#another +10 points if there are birds and other outside world sounds

[dancing-with-stars]

APPRECIATION POST FOR SLEEPING WITH THE WINDOWS OPEN. I LOVE SLEEPING WITH THE WINDOWS OPEN

[lampmanliveblogs]

Vee Headcanons #2

People seemed to like the last post I did, so I figured I’d come up with a few more. You can find the previous post HERE.

(also, I know it says Vee Headcanons, but uh, some of these are more about basilisks in general)

Headcanon #8: Despite their other similarities with snakes, basilisks are actually not cold-blooded, they are endotherms. However, they can absorb heat from their surrounding by basking in the sun or the like in order to preserve energy.

Cold weather do make them lethargic and in the wild, basilisks would go into hibernation during particularly harsh winters when food was scarce.

For this reason, the basilisks being experimented on by the Emperor’s Coven were kept in uncomfortably chilly cells. So even on stomachs full of magic, the subjects wouldn’t have the energy to fight back or try to escape.

To counterbalance that sad image, I want you all to imagine Vee once winter rolls around properly,  refusing to go outside unless she is dressed in five layers head to toe. She prefers to spend the winter months curled up under a blanket (or three) in front of an open fire.

Headcanon #9: Basilisks have the natural ability to mimic pretty much any voice they hear. Not only that, but they can imitate pretty much any sound as well.

You can imagine the hijinks that ensued once the other kids discovered this talent of Vee. How did they discover it, you ask?

Well, they were out walking one day when they encountered this dog behind a fence that just wouldn’t stop barking at them. So Vee barked back. Suffice it to say, it was the funniest thing the kids have ever seen and they spent the entire day finding things for her to imitate. From dogs, cats, various birds and cars to every random sound effect or anime clip Luz could think of. 

One thing lead to another and now, every time she’s surprised, Vee does the Wilhelm scream. Call it the Veelhelm scream.

Headcanon #10: Vee and Gus often had a friendly rival centered around the age-old question of who could make the better cosplay of their favorite Human media. More often than not, they ended up tied more times than not… mainly because their illusions and shapeshifitng was so good that the judges (both voluntary and involuntary) kept forgetting who was who and assigning points wrong.

Eventually, they decided to settle the debate without the use of magic, but rather using common human materials and tools. It did not end well. Gus burned himself on a glue gun and Vee accidentally swallowed a bag of sequins. I don’t know how she managed that, only that she was coughing up glitter for a week afterward.

Headcanon #11: Similar to how fairies from the Artemis Fowl series of books have the Gift of Tongues, basilisks have the ability to understand and speak any language they hear. This ability is magic, though it thankfully only requires a few small sparks to work.

Like most of their abilities, magic and mundane, this evolved in basilisks to better help them infiltrate groups of prey, but it can obviously be used for more peaceful purposes. And at a smaller scale, Vee never has to endure horrendously bad dubs of foreign cartoons. Unlike some unfortunate kids.

Headcanon #12: Basilisks can hold their breath for a… moderately impressive amount of time. The average full-grown basilisk can, without any training, hold their breath for roughly nine minutes. Vee, who is still fairly small can, if she stays still, hold her breath for a staggering twelve minutes. Which is half the current human world record.

Headcanon #13: Luz had told her friends (minus Hunter) about Vee before they were stranded in the Human Realm. So in their conscious minds they knew there was a basilisk living in Luz’ house and that she was not dangerous in any way.T he thing is, it can be very difficult to ignore deeply ingrained instincts yelling ”This is a dangerous predator that will eat you! Run!”

Unbeknownst to them, Vee couldn’t eat them even if she wanted to. Witches produce a chemical in their skin and blood that makes their flesh taste repulsive to basilisks. In the Human Realm, this chemical is found in, of all things, broccoli, making this controversial green taster horribly bitter to Vee. Although Luz already disliked broccoli, so this never raised any suspicions for Camila.

In a somewhat ironic twist, this chemical was very attractive to common Human Realm mosquitos. As you can imagine, the magical witch blood had some… interesting effects on the local mosquito populations.

Headcanon #14: One of the many strange little things and behaviors Camila noticed after the re-vee-lation was Vee’s obsession with garlic. Whenever Camila was using garlic while cooking and Vee walked by the kitchen, she’d stop dead in her track and sniff around. Something about the smell seemed fascinate her on an instinctual level.

It got stranger still as Vee eventually took a few cloves and put them on the nightstand next to her bed. When asked about it, she replied rather sheepishly that she didn’t know why she did it, just that it felt right and that it made her feel safe. ”Well, at least no vampires will bite you in your sleep,” Camila joked and let it be. It’s not like it was hurting anyone.

The one to finally shed some light on this strange behavior was Hunter, who had read a few books on basilisks.

Turns out it was to keep vampires away.

Demon Realm vampires were apex predators that occupied a very similar niche to basilisks, another species of apex predators. This obviously put the two at conflict with each other. In the wild, basilisks would use garlic, which is poisonous to vampires, to mark their territories. They usually kept at least a few cloves in and around their nest to ward of any bloodsuckers stalking the night.

Today, there aren’t a whole lot of ”pure” vampires left in the Demon Realm. However, their legacy lives on into modern time and so does their infamous garlic weakness. You see, up to 46% of the witch population, as well as some demon lineages have vampire somewhere in their ancestry. Thus, garlic is one of the biggest allergens on the Boiling Isles.

Not everyone has a garlic allergy (the entire Clawthorne family, for instance), but it is very common. Gus has a mild intolerance, though it’s not too bad. Willow has got it a bit worse and, much to Luz’ dismay, so does Amity. One piece of garlic bread and it’s no kisses for Luz for the rest of the day.

[mosertone]

Captain Beefheart's Ten Commandments of Guitar Playing 1. Listen to the birds. That's where all the music comes from. Birds know everything about how it should sound and where that sound should come from. And watch hummingbirds. They fly really fast, but a lot of times they aren't going anywhere. 2. Your guitar is not really a guitar Your guitar is a divining rod. Use it to find spirits in the other world and bring them over. A guitar is also a fishing rod. If you're good, you'll land a big one. 3. Practice in front of a bush Wait until the moon is out, then go outside, eat a multi-grained bread and play your guitar to a bush. If the bush dosen't shake, eat another piece of bread. 4. Walk with the devil Old Delta blues players referred to guitar amplifiers as the "devil box." And they were right. You have to be an equal opportunity employer in terms of who you're bringing over from the other side. Electricity attracts devils and demons. Other instruments attract other spirits. An acoustic guitar attracts Casper. A mandolin attracts Wendy. But an electric guitar attracts Beelzebub. 5. If you're guilty of thinking, you're out If your brain is part of the process, you're missing it. You should play like a drowning man, struggling to reach shore. If you can trap that feeling, then you have something that is fur bearing. 6. Never point your guitar at anyone Your instrument has more clout than lightning. Just hit a big chord then run outside to hear it. But make sure you are not standing in an open field. 7. Always carry a church key That's your key-man clause. Like One String Sam. He's one. He was a Detroit street musician who played in the fifties on a homemade instrument. His song "I Need a Hundred Dollars" is warm pie. Another key to the church is Hubert Sumlin, Howlin' Wolf's guitar player. He just stands there like the Statue of Liberty-making you want to look up her dress the whole time to see how he's doing it. 8. Don't wipe the sweat off your instrument You need that stink on there. Then you have to get that stink onto your music. 9. Keep your guitar in a dark place When you're not playing your guitar, cover it and keep it in a dark place. If you don't play your guitar for more than a day, be sure you put a saucer of water in with it. 10. You gotta have a hood for your engine Keep that hat on. A hat is a pressure cooker. If you have a roof on your house, the hot air can't escape. Even a lima bean has to have a piece of wet paper around it to make it grow.

bear's repeating

[slackville-records]

Captain Beefheart's Ten Commandments of Guitar Playing

1. Listen to the birds.

That's where all the music comes from. Birds know everything about how it should sound and where that sound should come from. And watch hummingbirds. They fly really fast, but a lot of times they aren't going anywhere.

2. Your guitar is not really a guitar Your guitar is a divining rod.

Use it to find spirits in the other world and bring them over. A guitar is also a fishing rod. If you're good, you'll land a big one.

3. Practice in front of a bush

Wait until the moon is out, then go outside, eat a multi-grained bread and play your guitar to a bush. If the bush dosen't shake, eat another piece of bread.

4. Walk with the devil

Old Delta blues players referred to guitar amplifiers as the "devil box." And they were right. You have to be an equal opportunity employer in terms of who you're bringing over from the other side. Electricity attracts devils and demons. Other instruments attract other spirits. An acoustic guitar attracts Casper. A mandolin attracts Wendy. But an electric guitar attracts Beelzebub.

5. If you're guilty of thinking, you're out

If your brain is part of the process, you're missing it. You should play like a drowning man, struggling to reach shore. If you can trap that feeling, then you have something that is fur bearing.

6. Never point your guitar at anyone

Your instrument has more clout than lightning. Just hit a big chord then run outside to hear it. But make sure you are not standing in an open field.

7. Always carry a church key

That's your key-man clause. Like One String Sam. He's one. He was a Detroit street musician who played in the fifties on a homemade instrument. His song "I Need a Hundred Dollars" is warm pie. Another key to the church is Hubert Sumlin, Howlin' Wolf's guitar player. He just stands there like the Statue of Liberty-making you want to look up her dress the whole time to see how he's doing it.

8. Don't wipe the sweat off your instrument

You need that stink on there. Then you have to get that stink onto your music.

9. Keep your guitar in a dark place

When you're not playing your guitar, cover it and keep it in a dark place. If you don't play your guitar for more than a day, be sure you put a saucer of water in with it.

10. You gotta have a hood for your engine

Keep that hat on. A hat is a pressure cooker. If you have a roof on your house, the hot air can't escape. Even a lima bean has to have a piece of wet paper around it to make it grow.

[jpwenvs3000f23]

Unit 10: Nature Interpretation's Role in Environmental Sustainability

Describe your personal ethic as you develop as a nature interpreter. What beliefs do you bring? What responsibilities do you have? What approaches are most suitable for you as an individual?

It is hard to believe that we are at the last blog as this means we are coming to the end of the semester. Coming from England as an exchange student, I have wanted my time here to go as slowly as possible, so it does not all rush by. Luckily I have another semester here to enjoy as much of the famous Canadian nature as possible. It is after all, one of the reasons why I picked this country.

Simply, my personal ethic as a nature interpreter would be to get other people as excited about nature as I am. I feel I have done this job well in the past with friends when we go on holiday. They are usually determined to stay in the bars and drink the week away, but I have encouraged them to go on hikes to actually see the country itself. Call me old or boring like they do initially, but afterwards, they are glad they have done it. Last week I visited a friend doing his exchange year in Victoria, BC, and I had to convince him to walk through a park instead of just going to the pub first. While we were out, we managed to see deer and an eagle which is a bird we never see in the UK. We both ended up very glad we did that, and not start drinking earlier.

I watched an interesting video the other day that summed up, said when we are gone, we will eventually be forgotten and our possessions like our car or house will either be used by someone else or destroyed. This may seem daunting, however, the point of the video was to say that when we are here, we should not worry about 95% of the things we waste our time thinking about. At the risk of sounding corny, I believe that by appreciating the world we are in, particularly the nature side like the mountains, coasts, and wildlife, this is how I believe we should live our lives. Through nature interpretation and passing down the knowledge and passion of the natural world, is the best way for this.

For me personally, the best parts of a trip away are the outside activities (only if it is not raining) like walking and beach activities if it is that type of holiday. I believe each country is unique or in this case, each state or province is. My ideal approach for nature interpretation would be to be involved in filming a show or film that involves nature in any way. I do not necessarily have to be the one holding the camera or be in the shot, but to be involved in any way would be enough for me at this stage. I really do not want to be stuck in an office job every day. If I am able to travel and in some way be part of spreading the knowledge and love for nature, I would be satisfied.

After watching the video of 'David Suzuki and Richard Louv at the Art Gallery of Ontario discussing how to reconnect to nature', this further supports my approach to nature interpretation. As I said earlier about wanting to be part of filming, this links to the idea of when they discussed technology in the video. Children these days rely on technology even more than we did which is a shame but understandable with all the changes going on in the world. They explained that it is harder for children to appreciate the nature especially if they are in growing urban cities. Therefore, it is through technology that they can get some sort of experience of it, until they are older hopefully when they can go out and experience it for themselves like we do. This would be another reason to do what I want to do through filming etc. In this modern world, this would be one of the more effective ways to share nature interpretation.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 29th November

Christmas is coming and the titles are getting quirkier! No slight on songs with titles like "My Prayer" or "More", but I prefer the titles this week - interesting enough to intrigue, but not to give the entire theme of the song away. And two out of three songs are genuine mysteries to me, which is always a good time.

When Mexico Gave Up the Rhumba - Mitchell Torok (peaked at Number 6)

I said I was intrigued by the title, but I am also a little scared by this one. I'm hoping for some fun Latin sounds and a cute song about people dancing (or not dancing?) the rhumba. I'm also low-key dreading a parade of vaguely racist Mexican stereotypes. Please be cool about this, Mitchell!

Oh, wow, we've started intense with some really fast country-style fiddle, and then lyrics that are indeed slightly stereotypical, as we learn than Down in Mexico at each high noon / Siesta is the thing / You can find them sleeping out in the shade / While the birds softly sing. We've not quite hit "racist caricature" levels, thankfully, but we're clearly in a novelty mode.

And then, an excellent twist as from the radio, there comes a U.S. show / And the disc-jockey's playin' the blues / Before they know what's happened / They're up and clappin' / To the tune of the blue suede shoes. Yes, this is a song about Mexico getting hooked on rock and roll. That's why they're "giving up the rhumba" - they're all rocking and rolling!

The chorus then starts, and it's a familiar little quote as Mitchell sings One, two, and then rock / It's the funniest thing ever told Which is a straight-up lift from the Rock and Roll Waltz, another novelty song about people hearing rock and roll and getting hooked. It's even followed by a little fiddle quote of the Rock and Roll Waltz tune! I kind of love this, beacuse it's the sort of reference I wouldn't have picked up on if I wasn't working on this project, and I'm always a sucker for songs referencing other songs.

Anyway, at this point, the song just continues with some stereotypically Mexican scenes, all featuring various characters dancing to rock and roll. We've got a matador dropping his sword to dance with the bull, and then we've got American tourists arriving to do some Latin dancing, only to find that rock and roll has followed them to Mexico, so that where they used to dance `neath the stars to the Spanish guitars / But now they do it to a saxophone. It's cute - and also a point in favour of what I'd already suggested, that the saxophone really was the rock and roll instrument at this point, more than all the other ones.

I also like that it's a song about the phenomenon that is American popular music genres (and tourists) making their way to various other areas of the globe and taking over. I don't know, it's just interesting, seeing how inter-connected the world is becoming in this point in the mid-1950s, and how even novelty songs like this one are reflecting the emergence of various regional rock and roll varieties outside of the US. It's the same hybridisation that will give us a whole bunch of European and British rock and roll knock-offs in a bit - and that's already given us Lonnie Donegan and skiffle.

Blue Moon - Elvis Presley (9)

Okay, I'm genuinely surprised this only made it to Number 9. I somehow assumed that this song had hit Number 1, or at least would have made it decently far up the top 10. But no, Elvis' version of this song only made it to 9. Huh.

Actually, listening to it, I can kind of see how this might fly under the radar. It's an Elvis song, so people were always going to listen, but if it didn't have sheer star power going for it, you'd be forgiven for letting this one pass you by, because it's incredibly low-key and understated, not a song that stands out particularly, purely based on speed and volume. Elvis is mumbly on it, singing along quietly with just a strummy guitar as his backing and possibly some kind of quiet percussion. And the backing really is just backing, it never takes over or does any kind of solo thing, it's just there to underscore two minutes of Elvis almost just humming along to a very simple, low, slow tune.

There's something veyr werid about it, actually. Maybe it's how Elvis' voice sounds like it's been slowed down - and pitched down - slightly, creating a laggy, syrupy effect. There's an echo to it, too, like he's singing in a bathroom, and the overall effect isn't unlike modern lo-fi music. It's like Elvis is singing drunkenly to you from another room, and you're only now, years later, hearing a not-particularly-high-quality phone recording, or something. Definitely weird.

Adding to the weirdness is the choice to just fade the song out into a mumbly hum at the end, as Elvis forgos all lyrics in favour of a sort of falsetto crooning, stripping the song back to almost nothing. His humming isn't that technically smooth or perfect, and somehow that creates a sense of greater intimacy and sincerity, so it does kind of work, but still - weird choice.

I guess this also all works because the song would likely have been familiar. It was a 1934 composition by Lorenz Hart and Richard Rodgers, originally written for a 1934 Jean Harlow film called Hollywood Party. It never got used for the film, but did get re-lyricked for a different film, Manhattan Melodrama, before becoming a hit in its original form for artists as varied as Billy Eckstine, Mel Tormé, Billie Holiday and a whole string of jazz artists including Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald. So this is a song people already know and probably quite like.

It helps as well that the lyrics are quite simple, almost nursery-rhyme-like, about a lonely singer, who the moon saw standing alone without a dream in my heart / Without a love of my own. He prays for a somebody to love, and the moon hears him, but by the end of the song, he's still lonely, and still waiting. There's something very stark about it all, a slightly bleak wistfulness that carries through, and that Elvis' odd, echoey production actually serves to emphasise, in a weird way. So maybe he knew what he was doing here.

It feels like a departure from Elvis' usual style, or an expansion of it, perhaps - a bold statement that yes, Elvis can also do ballads. Seeing as how we're going to see a lot more ballads from Elvis, this is probably notable.

St. Therese of the Roses - Malcolm Vaughan (3)

Well, on paper this is the most successful of our three songs, but let's see if it's the best. The name is interesting, suggesting a religious context but also maybe a romantic context? I don't know, I have no idea who this Saint Therese is!

Okay, a bit of a google tells me that she is, in fact, Thérèse of Lisieux, a French nun from the 1800s who died of tuberculosis very young, and who is venerated as the "Little Flower of Jesus" and is apparently very popular within the Catholic church. Apart from being linked to flowers, which she used as a symbol in her writing, she isn't otherwise linked to romance or marriage, but nevertheless, the song is a prayer to her, as Malcolm asks her to give your blessings to my sweetheart / And the love that we both share. He prays for protection and guidance, asking won't you fill our hearts with sunshine / On the day that we are wed. And that's basically it, that's the song.

It's a sweet, simple concept, just a prayer for blessings on a marriage, and it was apparently a big hit in the US for the R&B group Billy Ward and His Dominoes. As usual, we're getting the slightly watered-down British cover here, this time courtesy of Malcolm Vaughan, who also graced us with the rather old-fashioned Ev'ry Day of My Life. And despite its R&B origins, this song feels quite similar, both in its style - a heavily orchestrated, somehat operatic easy-listening ballad - and in its more conservative thematic concerns. It's fine, but it's not got its feet planted in the same era as songs like Blue Moon or even When Mexico Gave Up the Rhumba.

I also like the fact that apparently Malcolm Vaughn was due to go on the BBC to promote this song, but then got his invitation withdrawn as the song's lyrical content "is contrary both to Roman Catholic doctrine and to Protestan sentiment". Which is somehow the most parochial 1950s BBC thing ever to be concerned about. More to the point, it also got the song even more attention than it probably would have otherwise enjoyed, and got it airplay on Radio Luxembourg, an early pirate radio station that broadcast from Luxembourg with Europe's then highest-powered transmitter, and was one of the only ways to hear songs on the UK radio that weren't approved by the BBC. Which is kind of cool.

I found all three songs this week interesting, in their own way. All three felt like they were doing very different things, all of them noteworthy, even if not all of them have left their mark on culture since. I think my favourite - the one I'd actually come back to - is pretty clear, though, just for the sheer, weird atmosphere it created.

Favourite song of the bunch: Blue Moon

[alphareleasemedia]

Daily Drabble Project Feb 5-11

2/5/23 Deep in the middle of the woods where the trees grew densely, and the only sunlight burst through the thick canopy to the ground in small golden shafts there was an enchanted world that few had ever seen. There the air was still and all sounds were softer, muffled by the overbearing vegetation. The forest floor was carpeted by a blanket of cast-off leaves from the trees above and moss grew in abundance on nearly every surface. Many birds roosted in the branches of the trees high above while far below creatures of the ground made their peaceful homes together.

2/6/23 She rolled over onto her back to stare up at the night sky. The weather was clear and the moon a slender crescent leaving the stars to shine out in all their glory. Tiny bright pinpricks scattered across the sky like freckles across a face. She traced out the constellations with her eyes, the ones she remembered anyway. The Big Dipper was always the easiest one for her to find, and from there the North Star and the Little Dipper. Orion had already slipped beneath the horizon, but Cassiopeia was still out. And the Pleiades. She counted the seven stars.

2/7/23 Timothy tapped his toes. He wiggled where he stood. He took several deep breaths and then did a little dance much akin to one waiting in line outside the bathroom. Several people stared at him as they passed by. Timothy was oblivious to all. He stared at his watch. Time continued to march forward at the same pace it ever had. Timothy's agitation grew. He leaned in close to the microwave as the timer ticked down towards zero. He rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation. At last the moment arrived. The microwave beeped loudly. The pizza was finally ready.

2/8/23 Eddie was counting spoons. Masie and Claire were watching him. Claire sneezed. Eddie dropped a spoon. Masie laughed at him. Eddie was embarrassed. He became flustered and lost count. Masie laughed even harder. Claire frowned at her. Eddie dropped even more spoons. Claire helped him pick them up. Masie laughed at the both of them. Eddie had to start over his counting. Masie teased him. Eddie had to start over again. Claire glared at Masie. Masie stuck her tongue out at Claire. Eddie gave up trying to count spoons. Claire threw a spoon at Masie's head. Eddie laughed. Claire smiled.

2/9/23 Let me take you back. All the way back. Before I started school here. You see, up until then I'd had private tutors my whole life. And I thought it was great. School was for plebs; my superior intellect would only be held back by standard education. Only problem was my parents were becoming... let's say concerned for my social development. Mainly that I didn't have any. Personally, I didn't have a problem with it. Interacting with others was beneath me. Who needed friends when you were as smart as I was? Yeah, my parents were right to be concerned.

2/10/23 Kenny was walking down the street and enjoying the beautiful day. Suddenly, Tommy jumped out of the bushes and raised his fists to fight Kenny. Suddenly, a dog jumped over a fence and came charging at Tommy while barking. Suddenly, ninjas leaped out of the shade and started throwing shurikens around. Suddenly, a helicopter full of US Marines flew overhead and opened fire on the street below. Suddenly, a spaceship flew down and started firing its laser at everyone. Suddenly, something else happened but Kenny didn't see it because he was still walking down the street enjoying the beautiful day.

2/11/23 Eggs sizzled in the frying pan as Ashley stared blankly forward at the wall. She yawned and then slowly started flipping the eggs over. She yawned again. The toaster popped up making Ashley jump. She quickly extricated the toast and began buttering it. Ashley stifled another yawn as she finished with the toast and returned to the eggs. They were of course overcooked by this point. Ashley grumbled as she turned off the stove and poured the eggs out of the frying pan and onto the same plate as the toast. She then shuffled over to the table to eat.

[lindsaystravelblogs1]

Days 55 to 57 - En Route to NZ

Day 55, Thursday, 9 February 2023

We are now really just filling in time until we get to New Zealand and head for home.  Life on board is pretty routine, punctuated by set times for meals and a couple of lectures each day.

It is actually quite comfortable just sailing along, occasionally rolling a little, but often quite smooth.  It is surprising how quickly the sea conditions change. Within ten or fifteen minutes, it can go from quite choppy to a millpond – or the reverse – but I have not needed any mal-de-mer medications for the whole trip. I took a Quells twice early in the trip just in case I got sick, but never needed them even when the sea was most excited – and exciting.  I really revelled in the rougher weather and we had quite a bit.  It has been surprisingly sunny day after day when the expectation was wet and gloomy, but we also had a few wonderful storms and a great deal of snow from time to time – much more than I have seen before.  And the temperatures are now consistently above zero, although the ‘feels like’ rating is still in the low minuses – 3 to 5 mainly.

We had another general knowledge quiz in which Heather came second and pipped me by one point, but George beat her by three.  He is a very smart cookie.  That was followed by the Captain spending 70-odd minutes of his allocated 55 explaining why this ship is the best ever built and that it includes a dozen or more first-in-the-world innovations.  Sounded very impressive even if I only understood half of it.

They have been running daily dance classes and craft workshops in the past week or so but we are not really interested – but Heather enjoys the cooking classes although most things are a bit elaborate and often too rich for our palate.  W have not used either pool, the spa, sauna or Snow Room and we have avoided the gym quite assiduously. There have also been a couple of cocktail-making sessions and we have participated in them – and their product. There are always a couple of other food and drink opportunities during the afternoon as well as the three bars and one Detox bar (that doesn’t get a lot of patronage!).

There was a second caviar-tasting session during the afternoon and a lecture about the French Dumont d’Urville Station and its first overwintering.

After dinner there was a Cabaret – very slick and professional with amazing lighting and effects. There are a few musicians a singer and a couple of other ‘gymnast/acrobats’ on the ship (under contract) and they put on a great show for us.  We hadn’t intended going, but did so at the last minute – so glad we did.  It was a great performance, particularly the musician and the athletic dancing.

Day 56, Friday, 10 February 2023

Mum’s birthday today – she would be 108 if she was still with us.  Sadly……. But I still think of her most days.

Another day at sea and it held the promise of the best birding day as we approached Campbell Island. The Captain had promised to call us early so we could see the Island (although for some reason, he said we could not approach closer than two-and-a-half-miles – we landed and walked across the island three years ago!) but he failed to keep his promise.  He later said it was a bit foggy so he decided that we wouldn’t want to see it or its birds!

I went out on deck for an hour or so and explored numerous observation points, but it was pretty cold and drizzling so I eventually retreated indoors – and then they locked us in completely because it was a bit rough outside.  They really are ultra-cautious and seem to think that zero risk is more important than client experience – but at least this time, we could get out on our balcony for a while until they came around and locked them too.  As it happened, there were very few birds anyway in what was the bird-richest area on our last trip down here.

I was out on deck while Heather went to a session about the results of the science undertaken on board this trip.  We toured the laboratories a couple of weeks ago and they were quite impressive – as were the scientists and the projects they are working on.

Heather went to another cooking class while I tried to identify some of the birds I had photographed before they locked us in.

After lunch, there was a lecture about a French Explorer that few Aussies have heard about despite a French Station being named for him almost due south from Australia.  He is Jules Dumont d’Urville and he put France on the Antarctic map – a very impressive leader and explorer.

Late in the afternoon, we had a presentation by the helicopter pilot about NZ Flight 901 that crashed on Mt Erebus in 1979.  He gave us a lot of information about the plane, the flight, the ground support, and the Government Enquiries in the aftermath.  He had obviously done quite a bit of research, but equally obviously, he believes he knows better than the enquiries and sheets the blame on everyone except the pilots.  As outsiders, we don’t have an opinion, but 237 people died as a result of numerous human errors – we are just not quite sure which humans were most to blame.

Day 57, Saturday, 11 February 2023

It was another day at sea with just one lecture in the morning.  It was about Mawson and it was possibly something the Aussies were waiting for.  It was a good lecture and although we knew the story, there were lots of snippets we didn’t know and it put more of it into perspective for us.

During the afternoon, there was a briefing about tomorrow’s land tours and final disembarkation early on Monday.  It seems they just want us off the ship and left to our own devices as soon as possible with no assistance in getting to the airport.  There were a couple of options where they would help if we topped up their coffers – about $AU600 per person for a private ride, but a combined maximum of three items of luggage (we have six) or a group transfer for about $AU400 per person with the same luggage restrictions – and neither options load your baggage for you.  You have to do it yourself.  We have opted for a shuttle into the city where we can get a cab to the airport – there are apparently no cabs at the port!

Then they drew a raffle to which we had not contributed – a good job we saved our money because we didn’t win anyway!  That was followed by the announcement of the winners of the Photo Competition.  There were four categories – Blue, Wildlife, the Ship and Landscape.  There were some great photos but none of mine got anywhere.  One guy won in two categories – but I wasn’t particularly rapt in his Wildlife pic – I reckon several others were better than his.  He was just lucky that he hit the shutter while a penguin was still in the air hopping onto an icefloe.

There was then a long final recap – over two hours – but it was quite brilliant. Most of the Expedition Team gave a little summary of their aspect of the trip, often adding a bit more, including several video clips.  One was from WIFFA 2022 – the Winter International Film Festival of Antarctica – an annual film festival of films made entirely during the dark months by people overwintering in Antarctica.  It is open to all Antarctic Stations and is a really big event with some absolutely brilliant films – look them up and watch on the web.  There was also an amazingly creative short video made by one of our on-board naturalists.  It is hard to describe but it traced a strange wriggly line around the screen, that eventually transformed into the outline of a photo she had taken during the voyage.  All the images were then linked into a powerful conservation message – strong and creative.  No idea how it was done but quite brilliant.

And after dinner, the crew put on an absolutely inspiring show that they had created together during the voyage.  There was some very energetic dancing, several instrumental and vocal musical performances and some funny skits. The one that really got to me was a superb rendition of Ave Maria by one of the male scientist – in the most fantastic high falsetto.  He could put Ivan Rebroff, maybe even Kiri, to shame.  I reckon he could go professional tomorrow – absolutely beautiful.

[justaself-shipper]

Golden Guard x Reader- True Colours

A/N: I wanted to get back into the swing of things before redoing the requests. There may or may not be a few Amphibia references in here…since i watched it quite recently... Spoilers for Hunting Palisman. Also anyone get the reference of the title?

Being in the Emperor’s Coven wasn’t easy. From battling monsters and demons to rogue witches and a certain human, I was surprised I was still alive. A regular guard was just a pawn for the Emperor. Yet, I had no choice, since my parents had already planned my future while I was still young. I wanted to make them proud, and I really did try. But it seems like being a normal guard in the Emperor’s Coven wasn’t enough. I needed to go bigger, eliminate anyone in my way if I had to. I was going to do it for them, and for my lost Palisman, Froggit. (IT WAS THE ONLY THING THAT CAME TO MIND-) Standing at attention, I watched all the servants and guards walk by. I was assigned outside the Throne room today. Kikimori happened to be walking by as the door opened. She gasped. “Golden Guard?! You’re alive! I heard about the crash-“ The “Golden Guard” came into view. He greeted Kiki, and I had the time to observe him. He was about my age, with blonde hair, red eyes, and a scar on his right cheek. As he walked away from Kikimori, he looked my way. I hadn’t realised I had turned to face them. Quickly standing to attention, I stiffened as he stopped in front of me. “Sir.” I saluted. He raised an eye-brow, looking at my badge. (Ima just pretend the badges have names engraved into them in small lettering or something). “Haven’t seen you around here much. When did you join the Emperor’s Coven?” He asked casually. I glared through my mask. “Two weeks ago, sir.” I replied, trying my best to keep my voice calm. He smiled. “Well, miss ‘Y/N’, it’s nice to meet you. The names Hunter.” I didn’t reply back. After a few minutes of silence, he sighs. “Welp, I better be going. See you around.” As he walked away, I let my shoulders relax a bit. Glaring after him, I watched him disappear. So, a higher rank, right? Well, we’ll see about that. Don’t try to chit-chat me, Hunter. You’re nothing but a rival. Later that evening… I let out a yawn. It was late, and I was the only guard patrolling this side of the castle. Lifting my mask to rub my tired eyes, I heard a loud bang, followed by yelp of pain. “Palisman!” Someone hissed. Pulling my mask back down, I held my staff out. “COME OUT! I KNOW YOU’RE THERE!” I yelled out. There was nothing but silence. Turning a corner, I caught someone running away, carrying something. “Hey!” I gave chase, following the intruder down the corridors. As I ran, I realised they seemed to know exactly where they were going. Running by halls that lead to dead ends, and avoiding doors that entered into closed off rooms. Using my staff, I sped up, running in front of the witch. He came to a stop, almost tripping. Holding out my staff, I was about to zap him, when I realised it was Hunter. A small, red bird Palisman sat on his shoulder. I smirked under my mask. Hiding a Palisman? One that has wild magic? This was treason. Oh, Emperor Belos is going to love this. “You stay here.” I stated, using a spell to keep him in place. As he struggled, I began to walk off. If he’d been keeping a wild Palisman, who knew what he could do with it. Best to retrieve back-up, and quickly. As I turned my back, he yelled out to me. “Wait! Don’t tell Belos!” Ignoring him, I continued. “I know what he does to them! He kills them!” Stopping, I turned back to the Golden Guard. “What do you mean by that?” I questioned cautiously. Hunter closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “Emperor Belos isn’t a witch. I don’t know what he is, or what happened to him. All I know is that he uses the magic in the Palismans to keep himself powerful and in a stable condition.” My mind went to Froggit, my Palisman before I joined the Coven. He went missing as soon as I joined…he couldn’t have… “Y-you’re lying, aren’t you?” I growled. The Palisman sitting on his shoulder chirped. After a moment of silence, I released the Golden guard. Turnng my back to him once again, I growled under my breath. “Get out of here before I change my mind.” Hunter didn’t need to be asked twice. Making sure the Palisman wasn’t hurt, he left, returning to his dorm. About an hour later, another guard took over my shift. Rushing back to my dorm, I leaned against the door. It couldn’t be true. Emperor Belos would never hurt my Palisman, would he? I let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t have…right? Finishing up my carving, I stared lovingly at the Frog as I held it up to the sunlight. “And done! Welcome to the world little buddy!” I whispered, blowing the flakes away. Smiling widely, I placed the wooden frog on my bedside table. All I had to do now was wait. He should wake up in a few minutes. Leaning back on my bed, I picked up my book, looking at all the human creatures inside. I loved looking at all the pictures, and even chose one as my Palisman. There were so many amazing creatures, for awhile I couldn’t pick. I had finally settled for a “frog”, since they sounded so amazing. Hearing a croak, I looked up from my book. My new Palisman had woken up, and was crawling around and curiously peering at the objects on my bed stand. “Hey there little guy.” I cooed, picking him up. He let out another croak. “Welcome to the Boiling Isles! You’re so cute!” He tilted his head curiously in my direction, letting out another excited croak. Giggling, I gently pet him. “I’ll keep you safe Froggit. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” I jolted awake, rubbing my teary eyes as I sat up. Silent sobs threatened to erupt from my throat. Taking a few minutes to calm myself, I inhaled slowly. This wasn’t a coincidence, wasn’t it? Froggit was gone, and I had failed to protect him. He had probably died a horrible death, scared and all alone. Checking the window, I noticed the sun was rising. I had to get ready for today. As I stood up, I felt my stomach squirm in guilt. Looking around my room, i grabbed a satchel, collecting things and preparing. I had to get out of here. I was NOT going to work with a Coven that murdered my Palisman, no matter what my parents say. I would have failed them, but nothing was worse than knowing I had failed my Palisman, my only friend. A loud knock came from the door. Looking up, I stared hard at the door. Who could that be? I’m not late for something, am I? The knocking came again. Walking over, I opened the door to find Kikimori there. She seemed to be glaring daggers into my soul, even though she was way shorter than me. “The Emperor wants to speak with you immediately.” She stated, walking away. Why does the Emperor want to see me? I took off my mask as I stood in front of the throne room. My knees shook thinking over the things the Golden Guard had said the night previously. The Emperor wasn’t who I thought he was, and that thought alone terrified me. Clutching my mask, I opened the doors. Mutterings were coming from the other side of the room as I entered. Walking along the corridor, I took note that a few guards, as well as the Golden Guard and Emperor Belos were in the room. Belos was talking to the Golden Guard, but stopped when I entered. I bowed down to the Emperor, as I felt his eyes bare into my soul. “You must be Y/N L/N, right? Hunter has told me so much about you.” He stated. I bowed my head, keeping an eye on Hunter. He seemed to be distracted, since he didn’t seem to be paying attention to us. “He’s told me of all your hard work so far, and that you’re trust worthy. So, I have made up my mind.” He stood up, grabbing onto his staff. What was he doing? “You’ve been moved up to Captain of the guards, since ours has…retired. How does that sound?” Shocked, I glanced up to Hunter. His eyes were averted, refusing to look at me. “I-it’s an honour, my lord…” I stuttered. “B-but, I-i’m just a humble guard, there’s no need to put me as Captain so soon-“ I was cut off as something headed my way, barely missing me by a hair. I stiffened, following the pointed object toward the Emperor. It was….his…arm…. He took the object away. “I'm afraid you don’t have a choice in this matter. Your first mission starts tonight. You’ll be accompanied by Hunter. You’ll be given your badge in the morning.” He waves his hand, signifying I could leave. I nodded. “Y-yes, my Lord.” With that, I placed my helmet back on, walking briskly out of the room. Opening the door, I jumped a little when Kikimori was waiting on the other side. She said nothing, just simply glared at me then left. After watching her disappear around the corner, I let out an angry sigh. What was I gonna do? Later that night…. The Golden Guard was standing beside me, steering the ship we flew in. There was an awkward silence for the first 10 minutes of the flight, with both of us avoiding eye contact. Apparently, we were meant to be looking for Palismans. “So…everything you said the other night was true.” I mumbled. The Golden guard hummed in response. “Unfortunately, yes.” Another silence ensured. “I wasn’t expecting him to make you Captain. I just wanted to help you out a bit, since you helped me. I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you wanted…” I let out a sigh. “It’s fine." That’s when he turned to me. His eyes were filled with sympathy. “I’m also sorry about your Palisman…” I whipped around to face him. “How-“ “It’s not hard. Everyone has a Palisman when they first arrive. They disappear after the first week, and given a “new and improved” staff. It’s becoming more common. Only a few are allowed to keep their Palismans.” He stated, his brows furrowing as his gaze returned to the horizon. “You seem to know a fair bit.” I said. He shrugged. “One of the few perks of being the Emperor’s right-hand man.” I nodded understandingly. Being right-hand man couldn’t have been easy. There would’ve been many people trying to back-stab him. I WAS one of them.

“…what was it like? Your Palisman?” He asked curiously. I smiled under my mask. “He was my best friend. A lot of people questioned why I chose a monster from the human realm, but it didn’t matter. I loved him almost like my own child…” I felt the tears threatening to overflow once again. Hunter smiled. “He sounded nice.” I looked over to him curiously. “You say that as if you’ve never had a Palisman.” His eyes widened, before he turned his face away from me. “…this Palisman is actually my first. I didn’t do well in school, so I never achieved my staff.” Was all he replied. Great. Now I felt bad. “I’m sorry…" He chuckled. “It’s alright. There wasn’t a chance you could’ve known.” Letting out a sigh, I took my mask off. What was the point of hiding my face while meeting a new friend? Letting my hair fall down, I hear Hunter let out a small gasp. I raise an eyebrow, turning my gaze to him. His eyes were wide open, staring at me. “What are you looking at?” “You…you’re beautiful…” My own eyes widened, and I felt my cheeks heat up. Hunter realised that he said it out loud, and his own face lit up. “I-i’m so sorry! I-“ “Just be quiet.” I growled, turning away so then Hunter wouldn’t see me. The ship shook, and I felt it begin to fall rapidly toward the ground. I watched in terror as the ground came closer, and I blacked out as we hit the ground. “Hey! Y/n, wake up!” Someone hissed quietly.

I let out a groan as I opened my tired eyes. Hunter was gently shaking me, looking around frantically at his surroundings. “W-what happened?” I grumbled, sitting up. Hunter clasped a hand over my mouth. I was about to object, when he pointed to a certain short monster on the other side of the rocks. It was Kikimori, and she did not look happy. She seemed to be carrying a stone. I recognised it from history books. They made the possessor stronger. “I KNOW YOU’RE HERE GOLDEN GUARD! AND I KNOW WHAT YOU DID THE OTHER NIGHT!” She shrieked. My brows furrowed, looking toward Hunter. “What is she talking about?” I hissed. He reached for his broken staff. I hadn’t noticed that before. “I’ll explain later. Right now, we need to get out of here.” He whispered back. Without warning, he grabbed my hand, leading me away from the angry monster. Once we were far enough away, I pulled my hand free from his. “What the hex was that about?!” I yelled. Hunter let out a sigh. “Look, the other night I was assigned to collect Palismans. I told my Uncle that I had failed, but the real reason was that I let them go. Kiki and the human Luz was involved and…things just got out of hand.” He was looking down at his feet. “If I told him what had really happened, then he would kill both of us…” I listened carefully. When he was finished, I smiled softly. ‘Hey…you did the right thing.” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Surprised for a moment, Hunter smiled. “So, what are we gonna do? We can’t tell your Uncle we failed to retrieve them again. He’d find out for sure.” I said. Hunter thought for a moment, before a smirk crossed his features. “Not unless we disappeared.” I stared blankly at him for a moment. What did he mean by that? “What do you mean?” “Alright, this is the plan.” Waiting outside the castle, I tapped my foot impatiently. Hunter had gone into the castle to retrieve his Palisman, leaving me outside to wait. It had been 10 minutes already. Shouldn’t he be back by now? Something must’ve happened. Letting out a growl, I clutched my staff, heading inside. Once inside, I passed a few of the guards. None tried stopping me, just giving a nod as I passed by. They took note of my badge it seemed. As I walked pass the throne room, I halted when I heard a cry of pain come from within. “NO, PLEASE! DON’T HURT HIM!” That was Hunter. Rushing over, I swung the doors open. There was Hunter, being held by two guards. Kikimori held his Palisman, about to hand it over to Emperor Belos. Everyone stopped what they were doing when I entered, turning to face me. Emperor Belos was the only one to recognise me. “Ah, Y/n! A nice surprise! No need for any assistance. You see, Hunter here has been keeping secrets from us.” He stated gesturing to Hunter. “But Kikimori has saved us by warning us of his treason. He’ll be thrown into the dungeon shortly, and this…Palisman will be dealt with.” At that, Kikimori was about to hand the Palisman to the Emperor. Rage filled me, and before I realised what I was doing, I had sent a spell their way. The Palisman was thrown from Kikimori’s hands, falling to the ground out of reach. Everyone let out a gasp. Tears overflowed from my eyes as rage coursed through me. “No one else’s Palisman’s are getting hurt under my watch.” I growled. Belos straightened his posture. “I see. You’re a traitor to our kind. Guards, get her!” He yelled. The guards holding Hunter let him go, charging toward me. Using my staff, I quickly defeated them, swinging my staff against their skulls. Both fell unconscious. Without thinking, I charged Belos. He killed my Palisman. Before my staff made contact with him, he used his own magic to throw me against the wall. Yelping in pain, I stumbled to my feet. My vision was still blurry from the impact, hence why I didn’t see Belos walking towards me. I was pushed back against the wall. Something was piercing into my neck, and I realised it was the Emperor’s staff. “You’ll have the same fate as your Palisman.” He hissed. Choking for air, my vision was getting darker and darker as I stared murderously into Belos’ eyes. I finally felt myself drop to the ground, the Emperor letting out a groan of pain as he was attacked from the side. Strong hands lifted me up, helping me limp away from the scene. Hunter got his Palisman ready, ordering me to get on. Doing so, I left my staff lying on the ground, clutching his waist tightly as we escaped the castle. I buried my face in Hunters shoulder as we flew over the Boiling Isles. Neither of us had spoken for a while, and honestly I was too shocked. Finally, Hunter spoke up. “Thank you for that. That was very courageous of you to stand up to him. Are you ok?” “Y-yeah, I’m ok…where are we going? Do you have a place in mind?” I asked, looking down at our surroundings. We were near Bones Marrow (was that what it was called?), and I curious if he had a destination. Hunter smiles at my question. “I have a friend nearby. We’ll seek shelter there if she’ll allow it.” With that, he neared the forest floor, landing quietly in the bushes. I looked up at the building in front of us. I knew this place, although I’d never been to it myself. This was the Owl House, home of one of the most powerful witches on the Isle, Eda the Owl lady. Well, WAS the most powerful. Hunter walked up the doorstep, and was about to knock when a large owl tube on the door spoke up, startling both of us. “OOH VISITORS! FROM THE EMPEROR COVEN TOO! HAVE YOU COME HERE TO BE MY FRIEND?!” The door opened, revealing Luz the human. Her smile lit up when she realised it was Hunter. “Hunter! Hi! What are you doing here? And who’s your friend? You aren’t…here to arrest me, are you?” She asked suspiciously, closing the door ajar as she squinted her eyes. I almost laughed at how childish she was. “No, sorry to disappoint. Me and my friend were going to ask if we could stay for awhile? We…kinda left the coven.” Hunter said, gesturing to himself and I. I gave a little wave. Luz’s eyes widened in surprise, her smile returning. “Of course! Come in! We have…room for two more!” Opening the door, she let us inside. Hunter stepped in first, but was stopped by an ice wall. He let out a yelp of surprise, and Luz was yelling at someone. “Lillith! Be nice!” Lillith? Where have I heard that name? It clicked when I caught sight of her. There, in what I assumed to be human clothes, stood Lillith, my role model ever since I was a small witchling. I almost jumped up and down in excitement, if it wasn’t for the shock of the ice bars between us. “Human! This is the Golden Guard! We can’t let him in here! What if it’s a trick?!” Lillith shrieked. Luz tried to calm her down, explaining that he’d changed. Another woman stepped into the room, followed by a small demon with a skull on his head. “Alright, what’s going on here?” She muttered. Luz sighed in relief. “Oh thank god you’re here, Eda. My friends need a place to stay, and-“ Eda? Lillith cut her off. “HE’S THE GOLDEN GUARD! It could be a trap!” She screamed, gesturing to the two of us. Hunter didn’t say anything, just let out a nervous chuckle. Eda only stared at us tiredly. “…..if it’s a trap we won’t hesitate to knock em’ out cold. Just let em in.” She grumbled, sitting on the couch as she drank something from out of a cup. Lillith stuttered indignantly, while Luz used what I assumed a random piece of paper to create fire. Melting the bars, she let the two of us inside.

A few minutes later, Hunter and I were sitting beside each other on two chairs, while Lillith, Luz, and Eda were sitting on the couch. He had just finished explaining what had happened with Emperor Belos mere hours before. Lillith had her arms crossed, staring at us suspiciously, while Eda was peacefully sipping at her apple-blood. Luz was holding the little demon, who I found out was named King. Luz spoke up first. “So…now you’re wanted criminals?” She asked, concerned. Hunter pat his Palisman. “It would appear so.” He muttered. Lillith didn’t say anything, but it was obvious from her body language she didn’t trust us. Eda the owl lady smiled comfortingly. “Well, I guess an enemy to Belos is a friend of mine. Welcome to the Owl House kids.” She chuckled. “Thank you.” I replied. Luz pointed accusingly at me. “AHA! YOU DO SPEAK!” She yelled. I chuckled. “So what’s your name, kid?” Eda asked. “I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you all. Especially you Lillith!” She turned to me, raising a brow. “Why’s that, witchling?” “You’ve always been a role-model for me! I feel so honoured meeting you in person!” I said, my smile brightening to finally have an opportunity to speak to my hero. Lillith smiled. “Thank you, witchling.” A few weeks later… Hunter and I had officially moved into the Owl House. It was a bit crowded but it became our home. Eda was teaching Hunter how to take care of his Palisman, plus how to use and treat it. I on the other hand, began to classes with Lillith and Luz, learning how to master glyphs. Sure, I still had my powers, but in case of emergencies I wanted to learn about these strange little symbols. We had become wanted criminals that day, and our wanted posters were stuck up all over the Boiling Isles. I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I realised it was Hunter. “Hey Y/n, I have a surprise for you.” He said, grabbing my hand and leading me away from the Owl house. Dragging me through town, we snuck by many wanted posters of us. He finally stopped outside of Hexside, a school I had once attended before joining the Emperor’s Coven. Knocking on the door, Principal Bump opened. “Ah, good you’re here! Just in time too!” He whispered, taking down another poster that was stuck to his door. He smiled down at the two of us. “Good to see you again Y/n. Come this way!” Leading us onto the Grudgby field, I noticed Eda was standing beside a large, wooden stump. She walked over to us excitedly. “Y/n! Hunter had told us what had happened to your Palisman, so Bumpy, Hunter and I decided to give you a little surprise. I introduce to you…” The Bat Queen flew down, landing on the stump and opening the door. Many Palismans with cracks ran out, looking around curiously. “To the Palismans! These little guys need a good home again, and one lucky one may pick you.” My eyes widened in awe, as I clasped my hands over my mouth. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I hugged Hunter, who was standing beside me. “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” I cried. Realising what I was doing, my face heated up, and I immediately let go, looking away in embarrassment. He did the same, scratching his neck as a pink flush covered his cheeks. Eda chuckled at our interaction. “Alright. All you gotta do is kneel down, say a goal you want to achieve and one should choose you.” She stated. I grinned as I knelt down, looking at all the cute Palismans scuttling about. “I want a powerful Palisman to help protect those I care about.” I said. One Palisman began to glow. It looked like a lizard from the human realm, but with a scorpion tail and sharp claws. I held out my hands as it turned into a staff, landing gently in my hands as the Palisman happily growled. My grin widened as I looked excitedly back at Hunter, hugging the Palisman close. Everything was going to be ok now.

A/N: HOLY CRAP FINISHING THIS I REALISED IT PRETTY MUCH TURNED INTO A FULL BLOWN NOVEL-

[allthatyoulove]

Potions and Fireworks

Fred Weasley / Reader

This is a sequel! (Click here to read the first part: Butterflies and Flowers!)

Summary: You wake up next to Fred Weasley, only hours after he confessed his feelings for you.

Includes: fluff, cussing maybe, lots of kissing

Words: 3.1k

A/N: Here's part two! I was so excited to write this one, sorry it took a while! Please check out my prompt list! You can request as many prompts as you’d like! Hope you enjoy the story! Feel free to leave any feedback and please let me know of any warnings or errors I missed, thanks for stopping by :)

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I woke to the sound of birds chirping outside of the window. My eyes opened, squinting as they came into focus of the room around me. It was cold outside- which made it quite cold in the room as well. There was a light morning fog across the water surrounding the school as the sun began to rise. A few voices of the people in the common rooms below could be heard faintly. I began to stretch, turning to face the ceiling.

Before I realized I had an arm wrapped around my waist.

Fred’s arm.

I had a moment of panic before I recalled the events of last night.

I was thankful I decided to cut myself off after 5 drinks, being able to remember mostly everything. My face heated and my heart fluttered as I remembered helping Fred to bed last night and the confessions he made along the way.

“Did you like the flowers?”

“I really really like you”

“Just kiss tomorrow, eh?”

Part of the panic was over whether Fred truly felt that way when he woke up sober. However, the panic was miniscule in comparison to the excitement I felt over the day ahead. I didn’t get a chance to think too far ahead, however, before the twin laying next to me began to stir. He placed his head against my back, letting out a small grunt. I rubbed my hands up and down his arms that were wrapped around my waist as he pulled me into him, as much as he could. He was shirtless, which meant he had to have taken it off at some point as we slept.

The butterflies in my stomach only increased as he still seemed to be asleep. He was breathing softly, his heartbeat against my back. I carefully turned myself around, facing him. His eyelids were fluttering lightly, his brows furrowed. I smiled to myself, running my hand through his hair. I started to drift back to sleep, my hand on Fred’s cheek. The sound of his breathing, with the birds chirping outside the window convinced me I was in some afterlife. I felt so peaceful as I began to doze off. Before I even realized I was falling asleep, however, I felt someone place a kiss on my palm.

My eyes fluttered open, seeing Fred smirking at me as he held my hand in his, placing kisses all over it.

“‘Morning” He said, his voice raspy from sleep.

I smiled back at him drowsily, my eyes failing to remain open. I snuggled further into the pillow, feeling Fred scooch even closer to me. He placed a kiss on my forehead before pulling me in against his chest, resting his head on top of mine. I was trying to fight the sleep threatening to overtake me, but I was too comfortable and too happy to not give in. My eyes shut once again, shutting out the world around me as well.

---

I suddenly woke up again, in the same position as I fell asleep. I was cradled against Fred’s chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. I slowly raised my head, seeing the room brightly lit up. The sun was shining. I tried to sneakily unravel myself from Fred’s arms, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

The sun was shining.

My head shot over to the clock on the wall, reading the time.

10:47 am.

Shit shit shit shit shit

I rubbed my eyes, being hit with a sudden wave of awareness. I looked around, seeing that I was still in my clothes from last night. My mind was racing. We missed the first period, and we would miss the second if we didn’t hurry.

I turned around, shuffling on the bed to Fred’s side on my knees. I shook him lightly, calling his name.

“Fred. Fred!” I whisper-shouted. I didn’t want to startle him, but we needed to hurry.

“Hmm?” He said, shoving his face further into the pillow. I continued to shake him.

“It’s Friday, Fred. We’ve got school!”

He turned himself around, pulling me onto him so I was straddling him. He wrapped his arms around me, gently bringing me down into his chest once again.

“Mmm...let’s just stay in bed today.” He said into my hair, placing a kiss on the crown of my head. I continued to try and get him out of bed, no matter the butterflies that were in my stomach. I lifted myself up, planting my hands on either side of his face. He raised his eyebrows in suggestion, smirking. I rolled my eyes, about to speak before he beat me to it.

“Give me a kiss.” He said, his eyes falling to my lips. I licked them subconsciously, smiling back at him.

“I’ll give you a kiss if you get out of bed,” I said, sitting up straight. He squirmed underneath me, seeming to take in the position we were in. I smiled at his sudden nervousness, getting up. He tried to reach for me to bring me back to him, but he was too slow from having just woken up. He groaned and rubbed his eyes before sitting up. He pouted at me as I smiled, turning to go to my dresser. I searched for a clean pair of clothes and robes as I felt him watch me. I glanced behind me to see him sitting against the headboard, his hands behind his head.

He looked so, so good.

And his morning voice…

I was failing in not getting tempted to run back into bed with him. He purposefully put his hands behind his head, the sheets of the bed resting just below his hips. Two could play in that game.

I lifted my own shirt over my head, throwing it to a corner of the room as I turned to grab the plain shirt I had picked out. As soon as I turned, I heard the bed creak as Fred got up and practically ran over to me, crouching down to wrap his arms around my waist. He started to kiss my neck, mumbling between each kiss.

“Such. A. Tease. Aren’t you?” He asked, burying his head into my neck. My hand went to his hair as I laughed. He spun me around, leaning in for a kiss before I stopped him.

“Where are your manners, Weasley?” I asked, walking to the bathroom- still shirtless.

He watched me as I began to brush my teeth. He sauntered over and did the same, looking at me with a smile through the mirror. A bit of toothpaste fell onto my chest, and he wasted no time at all.

“Oh no! Let me help you with that.” He said, his mouth attaching to my chest, where the toothpaste had fallen. I let out a laugh as I playfully pushed him away. He just grinned and winked at me, continuing to brush his teeth. I finished before him, rinsing my mouth out and wiping my chest off before walking back over to the dresser. His eyes followed me the entire way, just watching. I had my back turned to him as he finished, putting my arms through the button up shirt every student was required to wear.

I heard him finish up, making his way back over to me. I didn’t have time to button it up before he spun me around to face him.

“Now do I get a kiss?” He asked, licking his lips as his eyes fell over my own.

“Mmm...Let me think about it.” I said, pretending to be deep in thought. He groaned playfully, laughing as he put his head on my shoulder. I reached behind me to grab his tie as I laughed with him. When he picked his head back up, ready to complain, I wrapped the tie around the back of his neck and used it to pull him in for a kiss.

He held his breath for a second before he brought his hands up to my face, pulling me closer to him. He inhaled through his nose, the taste of mint on his lips. My face heated and the infamous butterflies came back once again, always seeming to be there when I’m around him.

We finally pulled away, smiling drunkenly off of the kiss and each other. I let go of the tie, finally buttoning up my shirt. His eyes darkened as he watched me, his hands dropping from my face to loosely rest on my hips. I turned to grab for my tie before he stopped me, taking his own off of his neck and putting it instead around mine.

“What’re you doing, Fred?” I asked, looking up at him as he started to tie it for me with an innocent smile.

“Wear my tie today.” He said softly, smiling as he finished tying it. He put his hands on his hips, standing back to proudly stare at his work.

“They’re gonna notice it’s yours.” I said, raising my eyebrows at him. The boys’ ties had smaller stripes than the girls’, with more of the color red showing.

“Good.” He said, leaning in to give me a few quick kisses. I smiled at him before remembering what time it was and that we were already late.

“Alright Weasley, you’ve got to go get dressed. I’ve got to get to class, I can’t miss potions. Snape will be furious.” I said, bringing my hands up to his hair and lightly scratching. He leaned into my touch as he groaned out an agreement. He gave me another long kiss before he left.

---

I walked into potions with Hermione, who seemed completely fine for someone who was dancing on the tables last night. We were laughing about it as we took our seats for the lecture. Ginny came in seconds before class started, wearing glasses. She slammed her books down next to us, then winced as she sat down with an oof. Hermione and I exchanged looks, laughing at her.

“You alright, Gin?” Hermione asked, trying to stop laughing at her. Ginny shot her a glare, putting her head in her arms on the table. We decided to leave her alone while she slept. The lecture began on time, Snape teaching us how to make Everlasting Elixirs, which I had learned from the textbook a while ago. I spun my pencil between my fingers, my mind wandering.

I hope Fred had gotten to his class on time. I hadn’t seen him after we said our goodbyes, and we wouldn’t be seeing each other until lunch. Which was….

In 3 hours.

I sighed, holding back a yawn. Hermione was studying for another class, while Ginny was still asleep. I had to nudge her a couple times when she would start to snore, trying to make sure she didn’t get caught. Snape didn’t leave the front of the room, thankfully. I was bored out of my mind, checking the clock every minute to see it had barely moved. Time was going by agonizingly slow. I was about to put my own head down when I saw Hermione staring at me from the corner of my eye. I turned to her, seeing her looking at my neck. My heart dropped.

He didn’t leave any hickeys, did he? No. He couldn’t have. I would have noticed them. Right?

“What is it, Hermione?” I asked her. Her mouth dropped as she smiled, looking between me and my neck. I started to blush as I waited for her to say something.

“Is that… Fred’s tie?” She whispered, leaning in closer to me.

I looked down, forgetting I was wearing it. I mentally sighed in relief that it wasn’t hickeys she was staring at, but I still had to explain the tie. The heat didn’t leave my face.

I nodded, Hermione giggling next to me. I nudged her playfully.

“Oh shut it, how was last night with Ron?” I asked her, dragging out his name and raising my eyebrows. She blushed, her face turning red. I laughed, about to ask for details before I felt something poke me on the back.

I turned my head around, seeing Neville grinning at me, red in the face. I shot him a confusing look, leaning in.

“Yeah?”

He tried to point towards the door with his eyes, not saying anything back. I furrowed my brows, looking towards the door.

I saw Fred, silently closing the door behind him. He turned around and looked at me, winking and smirking. My mouth dropped, looking towards the front of the class. Snape had his back turned, reading directly from the textbook. I whipped my head back towards Fred, seeing him crawling under the desks to get to mine. I laughed, immediately covering my mouth and getting out of my chair to join him on the floor.

“Fred! What’re you doing here?” I whisper-yelled, helping him get under the desk. He hit his head, groaning before I covered his mouth, laughing. His hand shot up to cover mine as well, trying to be silent. As our laughter died down, I could feel my face heat up over his hand placement. We slowly took our hands down at the same time, Fred smirking at me. I smiled back at him, looking at his lips before I remembered where we were. I shot my eyebrows up in a ‘well?’ look before he responded.

“Do you want to go up to the astronomy tower with me?” He whispered, out of breath.

“The astronomy tower? Now?”

“Yeah.” He said, smiling at me. I looked towards the front of the room again, seeing Snape in the same spot. I looked over at Ginny, seeing she was still passed out, and when I looked over at Hermione she was already looking at me.

“Hi Fred!” She whispered. Fred stuck his head out from under the desk.

“Hi Hermione,” He said, smiling at her before ducking back under the desk. I widened my eyes at Hermione, trying to telepathically send her an apology. She just shook her head and laughed lightly.

“Go.” She said, continuing when I shot her a confused look. “Go with Fred. I’ll cover for you.”

I was about to thank her profusely before Fred stuck his head back out, looking between Hermione and I.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” He said, smiling. I held my breath as I spoke.

“What do you mean that won’t-”

Just as I began my sentence, the doors to the classroom burst open, George flying in on a broom. I stared in shock as he flew to the very front of the classroom, setting something down before flying away to a corner of the room. Snape got out his wand, pointing it at George before we heard fireworks.

George had put fireworks in the classroom.

My head shot over to the front, the class erupting into cheers and laughter. I started to laugh with them, unbelievably shocked at what was happening. Red and Gold bursted from the floor, exploding at the top of the classroom. One after another. Fred took my hand to get my attention.

“So, whaddya say?” He asked, laughing.

“Let’s do it!” I said back to him, letting him help me out from under the desk. Ginny had woken up, extremely confused about what was happening. Hermione was trying not to laugh, but eventually gave in and scooted closer to Ginny.

Fred led me out of the class, shutting the door behind us as we started towards the astronomy tower. We occasionally had to duck behind pillars, trying to remain hidden from the staff and ghosts roaming the halls. We eventually made it, collapsing onto the floor of the tower, out of breath. We laughed as we tried to catch our breath, laughing harder everytime we looked at eachother. My adrenaline was through the roof, I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

We both sat up, Fred scooting closer to me and putting his hand on my thigh. My laughter slowly died down as he smiled at me before going in for a kiss. I kissed him back, putting my hand on top of his. He deepened the kiss, his other arm going across my back to hold me as my other hand went to his hair. His mouth trailed from my lips to my neck, kissing everywhere he could. I was breathless, closing my eyes and focusing on Fred’s lips against my neck. He brought his mouth back up to mine, giving me another small kiss before pulling away and looking at me. His hair was messed up and he looked drunk.

I loved it.

We started to laugh again, Fred collapsing on top of me.

“I can’t believe you convinced George to do that.” I said, catching my breath.

“Me neither, honestly. He owed me a favor for when I did something similar for him and Angelina, but I didn’t think he’d agree to this.” He explained.

I sat up, giggling over the redness on Fred’s lips and cheeks. I stood up, extending my hand towards him on the ground. He accepted it, jumping to his feet and walking over to the edge of the tower with me. We looked all around, seeing first years on their brooms on the ground below. The sun was shining, reflecting against the water. It was cool outside, with a breeze coming through the tower. I closed my eyes, humming as Fred came behind me to wrap his arms around me. His face went to my neck, our bodies swaying left and right together. We stayed like this for a couple minutes before he held my hands, spinning me to face him. His face turned serious before he spoke.

“I’ve something to ask you,” He said, his eyes darting between my eyes and lips. My smile stayed on my face, my heart beating faster. I didn’t have any clue what he would ask, and the serious look on his face was worrisome.

“Yes?” I asked, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. Our bodies were still lighty swaying together.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” He asked, looking into my eyes.

I couldn’t hide the huge smile that broke out on my face. Before I could even reply, he continued.

“I mean, you already snogged me…” He said, earning a slap on the arm from me. He just laughed, before holding his breath in anticipation.

“I would love to, Fred.” I said, bringing him in for another kiss.

We pulled away and looked at each other for a second, before looking back out at the view. We lowered to the ground and sat wrapped in each other’s arms for the duration of second period.

[a-vild-bluemyrtle]

Gaea - The blooming Spirit

Seth Clearwater x Female OC | 10 years after Breaking Dawn | OC with Earth Powers

Also on: AO3 - FF.net

________________________________

Request from @purpledragon04: Can you write a Seth Clearwater x reader where she has earth elements.

I'm sorry it took me all this time to write this down, but I fell into a rabbit hole and I just lost all my creativity. I still hope you like this :))

Requests are still open, Twilight Wolfpack only!

It took me all my mental strength to finally go out from the house, from my garden in particular and get some fresh air. Lately, all I have been doing is lying in our glasshouse and taking care of my flowers. I didn’t adapt that much to the new town, to the cold and rainy days, to the lack of sunshine and especially the lack of flowers. Green was the predominant colour, together with grey. Green was all I could see since we moved to Forks. And grey was all I could feel, no matter how hard I tried.

Leaving my beloved Alsace was harder than I thought, especially because of my powers. They grew there, they got stronger there, I could move mountains, trees, I could grow roses, lilies, tulips wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I could make strawberries and cherries gems bloom in autumn If I wanted. While in Forks... it was like they just got weaker and I was getting weaker with them.

There was something in that town that just sucked the life out of me, I couldn't feel any connection with the grass, the trees, with the animals and no one could figure out why.

I was used to attracting animals, playing with them, to cuddle them in those endless French summers. There was this innate curiosity in them for me, because of my powers. Controlling the element of earth meant not only being able to let nature grow around me or on me – uncountable were the times I let flowers grow in my hair - but it also came with the ability to be connected to animals, understand them even without speaking the same language. I was used to birds flying to me and sit on my fingers or shoulders just with a tiny whistle or ladybugs quickly crawling on my bare feet.

In Forks I could whistle as much as I wanted, no one ever came. I could stay sit on the grass and no flower could grow.

“This forest considers you a treat, ma chérie. You’re a stranger here, a frightful one I would say. The trees and the animals do not know your powers, it is something never seen here.” My father used to say the first days but the more those days passed the more concerned he became. To not talk about my mother, she was almost hysterical and when she saw me dressed up to go somewhere different from the usual glasshouse, she almost cried.

“Isn’t it a little too much, Maman?” I asked furrowing my brows and questioning if mental sanity was still present in our house.

“You have not gone out since we moved, mon chou” – she started while I rolled my eyes.

“And I haven’t seen you wearing something different from sweatpants and t-shirts for 2 months. I’m just happy to see you in one of your colourful dresses”. She said, gifting me with one of her sweetest smiles.

My mother was the epithet of sweetness and kindness and it was from her that I inherited my powers. On my 16th birthday they flowed from her to me and, if I’ll have a daughter, one day it will happen to us too. My powers will be hers and she will pass to her daughter, and her daughter to her daughter and so on. All the women in our bloodline will always carry the Nature genes (another of my father’s names, who was really into X-Men).

“Anyway, I’m going exploring. Don’t wait for me. If we are lucky enough, I’ll find out why my powers do not work here”, I said while grabbing my pink purse and opening the front door.

“Don’t let the trees catch you, chérie”, my father said smirking. I was waiting for the day in which he’ll finally stop saying such horrible dad jokes. Especially the inside jokes only we could understand.

It was raining outside, like every day in that town, but bringing an umbrella with me was out of discussion. I have never felt so distant from Mother Nature since we moved here, so a little bit of rain pouring down on my bare skin would have been a blessing in disguise. The best sensation in the world: being outside while it was raining, especially during the summer. The only problem was that it was autumn in Forks, and I could have easily caught a cold… still I didn’t mind at all.

----

Hours? Months? Years? I don’t even remember how much time I spent that day in the forest strolling around without really thinking where I was going. At some point, while it was still raining, I also took off my shoes and started walking on the muddy and cold soil with bare feet – which may sound disgusting, but once you try how good it feels to just walk without shoes and feeling every inch of the forest under your feet, you’ll never stop doing it.

As I imagined, no traces of animals or plants moving or whatsoever. There was a strange and ominous silence throughout the forest. No birds were chirping, no snakes slithering, no deer jumping around.

When I got out of the house, I was full of hope, I truly believed that all that negative energy was all in my head, that I could fix whatever was happening at that time. But the more I walked the more I started losing that hope. I couldn’t feel anything.

Arrived at a river, I decided to sit down for a moment. The rain stopped a few moments back. I sat on the riverbank and let my feet fell into the cold – freezing – water as I wasn’t enough wet from head to toe. I sat there, sighing and biting my bottom lips in frustration. Why? Why my powers didn’t work? Was it my fault? Of course it was, it’s never Mother Nature’s fault, it’s always mine. Whatever I was, a collateral effect, a special genes carrier or simply a freak, that forest knew.

Another louder sigh came out of my mouth, almost in a desperate attempt to not start crying. I laid down, on the pebbles surrounding the riverbank and what my eyes saw at that moment freaked me out in ways I could have never imagined.

Two dark brown eyes were looking at me, were curiously observing me from the treeline and they did not belong to another human being. I froze in that position, lying on the pebbles with my nose up in the air and my eyes locked into his.

Only years later I understood what was happening at that moment, only after a couple of months later I found out who was hiding in the treeline, to whom those eyes belonged.

At that moment, though, my brain just shut down and there was nothing I could think of. I was scared but at the same time excited. After two months I finally felt something, and even if it were not positive emotions at least they were some kind of emotions.

I slowly got up on my feet, trying to be as subtle as possible so to not instigate the wolf t – or horse, better – to attack me. Our eyes were still onto each other's, my gaze never leaving his and there was something in him that tangled me.

The rain started pouring down again the moment I decided to take a step forward towards him. At the same moment, he seemed to be scared of me and took a step back, his head tilted to one side, his eyes digging into mine trying to figure everything out.

There was some sort of connection happening between me and that wolf, which fur reminded me of the colour of the sand, or more precisely of the colour of the light in the late afternoon in Alsace. And I would have never imagined what that moment meant for my future, not really far as I imagined it was.

We stayed like that, frozen in time and space, under the rain, looking at each other until we realized, or at least he realized – I would have realized a lot later, I had all the hints in front of my eyes and still didn’t have a clue. No words were spoken, not a single one, the only sounds were the thunders and the rain falling from the sky, and our heartbeats – his way faster than mine.

----

“Still daydreaming, darling?” His sweet voice wakes me up and I shake my head smiling when he puts his warm hand on my shoulder. I don’t think I will ever get used to his warmth, every time he touches me I sweetly shiver.

“Mh… yes”. I whisper, more to myself than to him, absolutely sure that he can still hear me clearly.

He hugs me from behind, trying to find the exact spot I’m still looking at outside our window.

“What is it? A deer? Again?” he whispers to my ear, leaving soft kisses on the side of my neck.

I intertwine his fingers with mine and tilt the head a little, so he has more space to kiss me.

“No, no deer at all, baby”, I reply, closing my eyes and enjoying the overwhelming sensation his kisses and hugs were making me feel. He holds me closer and I can’t help to smile more, thinking about everything that happened since the moment we met.

“It’s raining, exactly like that day”. I turn my head to look at him, at those same eyes that turned me upside down on that pouring day years ago.

Those same eyes that haunted me in my sleep until I found out to whom they belonged: to a sweet, gentle man, with arms and legs covered in tattoos, with hairs longer than mine who I fell in love with instantly and married one night on a beach without telling anyone else. A wonderful man I'm lucky enough to call my husband, the love of my life.

[neoculturetravesty]

We met in online class - Part 4

Image taken from here. Originally had this image in mind but Tumblr won’t let me upload it. 

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 4.3k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | You are on Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part

A/N: Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!

It’s funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. You don’t realize you have a new favorite word till someone points out you’ve been using it so much. You don’t realize you’re addicted to caffeine till you get headaches from withdrawals. You don’t realize you can’t live without dessert till the sugar crash hits. And in the same way, Renjun didn’t realize he had gotten used to your company till he’s waiting outside your lecture hall with an almost expectant inclination to see you. 

A lot of it had to do with who you were as a person. You had pretty much infiltrated Renjun’s life, even though he still kept you at an arm’s distance. One day, he had walked into the library and found you with Jaemin, while the two of you had your heads together over a laptop and a huge gift basket in the making on the table. Jaemin wasn’t the kind of person who invited a lot of new people into his life; so he must have really trusted you because it wasn’t the last time Renjun saw the two of you together. 

But worse than Jaemin was Donghyuck. Renjun was pretty sure that since you’d asked him out, you had probably hung out more with Donghyuck than with him. Almost as if seeing Renjun was just an excuse for you to hang out with him, as you had often joked. It was as if the two of you were kindred spirits, long lost best friends who had finally found one another. Donghyuck would invite you everywhere, get up to no good with you in tow; and before Renjun knew it, the two of you were even planning parties together. Neither Donghyuck nor you needed Renjun as an excuse to hang out with one another anymore, and it amused him. A part of him wondered if Donghyuck was playing along to help his bigger cause. But his friend always looked so genuinely happy around you that any ulterior motive he might have seemed to have been forgotten. 

“Why can’t the sun always be like this?” you said as you laid on the grass using your backpack as a pillow. Your hand was reaching out over your face, your fingers wiggling as you played with shadows.

While you soaked in the sun, Renjun chose to sit under the shade of a tree, sketching away in his book, completing his assignment before his next class.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it as much if it were always like this.” Renjun replies, not looking away from his work. He much preferred paint over charcoal, but he had to admit that the scratching sounds it made against the grains of paper--coupled with the chirping of birds and gentle ruffling of leaves around him--was really relaxing. As was your company.

“Hmm. But it’s still nice to see it without fine dust couture. I like seeing it fully in the nude.” you say, a soft, funny smile on your face while your eyelashes cast shadows on your cheeks.

“Pervert.” Renjun accuses, smiling as he drew. It just makes you laugh and lay sideways to face him. You prop up your head on your hand.

“I’m the sun, Huang Renjun. Now draw me like one of your French girls.” you say in a comical voice and Renjun actually laughs without reservation. 

“Do you have any more classes?” he asks, fixing his black and gold rimmed glasses over his nose.

“Nope. I’m done for the day. Yeri’s supposed to pick me up, so I’m just waiting for her call.” you say, rolling onto your back once more, resuming your dance with the shadows.

Renjun hums a reply as he sketches, but really, he’s thinking that he hadn’t formally met Yeri. At least not yet. He had just had two very awkward run-ins with her the couple of times he had been to your apartment. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been to your place since that last time. And you had never been to his place at all. 

It wasn’t on accident, though. All of it had been by Renjun’s really convoluted design. He had met a few of your friends on campus in the passing, sure. But you were more a part of his life that he was yours. That is exactly what Renjun had planned. Lately, however, that plan seemed to be fading away into the ether. Slowly but surely dispersing from memory till it was more or less abandoned. 

Because Renjun did not realize that he had adopted you like a habit. Any time he saw a witty meme, he had to send it your way because you would text back with an equally witty reply that scratched Renjun’s intellectual itch. Any time Jisung would bring home a baguette, he would take a picture for you with a caption like ‘Francophile life going strong’. The two of you had even developed a silly game where you would look at different marketing taglines and wonder if it would still work to sell condoms. 

‘Nike. Just do it.’ Renjun had once texted.

‘That is a low hanging fruit, Huang Renjun.’ you had replied.

‘Okay, true. But how about Imax: Thing big.’ he had texted back.

‘Hmm, almost but not quite. I need something stronger.’

‘BMW: Designed for driving pleasure.’ he had actually found himself scrolling through a long list of taglines while his assignment laid forgotten.

‘Oof. Now you’ve found the sweet spot. Keep going.’ Renjun had smiled at your reply and had found himself hurriedly looking for something better.

‘Geico: So easy, a caveman could do it.’ 

‘Mmm, didn’t think you were a kinky boy, Huang Renjun. Go on…”

Renjun had actually laughed out loud, making Jisung look up at him quizzically and replied ‘1010 Wins: you give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.’

‘Yessss! Right there, right there!’

Renjun hadn’t even realized he was grinning wide and standing up from his desk, a list of taglines open both on his laptop and his phone while he scrolled to find the perfect response that would make you happy. ‘Rice Krispies: Snap! Crackle! Pop!’

‘So close, so close, I am almost there!’

‘Washington Post: Democracy dies in darkness.’

‘THAT’S IT, THAT DID IT, THAT HIT THE SPOT!’

Renjun had actually belly laughed at the entire conversation. He didn’t remember the last time he had laughed this way because even Jisung was looking at him with an amused smile, asking “What’s so funny?”

So yes, Renjun had adopted you like a habit. But it wasn’t just through text. When you weren’t the one waiting for him on campus with a couple of cups of coffee in hand, he found he would go looking for you. You would spend all your free time together, just like this. He would find himself missing you on days he didn’t get to see you. He found himself disappointed when you didn’t have time for him because you and Donghyuck were on a very important mission or you had to meet your friends or you had extra work that was demanding your attention. You had just inserted yourself in his life in such a manner that Renjun didn’t even notice.

Perhaps you had nothing to do with it, but Renjun’s life had been treating him pretty well, too. Maybe he was more inspired these days, because his work was getting better and his professors were noticing. His painting instructor had held him back after class one day and offered him an internship at his studio. While it wasn’t huge, it was enough that Renjun had thrown his fist in the air in celebration as soon as he had left class. And you were the first person he texted and he was glad he did because you had texted back a freakout that made him grin like an idiot. You had come to see him as soon as your own class had ended and you had flung yourself in his arms and had jumped around excitedly before dragging him along so you could buy him an artist’s apron as a present. 

“Do you have any more classes?” you ask him as you stare at the evening sun through your fingers.

Renjun’s about to reply when he is interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing in your pocket. You fish it out and sit up, telling Renjun “Hold on…” before answering it. “Are you here, Yeri?” 

Renjun goes back to scratching away in his pad, thinking. Maybe he should introduce himself now when Yeri comes to pick you. But what would he say? ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s friend?’ Everyone on campus knew that the two of you weren’t exactly just friends. It was thanks to your stunt during that one online class, where he’d met you. ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend?’ But he wasn’t that, either. While the two of you had become pretty comfortable in each other’s company, you hadn’t really done anything, or had any serious talk about what you were. You two always found yourself tiptoeing “the line”. Actually, no. It was Renjun that tiptoed that line. After his two failed attempts to kiss you, the conversation had just not taken that turn ever again. You two hadn’t leveled up on the PDA front, either. Sure, you had cuddled into him in the back of the cab that one night, and he had half-carried you to your apartment till Yeri took you from the doorstep. But you didn’t seem to remember any of it, so it was basically back to square one. Sure, you had hugged him in joy when he had gotten the internship, but did it really count when the two of you hadn’t even held hands yet? Aside from the innuendo-filled condom tagline talk, the two of you hadn’t really done anything that would constitute as… something a couple might do.

“Okay, but how long would it take?” you’re saying into the phone, a gentle crease growing between your eyebrows. Whatever you heard back must have been distasteful because you grimace. “Okayyyy, Yeri, I’m hanging up now!” you say pointedly and groan, laying back into the grass.

Renjun chuckles “All good?”

“Yeri has brought home a ‘distraction’.” you say, making air quotes, and a face like you’ve tasted something sour. “I’m banished from my own home for the evening.”

Renjun looks up. 

He thinks about his next words carefully. “Um… what are you gonna do?”

You groan once more and say “I’m probably going to crash at Lia’s till my exile is over. So inconvenient!”

“You could come over to mine.”

Renjun didn’t know how it happened, how he found the courage to think it and then actually say it out loud, but now there’s no going back because the two of you are walking down the hallway to his place. He doesn’t know why, but his throat is a little dry and he peeks over his shoulder to see that you seem a bit nervous as well. He takes a deep breath and decides to break the tension.

“Here we are.” He says as he punches in the code. He holds the door open “Hello, MTV. Welcome to my crib.”

It works because it makes you smile. “So, this is where the magic happens.”

“Mhmm, but I hope to God my roommates have at least attempted to clean it up some, because I did text them a head’s up.”

“Lead the way, Huang Renjun.” you say and he does. He walks you into his living room where Jisung is currently sitting, playing video games. The smell of something delicious makes his head turn towards the kitchen where he finds Jaemin.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls out then wipes his hands on a towel before coming in to give you a hug. 

“Hi, Y/N!” Jisung says without looking up.

Renjun is amused and a little confused. Perhaps you and Jaemin got even closer while he wasn’t noticing, but Jisung? When had the two of you met? By the looks of it, Jisung was comfortable enough with you that he wasn’t even minding his manners and greeting you properly. Probably because he was too busy dwindling his thumbs on his controller furiously. 

“Damn, Jisung, you’re really going at it, huh?” you say to him easily.

“Mhmm. I would’ve been doing even better if Jaemin hadn’t interrupted and kicked me out of my own room because you were coming over.”

There is a two second silence before Jisung’s audience of three begins talking at the same time.

“Jisung!” Renjun yelps, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, no, we aren’t going to like… do anything--” you find yourself explaining at the same time, face heating up.

“Jisungieeee!” Jaemin also sings out to scold, yet he grins as he mock-chokes the boy.

“You are so dead.” Renjun gives the back of Jisung’s head a death stare.

“Nooo, our Jisungie means well, don’t you, Jisungie?” Jaemin coos while Jisung dodges his kisses.

Renjun shakes his head and places a hand to your arm to guide you along. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve made food if you crazy kids get hungry!” Jaemin calls after you and it’s the most animated he’s been in a while.

His friends being, well, his friends was probably worth it because Renjun is feeling a lot better as he brings you into his room. It had been a while since he had brought a girl over and looking about, he can tell that his mates did a good job at hastily cleaning it. 

“Damn, Huang Renjun. You’re a clean boy.” you’re saying as you look about. “I thought you’d be the artfully messy type.”

Renjun grins as he runs his fingers through his hair. “We can mess it up together if you’d like.” But Renjun mentally smacks himself in the head as soon as the words leave his mouth because you’ve looked up at him and quickly looked away, muttering something awkwardly.

“I… I didn’t mean that. I just meant with like, paint and, like…” Renjun blows air out of his mouth and then your eyes meet. Before you know it, you both are giggling at each other because the awkwardness is probably making you a bit delirious. 

Renjun watches as you take a deep breath to stop the giggles and turn to start looking around. “Oooh. Mr. Fancypants is a tea connoisseur.” you say as you run your hands over his teabag display box. 

Renjun chuckles “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Sure. Let’s have tea, Mr. Fancypants.” you take a seat on his wheelie chair and your eyes go to the artist’s apron you had bought him that is currently hanging on an easel. You give it a fond smile.

“What flavor would you like?” Renjun asks as he puts the kettle on and sets up two mugs.

“Umm… I don’t know tea. I’m a coffee drinker.” you reply, your fingers tracing over the pictures he had at his desk.

“I’ll make you a simple chamomile, then. I’ve seen you and Jaemin enabling each other’s coffee habits and I don’t approve.” he knots his eyebrows.

“Oh no, no, no. Jaemin is on a different level. I took a sip of his coffee by mistake once and my entire life flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if that boy drinks coffee or straight up cocaine.”

Renjun bites his smile because he’s still holding onto the look of disapproval. “That would explain the random spikes and falls in his energy.” he says as he pours out the water in the mugs and seeps the teabags. “Here you go.” he sets your mug on the desk and takes a seat on his bed.

You take a sip “So, which one is your bunk?”

“Top.” Renjun also wants to make an innuendo but he stops himself because the awkwardness surrounding the fact that you and him are alone in his room has only just subsided with the tea.

“Isn’t the bottom bunk more comfortable?” you muse as you drink. You seem to be enjoying your tea because you haven’t set it aside yet.

“Of course it is. It’s why Jisung has it.” he comments, cocking his eyebrow. “And I sleep here on this bed.” He pats where he’s sat.

You grin as you sip then quickly wipe your chin as some tea spills through your smile. “Where do you keep all your paintings?”

“In the studio. On that top bunk. Behind that door. At my grandma’s house.” he lists off on his fingers.

“Why behind the door? If I had your talent, I’d basically cover every bit of my wall in my art. Like the most egomaniacal artist in the world.” you fantasize, looking up at the ceiling.

Renjun chuckles. “I kinda like my space to be a bit cleaner, you know? Because I’m always around art. It kinda helps with my imagination, having a clean environment. It’s almost like a clean canvas.”

“Interesting.” you’ve said and it sounds like you genuinely mean it. “It’s still a bit sad. All the work you’ve created should have a home. It shouldn't be hidden away behind doors or on top bunks.”

“You can give some of them a home if you’d like. If you have space, I mean.” Renjun gives you a fond look. You haven’t replied but you’ve set your mug down and looked at him with a very tender look in your eyes. You stand up.

“I wanna see your bed.”

Renjun grins. “Be my guest.”

“Ooooh.” you make an excited squeal, almost like you're about to enter Dexter’s Laboratory. You plop yourself on it and bounce up and down, almost as if to check the pliability of it.

“So this is where the magic happens.” you giggle and then Renjun finds your gaze moving to a picture frame on his headboard. “Is that your grandma?”

“It is.” Renjun smiles as he watches you pick your feet up and make yourself comfortable.

“She looks exactly like you.” you say, looking back at him with an affectionate look.

“A lot of people say that. People in school used to think I’m adopted because I looked nothing like my parents.” Renjun scoots back to sit next to you.

“Are you close to your parents?” you ask gently, looking at him.

Renjun looks away. 

The two of you hadn’t had that many deep conversations. And anytime you did, he had found a way around it so that nothing was shared, nothing was learnt. 

But no one had ever asked him that… not in so many words. He finds himself shrugging and responding before he can stop himself. “Nah. They don’t even talk to me. They’ve never really cared.”

“How do you know that, Renjun?” you’re asking him in a very soft voice. The kind of voice that has Renjun sharing more than he wants.

“They pretty much abandoned me very young,” Renjun laughs ironically. “They would fight all the time, you know? Like, they really would go at each other one moment then make up the next moment. They kind of forgot they had a son.” Renjun finds himself saying while his eyes fixate on a loose thread on Jisung’s bedsheet. He realizes he’s warm and comfortable and that’s when he notices that you’ve put an arm around him.

“That must have been so hard, to go through that.” you’re speaking to him so softly and your head and your body is angled towards him, giving him all your attention while Renjun talks into the abyss. 

“They were just like… kinda dysfunctional, you know? They fought like crazy and I had to hide away so I wouldn’t hear them. And then the next day, they’d be in each other’s arms like nothing happened. They would pretend like everything was all right. Like the trauma they gave me meant nothing.”

You’re not speaking anymore, only listening. Your hand around him has started to gently stroke his arm. Your other hand softly combs through his hair.

“It was such a vicious cycle and they wouldn’t stop. I think they were kinda addicted to it. They would’ve been happy living like that with each other if it weren’t for me.” He had never shared so much with anyone. But now that he had started, it was difficult to stop.

“Renjun…” you say empathetically and pull him into you. Renjun pauses for a moment, but decides to give in. What did it matter, anyway? He rests his head on your shoulder.

“If it weren’t for my grandma, I wouldn’t even be alive, you know? She saved me from all of that and took me in. She raised me. It wasn’t even her responsibility, but she raised me.”

You are holding him to you and soothingly stroking his hair when you say “Then I think your grandma is the luckiest person in this world. Because she got to see you grow up to be such a good man.”

Renjun feels a lump in his throat grow and before he knows it, there are tears stinging in his eyes. You turn your head and press a kiss into his temple and slowly rock him. It was odd, being here like this, because Renjun realizes that this was the first time you had kissed him. But more than anything else, it was the first time someone had held him like this. 

The last time he remembered being held was probably when he was a child, and it had been his grandma. No one since had held him in their arms to listen to him, to comfort him, to love him without any conditions. No one had tried to take his pain away without wanting something in return. The thought puts more tears in his eyes and he finds himself leaning his weight into you. 

He allows you to hold him and comfort him and coo at him. You’re speaking to him gently but Renjun isn’t hearing your words. He’s only concentrating on the soothing sound of your voice and how melodic it is. He liked hearing you talk. He’s concentrating on how you’re rocking him, and how the movement is slowly lulling him. He liked how warm and soft you were and how protective your arms were. He liked the smell of chamomile on your breath. Had you enjoyed chamomile? He thought you had. Maybe you would’ve enjoyed a different flavor more. Renjun decides he should make you an Earl Grey next time; it would probably be better suited to your caffeine tastes. Maybe you wouldn’t like Earl Grey as much either, but it would be nice to discover that bit about you. He’d make you try all the flavors till he learnt which one your favorite was. 

“How come I never saw your cat?” He asks sleepily after you’ve been quiet for a while.

“Hmm?” you ask, confused.

“Your cat. Galbi. How come I didn’t see him when I came over?” Renjun can feel your smile against his temple.

“Oh. Yeri had dropped him over at the vet’s that day. Do you want to meet him?” you ask him.

“Yeah, it would be nice to meet him.” Renjun says and brings an arm up to cuddle closer into you.

“Okay. Next time you come over, you can meet him… shoulder gangster Renjun.” you’re only whispering at him now as you tease him.

“Mmm.” is the only reply Renjun can manage as he chuckles lazily. He didn’t even feel like killing Donghyuck for telling you about that because he feels so good like this, in your arms. Renjun hasn’t even noticed that you’ve laid him down till he realizes how horizontal he is.

It felt nice. Being held by someone, being protected by someone, being comforted by someone. Your hands haven’t stopped soothing him for a single moment ever since they started. Renjun hadn’t even noticed that you’d put the covers on him. Or that you were kissing the top of his head till he feels the warmth. It all felt so nice. He barely registers that your shirt is wet from his tears. All he feels are the relaxing patterns you’re drawing onto his skin. It’s the last thing he feels as he drifts off. And though you're gone in the morning, Renjun can swear this is the most sound sleep he's slept in many nights. He feels a thousand times lighter, like someone had lifted a heavy weight off of his chest and he was finally breathing fully. 

He smiles as he grabs his phone and sees your name right on the top of his notification list. He reads your message:

‘Hey, shoulder gangster. Sorry I left without telling you but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I wanted to ask you something AND YOU CAN TOTALLY SAY NO. But my brother’s hosting a spring art festival of some sort at my parent’s house this weekend. A lot of his artist friends from his company will be there. Do you maybe wanna come with me?’

And there it was. 

Yes, it was funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. And in his new habit, Renjun had forgotten the real reason he was with you in the first place. 

Eyes on the fucking prize, Renjun thinks as his reality comes crashing back on him.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[livethinking]

«Poetry is not a luxury»: Maya Angelou, Gwendolyn Brooks, Margaret Walker and poetry as resistance

«Poetry is not a luxury»[1], Audre Lorde said. Poetry is not a game, another amusement to dampen the boredom of a humdrum life but it’s a need, a necessity as instrument to the battle against oppression, to self-determination and to identitary resistance because «poetry is power»[2]. And this is as much true and confirmed when poetry becomes activism, when lyricism expresses, and thus bears witness, a discomfort and makes it universal, fathomable through the poetic language; when writing in verse is the only way to express ideas and makes sure they’re recognised in their own dignity, thus it’s necessary in order to save and let respected the existence of that human being who has thought it, in order to this existence can be recognised as such, can arise from oppression and systematic hate, can give voices to those whose lips were ripped off, such as women, for whom «[…] poetry […] is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we [women] predicate our hopes and dreams towards survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action. Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought»[3], so, poetry’s place where they can expresses opinions, needs, dreams, hope, in other words themselves, where the cultural system gives preference to other voices, wherein censorship is not official, i.e. perpetrated by an organisation or a law, but it’s cultural because it’s the culture that systematically chooses (a given social class) what creative expressions are more or less are in line with its own values or strengthen them. That’s why for centuries poetry (but also the whole literature) has been place wherein affirm ourselves and the individuality of our own identity, or express pride for a communitarian identity; as it was for women, who found in poetry an instruments they can express their real self through, getting out of the patriarchal control and out of the role they were bonded to by society and came less to the expectations of this one. In this way, women could so analyse her being woman, dreaming to choose who are and what to do, self-determinising and exploring their femininity beyond believes given by a certain historical moment; as it was for black community, wherein black poets could express the a beauty, the varieties, the complexity of their subculture, their traditions, history and so express the pride of being part of this ethnicity, fighting against racism and networking against the oppression perpetrated by a system that privileges white citizens (and more often men). These two concepts converge into the poetic experience of black women poets, for whom poetry became a place wherein speaking of their experience as women and black citizens, wherein they can exist and affirm their existence, «The white father told us: I think, therefore I am. The Black mother within each of us – the poet – whispers in our dreams: I feel, therefore I can be free. Poetry coins the language to express and charter this revolutionary demand, the implementation of that freedom»[4]. Let think of great poets like Maya Angelou, whose poems «often respond to matters like race and sex on a larger social and psychological scale»[5], or like Gwendolyn Brooks, whose poetry, especially the latest, is a political and civil poetry, taking as cultural reference heroes and subjects of the battle for liberation of black people (such as Winnie Mandela, wife to the anti-apartheid activist), but also like Margaret Walker who «through her work, she “[sang] a song for [her] people”, capturing their symbolic quest for liberation. When asked how she viewed her work, she responded, “The body of my work… springs from my interest in a historical point of view that is central to the development of black people as we approach the twenty first century”»[6].

1. Maya Angelou: I know why the caged bird sings

«The poignant beauty of Angelou’s writing enhances rather than masks the candid with which she addresses the racial crisis through which America was passing»[7]. That of Maya Angelou is a lively and melodic voice, her poems can talk even when there’s no human voice to give them sound, they have as mode,s the language of the intense, brave speeches of the great activist of the battle for black people’s rights like Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. Angelou was able to bring together all temporal planes in her writing: both in her poetry and autobiographies, she managed to give voice to the last, to make it a new present, part of the hic te nunc of the existence in action and not anymore as something disappeared with time, but as something that is still here partly, that is still a being. A past that is personal, her life, her youth, her terrible traumas, the beauty of growing before as a girl than as a woman; a pat that is of her community, the troubled story of afroamericana and who that the lyrical I becomes a We, the collectivity becomes a person. The personal experience is thus an exemplum for the common one and becomes even global. The present meets the past, that of when a given poems was born, that of readers, of the poet, it’s the daily battle which becomes memory, it’s the journey to the self-determination in a place where is hostility but also the future, it’s the caged bird that sings and whose song is heard by the free birds, the future is a song overcoming its own time: «The caged bird sings/with a fearful trill/of things unknown/but longed for still/and his tune is heard/on the distant hill/for the caged bird/sings of freedom»[8]. “The caged bird”, dr, Maya Angelou’s favourite metaphor, taken from Paul Laurence Dunbar, famous afroamerican author, is a symbol for the inner freedom that wins ones the oppression of the external, is an eternal song that’s heard until now and if it’s clearly listened, one can hear the thousand of voice from the past and here we can find the beauty in Maya Angelou’s writing: the ability to speak through not one but a thousand of voices, voices of both the present and the past, giving relevance to the last ones, and consequently she was able to tell the future, to be understood by who’ll be after her.

2. Gwendolyn Brooks: writing poetry that will be meaningful

The poetic voice of Gwendolyn Brooks, the first afroamerican woman to win the Pulitzer Prize, is raw, bitter when the language gets filled with political and cultural meaning, when brings a message without forgetting the sweetness, the beauty of a poised, refined style. Worked, studied poems, perfect verse and rhymes, but also intense, hard, which don’t take away to be tough, to tell the truth on oppression, pain, on the battle to re-humanise her own identity in a culture where it was deprived of its otherness, of being an Other Ego, an Other Truth. This happens especially with the her most famous poem collection, In The Mecca, a turning point for Brooks’s poetics. «I want to write poems that will be non compromising. I don’t want to stop a concern with words doing good jobs, which has always been a concern of mine, but I want to write poems that will be meaningful […]»[9] and this was so. Brooks managed to delineate a world, give multiple meanings to the words she used, to the poems, to speak with the voice of her great gallery of characters. In her poems, there’s her Lyric I, but also her characters. Such a polyphony that only few, even among novelists, can make it in such little verbal marks. «The words, lines, and arrangements have been worked and worked and worked again into poised exactness: the unexpected apt metaphor, the mock-colloquial asides amid jewelled phrases, the half-ironic repetition – she knows it all»[10]. A poetry that can speak to its people, community, that hopes, fights for a future where Gwendolyn Brooks «[…] envisioned “the profound and frequent shaking of hands, which in Africa in so important. The shaking of hands in warmth and strength and union”»[11].

3. Margaret Walker: poetry as hope, poetry for the people

Margaret Walker’s poetics is the voice of a whole people, is culture that becomes creative work of a lonely person for the universality and becomes bringer of values. It’s the song of a choir, a choir for the last, of the story of slavery, of that community that still fights for the right to exist; it’s a choir that still sings and never stops to sing the lines of this wonderful poet.

One of the most loved and praised poem of Margaret Walker is “For My People”, which contains all the characteristics that made unique Walker’s poetry and it’s an excursus through the past and more recent history of US Black community, from the tragedy of slavery, to civil battles still fought nowadays in the heart of the New World; «poems in which the body and spirit of a great group of people are revealed with vigour and undeviating integrity»[12]. She uses as reference cultural elements of her community, recalls heroes, events that form that culture as vast as unheard by those who spit poison to not lose the position of privilege, and if this culture isn’t heard, then Margaret Walker addresses also to the deaf. She speaks to them as well, making universal a history that’s particular. Walker speak to everyone through her rhymes, she speaks to the humanity; her poetry talks about tragedies but is full of hope because she knows there will be always someone who still listen, fight, defend, doesn’t forget, «[…] the power of resilience presented in the poem is a hope Walker holds out not only to black people, but to all people […] “After all, it is the business of all writes to write about the human condition, and all humanity must be involved in both the writing and in the reading”»[13]

Viviana Rizzo

References

[1] LORDE, A., “Poetry Is Not a Luxury”, in Audre Lorde, Sister outsider, Trumansburg N.Y., Crossing Press, 1984, p. 371

[2] TODOROV, L’arte nella tempesta. L’avventura di poeti, scrittori e pittori nella Rivoluzione Russa, trans. ita. by Emanuele Lana, Milano, Garzanti S.r.l., 2017, p. 120 (iBooks)

[3] LORDE, A., “Poetry Is Not a Luxury”, in Audre Lorde, Sister outsider, p. 372

[4] Ibidem

[5] EDITORS, “Maya Angelou”, in Poetry Foundation, web, 2021, (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/maya-angelou, retrieved on 24th February 2021)

[6] EDITORS, “Margaret Walker”, in Poetry Foundation, web, 2021 (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/margaret-walker, retrieved on 24th February 2020).

[7] HOLST, W.A., “Review of A song Flung up to Heaven”, in Christian Century (giugno 2002), pp. 35-36, cit. in EDITORS, “Maya Angelou” in Poetry Foundation

[8] ANGELOU, M., The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou, New Work, Random House Inc., 1994, p. 194

[9] EDI TORS, “Gwendolyn Brooks”, Poetry Foundation, web, 2021 (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/gwendolyn-brooks consultato il 24 febbraio 2021)

[10] LITTLEJOHN, D., Black on White: A Critical Survey of Writing by American Negroes, New York, Grossman, 1966, p. 91, cit. in EDITORS, “Gwendolyn Brooks”, in Poetry Foundation

[11] EDITORS, “Gwendolyn Brooks”, in Poetry Foundation

[12] UNTERMEYER, L. “New Books in Review” in Yake Review, vol. XXXII, n. 2 (inverno 1934), p.371, cit. in EDITORS, “Margaret Walker”, in Poetry Foundation

[13] EDITORS, “Margaret Walker”, in Poetry Foundation

[honestlyfrance]

It Rains Every April 10th

ship: sam/bucky

warning: grief, depression, mcd, hurt/comfort

summary:

"I love you, baby," Sam had spoken, three words so sweetly spoken, an angel could've said it, and Bucky wouldn't mind if that meant that he had crossed to the other side and reached heaven, because it was Sam Wilson.

Bucky had twirled Sam once, the two of them sharing a laugh before he pulled the man closer by the waist. "I love you too, honey," he replied, making sure to put in much eye contact, to let his own eyes send the message his heart failed to say.

OR

A sneak peek in the life of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson to know the real reason why they think April 10 was a bad date.

—■—■—

Depression hits like a wave on a cliffside — sometimes you see it coming, sometimes you didn’t see it, and sometimes you just let it happen. It sometimes gnaws at your skin, always there, but more of a ghostly hand hovering over you; there’s that presence but you think you don’t have enough proof to prove it existed. Times like these you try your best to move but you become unmotivated, absolutely immobile except for the moments your body decides to exhaust itself for unrelated things you shouldn’t be doing. It takes a toll on you you wouldn’t even realize, and even then, who else realized it? You’re just tired. You don’t cry. You’re just tired. 

It’s moments before dawn that the rain began to pick up, basking the entire scenery in a state of loneliness and tranquility, and it made everything more silent than before. Birds weren’t chirping, and all anyone could hear was the deafening downpour outside their windows. The bedroom is blanketed in blue lighting from the grey clouds outside, and the rain slips down the French windows and the slanting skylight. Bucky Barnes laid in bed, staring solemnly towards his windows with disdain, buried under his duvets. There are bags under his eyes, but they’re almost faint, and there’s a red tinge to his eyes, but he doesn’t feel discomfort from it; he felt as if whole, if anything. He’s just tired.

Bucky lets his eyes flutter shut, grunting as he buried himself deeper into the sheets, pulling his pillows to envelop every side of his body: his back, his chest, his head, his feet. He wanted warmth. It was too early to wake up.  The faint smell of something icky wafted through the cold air and suddenly, all Bucky could think of was how slow time had passed by — he woke up before two in the morning, but his body felt as if it was midnight. It was dawn now, and he still hasn’t sat up. He rose and went, his consciousness blanking ever so often, and all he could think of was how numbed he was to the point that he couldn’t remember how many times he slept and woke up.

Bucky sat down in his tub, the cool but refreshing water pouring from the faucet. The bathroom was dim-lit and the orange lights bounced off of every reflective surface in the room. Here he sighed, watching the excess water go into the side drain, setting his head on the side of the tub. All he could ever hear was the sound of gushing water and the ache of his own heart, and there's that dread of going downstairs and actually living.

His dog suddenly pitter-pattered through the open door, suddenly sitting by the side of the tub. Bucky lazily looked back at the golden retriever. His eyes were barely opened as he spoke, “Roger, go back outside…” His voice was gruff and worn down, like a path down memory lane; so distant and faded that even the memory couldn’t recognize itself.

Bucky turned his head back towards the ceiling, and with a heavy sigh, he grabbed the tub by the side with his one hand and slid himself with a strong push, he lowered himself under the water, and there he felt free. There was nothing waiting for him down there and there was nothing worried for him down there. All he had in that tub was himself and his thoughts, and all his thoughts said to him was, “It’s April 10. You need to wake up.”

He needed to wake up. 

Breakfast was quiet, and with every long drawn-out bite of his cereal was a much longer painful dread in Bucky’s chest, one that swallowed in itself for centuries before and centuries more. It’s a sickening twist to the plot and there’s nothing more emptying than feeling drowsy from one’s own solemn adventure. The outdoor lights filtered through the drawn open blinds and there they go, dancing on tabletops and the clean dishes left on the open sink like ballerinas, and there’s a piece of accompanying music that was dulled to a filtered flute of wind by the rain; water dripped against the windows and made the room look bluer than before, and the white walls seem to close in on Bucky, but he just kept on eating in his bathrobe, his one leg propped up on another chair as Roger sat on his hind legs beside him.

Bucky sighed with his mouth full as he waved his dog off. Roger goes dashing through the open doorway and into the other which led to the expansive library. Bucky didn’t want to look out into the window and see how beautiful the morning was, now that there was something so elegant to see when the whole world just drained itself out of color, and it all seemed unfair — a misuse of justice. Roger brought in a book, and Bucky couldn’t even look at the cover. The Masque Of The Red Death. His hands gripped the pocketbook, his mind fuming and his lips searing at the seams; he fumbled with the book and his muffled sobs, and he suddenly thrashed — he threw the book across the room, successfully breaking another picture frame that was hung on the opposite wall. Roger whimpered and set his head on Bucky's stomach, pawing at his hands until all Bucky gripped was the dog’s coat, gently and softly, feeling his heart squeezed out of life but he’s lightheaded. He’s not better now, but he feels like he could be. 

Bucky whispered something to Roger's ear and he pets him, even gave him an extra treat. 

It’s an unmistakable kind of brokenness that is almost like a “tell,” you know something is wrong, but they don’t fess up to it. Ending up with a game of cat and mouse, and both of you are chasing each other's tail, not knowing who is the culprit and the victim; both of you victimized yourselves because it was the only solution left. You weep at the mess you’ve made and that’s all that you can do. It’s all anyone’s ever done these days, and you shouldn’t apologize for it.

People should start screaming from the top of their rooftops and get that anger out of them, find a victim to mesmerize, and leave them for dead or nothing. Bucky wanted to drive off to the nearest cliff and scream his guts out, vomit his spine out, and just gouge his eyes out, because in a world where the skies seem bleaker — it wasn’t a world. It sounded like a page ripped off of the book of legends, burnt to a crisp, never to be seen again, and Bucky had hoped he would never see it, but then again, here he lies, almost dead and unhinged, mesmerized by the beauty of death to the point that he’d let her sleep in his room for the night.

Bucky would let death spend the night and pick at his skin, peeling it off of him like some sadist, wear his skin, even — let him have a bit of life, even if he was a puppet. There’s nothing more shameful than thinking of such atrocities, yet what other choice does he have? He couldn’t handle it anymore. He was pained, mourning, and helpless. If an angel went down from the skies and told him to jump off a cliff, Bucky would jump off a bridge; if a second angel came down and told him to get lost at sea, Bucky would get lost in a swamp; if a third angel came down for him and told him to suck a dick, Bucky would suck a shoe. Bucky thought he didn’t deserve the gentleness of suffering, so he let himself hurt worse than what was anticipated. So, he lost his leg, had another prosthetic, then he’d lost his sanity. 

Out on the couch at the back porch that overlooked the vast fields of his property, he could feel the tiniest of pinpricks of rain whipping him in his face if it was not for the wall of crawling vines dangling from his rooftop. He set his foot on the coffee table, and right beside him was Roger, resting his head on Bucky’s lap. Bucky’s hand ran through his dog’s fur as he read another random chapter of Pride and Prejudice. He couldn’t say. He didn’t even notice. He’s been so out of it, he wouldn’t even realize the title of the book until he’d put it back into the bookshelf. Bucky’s mind had been empty except for anxious thoughts that he had become numb with the idea of surprises. He left his phone buried in the backyard because he didn’t want any unexpected calls. 

His hands were calloused over the years of stressful work, eventually leaving him with thin and rugged fingers that feel pinpricks almost every second. His hands were once a thing of beauty, and ever since the accident, he couldn’t think much of it. All Bucky now wanted was to decay faster, to lie down on the grass, and feel moss crawl on his skin and declare himself one with the earth. Now that would be a thing of beauty. 

His breath was slow and steady, turning into nothingness a few seconds here and then. Holding onto his breath was the only thing he knew he could hold onto and never let go of. It was the only thing he remembered to be tangible. It didn't use to be like this. Then again, April 10 didn't exist back then.

Sam Wilson would walk into the back porch right now, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, because he adored the rain with his whole heart, and as much he loved nature, that's how much he loved Bucky Barnes. Sam would now then sit right beside his husband and they'll stay snuggled together, bare legs intertwined together, and they'd be giggling like children at the warmth in their chests.

"Look, baby," Sam had said, pecking a quick kiss on Bucky's lips. Bucky's eyes would be overcome with stars that he'd become dizzy at the sensation, "Rain. Do you think it'll rain all day? The weatherman said only a 30% chance,"

Bucky had hummed into Sam's cheek, feeling the way Sam's skin tasted right on his lips. Bucky's mouth would trace the edges of Sam's jaw and the man would let him do more. "Maybe. Perhaps," he had breathed out, "Do you want to stay like this forever?"

Sam had laughed into Bucky's mouth, leaving another kiss that lasted a second longer now. It was sweet, and there were stars dispersing in their hearts. "What else am I going to do all day?"

They had spent the whole day like this: sneaking kisses like teenagers and sipping on hot chocolate like children. Their hearts grew as the rain poured stronger. The pitter-patter of downpour had drummed against their roof like bullets and all they could feel is how safe they were in the war with each other's arms wrapped around each other. It was their own kind of shield, and it was perfect .

That kind of day was now replaced with Bucky and Roger. Bucky would read a random book as Roger would look out into the backyard, longing to run around the rain, but Bucky needed Roger right beside him, and that's what the dog shall do.

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[asterroidd]

the double life of a feline

↬ Modern AU

↬ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

↬ Word Count: 1.4k

↬ Warning/s: Swearing, horrible pun

↬ Synopsis: Little did you know that your cat has an ongoing affair behind your back.

    In recent weeks, you have noticed that your tuxedo cat had become chubbier, which made you skeptical. You were a hundred percent sure that you have been feeding it the appropriate amount of cat food. Nothing more, nothing less. Suppose he had been hunting wild birds, which could explain the decline in population of local birds in your neighborhood. It might be, since your cat was once a stray, and even domestic cats nowadays are known to occasionally hunt in the night. They are natural-born hunters after all.

     But it doesn’t erase the fact that your cat’s fur would sometimes smell like black tea. Which was odd since you don’t drink the mentioned beverage. You prefer coffee since it provides your daily need of caffeine. There were also instances where his fur is properly groomed, no knots to be found, and his nails are perfectly trimmed. Could it be that your cat has been living a double life?

     Currently, your furry friend is beside you, with its back against the soft coverings of your couch. It was clear that he is having the best time in his world. With its day consisting of sleeping, eating, grooming, and sleeping once again. You could hear its faint purring, a sign that he is content and comfortable in your presence.

     “Sir Meowsalaut. . .” you trailed off, gazing at your cat. “Have you been cheating on me?”

     The cat opened its eyes lazily, briefly gazing at you before yawing and stretching its paws. It gave you a soft ‘meow’ before dozing back to sleep. You pouted, you expected better things from him. Sir Meowsalaut was a former stray cat, one that you adopted when you found him lying on the street heavily injured after being in a fight with some other cats in the area. He was bone-thin and covered with fleas, but still have fire inside him. You did not think twice in bringing him to the nearest veterinary clinic, fully dedicating yourself to this one feline. You could not just ignore him and watch the cat die, alone and cold.

     “I work my ass off for you, the least you could do is stay loyal,” you murmured, in which your words fell on deaf ears. As much as you wanted to scold the lazy feline for its suspected infidelity, your work shift is nearing. Sighing, you pushed yourself off the couch to prepare. You dreaded your part time job as a waitress in a nearby coffee shop. Life as a college student is hard, especially if one is drowned in endless amount of debt and student loans. Nonetheless, you forced yourself to wear the uniform—a simple cream-colored buttoned-up blouse paired with brown knee-length skirt and red scarf to be tied around your neck—which thankfully is comfortable to wear. Trudging around your apartment, Sir Meowsalaut watched you. The tuxedo cat bored out of its mind and itching to explore outside. A young tomcat much like himself has urges after all.

      “Don’t be a pesky kitty!” you called out before leaving Sir Meowsalaut alone in your apartment. Unbeknownst to you, your balcony door was left slightly ajar.

     An opportunity was given and Sir Meowsalaut was not going to let it slide. The feline rose from his resting position, stretching his paws for a few seconds. His green orbs scanning the room he grew accustomed off the past few months. While, indeed, he loved you dearly (mainly since you provide his daily meals), the tuxedo cat yearned for adventure. He hopped off the couch, taking his time in walking towards the balcony door.

    Due to your stupidity, it was left wide enough for him to slip past through, and sure he did. Though, he had minor difficulty given that his body expanded due to an increased intake of food. The feline jumped on the small shelf where your potted plants reside it, rattling a few off. Sir Meowsalaut did not care though, all he wanted was to visit his other friend in the apartment beside yours.

    The cat prepared itself for the jump, eyes focused and limbs crouching down. Then, it pushed itself off the ground, gracefully landing on the other side. Sir Meowsalaut blinked, peering inside the glass door. His tail curved at the tip as he saw his friend. The feline then pawed at the door, its nails eliciting a screeching sound against the glass. And to his delight, his friend noticed him. Sir Meowsalaut waited patiently as the figure approached him.

    “Oh, you again?” the male spoke out whilst opening the door to let the cat inside, Sir Meowsalaut making sure to brush its cheek against his legs. The mischievous cat was sure going to take his sweet time in this male’s apartment.

     The sun was already gone by the time your shift had ended. It was a slow day, thankfully. A few customers here and there would walk in to order a beverage or two. While your co-workers chatted with one another, you made use of the time by cleaning the café, hopefully your boss would notice your actions and would give you a pay raise.

     Your thoughts would always circle back to your cat, concerned about his ever increasing body weight. It could be hypothyroidism, which (as you have researched) could sometimes cause a feline’s obesity. However, your co-worker did suggest that it could just be a lack of exercise. Which made sense since Sir Meowsalaut had been doing nothing but dozing off in your apartment. You tried enticing him to play with mouse toys but he paid no interest to it. Perhaps an exercise wheel? You made a mental note to check online shops. For your dear catto, you are willing to spend every last drop of money to satisfy him.

     A sigh escaped your lips as the familiar building of your apartment drew near. Finally. A well-deserved rest. Though, something caught your eye. A mix of black and white fur, sleeping peacefully on top of the windowsill. Its body pressed against the glass pane. It was then you realized that it was Sir Meowsalaut himself. Your heart swelled at the idea that your beloved cat was waiting for you.

    Until it hit you.

    Sir Meowsalaut was inside a different apartment. In fact, it was the one next to yours.

    “What—” you blinked. How in the world did that fat cat escaped. Then it dawned on you, your balcony door slightly opened. You knew it! Sir Meowsalaut was indeed cheating on you! With a neighbor nonetheless!

    Storming, you quickly rushed inside the building to inform your neighbor of your cat’s malicious activities. You knocked on the door precisely three times, then waited patiently.

    “What do you want?” the door was pulled open to reveal a young man (suppose in his mid 20’s) looking at you with an annoyed expression. He had straight black hair, which was styled in an undercut curtain. You took notice the dark circles forming under his narrow gray eyes. The male raised a brow, waiting for you to speak out.

    “So uhm. . . look. I am your next-door neighbor and this may seem weird but I saw my cat in your window earlier and I think he might be cheating on me with you. I am sorry for the inconvenience but can I please have him back,” you rambled.

   The male blinked at you, processing your words. “Your cat cheated on you. . ?”

  You nodded.

   He seemed to glance back at the cat, before looking at you once more. “Make sure to keep an eye on him next time.” The male opened the door wide enough to let you inside his apartment.

   “Sir Meowsalaut you cheater! How could you do this to me!” you exclaimed once close enough to the feline. The cat yawned, then looked at you with bored eyes, its tail swaying slowly.

    “You call the cat ‘Sir Meowsalaut’?” the male questioned.

    You blinked. “Yeah. . .?”

    “That’s a shitty name.”

    You took great offense to that. “Hey! It’s a nice pun!”

    The male ignored your protest, preparing himself a cup of black tea. “Just hurry up and take the fat cat.”

    Pursing your lips, you picked up Sir Meowsalaut with all your might, he did gained weight after all. His chonky body pressed against yours. “Say. . . I didn’t catch your name,” you uttered.

     Your neighbor took a sip from his cup (in which he held in an odd way) before answering. “Levi.”

     “If you want, Levi. I could maybe treat you to brunch at some point? To make up for feeding this guy,” you suggested, pointing to Sir Meowsalaut.

    “Fine by me,” he replied.

    You beamed at him, before stepping out of his apartment. Perhaps you could forgive your cat and his infidelity, since you got a date with a cute guy next door.

      Sir Meowsalaut would 10/10 cheat again.

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 10

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: Nine

A/N: I’ve added a tag list for those who wish to stay updated with this story! Just message me if you wish to be added <3

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Ten: Human not Humane

Huckleberry Hall was thriving with life. Lucien had apparated at the bottom of the pathway leading up to the external arches and courtyard placed before the hall – and there were people everywhere.

Elain saw all walks of life, from noblemen to peasants crowded on the lawns and paths. It was like looking directly into a memory. In another life, Elain would walk among these people with her sisters and parents. Nesta would trot directly behind their mother as she sneered down her nose at the farmers and tanners, Feyre would drift a little further behind, looking up at the clouds in the sky. Their father would walk at the back holding little Elain’s hand, pointing out the flowers and the trees and showing her how to make a trumpet from a leaf.

That was another life and what Elain had always assumed was a happier one.

Mother knows what she thought now.

Lucien and Elain were hidden from sight down the pathway, and it looked as though they were the last to arrive. Looking around, Elain saw stableboys managing a small army of horses, farmers sitting next to wagons full of seeds, grain and fruit, there were even Lords and Ladies, perched under umbrellas in fine chairs, tutting to themselves at the display.

It was so…human.

The rowdy chatter, the children playing hopscotch, the delicacy of these little lives and how they were interwoven with one another. Another way in it being so human was that Elain knew she didn’t fit.

Years ago the sight of all these people would have simply washed over Elain, now it threatened to drown her. Looking around all she could see were people, people and more people. People she didn’t know in a situation she couldn’t control. How long had it been since Elain had spoken to anyone outside the Inner Circle or the Band of Exiles? She hadn’t been taken to any of the meetings with other Courts or any trips abroad – her family hadn’t even told her. They’d just left her alone and hoped she’d be fine.

Breathing started to become a little difficult.

“Are you okay?” Lucien’s voice husked in her ear.

Elain just stared blankly up at him; she wasn’t sure. His own eyes were assessing her carefully.

“If you don’t want to do this just say the word and I’ll take us home.”

Home…

“I’m fine,” Elain said, though a little breathily, “It’s just…I haven’t been around a crowd in a long time.”

She flinched then as a carriage thundered through the woods on a path far to their left, the noise scaring the birds who began a loud chorus of squawking. All of the uproar felt as though it were washing over Elain, dragging her down, suffocating her.

“Hey, Elain, breathe,” Lucien’s hands came up to rest on her shoulders as he pulled himself in front of her, blocking her view of the Hall and all the people surrounding it. Now, her attention was on him.

“Breathe,” he commanded once more before he joined her in taking deep, long breaths. In, out. In, out.

Slowly, the roaring noise and itching anxiety began to fade away as she became encased in the sensation of Lucien. The smell of him surrounding her, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes concerned as they roved over her face.

She wondered if this is how he often felt – like his entire universe sometimes shifted so that she was at the centre.

Once Elain’s breathing had returned to a steady pace for several moments, she felt something tugging from within. Without thinking, Elain brushed up against the bond and was surprised to feel a wave of emotions – Lucien’s emotions – washing over her. She was even more surprised at what those emotions were.

“You’re angry,” Elain whispered after a moment. Lucien shook his head but, he was. His eyes were burning, his jaw set, his brows furrowed – he looked as though he were furiously trying to stop himself from talking. “You are,” Elain prodded because, well, it was a good distraction.

Lucien sighed before looking warily down at her, almost as though he were contemplating telling her whatever it was that had set him off.

“I told Feyre a long time ago that she should’ve been taking you out to see the ocean or sunlight. Instead she…” Lucien trailed off. Elain wished he didn’t, she wished he just said what he so clearly itched to get off his chest.

“I like the indoors,” Elain shrugged.

“Do you?” Lucien cocked his head, “I thought you used to spend all your time in gardens and your greatest wish was to see the continent.”

Elain paused. How did he know about the continent…

Her father. When Lucien had come for Vassa he’d met Elain’s father and he must’ve tried to inconspicuously pick up as much information about her as he could. Maybe once Elain would’ve thought the notion strange but, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling shyly.

“Okay…” Elain tilted her head, “But I needed the indoors.”

“You needed both,” Lucien said as his eyes softened, “Fresh air, new places, new people – they remind us that the world is bigger than the rooms we lock ourselves in.”

The hands on her shoulders began to rub soothingly along her upper arms, and once more Elain’s entire focus zoned in on that point of contact.

“Did you used to lock yourself away?” Lucien grinned.

“Elain, I’m a 400-year-old fae, I’ve spent my fair share moping indoors. Tamlin was the one who eventually had enough, he threw me out into the woods of Spring one day and said if I couldn’t catch anything, I wasn’t eating dinner.”

“That sounds mean,” Elain half-laughed.

“Maybe,” Lucien shrugged, “But it got me out. He was a bastard though, I spent all day in a river collecting enough bass to feed a small army only to come back to the Manor and find an entire spread waiting for me: potatoes, honeyed-ham, even Tipiati – it’s a delicacy from Dawn. It’s this little bird and you cut it open and eat the heart raw-”

“Oh, ugh!” Elain giggled as she scrunched her nose.

“What’s wrong petal? Raw bird heart not sounding good? Wait until I tell you what they do with the eyes-”

“Okay, okay! Feeling better! Ready to seize the day just please, stop talking about those poor birds!” Elain laughed, feeling for the first time in forever the weight on her shoulders disappear.

“I’m going to get you to try it one day,” Lucien grinned, looking rather smug with himself at having made her laugh.

“Oh, in your dreams,” Elain looped her arm through his as they made their way up the path and into the view of the humans.

“Just you wait, if we’re ever in Summer I’m making you try Calamari.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Elain smiled, and for a moment, she forgot where she was.

Because her arm was in Lucien’s and he was smiling down at her as though she were a forest nymph bedecked in moon-flowers and in this moment, everything felt alright.

It was only when they were halfway down the path to the Hall, that Elain began to remember where she was, and she felt the eyes of the humans – humans she once knew – boring into her. She simply kept her own stare ahead at the open doors of the Hall in which she could see the fiery glint of Vassa’s hair and golden dress.

But her fae hearing picked up on everything. She heard the whisperings of the peasants, both enchanted and disgusted by her beauty, she heard the Ladies muttering to one another about her dress and how disgustingly uncivilised it was.

She heard the Lords grinning to one another about how they knew Elain when she was a little girl. About how they had first dibs…

If she wasn’t mistaken Lucien had gone somewhat rigid next to her and he was once more pulling himself to his full height, looming over everyone in the courtyard. One glance up at him told her that he was wearing his fiercest scowl, his entire being practically thrumming with magic that she knew was hot under the surface of his skin.

Then, Lucien was leaning low, his lips coming close to her ear as he whispered three little words. And then, his voice was the only one that mattered.

“I’ve got you.”

***

Time started to move quickly after their laboured walk into the Hall. Once they were in and grouped with Vassa and Jurian, Elain found herself being introduced to a plethora of Noblemen and Ladies. They shook her hand with introductions and light discussions of who they were and the role they played in the rebuilding of the mortal world. Elain was glad she had spent so much time looking over the documents and contracts as she found herself maintaining elaborate, detailed questions with everyone she came into contact with – and as each successful conversation passed, so did her anxiety, and she truly began to believe she could do this.

She often found herself using the same techniques her mother had taught her when attending balls. Except now, instead of conversations about dowries and marital prospects, she was speaking of trade routes and contractual obligations.

On more than one occasion she came into contact with someone whom she once knew. Some people, such as older, less wealthy men were kind and joyful, telling Elain how they were glad to see she was at least healthy and alive following the Battle against Hybern. With others, Elain could read the quite plain apprehension and slight disgust in the eyes of those she’d once known – particularly of father’s whose sons she’d once been a contender for marrying.

The Hall was busy with chatter as this was also the first meeting in which Queen Vassa was in attendance, and with the two new, unusual arrivals, there were many mortal civilities that needed to pass before everyone was to take their seats in the main hall at the southern end of the building.

Lucien never left her side, but not in a way that felt claustrophobic or hovering, but merely in a way that told her that he had her back. Whenever she tuned into his conversations she found that most mortals responded somewhat well to Lucien. At least, as well as they could given the circumstances. Many mortal Lords were interested in Lucien’s weaponry and experience in battle, there appeared to be an endless amount of questions regarding his sword of choice.

There was only one time in which Elain overheard her name in his discussions.

“Are you and the Lady Elain married then?” Lord McAdams, an old man who owned the human libraries inquired over a glass of port.

“We’re acquaintances, and while she is here she is under my protection,” Lucien replied smoothly. He was the image of relaxation, an easy smile that lit up the room playing on his features.

“Ah, I see,” McAdams winked at Lucien, who merely tilted his head in response.

“Pardon?”

“I won’t tell anyone, of course, you see, it is highly unusual for an unmarried woman to…well to…though it does happen.” McAdams was old enough that he wheezed as he talked.

“I’m quite lost Lord McAdams, though I’m sure you mean well.”

“Of course, of course, my boy. Of course, I mean well,” McAdams chortled, “Besides, I can’t blame you can I? You know I knew Elain when she was a little girl, her father used to take all three of them round to my house so they could have their pick from my libraries. She was the prettiest of them all, even then, and it’s always interesting to see how they…turn out.”

Elain was nodding along as a young Lord who owned the rice fields out West continued to chat extensively about himself. Though at that moment, she felt a pair of eyes searing into her back, particularly her behind. At that moment she didn’t need to reach for the bond to feel the protective fury that was radiating from her mate.

It was strange, but for some reason, she liked it. Some guilty, deep down part of her shuddered in agreement at the idea of Lucien being protective over her in the face of these men. It was almost a nice idea, belonging to him…

“Elain!” A saccharine voice pulled Elain from her internal tribulations and Lucien and McAdams faded away as a silver blur appeared in front of her. “Oh Elain it’s so good to see you again, you look…well!”

Delilah Darlington exploded into the conversation, nudging into the side of the young Lord who grumbled in response. She was bundled in a rather ridiculous silver gown which was bedecked in frills of lace that hung off the fabric like cobwebs. Delilah was beautiful, though, and a sweet kind girl.

She did not deserve the cruelty of someone such as Graysen.

“Delilah, I’m so glad you’re well! Congratulations on your engagement,” Elain said with as much earnest kindness she could muster as she pulled Delilah into a brief embrace.

They’d been friends, once, along with a small gaggle of girls. Nesta couldn’t stand any of them, she saw them as competition at balls and discouraged Elain from forming any kind of relationship with them. Elain had anyways, of course. It was something to look forward to at those balls, something to distract her from the wandering hands and unwanted touches.

“Oh, well, yes I-I uh, I didn’t know you were coming back.” Delilah looked strangely guilty for a moment, and Elain felt something in her chest squeeze. Graysen wasn’t deserving of this girl, and he wasn’t worth coming between them.

“Well I’m only here until some political goals are accomplished, then I’ll probably be heading back over the border.”

“How exciting, you always wanted to travel.”

“Yes,” Elain grinned shyly, touched that Delilah remembered such a trivial detail. Looking around Elain realised that the young Lord had disappeared, and she felt herself relaxing from the forced courtly act she’d been playing.

“It’s wonderful Delilah it really is. Being turned fae has been difficult, more than difficult it’s been…well, it’s been hard, but it’s almost worth it for the beauty of Prythian.”

Delilah, unlike the other mortals who changed the conversation once anything beyond the wall was mentioned, grinned widely and rubbed her hands together.

“I read a book after you were taken over the wall, it was a forbidden scripture from McAdams library that I managed to steal when I was over there. It detailed all things about Prythian, is it true there are Seasonal Courts?”

“Oh yes,” Elain grinned, allowing her courtier’s exterior to crumble, “Lucien hails from the Autumn Court.”

Elain shifted so that she was now standing next to Delilah against the wall and pointed out to Lucien, though there was no need, he stood head and shoulders above everyone, currently nodding along to something a small gaggle of women were chatting about.

“Oh of course, I can see it now,” Delilah muttered with a smile, but Elain was fixated and the now growing group of women that were trying to gain her mate’s attention. Delilah, seeing Elain’s line of sight, smiled wider. “They do that every week. They’re all eligible brides, see there’s Isobel and Lottie…not that they would ever admit it, but I think some of them want him to propose.”

“Propose?” Elain couldn’t stop herself from spluttering, feeling a protective fiery anger move through her at the thought. The idea that these women had gathered week after week trying to sway Lucien into offering them his hand in marriage for two years, it made her feel feral.

Lucien was hers.

The thought was like a stone to the head and suddenly the protective rage was cleared, leaving behind her internal shock and confusion had having had such an audacious thought. But by the way Lucien was now grinning slyly at the women before him, his confidence having tripled within the minute, Elain was pretty certain she’d accidentally sent that thought down the bond.

“Is he really your mate?” Delilah asked, her eyes twinkling slightly. Elain stayed quiet for a moment, and then.

“Yes. He is. We’re bound together by fate and the Mother herself.”

“That sounds very beautiful,” Delilah said softly, but Elain could not take her eyes away from her Autumn Male. It was like the thought had just truly dawned on Elain, the reality of their situation.

Lucien was her mate. In that way, he was hers.

And she was his.

“It is…”

“The meeting shall begin in ten minutes, please, may you all take your seats!” A loud, brash voice called from the looming doors of the main hall and the crowd began to move in the direction, the babbling only increasing as wives got left behind and Lords could engage in the locker room talk before the politics – Elain didn’t miss the several glances thrown her way as the men’s rowdy chatty began to fill the building.

“I must go but, I’ll see you soon,” Delilah hopped out away from her, giving Elain a quick embrace and a kiss on the cheek before she was waving and disappearing into the crowd. The crowd where her fiancé no doubt was hidden.

She had not yet seen him.

Just as she was about to lose herself in the throng, Lucien was in front of her, pushing through the men as though they were no more than butterflies to swat at. Before she could say anything, he was holding out his arm with a slight bow.

“Lady.”

Unable to help herself, Elain grinned at her mate as she looped her arm through his and was rewarded with an equally bright grin back. Lucien led them through the crowd into the hall, people parting for them as though they were a plague to be avoided. Elain didn’t mind, especially if it meant no one would stand on her train.  

“They can’t take their eyes off you.” Lucien didn’t move as he spoke, he merely muttered the words under his breath and had he been talking to any mortal, they would’ve been lost on the wind. But Elain’s fae-hearing picked them up, and she felt a shiver run the length of her spine at the secret conversation in plain sight.

“Feeling territorial?” Elain surprised herself by husking back.

“It would seem I’m not the only one.” She didn’t need to look at him to know he was smirking coyly.

“I don’t like the way they talk about me,” Elain moved on before her cheeks could start burning, “The men who watched me grow up.”

“It’s repulsive.” All humour left her mate’s tone. “If it soothes your mind know that I won’t let them lay a finger on you.”

“I don’t know if touching is the problem so much as the looking.”

“That dress isn’t doing us favours I’m afraid.”

“Oh, do you wish for me to get rid of -”

“Don’t,” Lucien said too quickly, his arm going rigid from where it was interlinked with hers. Elain smirked. “It’s…it’s a fine dress.” Lucien tried to concede.

“I think so.”

“It reminds me of home.” Elain stole a glance at him then.

“Because of the fabric?”

“Well yes,” Lucien’s brows furrowed as his eyes met hers, “But…that dress was my mothers.” Elain felt her shock roll through her. His mother’s? But this was a gift from Mor – right?

“You didn’t know,” Lucien mused, now seemingly unable to take his eyes off of her. Elain shook her head. “Ah, of course, I gave it to Nuala the other day, she wouldn’t take it until I said it was from Mor.”

“I’ll…have to ask her about it. Why do you have your mother’s dress?”

“Eris delivered it months ago, apparently she’d heard of our bond and wished to gift it to you as a mating present.”

“Oh-”

“I don’t intend to – I’m not giving it to you for that reason I just, I explained to Nuala my thinking about how the fabric and style is perfect for setting intention.” Elain just drifted next to him, turning his words over in her head.

“Is this why you are always dressed so finely, because it is a political motive?” Lucien, to her surprise, grinned wickedly.

“Nothing is coincidental, Elain, from the clothes we wear to the way we talk.”

“Whose we?” Lucien shrugged.

“I would’ve said Autumn Court Males but, I believe it is only Eris whom I share that trait with. Ah, here we are.”

The hall was set up like a Courtroom, with certain families, estates, and job sectors, sectioned off into small groups. Elain and Lucien, being the representatives for The Fae were somewhat isolated from everyone else. They were near enough to Vassa and Jurian who were bickering quietly from where they were seated to their right. The room was still squabbling and rowdy with chatter, and there were only men besides Elain and Vassa. The other mortal queens were not even present.

Elain’s eyes unwittingly began to search for Graysen. For some reason, not having seen him yet was making her nervous, it felt as though the longer she waited, the worse it was going to be. She just didn’t want to have anything sprung upon her.

Perhaps with the bond having been in more use the past few days, it seemed that Lucien was somehow easily able to gleam that Elain’s attention had returned to her ex-fiancé. Elain knew because he’d gone rigid next to her.

“What?” Elain prodded, turning to him. With the hall still full of chatter, she wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing their conversation. She’d thought she and Lucien had been good on the Graysen topic following their conversation in the kitchen doorway. Lucien didn’t look at her, instead, he appeared to be assessing the Darlington’s as they made themselves comfortable. “Lucien,” Elain stressed.

“I um, I felt you the other night, when you found out Graysen was engaged,” he began slowly, still not meeting her eye. Elain tugged on his sleeve forcing him to look down at her, she raised her brows questioningly to show she didn’t understand. Lucien breathed deeply, his eyes closing momentarily before he looked deep ahead, avoiding her pleading look. “I could feel what you were feeling.”

The way Lucien looked ahead, his jaw set and his eyes unfeeling, it was as though that little sentence had explained everything. But she was just more confused.

He’d felt her? Her emotions? What had she been feeling? She’d found out that Graysen was engaged, and she felt…She had felt tired, relieved, pitiful even. It was like some door had finally jammed shut after it had been fluttering between open and closed. It was a final sever in their bond and as she had fallen asleep that night, she’d welcomed the end of her time with Graysen. Her dream that night was a reminder that her relief was earned.

How could any of that upset Lucien?

Then Elain realised that Lucien had felt it. That longing, and by the way Lucien was now glaring at his hands, curled into fists in his lap, she’d realised that he may have misunderstood what, exactly, she was longing for.

She didn’t want Graysen. She wanted what he had. Not in terms of Delilah but, she wanted his ignorance, his ability to simply move on and find a new wife. She wanted his strength to not change, to still be who he was, to still have the world the way he wanted it with him at the centre.

She longed for the bliss Graysen had found, simply because that bliss made her agony so much more tender.

Lucien had misread her. She almost sighed with relief. She could fix this; she could simply explain to him why, and the small waves of hurt currently rocking through her would disappear.

Lucien wasn’t Graysen, he wasn’t going to leave her side in an instant just because of a misunderstanding. But even as Elain repeated this to herself as the room quietened and the meeting began, some part of her refused to believe it – some part of her refused to trust.

***

The meeting was rather boring. After all her research and all her note-taking, the first two hours involved discussions Elain had no interest in. It was about internal disputes, farmers angry with one another over borders, fisherman demanding wage rises, etcetera, etcetera. Elain was forced to watch as the Lords and Noblemen sneered down at the lower class, working men and had to bite her tongue the entire time.

It seemed that Lucien shared her disgust, as he regularly whispered quips in her ear about how mortal and fae weren’t so different after all. That the High Fae and these Noblemen had more terrible things in common, such as their treatment of working families and Lesser Fae.

Elain had tried to watch with an assessing eye, categorising the figures she needed to remember for later discussions. But by the time the lunchtime break came about, she was practically falling asleep on Lucien’s shoulder. It was after lunch that the room seemed to clear slightly, the farmers and peasants going home to their families as the topic of the Fae and Queen Vassa was brought up.

Queen Vassa made her introduction to the room, her voice full and powerful as she stood, Jurian watching with an all-knowing smile at her side. There were some small talks about property and Vassa was able to confirm her signature on several contracts.

Lucien got involved in discussions several times, and Elain was more than happy to sit quietly and watch as he worked the room. He was perfect. The way he eased into conversations, the easy-going smiles, the unconfrontational comments on trade routes and Fae resources.

Elain was surprised to notice that several Noblemen had taken a shining to Lucien and seemed to actively pursue his voice in discussions. She could tell a lot of it was fake, the way Lucien grinned at men whom he’d whispered insults about in Elain’s ear but, his courtier’s mask was perfect.

Elain was beginning to think that she might make it through the meeting without having to stand and utter a single word, until Lucien interjected a conversation about wrapping up for the week.

“We must speak of the matter that is Koschei.”

This seemed to be the first thing Lucien had said which the Noblemen did not instantly grin and nod along to. Instead, Elain saw heavy sighs and the rolling of eyes. It would seem that these Lords did not mind discussing with the Fae so long as it was about mortal matters. But talk of Death-Gods and magical firebirds, seemed to rather put them off.

“We have spoken of it. Weeks ago.” Elain heard Lord Nolan’s tired voice swim into the room. He appeared humoured by Lucien’s statement while Lucien simply remained passive. Stoic. They were sitting far to their left, and Elain had already glimpsed Graysen perched next to his father, leaning back in his chair. It was almost like he was trying, and failing, to impersonate Lucien’s image of confident boredom.

“May I remind you, Lord Nolan, that fae resources are only open to you so long as you stick to your word.”

“My word-”

“-yes,” a shimmer of anger was seen in Lucien’s eye, but beyond that his courtier's mask was flawless. “Your word that you would assist both Queen Vassa and her fae acquaintances in disposing of the Death-Lord, whose residence is not far from this very hall.”

“The agreement was to help you reverse the so-called curse placed on the Queen, and as we can all see, Queen Vassa has joined us today and therefore one might consider that vow fulfilled.”

“I am here on bought time,” Vassa now stood, her voice dripping in authority and power as she asserted herself amongst the men, “I shall not explain the means, as the explanation shall no doubt be lost on a room of mortals, but what you see before you is merely a temporary solution to the problem.”

“It would do you well, Queen Vassa, to remember that you too are mortal,” Lord Darlington now husked, his eyes predatory, “Or at least you were…once.”

“Oh don’t worry, Darlington, she’s just as mortal as I am,” Jurian grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Darlington merely sneered in disgust.

“The point is Koschei is still at large-” Lucien tried again, the picture of relaxation from where he stood, looming over the room.

“And what do you expect us to do?” Elain felt her heart shudder as Graysen’s voice finally joined the others. It was only a matter of time.

Even though he was speaking to someone else - to Lucien - Elain felt her fight or flight instinct kick in. The last time she had heard that gravelly, low voice, had been when it had broken her heart.

“You fae clearly see us humans as inadequate, as proven by your Queen forgoing explaining her sudden appearance. No doubt caused by some dark magic, the same magic that threatens to infiltrate our lands and poison our people.” Graysen rose to his feet, his voice growing louder, and Elain noticed how much he had aged since she’d last seen him.

It had only been two years but the stress of rebuilding the mortal world without a wall had taken its toll: thinning hair, lines around his mouth, he’d also put on quite a bit of weight. He was no longer the young boy Elain had fallen in love with, a dreamer who wished to rid the world of evil beings. He was a man with a heart full of hate.

“Two things,” Lucien’s own voice didn’t waver as he turned to address Elain’s ex-fiancé, and she wondered how much they’d had to see of each other over the past two years. “One, Vassa is not my Queen. Two, it is somewhat hilarious to watch you whine like a pup over Queen Vassa not explaining to you her magic, when you are already so prejudiced to not comprehend the difference between the fae and Koschei. There is no magic seeking to infiltrate your lands apart from the work of the latter.”

“Koschei is fae-”

“-Koschei is a Death-God.” Lucien’s tone turned cold, and at that moment the sun dipped behind the clouds. “A survivor from the time of Old Gods. He is not fae, he is a threat to us as much as he is a threat to you.”

“The threat to humans are all fae and everything that comes with them.”

“The fae of Prythian have no interest in humans-”

“Oh please, one must only look to my ex-fiancé for proof of their machinations.”

The room went cold. The sun having now truly disappeared from sight, leaving behind a world of blue and grey shadows.

“Look at her, look at her unnatural beauty. Many of us knew Elain, the true Elain Archeron, the human one. She was beautiful but plain of the mind but set to live a normal, human life. Now look at her, she’s no better than a siren or a nymph, her beauty is of a freak nature and it’s only purpose is to lure you in, to cover the ugly truth underneath. Her and her two sisters were turned, stolen from their beds in the middle of the night and taken across the wall. I’m surprised to see you here Elain,” Graysen had been talking theatrically to the room, but that last sentence was personal, intimate. And when he caught Elain’s eye, she could only think one thing.

She hated him.

“Surprised but I suppose that’s my own fault, you always had a small fortune of ugly secrets you liked to keep hidden - and to think I almost fell into a marriage with you. You see, this is another reason the fae wish to infiltrate our lands, they wish to take our wives. Elain was stolen and turned only to be given to the male we see before us,” Graysen held his arm out to where Lucien was standing, still as stone at Elain’s side.

“This male was able to lay a claim on Elain the second she was turned. We’ve all heard of the mating bond.” A ripple of disgusted murmurs went around the room. “At that moment Elain, my soon to be wife, belonged to a fae male. Mother knows what atrocities occurred in the time between their mating and the moment Elain finally remembered her fiancé and came back home.”

Outrage and disgust were expressed around the room, and Graysen looked almost gleeful as he assessed the crowd.

“These two, this harlot and her owner-“

Elain shot out a hand and gripped the fabric of Lucien’s trousers if only to stop him from burning the boy to a crisp from where he stood.

“-have come here to mock us! They have come as a warning, to show us what will happen to our people - our women - if we allow this alliance with the fae to continue!” There were shouts of encouragement swelling from the crowd. “If we continue on this path then our women will look like her, horrid in their beauty. And worse, our women will belong to him as Elain belongs to him, as little more than a personal prostitute!”

There was something feral in Lucien’s eye as he glared at Graysen across the room. But while her mate was focused on her ex-fiancé, Elain was drowning in the leering coming from the crowd. People she had just introduced herself to a few hours earlier and had pleasant conversations were now staring at her with revulsion and disgust. She heard shouts of people calling her a ‘witch’, people telling her that she had no shame, that she was to burn in hell.

With her hand fisted in Lucien’s trouser leg, Elain drowned it out, she drowned it all out, and reached for the bond within.

Lucien was a tempest. Brushing up against the bond, Elain herself could feel the fire in his veins, could envision the rings of his powers, burning hotter and hotter all the way down to his golden core. The mating bond was taut in his skin, demanding him to defend Elain, to rip out the throat of anyone who would insult her. But there was another anger there too, a personal one. Lucien was furious on Elain’s behalf; she could read that now. He thought so highly of her and to hear lesser men insult her was turning him livid.

Sharply, Elain tugged on the bond and in an instant, his eyes snapped to hers.  

There was so much emotion in that one look. Concern, fury, bitterness, doubt. It was all there for her to see; he didn’t dilute anything. With as much delicacy and care as she could muster, she slipped her hand from his pant leg into the hand that was dangling by his side.

Slowly, she rose to her feet.

“It is true,” she began, and she felt Lucien’s hand squeeze her own. “I was stolen in the middle of the night by a group of fae. They stole me across land and ocean, all the way to Hybern. It is there where I was thrown into the Cauldron, the maker of all life, and transformed into a High Fae. This is all true.

“But my transformation was an irregularity, an unfortunate yet calculated political move whereby the King of Hybern attempted to get back at my sister for her killing of Aramantha. I expect you to all remember the King of Hybern, given that your own armies joined the fae in the Battle that catalysed these meetings two years ago.

“The King of Hybern was evil. Not the fae of Prythian. The King of Hybern was your enemy and the threat to human life. Not the fae of Prythian. Those such as Lucien here fought for your freedom. Fae died on that battlefield for you to stand here today, and you repay them by villainising them.

“There needs not be any animosity between these mortal lands and the fae realms of Prythian. I grew up like you, believing the fae were evil incarnations that existed to tempt human morality. But unlike you, I have travelled Prythian, I have seen fae from all walks of life, and the reality is the cautionary tales we all heard growing up were nothing more than fiction.

“The fae have homes, wives, children. They have towns and cities, farms, libraries and schools. They wake up each morning and go to work and each evening they have dinner with their families.

“This alliance is not about turning humans into fae, nor turning fae into humans. It’s about recognising life and seeking to protect it from those who might threaten it - and Koschei threatens all of us. We know he seeks to free himself from the confines of his lakeside Manor, we know he wishes to seek vengeance for his imprisonment. But there is much we do not know.

“We do not know how Koschei was bound to the lake, how he steals women of this land and turns them into swans, why he took Vassa, nor what it will take for him to be free. That is why this alliance is paramount.

“Koschei has a fascination with the mortals, he steals mortal women and mortal Queens. His residence is only a few miles south from here, deep in the forest. It is because of this we need mortal alliances.

“You do not need to believe the fae are good, nor must you trust us. But you must understand that all we wish to do is destroy a being who threatens everyone in this room. The alliance need not be a happy one, but it is needed.”

The room had quietened, the shouting had stopped. People were listening to her, and Elain had finally found her voice.

Lucien’s hand squeezed her own and she realised they were both standing before the room of mortals. She could only have an idea of what they must’ve looked like, side by side, glistening with the beauty of the Fae. They must’ve looked united and commanding.

They must’ve looked powerful.

Then, across the room, a man got to his feet. Looking at him for a moment, Elain realised it was the young Lord she had been speaking to with Delilah who owned the rice fields out West. He looked tentative and young as the spotlight fell on him, but when he met Elain’s eye, she saw a fierceness burning there.

“What do you need?”

***

Lucien wanted to get Elain home quickly after the meeting. Today had been unusually tiring, what with Elain’s debut in that dress this morning to the crowds turning on his mate halfway through the meeting. He just wanted to go home.

Correction, he needed to get Elain home and safe and away from these horrible men and their horrible thoughts.

A few noblemen came forth following the meeting expressing their devotion to helping Elain and Lucien in tackling the problem of Koschei. Most of them were young Lords who had come into their father’s wealth unexpectedly after the war, and their hearts had not yet had a chance to become polluted with years of hatred for the fae.

That was a success. No matter how often Lucien had tried to convince the noblemen to even speak of Koschei in the meetings, it seemed that the missing element was both Elain and Queen Vassa.

But before long Lucien had had enough. He wanted Elain home and safe now, and expressing a few half-hearted apologies he looped Elain’s arm through his and guided her out down the pathway before winnowing away without a second notice.

They made their way to the house with some small talk about how well the meeting had gone (Lucien tried his hardest not to spend all his time grovelling about how amazing she was and how fierce and strong she’d looked when addressing the crowds). The maids were there waiting for them with a pot of tea whilst they began on dinner.

It seemed that the meeting had gone on well into overtime and the sun was now distinctly plummeting towards the horizon. But when Vassa and Jurian finally made it back on horseback, there was only Jurian who entered the living room with a glass of whiskey.

“Where’s Vassa?”

“She decided to get her firebird overtime out the way,” Jurian sighed, something bitter in his eye as he flopped carelessly on the couch next to Lucien.

“Does that mean she won’t be turning back tonight?”

“We assume so, we’re not sure how the ring works but if Koschei’s little note is correct then I believe we won’t be seeing Vassa for a few days.”

Lucien cursed under his breath. Jurian just looked tired and…angry.

“There was a note?” Elain asked from where she was perched on her armchair, her legs tucked up underneath her, her dress outlining every curve of her body.

“Yes,” Jurian eyed her for a moment, “You did well out there princess, Lord Cao looked practically ready to sign you his battlements.” The Lord who had spoken at the end of the meeting.

“We talked after,” Elain mused, her finger running around the lip of her glass, “His residency is the closest to Koschei’s manor and he’s invited all of us to come visit, I think if we get close enough we may be able to get a read on the magic that’s bound to the manor.”

“Oh, fun, a day trip,” Jurian sighed bitterly, something clearly having aggravated his mood. He turned his scowl to Lucien. “Are you really going to let your mate within a mile of that place?”

Something dark flickered in Lucien’s eye.

“If Elain deems it a worthy trip then of course we must go. I thought you were interested in seeing Vassa free of the curse?”

“Of course I’m interested in seeing Vassa free, why do you think I’m here?” Jurian hissed.

“To generally give the manor a feeling of unease?”

“To make rude comments about people’s sisters in an attempt to start a fight?” Elain added.

“To make indecent comments about people’s mates in an attempt to-”

“Alright, alright. Mother, you two are no fun.” Jurian rolled his eyes, but some of the tension seemed to leave his body at the teasing. “Have you already eaten?”

Elain and Lucien nodded and Jurian got up with a stretch.

“Yum, leftovers for me then,” was all he said before he headed for the door.

“Jurian,” Elain called, “That note Koschei sent with the ring, could I see it?” Jurian glanced between her and Lucien, seeming to think before he nodded.

“I’ll send it up to your room in the morning," was all he said before he left the room. And once more, Lucien and Elain were left alone with nothing but a crackling fire.

There was a tension there that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it had, maybe they’d both just been too ignorant to see it.

The reality was there would always be that tension between them, that intrigue and possibility. Looking at her now, curled in an armchair, the dress having turned a glittering emerald in the firelight, he felt every inch of his skin respond to her.

Not for the first time, an unplanned fantasy strolled through his mind. An image of himself getting up off this couch and walking over to her, of him placing his knee on her armchair, in between her thighs, capturing her throat in his hand and lowering his lips to hers.

One blink and the image was gone. Perhaps it was the bond showing him these things, taunting him with a possibility that at this moment seemed unachievable.

“I, um, I wanted to talk to you actually,” Elain spoke into the silence, and briefly Lucien fretted if his scent had changed.

“Oh?”

“Yes…about Graysen.” Lucien’s hope dropped like lead in his gut.

“Oh.”

“I just wanted to say that I think you misread my emotions when I found out he was engaged which, I mean that’s not your fault. This whole bond kind of disrupts communication.”

Lucien just nodded. Looking at her, he saw the strands of hair that had come loose around her face, he wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

“I’m not upset about it. I don’t want him anymore,” Elain said plainly. “I just…I guess I want what he has.”

Lucien blinked. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“What, specifically, do you want?” The words were careful, calculated.

“I’m not sure…his happiness? His ignorance?” Elain seemed to scowl slightly and then she was standing, setting her drink on a nearby table as she turned to the fire to warm her hands. Lucien pondered for a moment, definitely not using that time to worship at the way the dress followed the swell of her behind and, Mother help him, her thighs. Then he was up, moving around the table to join her at the fire.

Elain turned and watched him approach with an enigmatic stare, the fire reflecting in her glassy eyes.

“Graysen’s life is perhaps an easier one,” Lucien eventually breathed, “But whilst yours may prove more difficult, it is certainly more worthwhile.” Elain paused as she pondered his thoughts, and Lucien once more allowed himself to drink from her ever-flowing fountain of beauty.

“I just, I think it’s all so unfair.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Why?”

“Because why does he get to be happy? Why does he get to continue to live his life and just find someone else to marry? Is there no such thing as justice?”

“You are free to seek retribution Elain-”

“And give the humans further reason to hate the fae?”

 Lucien blinked. The timing of Graysen’s death would be unfortunate, but Lucien wanted to see the boy dead, even if that meant tomorrow an army would be at his door.

“The humans should be grateful the fae are ridding them of such vermin,” Lucien couldn’t help himself from spitting as he glared out the window. But not before he caught Elain giving a weary look and for the first time, he realised just how tired she looked. The way her shoulders hung forward and her arms curled limply around herself. Something akin to agony washed through him at the sight of his exhausted mate, followed by the overwhelming need to fix it, to take her into his arms and protect her from all the things that worried her. Lucien had to fold his arms tightly across his chest to stop himself from reaching out.

“I don’t want to have any revenge when it comes to Graysen because it’s not going to make me feel better,” Elain looked at the fire as she spoke, and Lucien hated the wobble in her voice. He hated that he didn’t know who was making her cry – him or the boy.

“It might.”

“No. It wouldn’t,” she said with such ferocity Lucien was temporarily reminded of Nesta. “You know why?” Elain scowled, her eyes tightening and her lips turning down into a cruel frown.

“Because I would’ve still loved him if he’d been the one to come back changed. I would’ve still married him, and I would’ve told him it’d be alright, and we’d figure it out together – and killing him isn’t going to change the fact that he wouldn’t do the same for me. That he would’ve never done that for me; and that means he never loved me the way I loved him. You don’t get Lucien. Killing him means nothing because there is nothing I can do to him to make him hurt even half as much as he hurt me because he simply, doesn’t, care. He will never even comprehend what he did to me. He will spend the rest of his life, even if that life ends tomorrow, in blissful ignorance of what he did and the damage he caused. Hurting him back would just be so…so pointless, and…I’m tired.” Elain curled in on herself with an exhausted, angry sigh.

“I know you think I came here because I was ready to finally deal with this…with us,” she met his eye and hunched herself into a smaller ball, her arms winding further around herself, “But that’s not it. I came here because I’m tired and there nothing left for me and, and I’m running out of-of-I’m running out of-”

She was starting to hyperventilate. Madja had warned her of this, the panic attacks that had become a side effect of her depression. She needed to breathe, she needed to calm down, she needed-

Lucien crossed the room in three strides. Some part of Elain wanted to recoil at him approaching her with such ferocity in his step and steel in his eye, but she couldn’t be scared of him. She could be afraid of the bond and what it meant to her, what he meant to her, but Lucien would never hurt her. Ever. That she knew.

He’d stilled in front of her, looking down at her enigmatically. She’d run out of words, and she didn’t know if Lucien understood what she was attempting to say. Every part of her was ready to just break down from how exhausted she was.

The silence drew on. The tension turning palpable, and when she was just about ready to fall to her knees and let the agony take over, his arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her firmly against his chest.

Elain let out a small sob as her face was pushed into the fabric of his shirt, her head resting against his upper ribs and lower chest. She’d never been so aware of how different they were in size; he was the tallest of them all and she the shortest. But it felt…good. And maybe she was touch-deprived, or maybe she was just deluded, but she found herself burrowing into him. He was so warm, and with his arms around her she felt like…like he had her. Like it didn’t matter if she let go and just crumpled because he had her and he wasn’t going to let her hit the floor.

At this point, falling was inevitable. Elain had been falling for some time, plummeting down and down after the Cauldron had tipped her out and washed her corpse on jagged stones. But with Lucien holding her she considered, for the first time, having a soft place to land.

She didn’t want him to see her cry, so she burrowed deeper. Her arms were still curled around her torso; Lucien’s curled around her back. Both of them holding onto her and keeping her together. A few seconds, minutes, hours of silence and she realised that after this, she could never forget how he smelt. Apples, warmth, musk, fresh Earth, smoke. Familiar and foreign. A stranger but…hers.

He smelt like an evening, an Autumnal evening, with a brilliant streaking sunset. The kind where it seemed like the sun had never been so alive, where the sun took the sky and turned into its masterpiece.

He was that masterpiece. The Autumnal sky. The Autumnal Sun.

Sighing, Elain waited for him to recoil. For his arms to slacken and for him to move away, for them to nod awkwardly at each and then go to bed and try to pretend that this conversation hadn’t happened. But time ticked by, and Lucien didn’t let go. If anything, his steely grip only tightened. As though with each passing second, where Elain expected him to drift away, he set out to hold on tighter. Their words had run out tonight, but Elain heard the message he was saying as he held her closer and closer. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.

Elain breathed him in, and allowed herself to stay.

***

Right then, she wanted to tell him that she didn’t know how to do this, but she knew she didn’t want to hurt him. She wanted to say that she wasn’t sure if she could love again, that she might be a lost cause because Graysen had so thoroughly ruined her trust, and she wasn’t sure how high she’d built the walls around both her heart and mind. She wanted to say that she was lonely, and that she thought he was too, and what a funny pair they were in this world full of light and dark. Where good came in the form of people who made them both feel so alone.

She wanted to say that she was at a breaking point and had been for some time. That even though the war had ended it still raged within her. That no one else seemed to care because they’d got the happy endings whilst she just…existed.

She wanted to say that she didn’t know what she wanted. That her dream of being a wife and mother had been buried when she first tried to kill herself, three days after the Cauldron. Because how could she care for anyone else, especially a child, when she couldn’t care for herself.

She wanted to say that right now, in this moment, she just wanted to know him.

She just wanted a friend.

She wanted…

She wanted…

She wanted to run away and never look back. She wanted to damn the world that damned her. She wanted a brain that worked. A family she felt connected to. Someone to care.

Someone to fucking care. That was all.

But for now, this was enough. Lucien pulling her into his arms before she finally collapsed was enough. And so, tonight, she’d sleep. And that was enough too.