#been cyril-brained recently

[ustalav]

i have been tagged by @pinkfey and @aezyrraeshh to do this picrew and i already made gideon (dai) and val (bg3/dnd) in it so i will just add some others here!!

grant hawke (da2) | cyril lodovka (pwotr) | severin ingellvar (da:v)

eta: i tag @idolsgf @lords-of-fortune and @amatres

dont talk to me or my 500 saved picrews ever again

[cellarspider]

Good lord I take a week off of tumblr and now there’s a lot of you

Hello to everyone who’s just followed me in the past week! Most of you have come from a long ramble of mine on interdisciplinary learning, medieval head trauma, and Gallus’ well-wishings on my recent graduation (https://www.tumblr.com/gallusrostromegalus/727017193756327936), thank you to Gallus for that. Thank you to those of you who’ve commented with kind words as well. Specific shout-outs, links to relevant rambles, and questions are below, in the section “Link Roundup and Shoutouts”.

Yes, this is a post with sections. This is how we roll here.

Introduction to Spider

For those who don’t know, I’m Spider! I’ve just gotten my PhD in Mammalian Genetics, having gotten a Masters in Informatics and a Bachelors in Medieval Studies before that. I’ll quite happily ramble about any of them, with the following caveats: an undergraduate degree means I know the basics, but they may be increasingly out of date. And advanced degrees are increasingly specialized in their scope as you go along—you gain the skills to more easily understand things from related specialties, but you only become truly, deeply knowledgeable on very specific topics. However, these topics are not always limited to the field of study generally expected by the degree-granting institution! My focus ended up being significantly divergent from everyone else’s, which resulted in an interesting challenge of communicating my project to others at the institute.

The field I dove into for my PhD was systems genetics. Rather than studying individual genes and how they function, my work examined the wider view: think the difference between a local weather forecast versus modeling the global climate. Both synthesize vast amounts of information, just on different scales and levels of detail.

Many people love studying the tiny details around individual genes, because they can dig down into the mechanisms that make the gene work, how it might break and cause disease, and maybe how to fix those diseases. My love is for the global view of things, which gives you the ability to characterize general statements about how genes are regulated and modified. It’s a field that’s very hard to study without good data that’s complicated to acquire, so it’s a very exciting subject to work on! I’m looking forward to carrying that on into a postdoctoral study, in which I’ll work with a new lab and learn the dreaded skill of grant writing. I’ll be starting this month!

…As Gallus mentioned, my time until then is very much devoted to Baldur’s Gate 3. Happily for me, the new research group I’ll be joining has also been going nuts for Baldur’s Gate 3, so I’ll have a lot to talk about with my coworkers once I’m back to the lab.

In my free time, I’m happy to ramble upon request about the subjects I love, including but not limited to my fields of academic study, my constructed language hobby, scientific ethics and its portrayal in media, creepy-crawlies (always appropriately tagged for people’s phobias), and Baldur’s Gate 3.

…Lots of Baldur’s Gate 3. (I’ve only just reached the Lost Light Inn, please no spoilers!)

Link Roundup and Shoutouts

For those who are interested to see my ramble about why European medical texts in the medieval period tended to be terrible, it’s available here: https://www.tumblr.com/cellarspider/680342023316930560/hi-please-rant-about-medieval-european-medical

Thank you to all those who dug up the name of the academic text I’d forgotten! Its title, in all its wordy glory, is Injuries of the skull and brain, as described in the myths, legends, and folk-tales of the various peoples of the world, with some comments on the significance and reliability of this information in evaluating contemporary concepts as to their nature and lethality by Cyril B. Courville, 1967. It’s a fantastic book, and good lord that title just does not stop

Thank you to fellow spiders @one-spider-from-mars and @vaspider for their comments. We are many. We are mighty.

Thank you to @belovedbright for the fantastic story of the death of Conchobar mac Nessa via brain trauma inflicted by a brain https://www.tumblr.com/belovedbright/727132485919604736

To @doomhamster's question on whether egg whites were used in the medieval treatment of burns: I don’t know! Unfortunately I can’t access the translation of the medical manual I referred to back then (https://worldcat.org/title/1123716578), and the only version I can find online at the moment is in 14th century French (https://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/FullDisplay.aspx?ref=Sloane_MS_1977). Egg whites do appear 33 times in the translation, according to the limited ability I have to search the text, and they show up throughout the book.

[violsva]

November Reading

Post delayed by a vacation and then PMS. More thoughts than usual, though.

Recent: Finally finished My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness, but fast enough that things did not really sink in, or not all at once. It was good, interesting cultural differences and similarities, probably won't read the sequels.

Reread Steadfast, by Mercedes Lackey. This is not a good book, people. I knew that when I started it. In terms of pacing and plotting and unnecessary digressions and historical accuracy and giving agency to characters it is very very badly done. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Which is maybe what I need, given how much I get tied into knots about the free fanfic I write for fun needing its theme to be supported by a coherent narrative arc.

I read some of T. Kingfisher's commentary on fairy tales in The Halcyon Fairy Book and most of Lace Making by Eunice Close (published by a tiny Canadian press in 1975, don't go looking for it). I tried to reread The Bacchae for catharsis purposes, but it was a not-great Victorian translation and I didn't get very far. I did find out that Alan Cumming played Dionysus twenty or so years ago and the trailer for that is on Youtube.

Read A Phantom Lover by Vernon Lee, which was good for what it was but I did have to force myself to it. On the drive with @consultingpiskies I finally managed to articulate that I am just not up to unfamiliar fiction right now, and maybe that's okay.

I read all of May Morris: Arts & Crafts Designer at the library, which is the book of an exhibition of her work and was absolutely gorgeous and also gave me feelings about her relationship with her father, so that was great. And on the theme of the English Arts and Crafts movement, English Embroidered Bookbindings by Cyril Davenport, which might have been improved with more practical knowledge of embroidery but was generally good.

Also read Meet Me on the Other Side by @sparklepocalypse, RWRB 1890s cowboy AU. I could be nitpicky about a couple historical attitudes but basically this is just a really good romance novel and I liked it.

Current: Rereading Swordheart by @tkingfisher, and I really want to know more about the Temple of the White Rat's embroiderer(s). Like, maybe Zale does their own embroidery, but in that case I would have expected them to take a project along for the wagon ride. For a while I was carrying this around with me everywhere, but now that I am getting to the climax things are going more slowly.

Just gave 3/5 of my library books back unstarted due to the fiction realization above. I have two digital craft books to flip through, and also some from the Antique Pattern Library, and Chats on Old Lace and Needlework by Mrs. Lowes. Look, basically what I want to do right now is get overwhelmingly caught up in craft projects and never talk to anyone ever again. I won't, because there is Christmas shopping to do and people I am trying to make friends with and so forth, but that's probably where my head's going to be all month.

Various RWRB fanfics going on still. Oh, and there's been more Madame C—. Thank god for Madame C—.

Future: I still have The Dire Days of Willowweep Manor by Shaenon K. Garrity and Christopher Baldwin out from the library, which really does seem fun but I don't know if I have the brain for it. I would also like to get through more of my AO3 Marked for Later list before Yuletide adds a bunch to it, but, well. (I didn't sign up for Yuletide this year, not because I didn't think I could manage it but because I suspected I would hate the process, and that was a good decision.)

If all else fails I will relisten to the Roaring Twenties Magic audiobooks while sewing.

[quaranmine]

started playing geoguessr again recently. timing myself to 5 mins because i HAVE been known to spend a solid 4 hours trying to pinpoint a single destination. i like this map called beautiful places or something that just drops you in scenic areas. so far my greatest hits are:

my firewatch au pilled brain likes to assume every montane granite rock semi open mixed pine forest ecosystem is in wyoming. this leads me astray. it has Never been wyoming yet

nearly perfect score on an iceland round. i immediately knew it was iceland but it took me 4.5 mins to find a single sign to narrow down where, upon which i was like "oh i drove here last month"

immediately clocked yosemite natl park from a hiking trail one, without even seeing half dome or anything, but narrowly missed 5k by placing it at the wrong trail junction

multiple times i have figured out a better guess of where i am with less than 10 seconds to spare and missed out on points because i couldnt click the map fast enough

i have been bested by bulgaria like 3 times because i keep forgetting they use the cyrillic alphabet too and it's getting embarassing at this point

i apparently know the names of places in england but actually have a rather poor understanding of its geography. i saw a sign in a place that mentioned it being in devon and was like AHA!!! and then realized i don't know which part of england devon is LMAO (i did pinpoint this one perfectly though it just took longer than it should have)

i once accidentally guessed the correct highway in all of brazil, but a part 200 miles away from the real location. perfect definition of so close but so far. i hadn't even seen a road sign saying the highway number.

[fehtism]

Thank you for breaking down some of that dictionary-vomit that modern FEH weapons and pref skills have become, because holy shit, my ADHD brain takes one look at those giant paragraphs and says "never-fucking-mind"

i have been cursed with the ability to understand feh walls of text.

i think the dumb formulas are the worst part of the descriptions where it's like "debuffs foe's cringe stat for - X +5 where X is how many edelgard alts are in this god forsaken game" so i try to give examples instead because no one should be forced to solve for X in a mobile game.

the most recent winter units were definitely some of the worst in terms of long descriptions so i'll probably break down the rest of their weapons (and maybe prf skills as well) because i have all of them : )

and if there's any skill description you want explained then just send it in an ask

and follow the #cyril explains feh tag for more fun feh explanations

[kommikoira]

2024_05_02 // mixup in the mindspace

so, i have had an eventful last few days. last night most of me was informed about something very distressing. i have explained what it was on my private twitter account but i wanted to go into more detail and give my thoughts on the matters. first, some context.

i am a system of 12 operating as one independent person. there is no "me." the me that you know is 12 beings who learned to talk with one mouth. the members of that system, until lately, have been puppy, wolfie, camellia, roberta, hushy, eden, menthol, socks, laika, and a factive who was considering changing her name. i will call her rowan for the extent of this post.

rowan tended to be pretty whacky and generally obnoxious but in a sweetly self-aware way. she generally sort of made light of most things and has a bit of trouble expressing feelings due to that, but was ultimately a very easy and enjoyable person to share a head with. as you can probably tell by my use of past tense (or if i've already told you what happened) you can assume something has happened to her. unlike the rest of my introjects, she had a very very hard time seperating herself from her source. now, seeing as her source was somebody real, young, and that i didn't know very directly, the real one was inevitably going to change, and they did in a very dramatic way. this threw rowan into a major identity crisis that resulted in them spiraling, which we tried to assist with as much as possible. in the end, it seems her and socks made some sort of agreement a bit less than two weeks ago and rowan integrated into her, effectively ending her life and awareness.

this fact was dropped on the rest of me by socks last night, which has come at an already turbulent crossroads in the mind, as in the last few days we have officially recognized and welcome two new headmates. a kin who fully materialized, vizlet, and an entirely new headmate, neuvonta. all of this happening within such a short time is probably contributing to my recent change lately, and if you have been negatively impacted by such a change then i would like to give my formal and utmost apologies.

i've basically just repeated what i said on twitter, but now i want to go more into what this will mean for me and my feelings on it.

first, i will explain the ramifications of these changes and why they are so substantial. as i said before, "i" do not exist. I am a collection of beings able to speak with a single mouth. now, i have gotten new headmates in the time i have known some of my friends, which has changed me but not substantially in my eyes. this case is a bit different. i haven't lost a headmate since the Hole (unless you count the creation of menthol). this, as you can tell, has lead to some changes, and getting two more headmates around the same time has only added to those changes. everybody changes, including me, and it's not like i will be unidentifiable, but i am changed now. fundamentally and forever.

now, my thoughts. apologies in advance if this section is a bit disorganized. so first, i want to just say how shocking this has been for me. i have been moving so fast and changing these last few days that i haven't even had time to look back and reflect on it. this brings to mind the other times i have lost headmates. four in particular stand out in my mind: cyril, ren, eugene, and camille. cyril was one of the few times i had a genuinely antagonistic force in my head. he spoke in garbled sounds and bits of russian i had heard from the tv and exasperated my paranoia and schizotypal as a kid for about two and a half years, but he was locked away in the depths of my brain for years once i was strong enough. ren was a tragic tale, and that most like rowan's. he was a fictive who was constantly scared, completely shocked to the core by coming into my head. he couldn't handle it and ultimately took his own life. eugene and camille, alongside cyril and two others, suffered the same fate. we went into the Hole, and they never came back. after nearly 3 years, i only now feel okay saying this publicly. i want to think they were able to make it out. maybe they rode the vast unconscious like a greyhound and found somewhere else where they were more suited, but part of me wonders if they're still down there, and i have almost been tempted to look a lot of times. but when i think about ren, i feel so much grief. i feel so bad, thinking that my mind facilitated that suffering and that they were drove to that. it makes me wonder if i am responsible enough to be this way. i hear people talk about how they wish they were plural like me, and unlike others, i am not offended by that, but i sometimes think they don't get how hard it can be navigating so many individuals in one mind trying to act like a single person. but, i take a breath, it isn't my choice what my headmates do and don't do. all we can do, is try and facilitate a space that makes all current and future members of me feel comfortable and able to. now, i just want to take a moment to think about how far we have all come. puppy has gotten so much better at not letting her loyalty be her fault, and instead use it to bolster herself and relationships. roberta has gotten better at leaving life to luck and not worrying each thing and being paranoid about monsters lying in wait. menthol has grown from a shitty, half-baked factive that fused with a fucking master shake fictive to their own person with morals, convictions, and rational personality. darius and camellia have seen more shit than anyone of us and have handled and managed it insanely well. laika has also been dealing with her exotrauma well. when i think about these things, i think that's i am doing alright. rowan made her choice and, as shocking and painful as it may be, we'll get through it. we always do.

[theroguescientist]

Okay, I'll add a couple of stories.

I am a kid. My parents and I are travelling on vacation. We are looking for a place to spend the night in a small town in Slovakia. Local people don't speak English. We quickly learn that "szukać" means something completely different in Slovak. After that, communication becomes easy.

---

I am in high school. I've been asked to read a certain short story by a Russian author. I ask my mom if she has it on her bookshelf. She does, but only in Russian. i can't read cyrilic writing. Mom reads the story to me. I laugh at a couple of puns and get a decent grade on my report.

---

I want to make a phonecall from a hotel in Slovakia. The receptionist says, in a very polite tone, something that, to me, a Polish speaker, sounds like "The telephones are fucked". She did get the point across, though. By this time I know that Polish, Czech and Slovak might not be completely mutually intelligible, but mutually funny is close enough.

---

On another vacation we find ourselves at a community center in a small village in Slovenia. There are people from several countries present. A man speaks in the local language and I have only a vague idea of what he's saying. Suddenly something changes. The man's speech still sounds exactly the same to me, but now I understand almost everything. Apparently, he's switched to speaking Czech.

---

I am travelling alone. I befriend an American at a hostel in Zagreb and we spend some time walking around the city together. My friend needs to buy something, but the shopkeeper doesn't know English. I say a few words, trying a bunch of synonyms, hoping to find one that works. The shopkeeper says a few words and hands us the thing we came for.

"I didn't know you spoke Croatian," says the American.

"I don't."

The next day I manage to buy a kilogram of pears at a market without the seller noticing I don't speak his language.

---

I am at a conference in Japan. I'm the only Polish speaker in the building and not expecting to be spoken to in any language other than English. Suddenly I hear a voice behind me. It is not any language that I can speak, but somehow I understand it. It's giving me a headache. I turn around. Yep. It's the one Czech guy. Switching my brain to thinking in Polish helps.

---

It's the spring of 2022. I am spending Easter at my parents' place. A group of Ukrainians have recently moved in next door. We knock on their door to wish them a happy Easter and they invite us in. We speak in an odd mixture of Polish, Russian and Ukrainian. i am only fluent in one of these languages, but one is enough. The new neighbors come from different parts of the country. Some of them came here to work, others escaped when the war broke out. Some prefer to speak Ukrainian, others speak Russian as a first language. Some are Catholic and others are Orthodox, so they're celebrating Easter twice this year. They invite us to another Easter breakfast next week. I bring a homemade cake.

Us, arriving to Austria to a tiny family hotel owned by an elderly lady

Us: speak only limited German

Lady: barely speaks English

Us:

Lady:

Lady: Czech? Slovak?

Us: Czech

Lady, to herself: Czech, that's a Slavic language right

Lady: understand Yugoslavian?

Us:

Us: yeah that works

[moral-turpitudes]

Silver Linings: Part 1

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

A/N: Excuse any of my terrible math skills and if this seems rushed. This is the best I could come up with lol, I hope you all like it though!

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Slight Fighting, Descriptions of Drug Use, Drinking, Familial Drama, Fluff, Mentions of Adoption, etc.

Word Count: 3,972

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Adopted Daughter!Reader + Michael Gray x Alfie’s Adopted Daughter!Reader

Summary: After growing tired of hiding, Y/N decides to venture out from the back of her fathers shop, not knowing she’d quite literally fall for one of her father’s enemies who happened to be lurking around the corner. But with tensions growing between the two families, one decision could change the course of their lives as they know it, for better and for worse.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | *Part 4* | Part 5

“Alright Y/N, now when you aim you gotta line yer eyes up with the sight. Take a deep breath, and on that exhale of yours yer gonna pull that little trigger right there.” Alfie said, the teenage girl only coming up to around his chest, her hands shaking slightly as she aimed the small hand gun for one of the flour sacks in the back of the shop. With a small exhale she fired, the bullet whirling through the air and into the target she’d helped draw on it the day before.

“See that’s not so hard innit?” He asked, smiling at the new light in his life.

Y/N heard her father calling for her upstairs, bringing her out of her daydreams from years ago. That was during the first week she’d lived with him after he adopted her from the nearby orphanage. She had no adoptive mother, and no other friends except their dog Cyril, seeing as she had to be practically hidden away on a daily basis. The only time she really went out was to work in her fathers shop, where she’d do her best to avoid being spotted by her fathers business partners-some of which who had strained relationships with him and his men.

Shaking the memory from her brain, she hesitantly walked up the stairs, the creaking of the wood announcing her arrival.

“There you are love. Listen...I’m having Mr. Shelby come by soon so you’ll have to work in the back alright? I know you’ll get me for it later but I’ll make up for it mmkay?” He said, looking his now 21 year old daughter in the eyes. People often found him intimidating, but over the years she grew used to him, knowing deep down he was a sweet person. With every interaction she observed, she could see the pain in his eyes over not being able to really introduce her, knowing it would put her at risk. But deep down there was a mutual understanding between them that it was going to be inevitable that someone would find out, but neither of them thought it would be so soon.

With a sigh, she reluctantly walked towards the back where the other “bakers” worked the ovens and inspected shipments. While she organized bricks of cocaine for shipment, she felt her stomach drop as she realized she’d left her gloves in the front of the shop. She often hated the texture of the bricks as she packed them away, the fabric gloves being her only solace when she was given the task.

Swallowing hard, she nervously crept around the corner, eyeing Thomas Shelby and some of the other blinders in her fathers office as she continued, not noticing the man she collided with as she stumbled back slightly.

“Oi! I’m so sorry sir...wasn’t even fuckin’ looking.” She said, brushing a stray hair from her face and tightening her apron around her waist.

“No problem love, you alright?” He asked, looking concerned as he adjusted his well tailored suit.

“Y-yeah. Just looking for my gloves. I have to go.” She said, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be out for long while the blinders were there, yet trying to not look the dashing man in the eyes.

As she walked away, his eyes followed her to her station where she usually rolled dough and decorated pastries, grabbing her gloves which were tinted white from the previous cocaine shipment she handled earlier in the morning.

“Hey...miss? Before you go...what’s your name?” He asked, a crooked smile spreading across his features as she neared him.

“Uhm...it’s Y/N. What’s yours? You don’t look like you’re from ‘round here.” She said.

“I’m Michael, Michael Gray. I’m with the blinders.” He said.

“Oh....um, well I have to get going. It was nice meeting you...Michael.” She said, awkwardly putting on the gloves as he recognized the powder falling off them.

“What do you around here anyway? I know that’s not flour on those gloves.” He said with a smirk. She swallowed hard before answering, her eyes flicking to the window of her fathers office.

“Um...I bake, and...I organize things. Listen...I really do have to go. I’ll see you ‘round sometime, yeah?” She asked. He followed her gaze to the window, noticing the nervous look on her face.

“Alright. See you around, Y/N.” He said with a wink, walking back to his lookout spot in the corner.

She smirked slightly as she passed him, reluctantly heading straight to the back, the other workers paying her no mind as she resumed packing the bricks.

As she worked, she could hear shouts coming from her fathers office, her stomach tightening in knots at the tension she could see forming in the room. Thomas and him standing close to each other, most likely mumbling threats under their breaths. A few moments later, she saw the men exit the tattered room, putting their razored caps on and storming out the door. Michael ultimately leaving with them, but catching her staring as he looked back towards the room she was in. She smiled lightly as he smirked, shutting the door behind him.

She shook her head as she turned back, getting the rest of her packing done while shaking away the thought of someone like him ever taking an interest. She knew her father dealt in dangerous business, so she wasn’t afraid of the blinders and her father doing business necessarily, but she couldn’t deny that them feuding terrified her, knowing even one slip-up could put her or her father at risk. Blowing their years-long cover.

As she was lost in thought, Alfie walked down after they left, smiling as he grabbed a bottle of rum from one of the crates and locking it back.

“You don’t have to organize all those love. How about we go call it a day aye? I know you’re probably wanting summing’ because your old man made ya work back ‘ere all day.” He said. His words annoying to her ears as of late as she grew bored of her life at the shop and at home. One question forever buzzing in the back of her mind as she continued her monotonous tasks.

“I was wondering something....” She said, taking her gloves off and turning towards him.

“Yeah? Wondering about work or what? I’m all ears now you know.” He said, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand.

Her stomach tightened again as she looked her loving, yet over-protective father in the eyes.

“I was uh...wondering how you would feel if I moved out?” She asked, the thought barely working its way through her anxious mind before spewing out of her mouth.

“What?” He asked, his eyes squinting as he cocked his head to the side.

“I-I just think since I’m an adult now, I’d like to have a place of my own. That way I won’t come between ya and the business as much. I’m tired of hiding, dad.” She said, throwing the gloves on the table as she sat next to him.

“What devils gotten into your bones? Have you been sniffing the snow or drinking me rum?” He asked.

“No dad....I just...I just want to be more independent that’s all.” She said.

“I’ll tell ya what...if you pack the snow for the next month I’ll up your pay so you can get you a place. I’ll chip in some too but getting it on your own will be good for ya. I taught you to shoot but I didn’t teach ya about life aye?” He said.

“No not really. But spare me the lectures. Let’s get home. I’m starving.” She said.

“Alright. Let’s get on with it then.” He said, walking with his cane as they made their way to the car.

As the next few weeks passed, she found herself going into work with a smile. Knowing she’d get to work towards her own place, and for the chance to see the dapper blinder who’d been making regular appearances lately, and to her surprise, for more than business reasons.

He’d been sent by Thomas to crunch numbers and talk bets with Alfie, knowing that he was sent to handle more of the legitimate business than the illegal stuff.

But if Y/N learned anything throughout her years, it was knowing when to make herself known.

She waited until Alfie closed his office door, watching Michael walk down the creaky steps as she did a small whistle.

He turned around and grinned, walking towards her, as was becoming their habit recently.

“Y/N, didn’t think you were here, love. Must’ve been in the back again aye?” He asked, quietly. She nodded and led him to one of the women’s lavatories.

“W-why are we in here? I haven’t even taken you on a date.” He asked, a mischievous grin on his lips.

“Shh. There’s no other place right now for us to go. I haven’t told him.” She said.

“Told who?” He asked.

“My-my father. Alfie.” She said, nervously biting her lip as she removed her hand from his. Crossing her arms over her chest.

“Wait...your father is Alfie fucking Solomons?” He asked, his face hardening at the fact. His usual happy demeanor fading.

“Well, adoptive father. He uh adopted me when I was 16 from an orphanage ’round here. He wanted to protect me...from uh...people like you. I guess he’s had some bad history with the blinders and other groups so I’ve been most my life, just working here to pass the time.” She said.

“People like me? What...are you afraid of me?” He asked.

“What? No! I’ve been around dangerous men all my life. I’m just saying that your blinder cousins may not take a liking to me and neither will my father to you. I just have a bad feeling about it.” She said.

“So...what are we to do? Fucking talk in the bathroom every week or what?” He asked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“We’ll do what I do best. We’ll have to hide.” She said. He looked at her with a confused expression as he put his hand on her hips.

“I get off at 4pm and my father won’t be home until late at night. I usually go straight home, but meet me at the warehouse later around 7pm, yeah?” She asked, seeing him smirk.

“Michael I’m deadly serious. If Thomas or my father finds out we’re as good as dead.” She said.

“Fine...I’ll meet you, but I want you to bring some of the snow. Can you sneak it out?” He asked.

“Yeah. Alright, now go, the workers are coming down the hall.” She said, hearing the plethora of Alfie’s men stomping down the dark hall, making it easier for Michael to slip out un-noticed.

“See you then, Y/N.” He said, pecking her cheek before he left.

She rubbed the spot, her cheeks flushing at the brief contact.

“Y/N?” Alfie’s voice rang from the hall, making her heart race as she thought of all the reasons he could be asking for her, internally praying that it wasn’t because he caught Michael leaving.

“Yeah dad?” She asked, quickly stepping out of the restroom.

“Thought ya ran off love. I was just gonna remind ya I’m working late again.” He said.

“Alright, how many nights are you working late?” She asked.

“Well, probably every day for this month. Thomas and the rest of his blinders are damn near making me lose me mind.” He said.

“Oh...ok. Well I’ll keep an eye on Cyril then. Is it ok if I go out to the shops later? Been wanting to stock up for the new place, for whenever I get it.” She said.

“I mean I’m not going to be there so I can’t stop ya can’t I? You can but remember your gun and that knife. You remember how to use it aye?” He asked.

“Yes dad, I can’t really forget stabbing a man for you, nor can I forget putting a bullet through his head.” She said, shivering slightly at the memory of when things got tense at the shop with a disgruntled employee. Alfie had beaten the man unconscious and dragged the man to the back, telling her that it would be good practice. And it was, but after it was done, she vowed to herself that she’d never use such weapons unless she had to.

“Right, well I have to go deal with some business. I’ll let you off at 4 like usual alright?” He asked.

“Okay, thanks dad. I’ll see you...I guess tomorrow depending on how late you get in.” She said giving him a hug before walking back to her station.

The last few hours dragged on as she reminisced over the past couple of weeks. Her heart skipped a beat thinking about how they’d secretly talk and make out behind the shop where her dad couldn’t see, and how on days like today she had to drag him into the restroom as her heart beat out of her chest at the rebelliousness of it all. It was nothing compared to what she planned to get away with tonight, and for hopefully weeks to come, but it was a small step towards her independence, even if they had to hide their relationship from the world.

As the clock struck 4 she headed towards the back of the building, snagging a bottle of rum from an opened crate and replacing it with one that had just came off the line for the night. Shoving the bottle in her purse as she grabbed a rather small brick of cocaine, it being one of the various runts in the pile they’d received that day.

With quick steps, she went out the door and down to the car that was waiting for her. The purse growing slightly heavy as she continued on. Her father didn’t want her walking home alone of course, and so he arranged for one of his men to routinely take her home, ultimately becoming a blessing and a curse for her independence she was so desperately trying to achieve.

“Hello Tim, I have an odd request today.” She said, counting the huge wad of cash in her purse she’d managed to save up well before asking about apartments

“What’s that Ms.Solomons?” He asked, hid old face wrinkling with a smile.

“Can we stop by the housing department? I’ve had my eye on an apartment for a few weeks. Don’t worry though, I’ve already gotten my fathers approval.” She said, pulling off her biggest lie yet.

“Alright, after that do you wish to go home? He asked.

“Yes please.” She said, watching as the streets zipped by.

Once at the housing department, she told the landlord where she’d like to stay and she followed her to the requested location. Her eyes lit up as she saw the rather grand place. It was just close enough that her father needn’t worry too much while also being just enough of a distance away from the shops she loved going to. It was a rather safe area given the town and her fathers plethora of men protecting her, but she enjoyed the new sense of independence as she gave the woman a cash deposit, along with enough for the years rent.

The woman’s eyes lit up as she saw the amount of cash, Y/N rather un-phased given her fathers business.

“Are you sure Ms.? This is so much in advance.” She said.

“Yes. When shall I move in?” She asked. Checking her watch and seeing it was just after 5pm.

“Oh I’d say ‘round any time next week. Here’s your key, just drop by before you begin moving in.” She said with a smile as she got in her car and left.

“Alright Tim, I’m ready to go home.” She said, a satisfied smile on her face.

“I’m impressed. You got this place yourself? Alfie must be proud.” He said.

“Mhmm.” Y/N said, nervously fidgeting with her hands as she remembered the lie. He’d have her neck if he knew she’d already bought the place earlier than he would’ve liked. But what could it hurt?

The minutes passed rather quickly as she was dropped off at her house, walking inside to see Cyril’s tail wagging as she came through the front door. The house was dimly lit and quiet, just as she’d left it that morning. She played with him and made sure his water bowl was filled, seeing as the maid would help feed him later, but she still loved helping wherever she could.

“Ms. Y/N, I have your dress ready. I’ll feed the dog later and make sure the house is kept before leaving. I hope you enjoy your date.” The older woman said, a genuine smile on her face.

“Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped me these last few weeks. Here.” She said, giving her a few slips of cash from her purse.

“Just as a thank you. I’ll be moving in next week to my apartment. Dad doesn’t know though so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him.” She said.

The maids eyes widened at the cash in her hand, agreeing with a small smile and a quick nod before returning to her duties. As much as she loved this house, she wanted to do things on her own terms. She wanted to meet people on her own terms, and finally not hide herself. To make more friends than just the maid. To start actually living.

With an excited smile she ran up the stairs, putting the casual dress on and doing her makeup, deciding to leave her hair as-is, then anxiously making her way outside. The purses weight tugging at her shoulder as she walked down the quiet streets, her gun in her purse and her small knife in hand.

Once she neared the warehouse, she sat around the back, taking a swig of the rum before Michael got there to calm her nerves.

She watched the sun set over Camden Town, the birds songs ending as the insects buzzed about, the air turning a bit colder as she looked at her watch. It was just after 7pm, her heart sinking in her chest as she thought he’d stood her up. But after a few moments, she heard footsteps, making her panic slightly not knowing who was behind them. She carefully drew her gun, aiming at the man as he walked closer, his hands soon up in surrender.

“Y/N? It’s me. Michael.” He said, a smirk on his face, lowering his hands.

“I figured you were ‘round back, didn’t think you’d try to shoot me though.” He said.

“Sorry. You never know out here.” She said, putting her gun away and retrieving the cocaine and rum.

“You carried all that here? I’m impressed.” He said, inspecting the cocaine as she opened the bottle, taking another swig from it. She cringed internally as the liquid burned her throat. She’d only drank a few times, not to any huge extent, but now that she was older and more capable, she figured she at least could drink how she pleased.

“How’d you score this rum?” He asked, taking a swig from the bottle as well.

“I stole it from my dads stash in the back. And that coke is one of the runts of the batch, it was too small to pack in the big crates. Figured I’d bring the whole thing since you seemed to know about it a couple weeks ago.” She said, smirking at the memory of their first awkward meeting.

“Have you tried it?” He asked, leaning back against the wall of the warehouse.

“No.” She said turning away from his gaze as she nervously brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s easy. Watch.” He said, unwrapping it and shaving off a sliver of the white substance with her knife. He sat it on top of the brick and made sure it was all crushed, forming it in a straight line.

He handed her the brick carefully as she held it up towards his face, him inhaling the powder through his nose in one fell swoop.

“You want me to shove that shit up my nose? Are you mad?” She asked, giggling as she took another swig from the rum.

“Yeah. Can’t hide from everything love.” He said, his words hitting home probably more than he realized.

“Alright, if I die, my fathers gonna have your head on a spike.” She said.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He said, preparing a smaller amount of the drug and holding it up to where she could inhale it through her nose. Her nostril burned as she did so, the foreign particles lacing their way through her system.

She laughed and shook her head, wiping her nose of any excess powder as she looked up at Michael who was chuckling slightly.

“That was so odd. I’m not doing that again. Not right now anyway.” She said, handing him the bottle of rum as she curled up next to him. It had only been about a month since they’d met, but even then, their interactions became more frequent.

Over the next few weeks, it was as if they’d known each other for years the way they got on. His aunt Polly eventually seeing a spark in his eye that wasn’t there before, and the same went for Alfie.

“You’ve met someone. I can tell.” Polly said one night, catching him coming in drunk on more than one occasion.

“Yeah I did. Tommy can’t do anything about it. It’s not his concern so don’t go telling him.” He said as he stumbled into the house.

As Michael grappled with the weight of seeing an adversaries daughter, Y/N had gradually moved things into her apartment with the help of her driver, all under her fathers nose. But she knew that once her room was more vacant, he’d catch on. Knowing if the blinders didn’t anger him enough, her leaving suddenly surely would.

One night after a drunken date with her mystery boyfriend, Alfie confronted her. Holding the small brick they’d chipped away at over the previous weeks.

“Oi! You wanna explain this? No daughter of mine is going to be sneaking drugs in me house. Do you really think I’m dumb? Cuz I guarantee you I’m not. This can’t happen. Not under my roof.” He said, lighting his cigar.

“Well if you didn’t want to pack it anyway I thought I might as well put it to good use. But uh, I’ll be sneaking it under me own roof from now on. I’ve bought a place if you couldn’t already tell from barging in my room to find that.” She said, folding her arms like she often did when she was frustrated.

Alfie stepped closer to her, his eyes not leaving hers as she barely flinched.

“I’ll find out who you’re doing all this for. Once I do, you’ll wish ya never stole a thing.” He said, walking towards his chair he usually sat on in their grand living room.

Y/N shook her head and chuckled to herself, stomping off towards her room. Her mind raced as she thought about what to do, grabbing what was left of her clothes and hurling them into her suitcases, deciding to leave the house for good in the morning.

Alfie sighed and sat back in his chair as he heard Y/N rummaging around upstairs. The sweet girl he helped raise all of a sudden wanting to leave the nest. 

It seemed like everything was fine in their lives until the peaky fucking blinders waltzed into his shop. Not caring who they destroyed as long as they got their money, their rum, or their drugs.

[juhihuji]

do u have any random facts or things about Depth of heaven and ur characters (sfw or nsfw 🤭) even if what you want never comes to light, I really enjoy reading the concepts and asks about ur OCs

Hehehe I haven't thought about the characters and their story in a long time, until recently...but I never put a huge amount of thought into them before either! I kinda just knew I...wished I could make something cool that had everything I wanted in that kind of game lmao. Even if it doesn't happen, I felt like I wanted there to be twists and secrets...if it never happens then nobody but me will ever know about them, huh! But, if it does happen then I'll spoil stuff for later! What to do...ah I'll share about it! But I'm giving it a spoiler warning for something that doesn't exist anyway lmao Also I'm not a writer or a scientist this is all wacky world rules ok xd also there might be inconsistencies idk I never wrote anything down I'll tell u their heights! June: 5'4 Puzzle: 6'3 Koa: 5'6 Adam: 6'1 Keizo: 6'7 Lloyd: 5'11 Static: 6' Cyril: 5'9 Holly: 5'7

In high school June and Puzzle were da weeaboos who listened to vocaloid on their phones at lunch. Puzzle wore cat ears, big headphones, and tutus to school. I think....I decided that because of her old bad design lmao. I thought I had a drawing of her in cat ears but I can't find it 😔 June prolly just wore hoodies and graphic t-shirts. They were each others prom dates! June wore a tux! Okay spoilery stuff ahead!

I have a general idea what I want the story to be, but right now I just see it as disjointed scenes in my head. I posted some June and Puzzle wearing dresses where I wanted a scene to happen in a casino on the ship. Cruise ship casinos are kinda lame though lol, but it'll be as big and cool as I want >:•3 and it's an excuse to have everyone in cool formal wear cuz that's always fun! The cult leader calls for a big party on the ship and everyone has to attend! It's also where he culls the herd...because not everyone is worthy of going to heaven...apparently Koa likes playing video games! He's on the top of the leaderboard for one MMO, and during one event the top prize was blueprints for an in-game item: roller skates! It would make for cool merch to put on your wall or something. There was a rumor among the playerbase that the blueprints could make skates that function as they do in the game. Koa won the prints then used them to custom build his own skates (they look kinda generic now but I haven't put a lot of thought into their design lmao). The combination of materials used and construction give them a magical quality that allows him to skate faster than any human could! He's always pushing his limits, and sometimes it gets him in twubble xd Keizo has an issue with bad dreams...at night he replays all the times in his life where people were rude to him or each other, how he needs to keep peace between them, he just really hates assholes! He has nightmares about them treating him badly and there's nothing he can do, because at his height and with his strength he'd come off as the bad guy no matter what! They push and push 'til he's about to snap...then he wakes up! The rage super heats his blood and his skin glows red and steam pours out his ears! His hair is all wacky cuz it holds it's shape on the pillow from all the heat lmao June and the rest of them find out about it when they see steam coming out from under his door at night. Don't wake him up though! If he's still glowing hot he'll sleep walk while in a berserk state. First, it makes him really rude himself lmao. He'll say all the nasty things he won't when he's awake! Second, if he sees someone doin' shit he don't like, they're gettin' these 🤜🤛 In his happy ending you'd see him with his hair flat for the first time wouldn't that be nice :•3 Adam is always doing experiments on himself, kinda just for shits, kinda because he wants to discover something amazing....!.....?!?!??! When he was younger, his sister, who he loved v much, died. He wanted to become a doctor, not because he wanted to find a cure for the thing that killed his sister...because she died in an accident! He wanted to find a way to make people invincible! He's always injecting himself with stuff hoping it'll make him stronger. He likes Keizo as a friend, but to Adam Keizo is a perfect specimen of an indestructable human. Adam's been fascinated with him for a while, but Keizo also just makes for a good subject for testing against! Also, they met when Adam was studying abroad and Keizo came up on a motorbike and attacked the wheels on Adam's scooter. Cute! :•) Keizo used to be a bad boy :•( Other experiments Adam's done: Eyesight like a HAWK Cat ears but for real Jelly bones(?) Longer ween 😳 Lloyd is a stinky tech wiz who likes playing around with AI's and robotics! He has myassive myega brains and he monitors many of the functions of the ship by himself in his server room. When the captain is captured and thrown off the ship, Lloyd uses his know-how and special accesses to make sure the cult doesn't make a mess of everything. He knows about and can see everything that happens on the ship...for fun he likes video games toooo! And plays with Koa! He likes buildin' lil gadgets n tings for fun too! They can come in real handy! nsfw! Stuff past here!!!!!!!!! June, Koa, and Lloyd are all inexperienced!

As a lover, Keizo tries to be gentle...but once he gets into it he can be a bit rough! If you're into it, just enjoy! Or speak up and he'll slow down! Hmmm I was inspired by a scene from the film Crying Freeman (which I haven't actually watched 8•|) of some ppl doin' it in a closet(?)...it's all dark and cramped and humid and their skin is so shiny and glistening it's probably the thing that awoken me to drawing people super sweaty. I just can't help myself 😳 def wanna give Keizo a scene like that. This doodle was inspired by it actually lmao

Adam is patient and gentle! Lots of kisses and verbal reassurance and checking in w/ u. He's aware of his age and he doesn't wanna come off badly so he'll let you do all the pursuing. And June will pursue him hard if she has to! He's also gonna make you beg and ask, just so he's sure sure :•) He loves to sit her up on the examining table n do things wit his mouf n fingers 😳 I'd probably make it an option to call him daddy in certain scenarios...up to u if u choose it find out what happens for urself idk 😳😳😳 or don't

Koa likes to tease you, maybe bully you a lil, but when it comes to intimacy he's a wimp! I just like the idea of making the bully bend to your will, but he likes it. It just feels good to wipe that cocky smile off his face! Step on him! Make him whimper! I know June's a virg too, but Koa is just so easy to tease it makes it feel like second nature. BUT the more time they spend together, the more confident Koa becomes. So! Enjoy havin' him under your thumb while you can cuz it might not last forever! Lloyd tries to stay composed when June starts showing an interest. He's usually alone in his server room, but secretly appreciates her company when she comes by. At first he'll act like he's too busy. He's not used to being around women! As his interest in June grows it becomes harder to hide his feelings! So June notices...and teases him! Cuz it's just so easyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyYYYYYYY 😩 Seeing his serious expression crack when you put ur hands in his pants is lots of fun :•3 And he shows you a voice he's never shown anyone else before 🤤 He does his research and with your help he'll learn exactly how to worship u 😌 IF it ever happens there has to b a new game plus where u unlock threesome scenes with Koa/Lloyd and Adam/Keizo :•x That's all 4 now! Sorry I'm fuckin' gross and don't know how to type :•|

[tartagilicious]

only to you > gavin, mlqc

I call this piece: i suck at dialogue. someone please teach me 😫 // w.c 1472 // requested by: anonymous -

Hi!! Can I get an order of gavin comforting mc when she’s devastated by something? Perhaps with a side of them in a relationship? 👀 (hope you’re holding up well after the new PV because I’m sure as hell not LOL)

--

The day starts unceremoniously. I wake well past noon suddenly short of breath, as if a nightmare had stolen it from me -- but then again, I’m not sure I can say that’s false. The satellite at sea, Cyril’s affixation on spreading an eternal snow, all of the details flooding back into my brain are more than enough to warrant that explanation.

Truthfully, I almost leave it at that. Like I don’t want it to be true.

Yet as soon as I move my body, I’m cruelly reminded of just how real everything had been. I gasp in pain and rip back the covers of my bed to reveal my messily bandaged feet, still visibly dark with frostbite. My breath starts to pick up again from there, too fast and panicked, yet, it’s beyond me to stop it.

There’s only one thought on my mind: Did I do it?

I lift my gaze to search the room around me, and upon landing on a familiar framed picture of a smiling Gavin, I feel solace in it. I don’t know what kind of tears slip from my eyes at that moment, truthfully. But, no matter the reigning emotion, I’m only relieved to be back.

Just as I begin to feel comfortable again, something rapidly interrupts the silence. I turn my head to find the source, my phone, buzzing uncontrollably on the nightside table. It almost seems to dance in the way it vibrates, and a large part of me hesitates to even look at it.

News outlets, texts, and other notifications of all the sort are pouring onto the screen without restraint.

Much to my horror, it only stops after several minutes. My recovering hands reach over tentatively to move and grab it, and within a shaky grip, I read the most recent message out of habit. Sitting starkly at the top of the screen is an article from a local station detailing the crises related to the evol virus, and gives tips on how to adjust back into normal life after the eradication.

I do a double take.

Eradication?

My face goes taut with nerves as my thoughts run on overdrive, only coming to a stop when I’ve read the date at the top of the screen.

It’s been six months? I was in the dream world for six months?

I look up from my phone blankly, and as if opening my eyes further, I start to recognise the sizeable layer of dust that covers every noticeable surface in the room.

I start to feel sick.

A thousand questions swirl through my head at once, but above most of them, there’s one that stands out -- what about Gavin?

I fumble through my tears to call him as my hopes of a normal world go straight down the drain. He picks up halfway through the first ring, his familiar steady breathing comforting in the way it comes over the receiver.

“___?”

I bite my lip, capping the stream of words I was going to blurt out and settling with the safer option.

“Gavin… do you remember me?”

He’s silent. But, much to my surprise, he just responds with a short laugh. “What do you mean? Do you really not have confidence in yourself?”

I sigh in relief as a small chuckle escapes Gavin’s lips.

“I knew you could do it.”

I can feel his warm smile from over the phone. I’ll never forget the happiness that bloomed in my chest upon seeing him in the black cabin again, my lover finally dressed the way I was used to and smiling in a way that still makes my heart beat a little faster than usual.

Though Gavin was right in front of me in the other world, seeing the Gavin I knew again let me tell him everything I couldn’t say to the other.

“I missed you.”

Only the Gavin I knew could say that he missed me too.

“Actually, I don’t know if I did it right,” I say, trying to hide the stress that peeks into my voice. “I mean, did you get the chance to look around yet?”

He sighs, the sound of his hand running through his hair coming through the receiver. “Yeah, yeah I did. But, the time skip isn’t something you did, is it? Time can’t possibly flow the same way in every universe.”

I hum quietly. “I just hope that’s it.”

I wipe away a stray tear and sniffle without thinking about it, immediately freezing as Gavin’s soft voice sounds again.

“...Are you crying?”

“Wha- no!” I panic, forcing out a laugh that slowly dies as my face crumples. “I-I’m really not, you know…”

“Come on, where are you? I need to know you’re okay after all of that.”

Fighting the striking pain in my frostbitten feet, I can’t help but hesitate. While Gavin had seen and even bandaged my wounds himself, I doubt he remembered through the haziness of meeting again. But, the chance of seeing in the real world again sets off something in my chest that I never want to get rid of.

“...Can I meet you on my balcony?”

Gavin laughs gently through his nose. “Of course. I’ll see you in a few?”

I hum quietly, shifting as I get up to see if I can walk normally.

“I love you, ___.”

I stop mid-action and smile fondly, my tears momentarily drying due to the warmth glowing in my chest. Every time he utters those words, it’s like I’m hearing them for the first time.

“I love you, too.”

True to his promise, he wastes little time getting to me, appearing in the sky mere minutes later. I get hot feet seeing him again, ironically, but once he’s close I forget about everything for a moment. It’s only for a split second, but I feel weightless.

Gavin’s expression mirrors mine almost immediately, and just as his feet are about to touch solid ground, I jump the short distance into his arms. His arms tighten around me steadfastly before I can so much as even get a word out.

The same warm feeling I'd experienced meeting him in the black cabin spreads throughout my chest, and tenderly, a new onslaught of tears nurses it well.

“A-ah, Gavin,” I mumble shakenly, warmth flooding my chest as he pulls my head into his shoulder with familiarial ease. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” He says in a soft voice, hand rising to cradle the back of my head. “I’m so proud of you.”

I stay silent, scrunching my fingers together where they rest on his back.

“...Without you there, I couldn’t have done it.”

He hums in disapproval, beginning to sway casually with me in his arms. “Don’t try to downplay what you did, ___. You figured out how to go from one world to the other while all I did was talk.”

“...I still wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

He’s thoughtfully silent.

“Everything we’ve been through together, it’s shaped me into who I am and how I make my own decisions.” I murmur, my hand raising to wind through the hair at his nape. “And though I was a stranger in that world, you never hesitated to talk me out of irrational things or stand by my side. What I mean is, no matter where I go, your influence on me-- it’s--”

My tears cut me off.

Gavin responds by securing his arms around me, burying his nose deeper into my neck until I can feel his lips brush my skin.

“Do you remember what I told you then?” He asks softly, only cajoling more tears out of me. “No matter what path you take, I will always be by your side.”

I take a deep breath, and slowly, I nod.

I want to make up for the time we weren’t in each other’s lives.

He’s right -- I know he is. Ever since I met him again at the police station all that time ago, a tight expression on his face and too-sweet coffee in his grip, he’s done nothing but as he says. Every hill I chose to die on and every dumb mistake i’ve made, he’s had my back.

I want to make up for the time we weren’t in each other’s lives.

I want to spend our weeknights together eating takeout on my balcony, even though there’s nothing wrong with the table inside. To go to the movies and play arcade games before making out in the back row like kids falling in love for the first time.

I want to make the most of the time we’re in each other’s lives.

My eyes flutter shut, and instead of all the things I should be worrying about, all I see in my mind is him.

[simastysims]

Simasty Season 1 Episode 2 “The plot thickens” (originally published Nov 2018 @simasty.com)

Brystle Hemmings is preparing for her marriage to billionaire Burke Simmington. She faces hostility from all sides in his mansion, either from the staff or from Burke’s spoiled daughter Fathom. Brystle is worried that a past indiscretion may come to light…. Fathom meanwhile was overwhelmed by Brystle’s cheap perfume and sought comfort with potential sugar daddy Cyril Dolby, business rival to her father Burke. Cyril brushed off Fathom’s amorous advances and urged her to marry her former boyfriend, who is also his nephew, Seth…. Meanwhile Burke’s estranged son Heathen returned to the family mansion for his father’s wedding and is unsure if he will be able to reconcile with his father….And now, read on for the next juicy chapter….

Brystle knocked back the remains of her Brindleton Bay Iced tea and took a deep breath. This was the day before her wedding, she should be celebrating. Yet here she was all alone in Burke’s study in Siloli mansion with not a friend in the entire 48 rooms of the house. The snidey comments from Joseph the major-domo had stung. He referred to Brystle as replaceable, did that mean there had been multiple women in Burke’s life? Had they all been replaced whenever Joseph was displeased? There had only been 1 previous Mrs Simmington as far Brystle knew and she had abandoned her husband and children years ago, never to be seen or heard of since. But what part had Joseph in all of this? Was he such an influence on Burke? Brystle had no clue but the fact that Joseph knew, or implied he knew, something about Brystle’s past made her alarmed. For she knew her previous affair with married man, and employee of Burke, Mayhew Drysdale would cause a rift between her and Burke. The affair had been brief and it was before she and Burke got together but Brystle knew that any new headlines of the new Mrs Simmington sleeping with her husband’s employees would not sit well at all. There was only one thing to do and that was to see Mayhew.

Brystle left he study and walked through the never-ending corridors of Siloli mansion. It truly was cavernous. She still had trouble finding her way about and had once got lost for several hours just trying to locate the nearest bathroom. Eventually after much wandering she found herself in the grand ballroom, the most luxurious of all rooms in Siloli. It wasn’t where she needed to be and was about to turn to leave when she heard a soft male voice from behind her.

Brystle, at first startled, turned and faced the young man. His delicate features matched the softness of his voice. She knew who he was even though they had not met

And so Heathen took his seat at the grand piano and started to play. Almost immediately Brystle was captivated by the melody, it was mesmerizing. She was also captivated by the very movements of Heathen’s fingers across the ivories.  Heathen continued to play effortlessly and with precision. Brystle took a seat beside him and waited until he had finished.

Heathen took a seat by Brystle and the two started chatting away like they had known each other for years.  After spending time getting to know one another and brightening one another’s day Heathen started to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He even felt that there would be a chance to make amends with Burke.

At last Brystle felt that she had made a positive connection with another individual in the house other than Burke. It was a weight off her heavily shoulder padded shoulders but there was still the matter of Mayhew to sort out and that was where she had to go next. But first she needed an outfit change….

Millionaire playboy ,and heir to the DolbyDoh fortunes ,Seth Dolby was entertaining his latest female acquaintance, the delightful Minus Manners. He had met her only recently, about an hour ago to be precise, on a flight into San Myshuno International Airport aboard the private DolbyDoh jet. Seth had been returning from an extended stay in the hedonistic gambling city of Lucky Palms. Minus had just started her first day on the job as the DolbyDoh jet’s stewardess and couldn’t believe her luck when the handsome playboy began flirting with her.

Once the flight landed Seth whisked her off in his waiting limo. In the back of the limo they could barely keep their hands off one another and smooched passionately all the way to Seth’s apartment. Once there they continued their afternoon amorous activities including a steamy shower together. Afterwards the flirting continued with Seth showing off his fine physique…

They took their canoodling to the couch where Minus proceeded to demonstrate the power of her hands by giving Seth a sensual massage.

As things got steamy in the apartment, Seth’s uncle Cyril was arriving to pay his nephew an unexpected visit following his earlier meeting with Fathom at the art gallery.

Being a very forthright man, Cyril let himself into the apartment without knocking. Seth was surprised but happy to see his uncle and quickly leapt up to welcome him. Minus was less than impressed by this intrusion not realising that Cyril was the CEO and founder of DolbyDoh. In other words her boss!

Seth then introduced Minus to his uncle. Minus spoke politely and hid her annoyance rather well. Cyril ,however, viewed the girl with disdain for he had come here on a mission -he had plans for Seth. No 2 bit, good time girl was going to get in his way.

Seth offered his uncle a seat as he himself sat back down on the sofa. Seizing his chance Cyril leapt forward and positioned himself nicely on the couch in between the prospective lovers.

The penny dropped for Minus and she realised who this older man was. She quickly got up and scurried herself off to the bedroom. Cyril turned his attention to Seth.

Seth got up from the sofa. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing from his uncle. Cyril had never disapproved of Seth’s playboy antics before and had in fact actively encouraged Seth to go out and enjoy himself as much as possible.

Cyril still had a plan to see through. As this stern father tactic was not working he decided to try a different approach.

Seth stopped in his tracks. Right then and there Cyril knew he had him in the palm of his hand. Seth had always loved Fathom and no other woman could fill the emptiness she had left behind when they broke up all those years ago. This was going to be easier than he thought.

And with that, Cyril left the apartment satisfied in the knowledge that he had successfully sown the seed of his deception in Seth’s mind. His nephew had never settled with any girl following the break up with Fathom when they were teenagers. His heart belonged to her. Fathom just had to play her part now. Cyril knew that deep down Fathom had feelings for Seth though she would not admit it. But she was a fickle girl and if Seth behaved like a love sick puppy then Fathom would probably run for the hills and his plan to take over Burke’s company WindenburgSimmington would be over before it had begun…

Seth was left in a state of total confusion. He had not seen much of Fathom these past couple of years save for what he read about her on online gossip columns. She had broken off with Seth claiming she was bored of him so to learn that she had been in love with him all this time seemed unreal. He staggered into his bedroom where the scantily dressed Minus waited for him but his thoughts were now of Fathom.

Minus was about to say something but instead Seth took her in his arms and began intensely smooching her. Minus did not complain, not even when Seth whispered another woman’s name in her ear…

And then after a false start, Minus finally got her man into bed. He may have been thinking of another woman but Minus was determined to show Seth the time of his life and woohoo his brains out.

As it was the eve of his wedding Burke had decided to leave the office early. Being the CEO and founder of a global corporation meant he still had a lot of matters to see to and as such he had his right hand man with him in his study, lawyer and good friend Andre Wayward.  

Andre and Burke went back years and Burke had given Andre his first job straight out of law school. Andre had stood by Burke over the years and helped him build WindenburgSimmington into the mega global corporation it now was. A very resourceful lawyer, Andre has found the means to help Burke out of any sticky situation be it work or personal. It is this lifelong friendship that has made Andre look out for Burke and to prevent anyone from taking advantage of the billionaire. Including potential new wives…

Andre was of course referring to Burke’s first marriage. That Mrs Simmington had been paid off with a small fortune to leave Windenburg and never return. Whilst it hadn’t financially ruined Burke the scandal of it all almost did.

Andre hadn’t anticipated this response from Burke. His friend and client was always one step ahead of anyone at anytime, always pre-empting his opponent’s every move. That was how he had become so successful. To see him like this throwing caution to the wind was unheard of. Just what had Brystle done to him? Andre persisted with the prenuptial agreement.

Andre sighed, there would be no changing Burke’s mind. This was more like him, always sticking to his guns on something he believed in. Only this time Andre feared this would end up costing him dearly. And he wanted to state for the record his opinion on the matter.

Burke considered the file momentarily before shaking his head.

Andre too shook his head but in pure disbelief that Burke was behaving like this. He shook his friend’s hand told him while he disagreed with his decision he wished nothing but the best for him and Brystle. But, as every good lawyer knows, keeping a poker face when hiding the truth is the key to being a success. Andre’s thoughts were not what he was vocalising. 

Across town Brystle had gone to Central Park. She had gone there in the hope of meeting someone who she knew to frequent the park for his post work / early evening jog. She stood in the gazebo and gazed at all the happy couples casually strolling through the park. Everyone seemed so joyful, without any cares. Why didn’t Brystle feel this way? It was her wedding tomorrow, she was to be a bride, she should be euphoric. But there was something pressing on her mind.

It was getting late, there were rain clouds rolling in. Just when she thought he wouldn’t show, there was the sound of footsteps on the wooden gazebo behind her. The smell of musky cologne filled the air, it was the type that had a ship on the bottle. Brystle salivated at the whiff of it knowing who was wearing that all too familiar scent.

Heathen had been notified from Joseph that his sister Fathom had returned home and she was having cocktails on the lanai by the swimming pool. He had also instructed the house staff not to inform Fathom that he was here already as he wanted to surprise his sister. So after slipping into some outdoor gear Heathen made his way to the lanai.

After spending a few moments reminiscing the siblings sat down together. Heathen looked around at the house and a wealth of memories came flooding back, not all of them were pleasant.

The mention of Heathen’s boyfriend Fred was obviously a sore point. Fathom was keen to learn more but knowing that Heathen would clam up she decided not to pursue the subject for now. Heathen was already keen to move the conversation along.

The siblings laughed and joked like old times. Heathen made a promise to hang around for a while after the wedding which delighted Fathom.

After a few cocktails they both ended up flat on their backs looking up at the towering trees that were in the Siloli grounds. The conversation by now was less frivolous and for the first time Heathen touched upon a subject that had always been taboo for them both.

They both lay in silence for a while after that for what else could be said about the woman who had seemingly abandoned them as children? It was something that had haunted them as they grew up, the absent mother who never made contact with her children again. Whilst Fathom seemed she could care less whether or not she would see her again, Heathen always believed that their mother would one day return. Perhaps that day would be sooner than he thought…..

Across town at Central Park, Brystle was with her former lover Mayhew….

Brystle turned and faced Mayhew. He looked super hot in his skimpy short shorts. She tried to avert her eyes.

Joseph’s insinuation that he knew something had fuelled Brystle’s anxiety and was the reason she had come here to ask Mayhew that question. That and to catch one final glimpse of those rock hard thighs….

She was trying her best but her eyes were being drawn south….

Brystle felt that she was being torn in two. Her love for Burke was great but seeing those thighs of Mayhew’s again had set her pulse racing. There was only one way to deal with it and that was to cut Mayhew loose.

Mayhew looked crestfallen. Brystle felt so guilty for upsetting him. She sat herself next to him on the bench.

Mayhew was right. At that moment she realised she still had feelings for Mayhew all along. Was it love? Was it possible to be in love with 2 Sims at the same time?

Sensing he had hit a nerve Mayhew got up to leave. A rain cloud suddenly burst in the sky over them and a downpour ensued.

With that he ran out of the gazebo into the rain and vanished from her sight.

Brystle stood and looked out across the rain soaked city. A storm was fast approaching. And it appeared to Brystle at that moment that there would be no sunshine for her after all…..

Will Brystle ever get to see Mayhew’s magnificent manly thighs again? Can we just get to her wedding already?  What information has Andre discovered on Brystle? What is the name of the first Mrs Simmington? And will Seth make a total tit of himself declaring his love for Fathom? Stay tuned for the next exciting episode!

[qqueenofhades]

hello! it’s youngin anon again! quarantine is still ongoing (i think? i mean I’m staying in) and while I am very bored, I have been slowly chipping through some of the book recommendations you gave. (i am a slow reader...) in your ask about France’s own history and struggle with racism you said you spoke some French (which is cool!) how did/do you go about learning languages? thank you!

Hello! I am delighted to hear that you are safe and staying smart (and busy) during the ongoing plague years. I'm also touched to hear that you're working on the book recommendations. No worries about being a slow reader, since after all, we all have nothing but time right now and the fact that you're taking a crack at it is the most important. So yes. This delights me.

As for languages, I've been through the grab bag on various ones. Due to the scandalous and tragic insistence on monolingualism in America (it's the xenophobia!) it is hard to learn languages unless you're born into a family who speaks a second language or you really work at it. I was... sort of both? Ish? Both of my parents speak relatively decent French, so that was the second language that we studied on and off as kids, had various French computer games, etc, though it was never systematic or fluent. However, I absorbed enough of it to (and I stress, I do not recommend doing this) put off the foreign language requirement for my M.A. until like the last two weeks before I was set to graduate, then go in and pass a French-language skills exam rather than having to take Greek. In hindsight, I should possibly have sucked it up and learned Greek anyway, but alas.

Then for my PhD, I was working on French history and with French historians, which meant that a lot of secondary source material was in French and I spent a lot of time reading academic French, which will whip you into shape in a hurry. Then when I went to France to study in 2018, I was mostly able to communicate in French (I'd say 75% of the time) though I had to do Frenglish for a few more complicated conversations. It was intimidating and there were a few moments of misunderstandings, but for the most part I got around without having to use English and that was a confidence boost. (My mom and I were also in France in 2009, though iirc she did most of the talking then.)

I also studied a couple years of Italian in high school, in regular classes, most of which I have now forgotten (though I may need to revive it). I also had to cram-learn Latin for my graduate work, which was just as painful as it sounds. I.e. you sit in a Latin classroom with four other graduate students and the professor and have to translate things and list verb forms and the million different word endings and want very badly to leap out a window. The greatest feeling in the world is walking past a Latin classroom and knowing you do not have to go in it. My Latin is not world-beating by any means, but I can usually translate bits of charters and chronicles and find corresponding passages from English sources and such like.

Then recently, during quarantine, I decided that since I had wanted to learn Russian for a while, I'd kick my own ass and start doing it. I managed to learn to read it pretty quickly, all things considered, even if I still have no idea what the words mean or much, if any, sense of the grammar. But Cyrillic is relatively easy to memorize and learn how to read as an alphabet with just a little dedicated work. I went to to the Russian alphabet wikipedia page and read the letters and memorized them to recite and wrote them out, then threw myself in the deep end and opened up some Russian academic articles and transliterated them to the Latin alphabet, and practiced writing in Cyrillic and so forth. There's also an app called Learn 50 Languages which I downloaded and used to learn some basic Russian vocabulary and do some translation exercises. (Actually, I should get my butt in gear and work on that some more, but then, it's not like I have anything else to do...) As a result, I could probably scrape by in very basic ways if you dropped me in the middle of Moscow, and would be able to read the signs, but that is about it. I will work on it.

My little sister is the real language-learning whiz in the family, as she has lived across Asia for 8 years and has learned Khmer, Korean, Urdu, and probably some others I can't remember in that time, as well as already being fluent in French. I may also take a crack at German at some point, depending on how things go. I feel like it is easier to come back to languages as an adult than it is in grade school as a kid, but then childhood is the best time for second-language acquisition and it's harder for your brain to rewire as a grownup. But with some decent persistence, you can take a hack at it, and it's fun to be able to go somewhere and not have to rely on English and look obviously like a tourist. I've gone a few places where I didn't speak any of the language at all, and within a week was able to at least order a coffee and conduct a basic transaction (and lbr coffee is the only thing that matters). People appreciate it when you make an effort, especially as an American, even if it's not perfect, and will usually help you out. So it is worth doing it.

Anyway, good luck with this and your reading and whatever else you're up to. I've probably said it before, but I'm very proud of you and everything you're working on, and as ever, you're more than welcome to drop in whenever you like.

[slytherin-puffskein]

hope’s lullaby.

summary: The summer between Laurent King’s fifth and sixth year at Hogwarts was the one that hurt the most. Luckily, comfort came to him.

- - -

notes: a huge thank you to all my beta readers for the wonderful feedback they gave me!

- - -

Hope, as Laurent King had recently found out, is nothing but a lie. A stupid invention. A cruel lullaby meant to soothe you with unrealistic scenarios and to make you believe that everything is, in fact, alright when it is clearly not. He had made the mistake of hoping through all summer, of creating himself nonsense --illogical yet comforting scenarios in his mind-- and the truth about hope was finally hitting him full force: it’s sole purpose is to leave you, to abandon you, and to leave you stuck with your own feelings and disarray.

These were his thoughts as he laid before him the many letters he had just received. Spending the entirety of August at his aunt’s place, he had taken care to inform all of his friends of his new address. As he had expected, tons of messages have been sent to him, filled with love and friendship, now awaiting to be read. Even though he knew he should be feeling happy he felt a terrible, selfish bitterness take over his being as he realized something. Fucking called it. But why am I disappointed, if I had already sort of expected it? This doesn’t make fucking sense. None of this does. Why why why? Before him laid letters sent by Penny Haywood, Rowan Khanna, Tulip Karasu… none of them bore the name he had wished most ardently to see.

Barnaby Lee.

Throughout the course of the entire summer, Laurent had no received a single letter from him. It was as if, suddenly, Barnaby had vanished from the surface of the Earth. Or, as Laurent was thinking, as if he, himself, had vanished from the surface of the Earth. As if Barnaby had forgotten about him, had told himself he wasn’t worth it in the end, and the worst was that he didn’t even had the decency to end whatever they had via a letter. 

Whatever they had, he was using that phrase because he simply couldn’t find any other words to use. Friendship? They had more than that, ever since their date at the end of their fifth year. Love? No, they never kissed. And now it would probably, most definitely, never happen. You lost him. You lost it all. What did you do wrong? Everything, probably. It’s just as your dad tells you! No one will ever love you, not with how you currently are. A sob threatened to break through his lips, but he miraculously succeeded in holding it back. Instead of sitting on his bed and crying, he simply slipped the letters under his pillow. He’d read them later.

He didn’t have the time then, because it was time for his shift at his aunt’s bakery. Thank Merlin, I’ll have something to do to take my mind off this shit.

* * *

“Turn that frown upside down!”

Cyril Colin, Laurent’s cousin, was an all too optimistic guy, and at that very moment Laurent was finding himself feeling deeply annoyed. What does he know about what is going on anyway? I didn’t tell him shit. He has no business to try and comfort me. Of course, in another state of mind, Laurent would have appreciated that gesture, but right then the only thing he wished for was to be left alone, and to focus on the croissants he was baking.

In the face of his cousin’s silence, Cyril pouted, and insisted: “C’mon, Laurent. You know you can tell me everything, right? You’re here for me, it’s only fair that I should be here for you. So what’s wrong? Is it related to a wi--”

But before he could finish that final word, Laurent had shoved the first thing that landed in his hand, a macaron, in his cousin’s mouth. “Hush! Don’t say that word out loud, you know it’s supposed to be a secret!” And just like that, the conversation was over, much to Laurent’s joy.

However, by the end of his shift, Laurent still only held one wish: to curl himself in his blankets and to sink into a deep, dreamless sleep. Oh, yeah, that sounded just like paradise, at least to him. This is so ridiculous. Why am I so affected by Barnaby not sending me any letter? It’s not like he’s… my boyfriend or anything.

But that is something you wish for dearly, don’t you? a wicked voice whispered into his mind. You want to touch his hands, to touch his lips, to be his. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he figured out just how of a terrible guy you are. Remember what your father said: you act without thinking, and in your eyes the devil slumbers! That must be true, right? It surely is, since Barnaby’s left you!

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

And all of a sudden, it felt as if his throat was closing right up. He was suffocating, suffering, hurting, and only one thing became his priority: to get the hell out of here and get some fresh air. 

Even if he still had fifteen minutes left on his shift and should have waited until he was done, it was as if his body had a mind of its own, shaky fingers untied his apron and let it fall to the floor. Before he could even realize what he was doing, he was standing outside of the bakery, his cousin’s voice faintly calling for him from the inside, worry painting each of his syllables. He hated that. He hated that Cyril always felt the need to worry over him. I’m fine, Cyril. I’m fine, I keep telling you that and you won’t LISTEN. But the truth was, Laurent wasn’t feeling alright. Not at all. He was just too proud to admit it to himself --too proud to come to terms with the fact that he was truly affected by Barnaby’s radio silence.

Too proud to admit that you’re in love.

“Damn, did you just come back from a marathon or something? You could have warned me, I would’ve come with you. Y’know I love running.” That voice. That all too familiar voice. No, it couldn’t be. Wait. Could it be? No. I spoke to him on the phone last night. Surely, he didn’t come all the way here… or…

As he raised his head and locked gazes with the man standing in front of him, it felt as if his heart was about to burst. Not because of the sadness that had been piling up over it, but because of the pure, bright joy that had suddenly taken over. With a sigh of relief on his lips, he threw his arms around Oscar Whelan.

If people declared Laurent King to be mischief incarnate, that only meant they had yet to meet Oscar Whelan --trouble incarnate. Any ounce of chaos put a smile on his face, every action of his was a mere result of his impulsivity, and his entire aura said one thing and one thing only: ‘let’s run away, you and I. Let’s flee this world and build our own’.

At least, that was what it said whenever Laurent was with him, so he came to assume that it was the same with everyone else.

Born a Muggle, Oscar had known Laurent ever since childhood. They grew up together and he’d been the shoulder Laurent cried on when his mother gave out her last breath. Following her funeral Oscar had brought him to this family’s small apartment where a sleepover without any actual sleep had taken place. Through comforting words and gentle laughter, Oscar had done everything in his power to make Laurent’s smile come back, while also helping him deal with his grief.

When his Hogwarts acceptance letter came, Laurent had been overwhelmed with the wish to tell his friend everything, but he knew very well that in no way that could happen. Instead, he told him that his father had decided to make him a student in a strict boarding school, and that as a result he was meant to leave for ten months, ever year for the next seven years. Are you serious? Oscar had exclaimed. You mean, like, a boarding school with uniforms and such? Lying to his best friend had been the worst thing for Laurent, but he was also well aware that it was for the best. If he were to reveal the existence of the wizarding world to someone outside of his family, just what would possibly happen? Oscar wasn’t a loose lipped person, but no risks could be taken.

No, that’s a lie. A risk had been taken, but an entirely different one. By hiding his true life from Oscar, Laurent had harbored the fear that a wall would build itself between them, separating them and preventing them from fully understanding each other. From his perspective, that imaginary wall would only lead to one outcome: the destruction of his friendship with Oscar Whelan, and that was something he knew he couldn’t possibly handle.

Years had passed and the wall still had yet to make its appearance. But Laurent had kept on fearing, and at sixteen years old he was still terrified. Even with Oscar currently hugging him close, the anxiety related to losing his friendship sprang forth and threatened to take control of his brain.

How unjust, that I cannot tell him everything!

After several minutes of silent hugging, Laurent pulled away at last, but his hands remained splayed on Oscar’s chest to feel his heartbeat. His friend’s arm, wrapped around his waist, provided him with unimaginable comfort. “What are you doing here?” Laurent’s eyes were pretty much filled with question marks at this point, and Oscar could only smile.

“C’mon now, Lau. I know you. When you called me yesterday I felt something was wrong, so I took it upon myself and decided to pay you a visit. Least I can do, right? Though I gotta admit, the thought of stepping into your bakery was also very enticing.”

“It’s not my bakery, Oscar.” Laurent giggled. “It’s my aunt’s, you totally know that.”

“Right. Otherwise you would have added many more flowers for decorations. You should talk about it to your aunt, I’m sure it would look great.”

Oscar’s words remained in Laurent’s mind: When you called me yesterday I felt something was wrong. Yes, Laurent had spoken to him on the phone, but never had he mentioned the letters or anything else related to them, for that matter. Had he sounded that sad? He almost wanted to ask, but decided not to.

“Are you done with your shift?”

“Only a few minutes left. Had to get out to get some fresh air.”

“Well, that’s exactly why I’m here, Laurent. To give you some fresh air. Finish those minutes left, I’ll wait for you here.” But he was smiling. Smiling, because he was seeing the glint of mischief already floating in Laurent’s eyes.

Laurent couldn’t help but smile back. “How about we go now, mhm?”

* * *

They spent hours together, and Laurent hoped that this day would never end. Because, finally, he was reunited with his friend. Finally, things were feeling less heavy, and he knew all too well that the distress would return as soon as it had left if Oscar were to leave. He obviously had to, at some point, and thus Laurent was mentally preparing himself for it. At least, he will be left with memories --wonderful memories to cling into. He would lie on his bed and replay them; hearing their laughs again, tasting the ice cream that Oscar bought for him again… and listening to their conversation again.

As he walked through the city with Oscar, a smile curled his lips when he remembered a conversation which occurred only a few minutes ago. They had been sitting on a bench, in Laurent’s favorite park because of its many trees, and he had decided to tell Oscar. Not the whole wizard business, obviously, but bits and pieces of the life that he had never told him about.

His new friends, for example.

“You have Penny Haywood.” He had told with a smile while still eating his ice cream. Caramel, his favorite flavor. “She’s, like, the sweetest girl ever, I’m telling you. Rowan’s is the best nerd, he helps me studying whenever I struggle with something. At some point, he even practically held me hostage in the library so I could finish my paper! My only focus was to walk around the school, take a breather… but Rowan had other plans in mind. Tulip is the greatest prankster, I think you’d like her. I know I do, she’s one of my closest friends. And--”  The words had died out, however, as he had realized that he had been just about to mention Barnaby Lee.

Oscar had noticed the sudden change of atmosphere. “Something wrong?”

So much. I’m so worried, Oscar. No! I can’t tell him about this. It would be… too complicated. He shook his head. “Nothing, I just… I just feel bad I never told you about them sooner” Lying by telling the truth, what a funny concept. “…about anything related to my school, in truth. It… it must suck, right?” Yes, lying by telling the truth, because he wasn’t telling Oscar the real reason behind his sudden change of emotion, but he was still talking about something that was truly bothering him.

Besides, he had to mention it at some point, right? He had to address his insecurities regarding his friendship with Oscar, the magical thing he cherished dearly, or else it would truly turn to dust.

Much to his surprise, Oscar giggled and gently nudged him. “You can tell or not tell me whatever you want, Laurent. I’ll never take it personal.” He suddenly paused, his brows knitting together in worry. “You… you didn’t tell me all of this because you felt like you had to, right? Because that ain’t right.” Laurent had been unable to not smile.

“No, not at all. I wanted to tell you about ‘em. You’re my best friend, after all. As you said, I tell you everything I want.” Maybe it had been a shadow, but he believed Oscar’s smile had wavered at those two words: best friend. Why, exactly?

He was still thinking of a reason, but he snapped back to reality as he realized that it was getting late. The sun was beginning to set, coloring the sky with beautiful orange and pink hues, and offered a sight that never failed to take Laurent’s breath away. He stopped in his tracks to just look up at its splendor. To memorize all of that beauty. Oscar did the same with a smile on his lips. 

“Beautiful, right?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I can show you something even better.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

Teasingly, Oscar placed his index over his own lips. “Curiosity is a bad thing, Laurent King~”

“Says the most curious guy I know!” And just like that, his worries were gone again.

* * *

Oscar insisted that they waited until the sky turned black and, once it did, Laurent let himself be guided by his friend, holding his hand and trying to figure out just what he had in mind. That, however, was the problem with Oscar Whelan: You never knew exactly what he was planning. Every second with him felt like a toss of the dice, with no idea as to which result you’d get.

They stopped in front of a huge building that Laurent recognized as one of the many gymnasiums of the city. Pulling out a pocket knife from his leather jacket’s pocket, Oscar got to work, quickly succeeding with picking the lock and granting them access inside. Luckily, no alarm system began to blare, and Oscar turned proudly to Laurent, offering him his hand once again. “You trust me, right?” The fact that Oscar had picked locks frequently was not only apparent from the skill he had demonstrated, but also from the absence of shock from his friend.

Now, Laurent was having a faint idea of what his friend had in mind. And without hesitation, he reached for his hand. “Of course I do, Oscar.”

And that was how they found themselves in the gymnasium’s public pool, moonlight spilling inside through the windows and reflecting itself on the calm water. A beautiful sight, truly, one that rendered Laurent still with wonder for a moment. Oscar was right. It’s so beautiful.

“You’re crazy.” But the joy in his voice was impossible to not notice.

“Love you, too.” Oscar replied as he began to undress.

Laurent was quick to do the same and, once they were only in their underwear, he realized just how cold the air was, and how much colder the water would surely be. Oscar probably had made the same realization, because his wicked smile graced his features once more. With the moonlight illuminating the side of his face, he almost looked ethereal. Like a dream. A dream that Laurent found most comforting.

“I dare you,” Oscar’s said, voice filled with challenge, “to jump.”

Oh, you’ll see, Oscar! Laurent immediately turned to look at him, fists on his hips in an attempt to make himself look more intimidating. “I dare you to jump. Wait, no, double dare you!”

“Oh, is that the game you want to play, Laurent? You know I love games.”

The teasing, the stifled in giggles that their voices were containing, it all reminded Laurent of the many blissful moments they had spent together ever since they met, moments he'd missed dearly at Hogwarts. After months of being without his best friend, everything was now falling back into place. He had Oscar, everything was alright.

That wonderful chaos he loved sharing with him had also made its comeback, it seemed, as Oscar suddenly reached for him, his arm wrapping around his waist and bringing him closer --much closer. “You brought this upon yourself, Laurent!”

And with Laurent’s roaring laughter filling the air, Oscar jumped, inevitably dragging his friend along with him.

They broke out of the water’s surface, laughing, splashing each other; and, before Laurent knew it hot tears were streaming down his cheeks, for a reason he knew all too well and yet didn’t dare admit. Oscar realized he was crying fairly quickly, and swam closer to wipe them away. “Did you really not enjoy that at all?” He was telling this to make him laugh, it was evident in his gaze.

And it worked. Laurent giggled, then sniffled and nodded. “Yup, truly terrible.” A smile came, but he decided, at last, to tell him what has been haunting him. “I just… have a friend from school ignoring me. A friend I like a lot, and… and it sucks.”

By saying it out loud, finally acknowledging his feelings, it felt as if a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders, and he could feel himself breathing with much more ease. Oscar’s features softened, and his hand landed on Laurent’s wet shoulder. An awfully comforting touch.

While Oscar Whelan usually talks an awful lot, at that very moment he was silent as he hugged Laurent closely. Despite how little they were wearing, Laurent found himself unbothered. He’s my best friend, it would take much more to bother me.

And so, they hugged, and soon enough Oscar was whispering to him the lyrics of his favorite song. Ground control to Major Tom. Laurent let that song lull him into calmness, into total peace, and his eyes fluttered shut as they both stood still in the pool, surrounded by water. Calm, soothing water.

Maybe hoping wasn’t such a bad thing. With his friendship with Oscar, he had the hope --the belief-- that everything would turn out alright. That Barnaby would talk to him again. That he would be allowed, somehow, to love him. Those thoughts soothed him to the core.

They sang quietly.

For here am I sitting in a tin can,

Far above the world,

Planet Earth is blue,

And there’s nothing I can do.

* * *

Never write to him or even speak to him, again. Or I’ll kill him.

Barnaby’s grandmother words had kept ringing in his ears ever since the beginning of summer. He sat in his room as the moon shone bright in the sky, and caught himself staring at it.

And hoping.

Hoping that things will turn out alright.

And that he’ll soon, somehow, be with Laurent again. To touch his hands, to touch his lips, to be his.

But hope is a futile, useless thing. Isn’t it?

[tommyhardyx]

Mr Solomons

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Pairing: Modern!Alfie Solomons x Reader Word Count: 1.5k Summary: You’re a journalist tasked with doing a profile on Alfie Solomons, CEO of a popular rum distillery. Warnings: swearing  A/N: OOPS. Yep, so I wrote a thing. There will definitely be more parts to this, this is only the beginning. I hope you like it, please consider leaving a comment if you enjoy! 

The warm, smooth taste of coffee touches your tongue and you have to stop yourself from letting out a moan, knowing just how inappropriate it would be while sitting in your editor’s office.

“You did well with your last profile piece,” Quinn says, her eyes stuck on the printed draft of your latest piece you’d come in to deliver to her when she told you to take a seat and stick around.

“Thank you! I enjoy the profile’s, I like spending the time getting to know a person, getting the chance to paint a picture of them for the world to see,” you explain.

Profile pieces had always come easiest to you, and you had always felt most confident when writing about a person rather than any of the other kinds of pieces you’d had to write since starting at The City Scoop.

“That’s good to hear, considering I have another one for you. Have you heard of Alfie Solomons?”

“The name sounds familiar. Who is he?”

“Owner of Solomons’ Rum. Apparently, his distillery in Camden is all the rage at the moment everyone is apparently drinking his rum. I want you to go there interview him find out what makes his rum so special.”

As Quinn speaks you realise why the name sounds familiar, Alfie Solomons had recently had a few run-ins with the law with a physical altercation between Solomons and a business rival making headlines in the last few weeks.

“Isn’t he the one who punched got into a fight with a business rival recently?”

Quinn finally looks up from the papers in her hands, a sly smile on her lips.

“He should make for an interesting interview then shouldn’t he?”

Stepping out of your car, you look up at the red brick building in front of you the sign reading Solomons Distillery the only sign you’re in the right place.

Inside the front doors, a young man with dark curly hair stands with his back to you, reading something off a tablet in his hands.

“Excuse me?” you call, hesitating in the doorway.

The man looks up, a look of curiosity on his boyish face as he spots you.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Mr Solomons? I’m y/n l/n here to interview him, I’m with The City Scoop,” you hold your hand out to the man waiting for him to shake it.

“Right, he mentioned you were coming,” he says, shaking your hand. “Ollie, Vice President of the company.”

You raise your eyebrows, not completely sure how a man as young as this one could be the vice president of anything, but if he notices Ollie doesn’t say anything just offers you a kind smile.

“Alfie’s in his office, I’ll show you,” he says.

Ollie leads you further into the warehouse, down a long corridor past several open doors until you come across a closed one. Ollie stops just outside the closed door, knocking twice.

“Come in.”

The man sitting behind the desk looks very much the type of man who would get into a fight with a rival, a serious yet handsome face with a deep set frown as he looks at something on his computer. Even beneath his button-down shirt, you can see his bulging muscles, the hint of tattoos visible on his chest where the first few buttons of his shirt have been left open.

“Alfie, this is y/n she’s from The City Scoop,” Ollie explains.

“Right, yeah, nice to meet ya,” the man says, scratching the back of his head as he crosses the spacious office to greet you holding out a ring-clad hand with a crown tattooed on the back of it for you to shake.

“And you, thank you for meeting with me,” you tell him.

“Not a problem,” he says, turning his attention back into the room. “Oi Cyril come on mate.”

A large bullmastiff makes its way out from the other side of the desk, the dog moving slowly through the office to sit by Mr Solomons’ feet.

“Don’t worry ‘bout him, he’s friendly. Pretty sure if he saw me getting attacked he’d fucking lick my attacker,” he says, his tone might sound exasperated but the smile on his face as he glances down at the dog is one of pure fondness. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

With Cyril close behind, Mr Solomons takes off back down the corridor Ollie had brought you up.

“You bring your dog to work?”

“Yeah well, I’m here more often than I’d like to be, don’t want him at home by himself all the time, he’d tear me fucking house apart wouldn’t he?” he says and you smile at the large innocent dog, looking up at you with innocent eyes.

“So, Mr Solomons -”

The man cuts you off just by holding out a hand, a deep frown on his face as he looks at you.

“Alfie. No need to call me Mr Solomons, yeah, it’s just Alfie.”

“Alright. Alfie, why rum? There are more popular and profitable spirits to make, why choose rum?”

The man runs a hand through his beard as he listens, his rings glinting in the light as his eyes narrow in thought.

“Me mother used to drink rum after she died I wanted to do something for her. She gave up a lot for me, I wanted to honour her in some way so I started makin’ rum.”

“What did she give up for you?”

“When she found out she was pregnant she fled her home in Russia, started a whole new fucking life completely alone just so her kid would have a better life,” he rolls up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal an arm covered in tattoos, pointing out one on his forearm. “This one’s for her.”

“You commemorate people with tattoos?”

“If someone’s important enough to me yeah, most of the time though I get ‘em cause I like the way they look.”

Alfie leads you through the distillery, explaining the rum making process between answering your questions his answers. He’s incredibly animated in the way he talks, his eyes alight, hands waving everywhere and you can’t help but wonder how on earth you’re supposed to capture him in his entirety with words alone.

Soon enough your time together comes to an end, you’ve run through all your prepared questions and have wracked your brain for additional questions to ask just to have a little more time with him. But sadly it’s time to go, and as you bid him goodbye in the entrance to the distillery you think you notice a hint of disappointment in his face as well.

“Well thank you for talking with me Alfie, if you have anything you’d like to add please feel free to call,” you explain as you slip a business card into his hand.

“Will do. If you have any more questions you’re welcome to drop by, yeah, I’m almost always around here somewhere.”

You smile, turning your attention to Cyril giving the dog a brief pat on the head.

“Goodbye, Cyril.” You straighten up, offering a smile to the man as you reach for the handle of the door.“Goodbye Alfie.”

Alfie watches with his thick arms crossed over his chest as you leave, eyes following you through the glass doors until you’re out of sight, ignoring the smug look on Ollie’s face as the younger man comes to stand beside him.

“Fuck off,” Alfie grumbles, shaking his head as he walks back to his office.  

Stepping through the door to your flat you let out a long breath, feeling the way your entire body relaxes as you step over the threshold. The air inside is warm, a relief from the chilly air outside you slip off your coat and hang it on the rack by the door.

Your roommate Nancy is already home, already in pyjamas and on the couch. You kick off your heels, glad to be free of them as your bare feet press into the cool wood floors, picking up a pair of leggings from your pile of clean clothes on the table you hadn’t gotten around to putting away just yet.

Stepping into the stretchy fabric and slipping off your bra, you’re finally comfortable again.

“How’d it go today?” Nancy asks, turning her attention away from wherever Netflix documentary had her attention.

Dropping onto the couch beside her, you open your laptop flipping through your notes as you wait for it to start up.

“Really good actually, I met with that Alfie Solomons I was telling you about last night,”

“Weren’t you nervous to meet him? How was he?”

“He was nice. Really nice. He seemed intimidating at first, but really he just loves his dog and his mum and he was just really nice.”

“Oh girl, you fancy him don’t you?”

You scoff at her comment, turning back to your notebook just to escape her insinuation.

“Don’t be stupid, of course, I don’t.”

You only spent a couple of hours with the man, surely you can’t already fancy him. No, no of course not. You were just charmed by him, enjoyed your time with him. Nothing more than that.

“Oh shut up,” you grumble at the look on her face, busying yourself with typing up your notes from the day.  

[loyalflutist]

Marriage (F!Byleth x Edelgard)

Challenge: Edeleth Twitter Week (09/29/2019 - 10/05/2019)  Day 7: Marriage

A/N: WHEW, finally done with it! This has to be the fluffiest piece I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy this final ride!

---

Hardships were inevitable in a person’s life. No matter how cautious one can be, they were bound to succumb to difficulties. Everyone had gone through it once in their lifetime. From rich to poor, from nobility to commoner, from allies to enemies, everyone experienced hardships.

Many hands motioned towards the students from the monastery. How terrible! They were fated to clash with one another from the near future! Not a single person would agree with their beliefs and course of action. Edelgard wished to unite Fodlan and eliminate the corrupted Church’s power. Dimitri wished to defend the Church and land from his archnemesis, Edelgard. Claude strived to gain a middle ground between the two nobles, his focus entirely on the background noise. Their struggles landed them into a deadlock for five slow years. There was no end in sight.

Until Byleth came into the picture.

Something about her seems different though. It was as if… she can’t trust all three of them. Not yet, anyway. Shudders ran down all the students’ spine at the sight of the ex-mercenary. The aura she possessed when she first met them shook their core. Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude were ones mostly terrified by her.

“Don’t… you think she’s literally changed overnight?” Claude scratched the back of his head, his dark hues were shifty. “I swear she wasn’t this grumpy.”

“Grumpy? Don’t be silly,” Dimitri shook his head. “She’s always worn the same expression when we first met last night.”

“No no, you don’t understand, Dimitri. She may look the same, but she’s acting strange.”

“I think you need to have your eyes checked.”

“Um, no. How about you get your eyes checked.”

“Wha— How rude of you!”

And… so the two males began to wrestle with one another in hopes of dominating their points with one another. If there was one thing they shared, it was their stubborn nature. Then again, the three lords from the three houses shared this trait. Not even Edelgard was spared from it. The white-haired loudly sighed, placing a hand on her forehead, and felt a bead of sweat run down the side of her face.

“How immature.”

Still… Claude wasn’t wrong. There was something off about Byleth. The ex-mercenary was recently granted a position as a professor for the students. It was abrupt, but to be expected from Lady Rhea. (Though it caught Jeralt by surprise.) What was most shocking was the fact that Byleth chose to teach not just the Black Eagle’s house, but the Blue Lions and Golden Deer too. A deal was struck between Manuela and Hanneman the instant she greeted them.

“You’re telling me that you want to rotate our shifts?” Hanneman raised his brows. “Won’t that place a burden on you, Professor Byleth?”

Manuela crossed her arms as the two teachers heard Byleth out. They nodded their head slowly, their eyes widened.

“My… If that’s the case, then I don’t see why not.”

The rest of the conversation was a mystery to the peeping students. Hubert, Ashe, Lorenz, and Cyril could not help but try to gather intel about the newcomer at the main hall with Rhea. Unfortunately, that was all they could get from their exchange. Their voice ushered into mumbles and faint whispers. The only way they would be able to capture the rest of the story was to stand directly behind them. Of course, their covers would be beyond blown. The four of them scampered away in disappointment.

“The professor is a strange one…” Edelgard mumbled to herself.

She retracted her hand and glanced to her right. Ah— There was Byleth. She was fast approaching them in the field right outside of their lecture halls. Maybe a little too fast as it seems like a vicious sprint. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest at the terrifying sight. (Was there a dash prompt for the instructor?!) If Byleth doesn’t brake early enough, she might crash into them! Before Edelgard could open her mouth to holler a warning, the older woman immediately skidded to a stop. Then, she grabbed ahold of the noble’s hands.

“I… I will save— save you.”

“?!”

Out of breath, Byleth stared into the future emperor’s eyes. The intensity nearly caused the noble to collapse onto her knees and kneel before the warrior. Yet she managed to keep her legs from becoming wobbly. Edelgard placed great emphasis on her blinking as she bit the bottom of her lip.

“U-Um, I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply.”

“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t let them hurt you anymore,” Byleth squeezed her hands. She vigorously nodded her head in hopes of proving her worth. “I’ll save everyone, and I will save you.”

What was she trying to say? Has she gone mad? Edelgard felt her heart clench as she tried to formulate a theory or two about this particular response. Save her… It doesn’t seem to be about anything physical. Metaphorically? Perhaps, but there must be more… The noble’s jawlines became prominent as she settled for a conclusion. Byleth couldn’t have meant… Those Who Slither in the Dark and the Church of Seiros, right? If she recalls, Jeralt had confessed that he kept the world of politics away from his daughter as much as possible. She wouldn’t have been able to acknowledge the existence of one of these organizations until now.

Right?

Well, how wrong Edelgard was. When she put on the mask of the Flame Emperor, the young lady was unable to carry out her plan. Every single plan she articulated and meticulously drawn out was obliterated by none other than Byleth. However, she was not the only one to be affected. The Church of Seiros seemed to be struggling to move forward with their plans for the new professor. Those Who Slither in the Dark were left scrambling for anything to revitalize their next move in a losing battle.

There were also positive events of the three houses and their members. All three of them were forced to band together as comrades due to their professors’ rotations in shifts. Their curriculums were replicas between the classrooms, so there weren’t any differences in teaching methods. This was accompanied by their weekly field trips for practical battles led by Shamir, Catherine, and Byleth. Relationships that were strained had mended over the months. Fractured bonds healed after the individuals finally sat down to communicate. Edelgard found herself joining hands with Claude and Dimitri once their beliefs aligned.

“Whatever it is, let’s talk it out… together.”

Dimitri chuckled. “Well spoken, my friend. I would never expect to hear that from you.”

“Hey… give me some credit, will ya?” he crossed his arms behind his head and winked. “I’m the brain in the group.”

Edelgard could not resist a giggle, her mouth covered.

“So long as we help each other, I find no issue in that.”

“See? Even our little princess understands our roles.”

“Claude…”

“What? Cat’s caught your tongue?”

And so, their bickering continued. They were so childish, Edelgard wondered if she was the third wheel with their relationship. It was amusing. Perhaps she did not think so hard about staying on the sideline as her heart had already belonged to a certain someone; their teacher. It was a relationship that sowed the seed one evening.

Byleth teetered into the wrong dormitory during the third month of the academic year. She stumbled into the premise of none other than the Adrestian Empire’s princess. Edelgard, who had been reading her tactical textbook, was alarmed at the abrupt appearance of the older woman.

“B-Byleth?”

“How ya doin’?”

The speech was slurred, cheeks were flushed, and eyes were droopy. Edelgard immediately got up from her chair. Byleth was drunk. She had to catch the drowsy female the moment she lurched forward. Oh, what did her professor do now? Was she so stressed that she had to rely on alcohol? Concern riddled her mind as the young student patiently guided her teacher to her mattress. Byleth didn’t waste any second to plop on the bed. She was just like a child… and even more so when her hand latched onto Edelgard’s arm.

“I wanna hug you.”

“…”

“Pwease?”

“…okay.”

Edelgard sighed loudly. She had to admit defeat. Otherwise, Byleth would never let go of her and would never drop the puppy eyes. This was so out of character for the ex-mercenary. Emotions that were rarely conveyed on her features were still there, but the intonation from her spoken dialogues was dripping with them. Should the other students catch a whiff of her demeanor, they would likely rush out and call for an exorcist! Edelgard pursed her lips.

The two eventually went under the covers. One in their loungewear, the other simply stripped of her large overcoat. A strong, musky scent of the fruity product wafted from her instructor’s direction. The noble firmed her lips and began to pat on Byleth’s head like a little kid. This seemed to please the older female. As a result, Byleth instantly flopped onto her side and cuddled up to Edelgard.

“I love you so much, Edie~”

“#@#$&@!”

That was the seed that had been planted. Though Byleth had apologized for her inept and shameful actions the next day, Edelgard could not forget the confession that slipped out of her drunken professor, even if Byleth had no recollection. It started out as a crush… and soon developed into a stronger form of it. The transition soon slithered into a one-sided love that would rival most anybody’s romantic self-destructive fantasies. Had it not been for Claude and Dimitri, she wouldn’t have the guts to face Byleth with a confession.

“I love you, my teacher. I love you so much.”

Rejection never occurred. The proof was evidenced by their current standing. Byleth and Edelgard whispered sweet nectar to each other’s ears, their hands roamed their bare figures at night, and sensitive flesh brushing upon their neck for plantation of hickeys. Physical affections were simply a bonus to their powerful bonds with one another. Their love transcends beyond normal comprehension.

All these activities and events had all occurred during their time as students. It was as if Byleth had incredible luck… No— that wasn’t right. It was as if she could predict the future. Her uncanny ability to nail everyone’s next move down to the grittier details frightened the house leaders and archbishop. Even her girlfriend could not help but wonder what wisdom had possessed Byleth. If her secret identity’s activities were hindered by the ex-mercenary… and her enemies were unable to gather their fractured plans… What was Byleth up to?

Unfortunately, the only thing that remained on course was Byleth’s five-year disappearance.

“BYLETH!!!”

Three of the house leaders, joined side-by-side, screamed out her name when Lady Rhea slammed her staff into the teal-haired. Its metallic cane might have a simple blunt weapon. A single smack from it would likely bring about no more than a bruise. But most everyone had forgotten the incredible strength that possessed the archbishop. Trained in martial arts to the finest level, the amount of energy input into the swing crashed heavily into Byleth’s chest.

CRACK!

Its impact produced an audible sound above the raging flames. Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri widened their eyes when their professor was tossed backward. The Adrestian Empire’s newly crowned emperor caught her girlfriend. Dimitri rushed to the front to protect the two and flicked his lance downward; Claude standing by Dimitri with his arrow pulled back on his bow.

“You’ll pay for that, Lady Rhea!” Dimitri howled as he sprinted forward. “DIE!”

“Tch.”

Claude would normally say something witty, but he had to agree with Dimitri’s violent nature for once. Rhea would pay for her crime in harming their teacher. Arrows soon flew alongside the running male as they made their way towards the archbishop.

As for Edelgard, she frantically examined her lover’s injuries. Scratches and bruises that littered her exposed skin held nothing to the caved-in chest. Blood seeped out of the corner of Byleth’s mouth non-stop. The bent metallic armored chest plate only served to worsen the damages. Dedue and Hilda arrived to assist in the tearing of the mangled exterior.

“Please, don’t die on us!” Edelgard’s hands brightened light green over her girlfriend’s chest.

Hilda stiffened her upper lip, got up onto her feet, and twirled the axe in one hand. “I’m going to help Claude.”

“I will assist my lord too,” Dedue muttered and followed a similar action as the pink-haired. “Lady Edelgard, please take care of our professor. She needs you more than ever.”

The two were not cruel to leave her behind. Their intentions were simple: to give her privacy to tend to Byleth. Besides, they were not healers. Standing around in midst of the battlefield like gawking ducks would only burden everyone else. In conjunction with their leave, Marianne, Linhardt, and Mercedes quickly joined Edelgard.

“My goodness, the shattered bones might’ve pierced her heart…” Linhardt mumbled, his words leaked with gravity. “We’ll have to use as much white magic as possible to mend her wounds, lest it be too late.”

“I… wouldn’t want that to happen.”

“Let’s do it together then, Marianne.”

Mercedes, Lindhardt, and Marianne hovered their hands above the laying warrior. The green light illuminated to another level of brightness. Sweat glimmered on their foreheads as they exerted as much energy as possible into their spells. Edelgard found it difficult to catch up to their conduction as she was hardly trained in the arts of white magic beyond emergency first-aids. This went on for nearly five whole minutes. The ground occasionally shook from the conflict. Dimitri and Claude were occupied with Rhea. Shamir had managed to dissuade Catherine from staying with the Church. Hilda and Dedue backed up their lords. The other students were slashing and exterminating the soldiers that dare to send them into the afterlife.

“…El…”

Hearing her name quietly whispered snapped her attention to the professor. Evident bags laid under Byleth’s slit eyes as she reached up to touch Edelgard’s face. The white-haired immediately grabbed ahold of it. She nuzzled into her palm, tears threatening to flow.

“You’re alive…”

“…I’m… sleepy…”

Oh no. Oh no no no! This cannot be happening! Those words flashed warning signs at the three healers, their brows furrowed and efforts amplified. They cannot lose Byleth! They absolutely cannot lose Byleth!

“El… I love you.”

Those were her last words before she fell into a deep slumber.

Suffice to say, her slumber was not permanent. The battle had ended with victory on their side. However, the three lords were forced to remain on the monastery’s ground for the sake of their sleeping teacher. Thanks to Linhardt, Marianne, and Mercedes, their teacher’s lives were saved. The extensive damaged that gnawed at her still-heart was too much to bear consciously. Its healing process would have to take place during her dark phase.

They frequently checked in on her. Edelgard was always spending every moment of her spare time by her girlfriend’s side. She would change her clothes, bathe her, kiss her forehead, and speak about stories of the day she spent as if Byleth were her diary. This went on for five years. Once Byleth had awakened, the clock resume and all of the students and staff were prepared to end the deadlocked battle between them and the Church of Seiros.

Victory was in their hands. The Crests were gone, Byleth had survived the ordeal with a new beating heart, and everyone celebrated their survival in this cruel war. They were in this together, and they were no major casualties on their ends.

“…remember when I told you that I would save you?”

“Yes?”

Edelgard turned to look at her fiancée. They were seated on the edge of a low cliff, their legs dangling barely above the grassy patch of the field. Retirement was already in progress in the vast scene now that the ex-noble had given her title to a suitable match. Many of the alumni had gone off to conduct their own businesses. Some got married, some engaged in social justice, some continued to serve their lords, and some simply met the same fate as Edelgard and settled for a simpler lifestyle. As for Dimitri and Claude, they kept their royal titles. The world had moved onward to a better pathway. What more could everyone ask for?

Byleth glanced over to Edelgard.

“I… have a confession to make.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Well… the truth is, I’ve been in timelines where you had died.”

“Really? That’s hard to believe.”

“It’s the truth. Byleth shook her head. “The same could be said for everyone. Everyone had met their demise in the other timelines.”

“So… you’re telling me that you came from the future?”

“I suppose you can say that.”

The explanation was far simpler than one might expect: Sothis and the ability of Divine Pulse. After going through the traumatic events of watching everyone die, Sothis pitied her host and strengthened the time-reversal skill. An option to start right back to the beginning. It was an option Byleth desperately needed. Through trial and error… and plenty of heartbreaks and insanity that plagued the professor, she finally achieved the perfect ending. That led to Sothis finally resting in peace inside of Byleth, never to emerge from her slumber.

In comes present-time, the two stood side-by-side in front of their small cottage. Many of their friends and allies arrived at an isolated location. It was a rare treat to have this many people bustling before them. Even Claude and Dimitri took time off to stop by. Then again, today was a special day. This would be the day they would get married, and everyone was filled with glee for their official commitment. (“Finally!” as Dorothea would bellow in the background.)

Byleth adjusted her white collar. Dressed in a tuxedo, she played the role of the male figure in this holy event. (Besides, she was far more comfortable wearing pants for this occasion.) The final smoothing of her attire in front of the mirror was complete. She glanced over her shoulders within the living room and called out to her lover.

“El, are you ready?”

Edelgard, in her white dress, peeked out from the corner of the room. She slowly approached her professor. A genuine blush tickled her cheeks and nearly blended in with the make-up done by Manuela and Dorothea. The ex-royal figure nodded.

“I’m ready.”

They exchanged a peck on the lips, knowing that the real deal that would seal their future would be coming soon. The anticipation kicked their heartbeats into a new speed. Smiles plastered on their face, their hands were glued together as they turned to the open doorway.

It was time. Through the hardships they went through, through the tears and grief they went through, through the pain and anguish they went through, they finally got their happy ending. And they were together till the end of time.

[blackjacketmuses]

@multiimuse

Something had happened to the world. That much he was entirely certain of. He’d felt it in his bones, right down to his core, that something fundamental had changed. He had been outside in the city for once, mostly to get some air while the weather was in the acceptable area between cool and warm, and had nearly fallen as the sensation of something changing had rocked him like he was standing on moving ground. But then everything had been exactly the same when he looked around again, the same streets, the same shops, the same distant ocean, the same...the same buildings dominating the skyline....

They weren’t supposed to be black, though. 

Regardless, he was able to ignore the sensation of sinking dread for at least another few more minutes, until walking through a plaza nearby a cafe with the news on made his world shatter into a thousand pieces. 

The news talking about Decay of Angels wasn’t new, honestly; they were a common talking point, especially recently now that things were heating up between them and the Syndicate, but...to hear that they were on the run and that two of them had been arrested, one of them possibly killed? That was--- how had he not heard about that? The government would have been involved, yes, but no one else but the Syndicate could have. There’s no way the news got to that first...and then. And then the subject rolls around to another arrest, and his head whips around to stare at his own face on the screen, staring blankly out of the photograph with his own expression of vague disinterest, but with eyes that were black and cold as ice, a stranger’s eyes. Leader of the terrorist group Rats in the House of the Dead, Fyodor Dostoevsky...

....what?

He unconsciously tugs his hood up, burying himself in it and clutching a little tighter to the strap of his laptop bag. He needs to get back to the hotel. He needs to get back to Kolya and Vanya, sit down and come up with what’s happened. Find out who and why and how. He needs to call Mori, call the Syndicate, call the Guild. He needs to talk to someone.

(He’s already half sure he knows what happened, but he refuses to believe it. That can’t be right. It can’t have happened. If that happened, then...then none of them are...then he shouldn’t even be...but--- if he was the one who’d--- but why would he have...? No. He’s wrong. He knows he’s never wrong, but this time he has to be wrong. The alternative is too horrible to bear.)

None of the numbers he calls pick up, and Kolya and Vanya’s numbers don’t work at all. The hotel has no one listed as staying in his room, the name used for the booking not there. His hands are starting to tremble, slightly, and he juggles the phone in one hand as he starts chewing on his other thumb. This simply isn’t happening. His hypothesis has to be incorrect. This is wrong. This is just a nightmare, that’s all. Another night terror. He’ll wake soon, and Vanya will make him a cup of tea, and Kolya will hug him and start cracking stupid jokes, and this will be only a memory. How could this happen? He cannot picture a world in which he would...he cannot--- he cannot fathom doing it, using that thing, and even if somehow he had...he shouldn’t be here...

Logic and rational thought say one thing, but he denies it, denies it with all the faith he had once put into the god that he now knows doesn’t exist. It can’t be true. If it is, then...if it is, then his world, his everything, what will become of it? What is left of him if---? No. No, it’s just a nightmare. A cruel nightmare. His have always been so vivid, and with all the stress about The Book...of course he’d begin to fear what would happen if it was used. Used by someone here, used by someone elsewhere. He has to believe it is just a dream. If it isn’t, then--- then even his ideals, where will they be? Where will he be in a world where he’s already thrown them away, a world where he’s redundant, a shadow, a ghost that hadn’t been meant to linger? No. No, that doesn’t matter, because it can’t be true.

His world, however, continues to fall apart. It isn’t another hour before men in suits find him, surround him, and--- he doesn’t recall anything after that, really, not for a little while. When he wakes, he’s in a cold, dark room, the concrete stained with old blood and who knows what else, and suddenly he finds it hard to breathe. His coat is gone, his arms are cuffed together tightly, and he doesn’t know anyone in this room, any of the men in suits and sunglasses, and for once he doesn’t know what in the world is going on. He can’t think to figure it out, either, the room and the old dry blood and the coldness and the cuffs on his wrists shorting out his brain and strangling his thoughts and making his breath come short and quick and his body tremble. He has to try and focus, though, focus on what’s happening, get answers--- but none come, and he has no answers for the men, either. He can barely process their questions, but the ones they have he genuinely can’t answer. Who’s the mafia? Who’s the Agency? What does he have to do with any of it? He hasn’t been in prison since back then, let alone broke out of it. None of it makes sense, and he can’t put it together enough for it to make any. 

He gets kicked around a bit for his reticence, and he lays on his side once they leave, blood dripping steadily from his nose and split lip, bruises forming darkly on his cheek and likely on his chest beneath his shirt. It could be worse, he thinks hazily through the low murmur of panic that’s slowly getting louder. He’s had much worse than just this. But even so--- even so--- he doesn’t understand. What’s going on?

Meanwhile, the mafia’s confiscated his things, giving them over to their boss --- the bag their new prisoner was carrying just has a heavily encrypted laptop with a familiar rat’s-head logo on it, its charger, and a secondhand fantasy novel, and the coat pockets contain a switchblade, a box of pills, wallet with a few yen bills, and an ID and things that don’t confirm any sort of real identity, a room key from a local hotel, just-as-encrypted phone, a box of band-aids, a USB drive, a package of candy with a label in Cyrillic, and a few other bits of useless junk. None of it really makes sense, however--- given the man’s identity, he shouldn’t have anything, let alone things like this, as if he’d never been in prison at all. But his identity had been confirmed by the Eyes of God--- Fyodor Dostoevsky was in the mafia’s dungeon, and yet the prison itself confirms that he is also still there, having his battle of wits with Osamu Dazai. This doesn’t seem like it could be possible.

But there he is when the executives in question come down to talk to the man personally, a wisp-thin and ghost pale figure in grey pants and a dress shirt, black hair framing a bruised and bloody face, burgundy eyes ringed with thick shadows and filled with confusion and thinly veiled panic --- emotions that are joined with shock and recognition when he sees the new visitors. It--- it’s them, he thinks faintly, almost dizzy with relief. People he knows. People he trusts. They can tell him what’s happening, can’t they? They can finally reassure him that this isn’t real, despite the ache in his frail body telling him he can’t keep denying it for much longer. They stare at him like they’re looking at an enemy, and the look his eyes fade into lost, almost frightened desperation, too shaken and panicked and close to the edge to hide it. 

Please, he thinks silently. Please, please, tell him this is a dream. Because if it isn’t, then everything he knows is gone by his own hands, and--- and he’ll never be able to get it back. He can’t bear that. He can’t live with that, not after crawling back out of hell once already. He looks up at the people he knows, the people who should be his friends, at Ougai Mori and Chuuya Nakahara (and where’s Dazai?) and holds his breath. His world can’t take another shattering. It can’t. (He knows it will, in the part of him that can’t deny it anymore; but for his own fragile, once-repaired sanity, he...he can’t admit that.)