! To the fo’c’sle you go!” Neil laughed, steering Shadow towards the stairs. 

Allan watched them go, biting back a snort of amusement at Shadow’s indignant hissing.

Strange as it sounded, Shadow was maybe the one exception where he actually preferred when the other person snapped back at him. Maybe because he knew that if Shadow was firing back, it meant she felt comfortable around him and viewed him as an ally or even friend. 

Friends were rare for him, and honestly a liability, but Shadow had been hit by a truck and had a building collapse on them without suffering damage so he didn’t exactly see them being used against him. Plus, where most would despise him after a brawl like that alley one, Shadow seemed to enjoy the rough housing. 

Even if she threatened to end his bloodline. 

Leaving Neil and Shadow, Allan returned to the wheelhouse.

“Everything alright, sir?” the harbor pilot asked. 

“Absolutely. Just a question from the crew, no cause for concern.” 

“Thought I heard a woman’s voice.” 

The lie came easy. “Niece. She likes ships.” Allan shrugged. “You’re welcome to tell her to get off. But I’ll warn you, she bites.”

The pilot still didn’t seem convinced. 

Shadow needed to stay out of sight, but maybe letting her talk to the pilot would be a better option. 

Allan marched back to the stairwell and opened the door. “Actually, change of plans, kid! Get up ‘ere!”

Shadow reappeared at the top of the stairs, confusion on her face. “What is it?”

Allan gestured for her to join him and the harbor pilot. “Pilot wants to talk to you.”

Shadow’s nose wrinkled. “Why?”

“Worried about you.”

Shadow looked even more perturbed. “I swear, if this is sexism related...” she growled, pushing past Allan. Stopping in front of the pilot, she crossed her arms. “What is it?”

“Are you safe, ma’am?”

Shadow cocked her head to the side. “Course I am, why?”

The pilot shot a suspicious glance at Allan. “You can tell me if you’re in trouble, Miss.” 

Shadow side-eyed the pilot. “Trouble? Why would I be in trouble?” 

The harbor pilot gestured to Allan. “This man says you’re his niece?”

Shadow glanced Allan’s way, and not two seconds later a sly grin crossed her face. 

A smile that Allan had already labeled her “I’m going to cause problems on purpose” smile.

I’m about to regret this.

“Aw, Al! I didn’t know you cared so much!” She walked over and punched his arm. “Look at you, gettin’ all soft and shit.” 

Great, she’s decided to be a menace. 

But if she wanted a snark battle, he’d oblige. 

Roughly ruffling her hair again, he pushed her head down. “You hang around here like a stray enough you may as well be.” 

She parried his hand away and ducked out. “Like your bloodline could produce this.” She pointed at her face. 

“Watch your mouth, kid.” He smacked the hat off her head. “Before I ground you.”

Shadow laughed, catching the hat and smacking him in the chest with it. “You ain’t gonna do jack shit!” She turned to the pilot. “I get the concern, mate, but really. I’m good. Here of my own accord and everything.” 

The pilot looked between them, still unconvinced. 

“Look man,” Shadow huffed. “I ain’t leavin’ this ship unless I’m dragged. If you want to try wrangling a black belt who bites down the pilot ladder, be my guest! You’d have better luck with a feral raccoon.” 

“She does bite,” Neil laughed, showing his arm which still bore a tooth-imprint bruise from the previous morning.

The harbor pilot looked appalled. “Women do not rough house like that.” 

A rare trace of genuine anger blazed in Shadow’s eyes. “Alright, chicken-shit, square up!” she spat, cracking her knuckles. 

Ah, so that’s what would legitimately pissed Shadow off. Sexism.

Noted.

Allan stepped behind and caught her around the middle, lifting her off the ground and carrying her to the stairwell door. “Alright, that’s enough," he said over the long string of rather creative profanity. "Neil, get ‘er outta here before she actually does bite someone.”

[jekyll2life]

Not sure if any other doll collectors do this, but I came up with backstories for most of my dolls. I'm planning on writing fic for them later. But just in case I don’t get around to it, I wanted to share what I had anyway. 

There’s a bit of a fantasy element imbued into it (obviously, because dolls aren’t sentient), but this is just what I like to imagine. 

We’ll start with Jackson, Holt, and Frankie first. Because if I do my entire collection straight out of the gate, this post will get way too long. XD

Anyway, writing under the cut. 

Disclaimer just in case: Most of the human names are ones I made up for the sake of storytelling. 

Jackson Jekyll:

Jackson was given to a child named Lacey for Christmas, amongst a few other toys. He was neither the favorite nor least favorite toy of the collection, and he spent a fair amount of time both being played with and being left in the toybox. Lacey was a gentle child when it came to their toys, so there wasn’t much he needed to worry about in terms of treatment. As Lacey grew into adulthood, Jackson was moved to a shelf. He sat at the top of the shelf, content with living a quiet life of just watching the sun rise and set from a nearby window. Occasionally, he might steal some of Lacey’s books to read, but otherwise his life was pretty uneventful. He never went outside and Lacey hardly interacted with him anymore (Not that he really minded that. He was perfectly content being alone really). He didn’t question it when she picked him up one day and took some pictures of him, only to put him back on the shelf later. 

A few weeks pass, Jackson is taken from his spot on the shelf, shoved into a packing envelope, and is mailed across the country. In that moment, his life changed forever. 

When Jackson first arrived in Jester’s home (Jester is me btw), he was at first dazed, frightened, and confused. Unlike Lacey, Jester was loud and overexcited. Instead of being left alone on a shelf, Jackson was now being brought place to place alongside the new human. He was now seeing and experiencing the outside world, rather than just observing it from a distance. Over time, Jackson came to enjoy his new, more adventurous life. Still, he has moments where he would like to return to the quiet and just stay inside, watching sunrises and sunsets from the window. 

Holt Hyde:

Holt once belonged to a fellow collector, Agnes. Agnes was very particular about how she wanted her dolls to be kept. She had several completed sets, all kept in glass cases in a room with no windows so as to avoid sun damage. Most of the other dolls in the collection were fine with this. They were well taken care of and Agnes visited them on a frequent basis. However, Holt was a troublemaker by nature. He longed to see the world outside the doll room, and being cooped up in one place forever was not the way he wanted to live (even if leaving the doll room meant his lifespan would be dramatically shorter). 

Holt attempted to break out of the doll room on multiple occasions, including opening the glass case from the inside and jumping out. He once got so close as to opening the front door of the house and nearly stepping outside. But before he could really feel the rays of the sun, Agnes found him and dragged him back inside. She scolded him, not understanding why he would want to ruin his good condition just to go outside. Being somewhat of an old doll, Holt was more fragile than he preferred to think himself to be. Still, he tried to explain to her that in his mind, a life with no experience was no life at all. 

Holt was put back into the glass case after that, but Agnes thought over his wishes. After some time, she decided that perhaps it would be best to let him go. After saying goodbye to his closest friends in the collection, Agnes packaged Holt up carefully in a box and sent him away to Jester’s home. 

Now, Holt’s had the chance to experience the sun, the moon, and all the wonders of the world outside. He’s quite sociable, so he’s made good friends with the other dolls in the collection. At times, however, he gets jealous of the favoritism Jester expresses towards Jackson. He also gets fed up if kept in one place for too long. 

G3 Frankie Stein

Frankie was bought brand-new, straight from the original packaging. Jester told Jackson and Holt ahead of time that Frankie would be coming home, but also warned them that this Frankie would be different from the one they knew in their memories. Still, they were very excited to see them. 

In my mind, when dolls are in their box, they enter something of a sleep mode. So when Frankie first woke up, the first faces they saw were Jackson and Holt. They introduced themselves enthusiastically, and that’s when Jackson and Holt found out that this Frankie had no memories of them (because as of the day I’m writing this, Jackson and Holt don’t exist in G3 yet). Jackson and Holt were a little disappointed, since they both remembered Frankie. But this Frankie had the same sweet earnestness that the Frankie they remember had, so they couldn’t be too mad. 

Frankie is very wide-eyed and curious, and was very excited about getting to explore the world. So Jackson and Holt accompanied Frankie on their first ever trip outside. It just so happened at that time that the sun was going down as they were going out. And so Frankie’s first experience outside was watching the sunset. 

Jackson, Frankie, and Holt took a little extra time getting to know each other. But over time, Jackson and Holt fell in love just as hard for this new Frankie as the one in their memories. And Frankie loved both of them just as much. 

[merryfortune]

Bippity Boppity Boo

Written for Year of the OTP 2023 - August

Prompts: AU of Your Choice | Time Travel | Meet Cute/Blind Date | “You’re the only one I could turn to for help.” | Storm | Vampire/Werewolf AU

Title: Bippity Boppity Boo

Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Rating: T

Word Count: 10,010

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Inspired by Cinderella, Fluff

   Once upon a time, there was a boy who had been abandoned by his family.

   He was placed under a tree and then later placed into an orphanage upon discovery. He would grow to yearn for this tree as the kindness it showed, protecting him from the greater wilderness, was far much more consideration he was shown compared to what was given to him at the orphanage.

   Where other children came and went, he was left behind. He grew older, grew embittered, and so, he came to be known by a monniker: Spectre. He was the shade in the corner. All but a ghost. Unwanted, unimpressive, and usually useless, too.

   He was given task after task when it became apparent to the matrons that this child was not going to be adopted any time soon, and that he would age out of the system. However, with no capital behind him or prospect ahead of him, and not wanting to stray too far from his one special place, Spectre remained. 

   The matrons put him to work as an apprentice. Allegedly, anyway. He was given all the menial chores around the house and playground. So, he was more like a cleaner, or worse. Wash this, hang out that, scrub this, cook that. His hours were eaten up by hard work that rubbed him to the bone, it was perpetually neverending, especially under the matrons’ wicked eye. 

   He never even got to sleep a wink elsewhere or a moment of repose. Now a young man, Spectre’s previous quarters in the children’s dormitory was no longer suitable so they had him sleep in the barn with the other, actual workhorses, and cows.

   Spectre tried not to mind. He preferred the straw and hay, he never got a moment of quiet beforehand with his previous roommates, either. Honestly, the animals with their lowing were far more pleasant companions than children who had been his prior bullies. That made the crick in his neck worth it, as if barely.

   But there was something that he looked forward to, being able to visit his favourite place up in the woods, his Mother Tree, if he could be so fanciful in his loneliness and aching. That tree was beautiful. Enormous. She had a kind face in the knots and whorls up high, her foliage was verdant and the fragrance of the meadow was calming.

   Being with her was truly Spectre’s favourite place.

   He was only able to go occasionally on the rare day off - once every two months, maybe, it wasn’t a given. But the reprieve meant the world to him, walking into the forest full of pleasant birdsong, to have his own company and spend the day at rest. Sometimes he brought a picnic along it. It truly meant the world for Spectre and made his thankless, tireless work worth it. 

   He saw no point in leaving the orphanage if the wider world didn’t seem to want him. He had poked around here and there for other jobs. Employment with the bank or the baker, smithing and shoemaking, but Spectre was just one urchin in the castletown alone. It was a huge, bustling metropolis so there was much competition from near and far, travellers and the homegrown. 

   So staying at the orphanage it was. For better or for worse, there was always work of some description there. Clothes that needed to be washed, floors that needed to be scrubbed, food that needed to be cooked. And thus, never thinking his circumstances would change, Spectre worked as he could at the orphanage. But that is exactly what would happen when a peculiar, ivory-coloured letter with a burgundy stamp in the shape of a segmented triangle would arrive with the rest of the orphanage’s mail.

   Now, this was a castletown, after all and where there were castles, there was royalty and where there was royalty, there was a prince in need of a good spouse. 

   Needless to say, there was a frenzy afoot…

   Spectre wasn’t caught up on the gossip from around the orphanage, let alone the entire city, but the letter which came in the mail explained everything that he needed to know. Here ye, here ye, come one, come all: every youth and lady in the kingdom was eligible, noble birth not needed but preferred, all are eligible for Prince Ryoken’s hand in marriage. There was a ball to be held within the fortnight, on the night of the full moon. 

   Most peculiarly about the letter was even addressed to Spectre. Or at least the name that he didn’t care for. He was Spectre nowadays but the royal register and census didn’t know or need his nickname. But it did make sense that it would be for him and him alone. He was the only live-in at the orphanage of an eligible age as even the youngest matron was a woman twice his age.

   Out of curiosity, Spectre opened the letter and read and something quite uncharacteristic happened. He felt… excited. 

   Spectre had parties. He hated loud noises and he’d never been any good at dancing, either, but even he had to admit. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He had no interest in meeting the prince, let alone trying to seduce him, but the opportunity to at least people watch in such a magnificent setting, Spectre was intrigued.

   “Madam, may I have the day and night of the party off?” Spectre asked the principal matron when he saw her next.

   She was a severe woman, nose always in the air, “What party?”

   Spectre provided the letter to her and she read it over. Her eyes skimmed across and her expression was difficult to describe. Incredulous, perhaps? She was a hard-faced woman at the best of times.

   “You had a day off recently, did you not?” she asked.

   “Last week, yes.” Spectre said and he had a brief yet fond recollection of an afternoon well spent reading in the shade of his favourite tree.

   “Then you are not due for another day off any time soon then,” she said, “besides, we are expecting a caravan the day before which will bring new blood here. There will be too much going on to be a worker down.”

   “Ah. I see.” Spectre replied. He tried to conceal the disappointment in his voice but the watchful look of the matron, he knew straight away he had betrayed himself.

   She sighed petulantly, “I suppose, if the drop-off of new charges is smaller than expected and all work is completed timely, there might be a window of opportunity but do not let something so stupid distract you from the good work we do here.”

   “Of course.” Spectre replied and he didn’t even try this time to disguise the hope in his voice.

   So, incentivised by an unusual night out, Spectre did his best to stay on top of all the chores and jobs he had to do around the orphanage. All of which seemed to suspiciously multiply. In the even rarer than usual downtime Spectre had between doing all his work for the orphanage, he tried to prepare in advance something nice to wear.

   Being the orphanage’s resident handyman, of course he had experience in being a tailor, too. Though, usually he was only doing patch jobs here and there as it was more cost effective to repair old hand me downs than replace them. Creating something to wear from scratch was much more difficult, especially on such short notice, but Spectre persevered. 

   What resulted from his work on his sparse off hours here and there were repairs on his good, white trousers and a new, navy blue blazer to match. It wasn’t much but Spectre figured that it was probably good enough for a squire. Again, it's not like anyone was going to look twice at him anyway. He was just there for the canapes and people watching. 

  But just as the letter came by fate in the work of human hands, so did the destruction of Spectre’s good clothes for his planned night out.

   He worked hard. That is what the principal matron said he had to do if he wanted to earn some time off. He did all his chores, all his jobs, all his work. He chopped firewood to both keep and sell, he washed dishes and he weeded the garden. He cleaned muck out of the stables as well as from the long-drop. He went to markets to buy provisions for the upcoming days and he helped with admin as they welcomed the newest orphans into their ranks.

   Some were the same as him. Abandoned. Others were waiting to reunite with their long-lost family. They were just whoever was willing to be collected up by missionaries and merchants alike to be dumped in a group home. The number of mouths to feed and children to clothe and beds to make doubled all but instantly with this arrival. The matron had not been lying when she said it would be a huge job but Spectre was up for the task.

   He got everything and everyone sorted. He took names, faces, luggage, and showed them to their rooms. The other matrons gave them all the rules and regulations mixed with a warm welcome whilst he swept afterwards and did the other tidying up.

   It truly never ended. Every step any given child took, more mud was tracked through the building. Spectre was cleaning and cleaning again but it all led him back to the stables. Mud outside was fine but there was just something… amiss. An organisation to the chaos, as though it were orchestrated…

   Sure enough, this strange inkling at the bottom of Spectre’s chest was confirmed when he found that his good trousers were no longer white but rather brown and his good blazer was no longer in one piece.

   The horse had gotten into it, tried to eat it and when it discovered that the jacket was inedible, it was trampled. Spectre picked up the pieces and he was… He was hollow. He knew it was a bad idea to look forward to even the remote possibility of doing something interesting with himself, bigger than the orphanage which kept him more like a prisoner than a charge.

   But how? Why? 

   He had lived in the stables without issue for years now at this point. He didn’t want to think the worst of any of the children whose work he served but the alternative was worse. Did the principal matron put one of them up to it or was it a genuine accident that his one set of truly good clothes got ruined on the night of the ball.

   With what was left of his jacket, he steeled himself. He may as well ask, so Spectre found the principal matron in the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea (for once, instead of asking him to do it for her). Her eyes were all-knowing from the minute he stepped through the door. There was no point.

   “Good, you can clean up after me since it seems your plans for the night are ruined.” she said.

   “Yes. I suppose so.” Spectre timidly replied.

   He was incensed but he could not show it. He simply did as he was told, disappointedly. There was no use keeping fabric which couldn’t even be used as cleaning rags so he discarded what was left of his jacket and cleaned the kettle as the principal matron drank her tea.

   Spectre knew he had been a difficult child to keep. For the longest time, he was an adventurer, an eloper, always running off. Picked on others just as much he had been picked on. All that sort of thing. But was that enough for this petty retribution? He didn’t know, he couldn’t say.

   Later, as night began to draw, Spectre slipped away the first chance he got. He wanted some time away from the orphanage and with the ball out of the question, there was only one place to go to enjoy some reprieve from others.

   Technically,he did still have the night off. The matron be damned. He had done his work, he deserved rest. There was more to come in the morning but until then, the night was young and the walk was not that far. Not really. If he couldn’t go to the ball, he could still go into the one retreat that he still had.

   Spectre made his way up through the woods, into the thick of the forest, and all whilst he was nimble-footed. He had made the journey hundreds of times, he knew these trees and the path into his favourite copse like the back of his hand. He made his way to his Mother Tree’s meadow so high on the hillside, not quite mountains but close.

   He collapsed in her inner sanctum. It was a twinkling, calm night. He could all but imagine the silver-toned music of the ball as he soaked in the silence of the forest. Even the birds had gone to roost early, it felt, as he watched fireflies drift and float lazily. The air was still, not even a breeze but the temperature was pleasant. 

   What a wonderful night for the prince’s occasion, Spectre could have laughed. Instead all he could muster was a breath that turned into a rock hard lump in his chest. He was exhausted. He had been worked to the bone all day, the day before, all last week and then some. He was tired as he curled up against the trunk of his Mother Tree.

   A single, disappointed tear streaked down the side of Spectre’s cheek. He wasn’t crying, it just occurred without reason but his soul was heavy nonetheless. He was utterly heartbroken by the turn of events, Spectre languished against his favourite tree, head in her roots as though they were fingers to card through his hair. 

   What good was he anyway? He was forever the shade in the corner, he likely wouldn’t enjoy himself anyway. He knew that and yet. The fact he had been invited. Sure, everyone was but it was still the very first time anyone ever had made some vain attempt to reach out for him. Sure, he was just another name on the list but still. Just that little meant a lot.

   Anything would have meant a lot.

   Like just a whisper, perhaps. A hello, a greeting, a salutation, just like… this one.

   “Hiya papaya, Spectre-Wecter!”

   “Who goes there?” Spectre yelped, alarmed.

   He ripped himself off the ground. Dirt and shreds of grass fell off him as he frantically looked around. Spectre scanned the oddly bright darkness for nothing. He couldn’t see a person, even though it was such a lovely and clear night wherein he could make out every leaf in the far distance’s trees but not anything closer, let alone humanlike to make the distinct noise of a gentle conversation.

   Laughter followed, “I’m right here, silly.”

   Spectre turned his head and from around the bulbous curve of the tree’s middle, a strange imp curled around, also. Hiding and cheeky, she had fluffy blonde hair and green skin, strange and insect-like eyes of red.

   “Who are you?” he asked, on his hackles as he stared into the mischievous face of a young woman. “How do you know my name?”

   “Think of me as your… magic fairy god-sister.” she said. She bounced along from behind the tree, her rose petal tutu flounced bombastically as she did so. She then took a bow, “My name is Healer and I am here to help.”

   Spectre’s brows quirked, “Help?” He got up cautiously and he realised he was far taller than the elfin thing in front of him.

   “Yup, help.” Healer confirmed, she nodded her head as she drew back up with a grin plastered across her face, reaching from pointed ear to pointed ear. “You wanna go to the ball, don’t you?”

   “Well, yes but… I don’t have anything to wear. Why bother? I was only invited as a courtesy.” Spectre replied.

   “Even so? You were invited and you wanted to go. Have a night out, dance it all away, it’ll be great fun and who knows,” Healer clasped her hands together for dramatic effect as her expression turned dreamy, “you might even meet your one true love.”

   Spectre snorted.

   “Hey! You might!” Healer snapped. “You're not making this easy for me. You should be all like, “waah, waah, I wanna go to the ball, take me to the ball” and well? Do you want to go to the ball or not?”

   “Fine. Yes. I want to go to the ball.” Spectre said. “But how am I going to get there? What will I wear?”

   “And that is where I fit in.” Healer trumpeted proudly. “All you need is three magic words.” She looked around. “Ah! Perfect! I’ve already found your carriage. Watch this.”

   Healer continued to galumph around - and beckoned Spectre to follow her. Which he did, even if it was with extreme suspicion. She bounced over to a tree which had white mushrooms growing at the base of it on the edge of the meadow.

   “Bippity. Boppity… Boo!” Healer said and she waggled her fingers at these mushrooms and the most peculiar thing happened.

   They grew. They changed. They became a carriage, an actual, functional carriage. The cap expanded and flopped about to become the top cover of the carriage. The stem underneath became the undercarriage, roots curled into wheels. It was strange, it was bizarre but it was beautiful. Spectre had never seen a carriage like it, it was good enough for royalty, he would think. 

   Healer proudly grinned by his side and glanced at him, “Like what you see?” she asked. “Good, I hope so. But you need something to pull a carriage,like a horse!”

   She whipped around, looked left and looked right and then had her little eureka moment. Healer skipped over and then pounced on a mouse. She picked one up by its tail and the squeaking it made was horrendous. She tossed it up and as it flew through the air, tumbling into a somersault, its body morphed and changed also.

   The mouse was white and so was the horse it became. Paws became hoofs and a thin tail turned to hair. The mouse’s squeaking became a horse’s neighing as Healer wagged her fingers. Girdle and tack manifested out of thin air and Healer had it all arranged so this horse which was once a mouse could pull the carriage which was once a mushroom.

   Spectre could hardly believe his eyes. He sputtered and stammered as he watched these impossible, fanciful, magical things happen right in front of him and all for him.

   “We have a horse, we have a carriage but what’s the word I’m thinking of…?” Healer mumbled, more to herself than to Spectre as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yes! Of course! Coach! You need a coachman as well. Someone to guide the horse to the ball. We can’t expect a distinguished VIP to do something like that.”

   V-I-what? Healer was basically speaking in tongues to Spectre. He was too flabbergasted as he watched Healer fossick out a coachman for him next. She perused the tree branches and found a nest with just one bird in it. She gave it a shake.

   “Sorry mister but I need to borrow your services.” she whispered to the bird, a mourning dove.

   The dove began to flap and fluster, Healer had to put the nest down and they wanted as the bird turned into a man dressed, unsurprisingly, in gorgeous feathers. She hustled him up and loaded him onto the front of the carriage. He squawked and carried on but once he was sitting at the helm, he calmed down. 

   Healer turned around and then eyed up Spectre, “Now for you. You can’t go to the ball and meet your one true love looking like that, now can you?”

   “I - I suppose not.” Spectre said, flustered. 

   He wasn’t sure if he should trust the fashion sense of someone wearing a giant flower. Or had just dressed a bird in a feathered suit but it appeared Spectre had no say in the matter beyond giving his consent as Healer was lost in the enthusiasm of getting her god-brother to the ball.

   “Here goes nothing,” Healer said, “bippity-boppity-boo!”

   Healer gave it all in winding up and delivering energetic jazz hands towards Spectre. A sudden wind, speckled with stardust, blew a gale and wrapped itself around Spectre like celestial raiments. Around and around him, swirling and twirling, transforming his ordinary workwear into a gorgeous suit.

   Spectre’s expression turned elated as he wondered at the marvel of Healer’s magic. He wore a suit of the purest white with yellow-gold decorations. The suit felt as though it were made of the finest, most petal soft silk but it was very strange. One step forward and Spectre noted that his shoes were odd to say the least.

   He looked down, they were made of glass. They were shaped like a good, leather shoe ought to be and yet, they shone and shimmered in the moonlight, the shape of his foot barely obscured by the glass.

   “What on Earth…?” Spectre murmured.

   Healer laughed apologetically, “sorry. My magic isn’t one-hundred per-cent one-hundred per-cent of the time. Speaking of which!” Her eyes lit up. “You better hurry, you have a curfew. The magic will wear off at midnight but until then, go, vamoose! Enjoy yourself.”

   Healer pressed on Spectre’s chest and tried to force him into the carriage. He was by no means complaining but he was still very much bewildered. Thankful but bewildered.

   “Thank you, Healer.” Spectre told her through the window on the carriage door, leaning through it as it was paneless.

   “Anything for the Mother Tree’s favourite human son. And, um, only human son.” Healer said and she kissed Spectre’s cheek goodbye.

   He smiled as he was farewelled. The dove which was now a coachman yelled something to the effect of giddy-up and his horse, which was once a mouse, reeled with how the reins instructed it. The mushroom carriage began to move and roll on its spindly wheels, carrying Spectre away and into the night and right into the castle’s foyer.

   It was an event of come one, come all but it was still a veritable who’s who of royalty and aristocrats, nobles and knights, and peasants too but it was actually quite hard to differentiate. It was a night of nights for fashion, everyone in gorgeous suits and over the top ball gowns, and plenty of folk in masquerade masks, as well.

   The castle was a tall, white-stoned building with turrets that carried blue and crimson flags, it was mighty and beautiful. It was surrounded by gardens which were surrounded by a moat, the bridge was lowered but Spectre knew from his romps around the city, when the bridge was drawn, it was an unknowable, impenetrable fortress. To see it so openly welcoming, it was strange. Letters were checked at the door, sure, but it was still quite disconcerting to see large swathes of people come and go. It was dizzying.

   Spectre disembarked his carriage and uncertainly scurried through the crowds. Already he was second guessing himself as entered and was blinded by how dazzling the castle’s insides were. A diamond chandelier illuminated a sparkling ballroom lined with elegant decorations with a silvery, string quartet playing. The music drifted through the hall and over the heads of people who made eloquent small talk and ate haute couture canapes. 

   Spectre had no idea who was who but they didn’t know who he was either. He wouldn’t even dream of trying to make small talk with anyone who could be some pompous dignitary from goodness knows where all the same as he didn’t want to risk encountering a fellow commoner with worse manners than he. He really was out of place here. It made no sense for him to be here.

   Perhaps the principal matron was right.

   Perhaps magic should never existed at all, let alone to give him grace. 

   He picked and pecked along the snacks here and there. He watched the people who came and went, who danced and made jokes. It did little to quell his nerves, however. Even though it was why he was here. To get those little snatches of a life so far removed from his.

   What had the letter said, again? This was the prince’s attempt at finding some partner in life and politics. He really was just bloating the count in the crowd. He hadn’t even seen the prince but then again, he didn’t know what he looked like, either. 

   The ballroom was stiflingly hot. Honestly, how could anyone think in such conditions?

   He recalled the scenic gardens on the outside. An elaborate hedge maze with planter boxes either side. Spectre decided that he needed a breather. He was far more comfortable amongst plants than people, after all. So, he made an escape. Not that anyone was watching.

   The moment Spectre made his way outside, the second the cool, night air hit his face, he breathed a sigh of relief. The castle guards didn’t even bat an eye at him as he made his way to some seating on the inside of the maze. He just drifted in and out, taking rights and lefts at whim until he found somewhere he could appreciate the roses and the verdant nature of the leaves. The gardeners here were quite talented, Spectre could readily admit and admire.

   Only problem was, he wasn’t the only one to have thought to take a break and breather in the hedge maze. Upon the cement plane of the seating in this hard to find, nestled away place, there was someone already there. 

   A young man with snowy white and lilac hair, eyes like crystals, and a mysterious smile. He wore beautiful clothes but everyone at this event had been wearing beautiful clothes so Spectre didn’t particularly register that as he tried to find something to say. He had basically bumbled his way here.

   “I didn’t mean to disturb your peace,” Spectre said, flustered, “I’m just trying to find some of my own. Big parties aren’t really my thing.”

   “Mine neither.” the young man replied. “And you're not disturbing my peace at all, here, come sit, there’s plenty of room. If you’ll have me.”

   Not wanting to be rude, Spectre sat down where the young man patted. They seemed about the same age, Spectre was ready to estimate. Although, this young man might be a little bit older than him, two years. Spectre felt he was a good judge for age due to his upbringing. 

   Spectre awkwardly sat down and the silence between them was immense to say the least. They kept snatching glances at one another, waiting for something to say but nothing really coming up just yet. So, they both stared off into the distance together. At the stars. 

   It was a beautiful night tonight. Clear and wondrous. Spectre was more a moonwatcher than a stargazer and his companion here must have sensed that because they finally found something to talk about. 

   “Can you see cygnus?” he asked.

   “Which one is that again? The swan?” Spectre asked.

   “Yes, its right there.” he said, pointing it out with his finger and Spectre followed along the movements, mentally tracing the lines that he was making with the motions.

   It appeared to Spectre that the young man beside him seemed to have a particular fascination with them. Hence why he had pointed out the cygnus constellation before realising he hadn’t even given a name to himself yet.

   “Do you see it now?” he asked.

   “I do.” Spectre said. “Thank you.”

   “I’m Ryoken, by the way. It’s good to meet you.” he said.

   Spectre hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should give his real name or not, he swallowed and decided that as he had no real attachment to it, there was no point in speaking it aloud.

   “I’m Spectre. Likewise.” he finally said in reply as Ryoken waited, patiently, politely, for Spectre to respond to his introduction.

   “That’s an unusual name.” he said.

   “Yes, well… I’m an unusual person.” Spectre replied.

   “Is that so…?” Ryoken’s tone of voice was intrigued.

   Spectre chuckled, “Unusual but not interesting, don’t get your hopes up.”

   “We’ll see, I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me about yourself. I haven’t done enough schmoozing tonight, I don’t know about you.” Ryoken said.

   “You're the first person I’ve struck up a conversation with at all.” Spectre said.

   “Then don’t leave me wanting. Surely you have something prepared. Who goes to a ball without a few ideas of trivia up their sleeve?” Ryoken said.

   “Me, apparently.” Spectre said and he sighed. He tried to think of something, he glanced around and saw the roses. Well, there was that. “Did you know that there are over a thousand varieties of roses?”

   “I did not. I just sort of assumed they came in red, white, pink, and orange.” Ryoken replied.

   “They do but there’s plenty more nuance to their identification than just their colours.” Spectre replied.

   “Do you like gardening, Spectre?” Ryoken asked.

   “You could say that.” Spectre replied, giggling nervously. He would sound like a lunatic if he was to tell this stranger his opinions on his life story and even the events that had gotten him to this ball at all. “Do you like astronomy?”

   “I do.” Ryoken replied.

   “Well, I don’t just like gardening, I love it. I love forests more, however. Its nice to keep flowers and plants in our environments but seeing them flourish in the wild, I like that more.” Spectre elaborated.

   “Well said. Makes me wish there was some way to keep stars at home.” Ryoken joked.

   “That’s a sweet sentiment to think over.” Spectre said, charmed.

   They continued to talk more. They could both feel a rapport beginning, an enjoyable banter and it was strange to say but Spectre felt as though he could call this stranger a friend. He didn’t have many - if any - of those. Though, he did have to be cautious of the time.

   They both did, Spectre noticed. Ryoken kept glancing back over to the ball which was taking place beyond those illustrious castle doors.

   “Something the matter?” Spectre asked.

   “I think I best go back in. I haven’t danced nearly enough.” Ryoken said. “Have you?”

   “I have two left feet.” Spectre said. “And no one to dance with.”

   “All the better. Well, will you do me the honour?” Ryoken said and he offered his hand to Spectre.

   He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. If Spectre was calculating the time correctly then he had about half an hour - maybe forty-five minutes if he was lucky - before midnight would strike. He was an awful dancer but then again, he needed one story of the night for Healer later, he was assuming he would see her later…

   “If you insist.” Spectre blushed.

   He placed his hand into the gentle clasp of Ryoken’s. His hand was firm and sturdy but gave Spectre the impression that it had never seen a true day’s worth of hard work. He had the telltale callous from a pen, maybe also the callouses from swordplay, but nothing which said that he had ever worked a field, perhaps.

   Ryoken took Spectre back through the maze, never letting go once with all thee twists and turns. It was almost exciting but the nervousness that nipped at Spectre’s heels as they got closer and closer to the ball again prevented him from truly enjoying it. He was an awful dancer, he had a poor temperament which didn’t mix with people, the magic was due to run out soon, and then.

   A revelation.

   “Hark, Prince Ryoken, how goes it? Found your betrothed to be yet?” the Castle Guard greeted Ryoken and Spectre, far too friendly.

   Spectre couldn’t believe his ears. Did he just- did he just say Prince Ryoken. And why did Prince Ryoken just glance his way? He smirked over his shoulder, looking at him.

   “I’m beginning to wonder that myself.” Ryoken said as he turned his head.

   There was no way that Spectre, of all people, had found himself in the company of the prince. It was a cast of thousands. A needle in a haystack social situation. He wasn’t even here to try to vie for the prince’s affections and yet apparently, Spectre had him hand in hand.

   Ryoken continued to hold him - and prepped him for a dance. They were chest to chest, Ryoken held Spectre for a waltz and smiled. Together, they danced a simple one-two-three-one-two-three type of dance.

   “So. Did you know I was the prince?” Ryoken asked.

   “No, of course not.” Spectre replied, flabbergasted as he was harshly danced with.

   Not scolded nor critiqued. Interrogated. Which was far worse than if Ryoken was constantly butting in to correct Spectre’s posture or manner.

   “I had a hunch. Because there’s no Spectre on the guest list. I did review the guest list, I checked it twice even.” Prince Ryoken snickered. “Just who are you? You're not a noble, I don’t think, but I have never seen clothes like yours before. That makes me think you're not a commoner so just who are you?”

   Spectre was swung around and twirled. His head spun. He was danced with - or perhaps more accurately, at. He was completely caught up in and swept along by Prince Ryoken’s tempo then taken for a bow that left them nose to nose. Even closer to chest to chest and famously, far too close to lip to lip.

   “I am…” Spectre murmured. “I am the ghost in the corner. That is how I got my nickname.” He revealed to Prince Ryoken.

   “And you said you were an uninteresting person.” Prince Ryoken laughed.

   He pulled Spectre up and they danced some more. Slower, this time. Thankfully. Spectre’s heart raced. He blushed, too.

   “You are also far better at dancing than you said. You haven’t trodden on my toes yet. When you said you had two left feet, I was looking forward to seeing what disaster that might put us in.” Prince Ryoken continued to banter.

   “Yes, well, I have an excellent lead.” Spectre replied.

   “People pleaser.” Prince Ryoken snipped at him.

   Spectre guffawed. The unsightly noise of it amused Prince Ryoken and they continued to dance. They weaved elegantly in between the others who were coupled up and joined in waltz. But every person they passed by on the dancefloor caused people to stop and stare and suddenly, Spectre could not have been the most ignored person in the room. He had to be the most looked at person in the room.

   All because of Prince Ryoken.

   It made Spectre’s head throb. This couldn’t be real. And it couldn’t. This was all because of magic. That had to be it. If he had simply come as himself in his hand-stitched jacket, none of this would have ever happened. That had to be it: this outcome had to have been influenced by the magic that Healer had so kindly crowned him with and as Spectre was spun around in the waltz, he caught glances at the clock in the far wall.

   The clock was tall and imposing, with ornate hands and said hands were so close, so incredibly close, to midnight. Mere minutes away from midnight.

   Spectre’s heart froze, “I have to go.” he said.

   “Huh? What, why? The fun has just begun.” Prince Ryoken told him.

   Spectre struggled out of Prince Ryoken’s hands but though Prince Ryoken was dismayed, he let go of Spectre. Spectre glanced around, searching for the exit and when he found it, he pursued it but Prince Ryoken pursued him.

   “Where are you going?” Prince Ryoken asked as he followed Spectre.

   He darted through the crowd. Spectre could feel the glass of his shoes begin to crack.

   “Can I come?”

   “Absolutely not.” Spectre replied, his voice barky as he made it to the steps.

   At midnight, they were ivory-coloured and sleepy. Shadowed and alone, the music of the ballroom hardly reaching to the outer reach as they looked over the hedges and the moat once more.

   “Can I at least know your real name?” Prince Ryoken asked as he allowed Spectre to flee.

   “No, no you may not.” Spectre said.

   He saw his carriage. It all but miraculously appeared at the edge of the bridge and he grinned. This was for one night only. That was all he needed to escape the drudgery of his day to day in the orphanage, under the all but indentured servitude of the principal matron. He did not mean to endear himself to the crown prince.

   But he had.

   His spirit sang and in his rush, or maybe it was on purpose, Spectre left behind his glass shoe. He didn’t think it would exist past midnight but on the off chance he did, he did want Prince Ryoken to find him again. He did want these happy times to continue but joy was fleeting. He knew that well.

   At the bottom of the bridge, in the nick of time, Spectre made it to his carriage and he was carried off by the chirp of his coachman and the thunder of his horse’s hooves. They rode off into the night, just far enough to disappear from eyes but through the paneless window of the door, Spectre saw the darkened, disappointed figure of Prince Ryoken pick up his abandoned shoe on the stairs.

   He swallowed a lump in his throat. They had had a magical night together but it was just that. Magical. Spectre had no doubt in his mind that Prince Ryoken wouldn’t remember him come dawn. He should find a nice noblewoman to wed. Not him.

   The carriage’s wheels turned to mushroom mince underneath their own weight and momentum. The coachman began to sprout feathers and the horse began to squeak. They had made it far enough before Spectre’s finery with all their filigree and splendour turned to his worksman clothes, for the coachman to become a dove once more and for the horse to return to being a mouse.

   They had arrived on the edge of the forest, it woudln’t have been that long of a journey back to the orphanage for Spectre to walk but sure enough. His assumption was correct. Healer was waiting on the edge of the forest for him, hovering close to a copse of trees and smiling.

   “So?” she asked. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

   “You could say that.” Spectre said. “I, um, I met the prince.”

   “You what?!” Healer exclaimed.

   “And I think he intends to marry me.” Spectre said.

   “Oh. My. Gosh.” Healer gasped. “What’s next?”

   “Nothing.” Spectre said. “I return to my normal life.”

   “What, no?” Healer frowned. “You were sent to meet your one true love and now you reject him?”

   “As soon as he sees me for who I am, he wouldn’t have me anyway.” Spectre said.

   “You don’t know that for sure.” Healer attempted to cheer Spectre on, she made little fists in front of him. “Just wait and see you. I just know you’ll get your happily ever after or I have done a poor job of being your fairy god-sister.”

   Spectre placed his hand on Healer’s shoulder, his expression was downcast but thank you, “You have done an exceptional job as my fairy god-sister, I can promise you that. Thank you, I have a had a wonderful night because of you. Good night, Healer.”

   Healer smiled. “Okay, but if you need anything else, I promise I’m not too far away.” she said. “Good night, Spectre.”

   Healer disappeared again, in the blink of an eye but a strange presence lingered. Spectre had always believed there was something strange about the forest on the edge of town and he was glad that his suspicion had been confirmed. Even if there was something oddly bittersweet about it, it was getting late. He was best to go to bed. There was much to do in the morning.

   But the morning was tossed into disarray to say the least!

   The ball was, naturally, the talk of the town but the fact that the prince had found someone he intended to marry, now that was well and truly exciting. Especially since to find this mystery person, a quest had been launched.

   Word spread quickly, especially when it was accompanied by royal proclamations and trumpets but even so, when it reached Spectre, he was in total disbelief. He was just that. A spectre. The ghostly shade in the corner. It had taken a literal miracle of magic for him to have any impact and now, it was being felt far and wide through the citadel as Prince Ryoken was on the hunt for him and only him: the only person whose foot would fit the glass shoe he had left behind.

   Prince Ryoken had proclaimed that he - personally - would sweep the city in search of the person whom he had danced with last night, whom he had sat in the gardens with last night, and he would not sleep until he found that young man.

   It was madness. Pure and utter madness. Lunacy. Yet Spectre’s heart trilled as he was told this over breakfast at the orphanage. But, he had to temper himself. He was just hearing what had been heard at market by the principal matron, after all.

   “Ridiculous.” the Principal Matron rolled her eyes. “Get an arranged marriage like anyone else.”

   “Why didn’t you ever get married, madam?” Spectre asked, innocently enough but that was enough to incite cold furor from the severe woman sitting opposite him. “Nevermind, forget I asked.”

   His skin crawled. He knew it was a faux pas to ask a woman of her age, well and truly past the moniker of either spinster or fruit cake but still. The rage in her eyes had been unprecedented.

   “Why the interest in the prince, anyway?” she asked. “It's not like you went to the ball.”

   “Can’t I take interest in current affairs? Regardless of how vapid. Though, if this mystery person was a foreigner, there is the possibility it could affect our politics.” Spectre countered.

   The principal matron regarded him suspiciously. Her highly drawn eyebrows quirked and Spectre had this strange strike to his mind. He wondered, if she knew somehow, that he had gone to the ball and worse, that she had puzzled out that he was the mystery person whom Prince Ryoken was questing for. The silence was terse but in the end all she did was that she finished eating.

   “Clean up for me.” she said.

   “Okay.” Spectre replied. 

   His reply was clear and crystalline, perfectly hiding his intention of wanting to sneak off into the forest later. He wanted to see Healer again for she may have advice for how to best prove his identity to Prince Ryoken… should the opportunity arise any time soon. Surely this quest was foolhardy. The castle city was a city, after all, quite a large population - not to mention the invites which had come from overseas. Both Spectre and Prince Ryoken were one person a piece, a cloud of impossibility separated them, even if Prince Ryoken was determined to find Spectre again.

   Even from just doing his chores and jobs around the orphanage again today, word travelled fast and even faster amongst the pipsqueaks. Where they heard it from, Spectre had no idea so the veracity was incredibly nebulous at best but if what even a fraction of what they said about the prince was true… Then determined did not begin to describe Prince Ryoken.

   He had already cleaved through half the population on obvious accounts of incorrect gender. Then by age and height. It would be a matter of days if Prince Ryoken had his way, spearheading his quest by himself with all the resources of the royal family behind him. It was of the utmost importance, apparently, for him to wed and wed for love.

   Spectre wondered why that was… Surely there were laws or other scruples to prevent the Prince of the Kingdom to marry whomever he pleased at willy-nilly. There had to be a reason why.

   In the meantime, Spectre just resolved to check in with Healer again.

   He finished up as fast as he could. It was about sunset when he got the opportunity to breathe for a second and then evening meals had to be prepared. The haste in which Spectre made food and cleaned up afterwards must have incurred curiosity because when he tried to slip out the back door undetected, the principal matron noticed Spectre trying to get away.

   A shame he didn’t notice her back…

   But she was careful to cover her tracks as she followed Spectre out.

   Not too far, just past the outer rim of trees that made up the forest at the back of the orphanage. He cautiously called out for Healer. Fireflies floated around and with a twinkle of a giggle, Healer did appear before him - and to the shock of the matron who was following behind at several paces behind.

   “Spectre-Wecter!” Healer cheered. “Good to see you again. Reunited with your one true love yet?”

   Spectre frowned, embarrassed but Healer just found it adorable, “He’s looking for me but…”

   “You just have to be patient!” Healer said. “Buuuut if you want a little bit of insurance, look at what I still have.” From behind her back, she produced Spectre’s other glass shoe. She laughed apologetically. “I told you, my magic is really touch and go. I’m not super talented but in this case, it's quite lucky.”

   “Thank you, Healer.” Spectre replied and he accepted the other shoe from Healer.

   “And don’t forget. If you need me, just call me. I promise I won’t be too far away.” Healer promised him once again.

   Spectre was unsure in what scenario that he would need Healer but he did feel gladdened to have her nonetheless. She did disappear once again, however. The shoe remained though and felt lightweight and cool in Spectre’s hands. Unlike his trousers and jacket which had been ruined the night of the ball, this was something so precious for him to protect but he didn’t have any clear ideas of how to do so yet.

   Especially with the matron aware of it and Healer’s existence.

   Another day passed by. The eruption to the social order and gossip in the form of Prince Ryoken’s quest to find his one true love continued. The upheaval was all anyone could talk about it seemed and the current chat was that it would be any minute now. He had cut through many homes and businesses, a few close calls but none which especially satisfied him.

   The curious glass shoe was all that needed to confirm the identity of the one who had stolen his heart. Or so they said.

   Spectre just waited and did his best until the orphanage, which was located on the edge of town, was chosen as the next location for Prince Ryoken to investigate. In the meantime, he did as he was told and pretended to have no interest in anything vaguely royal.

   Though, it was hard to pretend when the royals announced themselves. An entire parade of advisors and lieutenants, an arch-duke and of course the prince himself.

   Trumpets rang out in cheerful tunes upon arrival. The carriage pulled by gorgeous white horses stopped right in front of the orphanage and the prince was let out of its velveteen inside with a smile. 

  The children of the orphanage were suitably excited. They clamoured for Prince Ryoken’s attention and he kindly gave it whilst his entourage asked around for their carers. They were after a person of a particular age and, well, maleness. Someone whose foot would fit the glass shoe that Prince Ryoken’s attendant kept in the middle of a plush, burgundy pillow.

   Spectre could hear the commotion. Anyone could from miles around. His heart grew hopeful as he tried to make his way from the stables and into the garden. There was a plaza in between, it was a short walk, shorter if he hurried but the noise of the fanfare and children squealing had alerted the principal matron.

   “You.” she growled.

   She glared as she hitched up her ankle-length skirt and full-bodied the door that Spectre was trying to leave from. She shoved all her weight against it and Spectre did the same. The door jingled and jangled with them duelling through it. Time was of the essence for the both of them and yet, here they were in this molasses slow stalemate.

   “Let me go! You can’t keep me in here.” Spectre yelled.

   “Yes I can.” the Matron snapped back.

   “Why are you doing this?” Spectre asked,as he grit his teeth. He banged his fists on the stable door as the principal matron tried to keep him inside. “What have I ever done to you to deserve this?”

   He knew, okay. He knew he was a bad apple. He was a chronic runaway and he used to have plenty of sass. Spectre was well aware that for the longest time, he rightfully belonged at the bottom of the pecking order of the cohort of children who had come and gone during his time in the orphanage. The only one that remained but… did his transgressions from twelve under really work to incur such wrath from a woman in childcare?

   “You want to know?” the Matron sneered.

   She let go of the door and Spectre heard her footsteps as she paced upon the cobbled paving between the plaza and the stable. He felt the loosening on the handle. He stepped back and the principal matron opened the door. Her face was frightening.

   “You ruined my life.” she snarled. Her expression was fierce, her voice severe, but her intentions in those four words, Spectre finally understood.

   She was… The principal matron… A woman who dedicated herself to the care of the abandoned and neglected was the woman who had abandoned him in the woods all those years ago. What cruel, sick irony was this? A karmic punishment, perhaps? 

   The principal matron was disarmed by Spectre’s demeanour. It was most akin to a kicked puppy and for a moment, she thought that she had won. His arms hung loose by his sides, his gaze ahead a thousand miles away. 

   She shut the door again and locked it. Spectre heard the loud and sickening kerchunk of it as he was left inside the stable. A place with windows too high and too small to crawl through, with the animals and his few belongings.

   “Goodbye, Spectre.” the Matron sneered.

   Spectre was quiet but his mind was all fired up. He still had plenty of fight left in him. He would see the prince again if it was the last thing he did. He still had one ally he could call upon. He just hoped that the little dryadic thing really could be called from anywhere.

   He waited a moment to calm his nerves and collect his hopes. He needed to get out of here quick smart, before Prince Ryoken left without even knowing that he was in here and then, once Spectre felt that the matron was out of earshot, he raced to the other side of the barn. He leveraged himself on shelving to at least peek out the window which looked out onto the serene forest behind the orphanage.

   “Healer! Healer, please, this is important!” Spectre yelled but not too loudly. 

   He wanted to attract attention but not too much attention. Who knows how the matron would spin him in front of the prince if he tried too hard? Oh, he really was just another awful, petulant child to be disciplined to that woman. 

   His hands curled into fists as he banged on the wooden outer rim of the window. He didn’t care if he got splinters or not. He closed his eyes tight with a clench and grit his teeth. Spectre could feel tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

   Healer was right. He did want to meet and fall in love with his one true love. He was fortunate to have had her at all but he really, really needed her right now. There wasn’t anything he could use to open the stable up from the inside: it could only be locked from the outside and it was just miscellaneous storage for everything else. 

   Please, Healer, please, Spectre found himself begging and then he heard it.

   “Hiya-papaya, Spectre-Wecter.”

   Her silly jovial voice. Spectre opened his eyes and his heart spiked. He looked through the window and there she was. She stood confused and bouncing on her heel.

   “Why’re you in there?” Healer asked.

   “Please, help, the Prince is right in the garden but the Matron has locked me up here to punish me. Go around the front and open the door, you can do that right?” Spectre asked.

   “Grr, what a mean woman getting in the way of the course of fate! Of course I can open a door. That should be easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.” Healer said.

   “Thank you, Healer,” Spectre replied and he smiled a vulnerable smile, “for everything.”

   “Anything for my human god-brother.” Healer chuckled.

   She bounded off and Spectre raced to the other side of the barn. He stood behind the door and waited for Healer. He just hoped that she wouldn’t be seen. He hadn’t told her that but for a girl child dressed akin to a ballerina, she didn’t seem like the quiet and graceful type, but hopefully the importance of stealth went unsaid.

   Regardless, he heard Healer in front of the door. She tried the handle and sure enough. It was locked. He watched the handle clanked as she moved it from the other side.

   “Can you use your magic to open it?” Spectre asked, his voice was panicked and imploring.

   “Can I use my magic to open it?” Healer mockingly replied. “Of course I can. All it takes is three special words: bippity! Boppity! Boo!”

   Spectre held his breath as he watched the handle move silently. The mechanisms in it were made docile as something like an invisible key moved through it and then opened the door without being touched. Healer stood on the other side of the threshold, making jazz hands towards the door and she met Spectre with a huge smile.

   “There you go,” Healer chirped, “now let’s get you to your princey-pooh!”

   She grabbed Spectre by his hand and spun on her heel. She yanked him along but Spectre didn’t need to be told twice that he best be getting along. They made a dash for across the plaza, from around the corner of the main building of the orphanage and saw how the garden opened up.

   A horde of children surrounded the prince with the matron and another of her assistants at her helm. Spectre’s stomach dropped. Without him, the illusion of there only being the super young and the wizened old was fully intact. It likely wouldn’t have taken much at all for the principal matron to convince Prince Ryoken and his entourage that the very person that he was looking for wasn’t here at all.

   Spectre’s heart raced and he announced himself, “Wait, I - I would like.”

   He stumbled with his words but Healer bounced next to him, trying to cheer him on. Her expression was determined, her little fists close to her face as her cheeks puffed out.

   “You can do it.” she whispered.

   “I would like to try on the shoe!” Spectre said and his voice rang out clear. 

   All the crowd looked towards him. The matron swallowed a gasp when she saw Spectre, and the strange, green elfin girl, at his side.

   “I thought you said it was just the nuns and the children here?” Prince Ryoken said, wry.

   The matron sputtered and Prince Ryoken looked over his shoulder, “Aso, please, prepare the glass shoe. I would like to check this person.” He smiled knowingly.

   “Yes, of course, sire.” 

   Spectre came closer, Healer at his heels and the matron glared. Aso, the royal attendant to Prince Ryoken, was happy to see Spectre, also. Spectre quickened his pace, somewhere between a walk and a jog. He didn’t want to make a poor impression as he acknowledged Aso with a nod. There was a kind smile on Aso’s face as he held the pillow in his hands with as much dignity as possible. Prince Ryoken gave his blessing in anticipation and this moment was slow and sweet and perfectly ripe for something to go wrong.

   Aso stepped forward and the matron extended forth her cane. She hit Aso in his ankles and though he did not fumble, he did drop the pillow.

   “Oops.” the Matron murmured.

   Her voice lost beneath the crash and clatter as the elegant, glass shoe smashed on the ground.

   Prince Ryoken made an aghast expression. He was crushed and he glared daggers at the matron.

   “What is the meaning of this?” Prince Ryoken barked at her.

   “Simple mistake.” the Matron blatantly lied.

   “It's fine.” Spectre spoke up.

   “Yup, yup, it’s fine!” Healer added. “We have the second glass shoe!”

   Spectre was nervous but he stepped in closer. He was flustered to say the least. His face was splotchy and he looked dowdy in his commoner's clothes but from his pockets, he produced the other glass shoe. He smiled.

   He couldn’t think of a safer place than his own self to keep such a precious memento. He was very glad that he had never found a better place to keep it safe than right here with him because he could see the Matron seethe in the corner of his eyes. 

   Prince Ryoken stepped forward and met Spectre halfway. He reached out but did not touch the glass shoe. Instead, he was far too entranced by Spectre and it was as though they were the only two people in the garden, nay, the whole world. The sun was shining and the birds were singing and now, they had met once more but now in the beautiful and clear azure of the day’s afternoon.

   “It's you.” Prince Ryoken said. He didn’t need either shoe to prove Spectre’s identity to him, just gazing upon him, his eyes lit up and he smiled wide.

   “Yes, it's me.” Spectre replied. Even so, as his eyes were gazed into, all the proof needed, he did hold on tighter - protectively - to the surviving glass shoe.

   Prince Ryoken drew in closer and he caressed the side of Spectre’s face. He was dirty and sweaty but there was such softness in Prince Ryoken’s eye that Spectre felt like the most beautiful creature in all existence. He tucked a curl of Spectre’s hair behind his ear.

   “Well, will you marry me?” Prince Ryoken asked.

   “I… Yes, of course, but.” Spectre stammered with his words through his grin.

   “But what?” Ryoken asked.

   “Why?” Spectre asked. “Why me? Why have a ball at all to meet the person you want to wed.”

   “Because I wanted to meet my one true love.” Prince Ryoken said with the fondest voice.

   “Yes, well, that would do it, wouldn’t it?” Spectre laughed. 

   Prince Ryoken kissed him and Spectre kissed back. It was a wonderful little kiss that just felt so strangely and perfectly right, Spectre swooned as he had all his breath was taken away by this kiss. His heart raced in his chest and he smiled. It was a magical kiss in front of all the orphanage and its matrons and Prince Ryoken’s advisors and Healer, too. It was a sweet and passionate kiss and just the first of many kisses between them in both public and private.

   A wonderful wedding ensued at the culmination of many months and they lived happily ever after.

[cryosewn]

a layout of the yang family's residence - aka what it actually means to sleep over at caiying's house

despite the in-game scale of liyue harbor, i actually perceive it to be much larger than it appears. considering it is the central hub of liyue and trade throughout all of teyvat, when you picture it in your mind, it should theoretically be massive and bustling at just about all times. i think also the incorporation of distinct parts of the city based on social class would imply that liyue harbor is meant to be perceived as taking up much more room but had to be scaled down for the game, which is understandable. i'm talking about this so that when i drop the reference pictures later on it doesn't seem weird that the yang family residence is ... huge.

caiying's paternal family is nouveau rich by all accounts, piggy backing off the wealth of her mother's family that they had access to through marriage and then further gaining status and finances from her stepmother's family (who are actually old money themselves). for the sake of this blog, caiying's father holding a position at the ministry is equivalent of an official position at court ( via examination as had been the case in china for quite a long time ) which I'm making the assumption comes with a stipend associated with the position. that is all to say that caiying and her family ... is rich. really rich. the upper class of liyue society that is not too far below the wealth of some members of the qixing.

when talking about the yang family residence it's important to make the distinction that it's actually a grand area of land with connected buildings / residence halls with each building having a designated function or housing certain members of the family.

now ... the residence is not as big as the mansion of a literal prince but this serves as a reference for the general layout. the residence is a little over half of what is displayed above with the addition of the residence's garden. the residence is effectively divided as such:

main hall - official family events are hosted here as well as any gatherings or parties

study hall - place where the children go to be taught by instructors and where yang xin's office / library is located for individual cultivation or to continue work

several residences for the family members - yang xin has his own residence, caiying's step mother has her own (caiying's younger sister lives there), caiying's brother has his own, caiying's grandmother has her own (caiying used to live there), and caiying has her own. all of the residences have their own quarters for the servants

large building that has the kitchen and storage room for supplies like coal or fabrics although there is some manner of storage within each residence

garden - pretty : )

each building is consistently maintained and cleaned to preserve it for a long time. each residence is overseen by its own owner and given its own name by said owner. expenses are to be recorded daily and brought to the head of finances of the entire household, which is caiying's stepmother, for review and potential audit if the finances are off. though all servants of the residence ultimately answer to yang xin, servants of a specific residence tend to show more loyalty and favor to its owner.

the interiors are kept just as well as the exteriors. you know you're in a rich person's house when you step inside.

the residences usually display any gifts or commissioned items in the central halls while the bedrooms are kept away from the public eye as they are considered extremely private. each residence is also equipped with side halls to have guests stay over and a courtyard to decorate as they please (within reason). occupants will usually have meals within their residences unless it's been requested that they go the main hall to have a family dinner or go to another residence to eat.

caiying's residence is more out of the way - at her own request since she prefers the quiet and to be undisturbed. she personally named it " Fukang " / 福康 Residence / Courtyard / Hall

福 / " Fu ": blessing, good fortune

康 / " Kang ": peaceful, healthy, abundant

anyway, i don't have anything else to talk about. please enjoy these reference pictures for your viewing pleasure