#bless the alice costume

[witchlingcirce]

🚨TEAM BLACK TRAILER & SPOILERS FOR HOTD🚨

Oh… MY…. GOD. This is literally all I could have asked for this is one of the best things I’ve seen in so long I’m so HYPED!!

This shot… I’m literally heart broken this 💔. This is obviously at Lucerys funeral and honestly it’s just…. TO MUCH. The tears in Jaces eyes, them burning Luke’s clothing because there wasn’t a body, baby Joffrey. This scene looks absolutely stunning but also so gut wrenching. I FEEL LIKE ILL DEFINITELY CRY 😭.

DRAGON TWINS DRAGON TWINS DRAGON TWINS DRAGON TWINS

Everyone knows that I manifested this, HARD. Whoever gave them a new, better wig bless you. To the person who actually put them into nice clothing, BLESS YOU TOO.

Baela is literally Laenas twin like… SHE LOOKS SO GOOD.

I’m so happy there finally getting more scenes and lines, I was praying for this. DRAGON TWINSSSS I LOVE YOUUUU

MOOOONNNNN DANCERRRREEEEEEREE

She looks almost exactly like what I imagine a young Vhagar would look like. VHAGER IS HER MUMMY CONFIRMED!!!

It’s hard to see in this particular shot but I do like that they kept her a paler green colouring!!!! I don’t think you guys understand how much I love moondancer. She like two moments in the book and I decided I would Stan forever.

BAELA TARGARYENNNNNNNN GETTING her own moment is something I am actually so hyped about, THATS MY WARRIOR PRINCESS.

You know I have a feeling that maybe after Rooks Rest and seeing what happens to a certain someone she mayyyyy cut her hair, like book Baela. Kind of like the thing, hair holds memories yk?

Cregan stark is NOT BLONDE WHO CHEEEEREEEEEDDDDDDDDDDD

I understand that the north storyline this season will probably only last three episodes max (damn you eight episodes)! NONETHELESS, I am beyond excited.

Can we talk about how Jacaerys is free from the ugly wig??? THANK THE HEAVENS!! There doing my boy right. Seeing him a decent amount in the trailer made me so hyped, I always thought he deserved to be seen more in the first season since YK, he’s the Heir’s heir (hahah) but I’m so glad there stepping up there game this season!!!

RHAENYRA RHAENYRA THE WOMAN YOU ARE! Whoever made her costumes and hair this season BLESS YOUR HEART.

I think it’s obvious she’s most likely wearing a Visenya braid and she is STANDING ON BUSINESS!

Before when I was talking about the posters I was discussing how it seemed that they gave her back her cunningness and determination from the books and I am SO HAPPY THEY DID. Because THAT is a queen of he seven kingdoms THATTTTTT is MY WOMANNNNN!!!!

Also this is a side note: but I like how she refers to Aegon as Alicent Hightower’s son, not her brother or half brother but as ALICENTS SON!!!! I feel like it probably has to do with them not being close, but it also it makes it feel like Rhaenyra doesn’t consider him a true son of Viserys. Very interesting, can’t wait for there beef to get more intense.

Rhaenyra… Rhaenyraaaas EMMA D’ARCY YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS PERSON. I’m in shock, whoever made there outfits this season did they GOOOOOODDDDDD

LOTS of theories on who’s she’s looking 🙉

1. Alicent Hightower

There was a bunch of leaks going around that there would be a final meeting between the two. I think this is an outfit that she wears in the earlier episodes so idkkk buttt If it Rhaenyra why are you looking at her like that… TOXIC YURI CONTINUES.

2. Mysaria

I feel it being Mysaria would be very interesting. Maybe it’s her pleading ‘loyalty’ towards Rhaenyra. And then later on (if there keeping it like how it is in the books) helping Daemon blah B&C.

This is Corlys definitely telling Rhaenys not to get involved and Rhaenys telling him she has to do what’s right for her house and what’s right for Baela and Rhaena 💔💔💔

THERE GOING TO BREAK UP MY HEART THIS SEASON.

Anyways guys I’m so excited, I’m so happy that there finally giving team blacks kids moments to shine and also letting Rhaenyra be book Rhaenyra… JUNE 16th can’t come sooner!

[mamamittens]

hi!! for the spooktober event, i’d like for my oc starbii (non-binary afab, they/them) to be with kuma (priest costume LOL)! starbii would be in a cute angel costume! starbii is short (4’9) and pudgy, has short lavender hair, skin is a peanut butter brown and their eyes are always sleepy/half lidded, black irises! here's their ref for better framework as well haha

starbii gives kuma a fuzzy bucket of white chocolate, twizzlers and blow pops!

kuma drinks a green tea shot and the both of them share Alice in Wonderland, Hot Damn, Brain Hemorrhage, and Starbii drinks a Pink Schnapp!

hope this was descriptive enough! thanks for the opportunity!

Vow of the Heart and Soul (+18)

This ask is part of the Spooktober 2024 Event, for context!

Summary:

Kuma had many years of service to the church in his name. Proud, faithful, and devout. And that is how he intended to live out his time of earth as well. But happenstance leads him bedbound with an unexpected presence at his bedside. A reward for all his years of service or a trial of most unusual temptation?

The promise of a soulmate from the heavens itself.

(Angel!Starbii(OC)/Priest!Kuma)

Warnings: Not entirely sure this would be sanctified by the church, Kuma is a priest and has sex, soul mates, soft sex, praise kink, and size kink (he's not 22 feet tall here, maybe shy of 8--i feared for Starbii if I kept his canon height, ngl).

Word Count: 5,416

Kuma was a devout man of faith, to no one’s surprise. Which is why he didn’t bother committing a sin by lying that his most recent injury was utterly embarrassing.

Honestly, who could take a priest seriously if they tripped while stepping down from the pulpit? The young men were quite helpful in taking him to the hospital in the ambulance, but the mortification still warranted a quick prayer later that evening.

“Alright, Father Kuma, you’re free to go home. But remember, no putting pressure on that foot and… maybe keep the holy spirit in check when going down the stairs.” The doctor quipped with a soft smile. Kuma smiled back, sighing in good humor.

“I find such a thing difficult after a sermon, but I suppose The Good Lord would hardly wish for me to injure myself further in such a manner.” Kuma conceded with a laugh. Bonney huffed, impatiently bouncing on her feet as she gripped the handle of his wheelchair.

He’d leave the hospital with crutches, but it was standard procedure to wheel out patients with injuries such as his.

“Dad—are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you? For just a little?” Bonney asked with a pout, pink hair falling over her shoulder. Most would be surprised his daughter had such an ostentatious hair color, but if The Good Lord saw fit to give her it, he was hard pressed to argue. His blessings often came in strange forms, after all. And should be embraced for the gift they are rather than suppressed or denied.

Not that Kuma really carried about alterations, either.

If tomorrow Bonney wanted ocean blue hair he’d drive—well, maybe not drive in his current condition—to the nearest salon to get her taken care of.

“I am sure, dear. I just need to get settled in. Tomorrow is another, blessed day that the Lord will guide me through as he sees fit.” Kuma smiled.

Bonney huffed but didn’t argue further. Gratefully accepting the staff’s assistance into her van.

“Alright, dad. We’ll drop by with food tomorrow. I think you still have leftovers from dinner last night in the fridge. We can reheat that so you don’t take your next pills on an empty stomach.” Bonney mused, already planning out a schedule to check on him—as to be expected of his doting child.

“That sounds lovely, dear. But you don’t need to worry so much about your old man. I am capable of using crutches to get around. I don’t even have stairs in my home!” Kuma laughed.

“Dad! That’s not the point!” Bonney protested.

True to her word, she reheated the meatloaf and helped Kuma sit at the table. Quietly, he resolved to lessen the burden on his daughter by practicing moving around on his own after she leaves. She watched him like a hawk as he ate and shuffled to the couch to watch his afternoon shows.

Any further sermons postponed until he could walk unaided—just in case.

It was clear by how antsy she was that she was about to run late for her date. But she also didn’t wish to leave his side. Fussing about his blanket as he laid on a mountain of pillows, cast propped up for relief until the pain medication kicked in.

“Go, dear. Have fun on your date. Love is one of The Good Lord’s sweetest gifts we can partake in so freely.” Kuma encouraged, his words melting her. She sighed, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“Alright—I’ll tell ‘em you said ‘hey’!” Bonney smiled, quickly dashing out of the apartment to meet her soulmate.

After so long, Kuma was pleased she had the blessing to meet her other half. The true love of her soul.

Kuma was not quite so fortunate, but The Good Lord would see fit to provide or nor at all. Either way was fine for Kuma, his heart filled with the love of God, community, and family.

The western show continued on, camera casting over a barren landscape as a sheriff of a small, beleaguered town searched for the bandits that had stolen his own soulmate. Normally, the show would have his full attention. But it was a rerun and the day’s events weighed on him deeply. His eyes falling shut as his head lolled to the side.

Eventually, he passed out on the couch.

He awoke gently to the soft touch of someone lifting up his blankets, raising them towards his shoulders from his waist. Tenderly adjusting his pillows and turning off the tv. Assuming it was Bonney, Kuma allowed sleep to claim him again, certain his daughter would tell him all about her date later.

He wasn’t wrong. The bright light of day welcoming his daughter early in the morning as she let herself in.

“Hey, dad! I see you decided to take it easy and sleep on the couch, huh? You could have texted me and I would have come over to help you get to bed!” Bonney chuckled, ruffling his messy curls.

Kuma blinked, allowing her to gently put his glasses on.

“Well, dear, after you already came by I thought it would be intruding to call you again for such a simple matter. Besides, I slept wonderfully. I remember the couch being a touch more uncomfortable but…” Bonney frowned at him in confusion.

“What are you talking about, dad? I stayed the night with my lovely gemstone—did you have a funny dream? I hear some meds do that.” Bonney mused with a thoughtful pout. Kuma frowned, sitting up a little.

“Truly? Well then… that’s odd. I thought someone tucked me in a little while I was sleeping. It felt so real… maybe it was simply the love of God reassuring me in my dreams.” Kuma huffed with a smile, turning away his worries. “Still, I should clean up a little. Did you happen to get the chair? I’m not so proud that I would turn down the assistance to spare you having to help your old man bathe.” Kuma laughed, tossing away the blanket.

“Yeah, I brought it! I’ll go set it up—are you sure you won’t need any help, dad?” She asked kindly, but Kuma shook his head.

“No, dear. I can manage—I just wished to be careful with this cast is all.” He reassured her.

Bonney couldn’t stay long, having work herself, but she did make sure he didn’t injure himself and make breakfast before leaving again with a cheery smile.

It warmed Kuma’s heart to see her so concerned about him, but he was a grown man and still capable of basic care… for the most part.

Kuma flipped through the channels, searching for something to occupy his time. Usually, he was with his congregation at this hour, but he’d been endlessly reassured that they would manage without him until he recovered. The community supportive of his temporary absence for his health. And, apparently, the fact he never took a vacation.

He settled on a nature documentary, pleased to admire the wonders of this world that God had so lovingly crafted. Though not always pleasant, there was beauty to be found everywhere one cared to look. From the deepest reaches of the ocean, to the forgotten corners of the forests. It was… delightful to learn about the creatures he shared this time on earth with, no matter how short.

Despite his best efforts, Kuma began to nod off again. Eyes drifting closed as he leaned heavily against the couch cushions.

He was awoken again by gentle hands readjusting his bedding. Shifting the pillow under his cast to support his foot better. When there was a tug on his glasses he huffed.

“No need, dear. I simply drifted off—” Kuma’s eyes opened and his voice was clipped short in alarm.

It was not Bonney before him.

Soft, round face with rounded stars on their cheeks, heavy lidded, dark eyes with lids tinted a pastel purple. Lighter purple hair curling over one side of their face with the sides buzzed, revealing pointed ears tinted the same color as their eyelids. Skin otherwise a smooth, light brown color. Not quite warmed by the sun like a tan, almost cool in tone. Bubbly pink hair almost exploding over their shoulders, sparkles of light trapped within the curls and shining independently as though plucked from the night sky.

Their dress was strange, a robe of soft pink and purple swirling like watercolors before his eyes, tied around their neck with a gold ribbon and puffing around generous hips. Thick legs cast in pastel gradient stockings with gold bracelets floating around their ankles, matching the ones around their wrists over fingerless gloves that equally matched the stockings. A gold halo emitting light over their head.

They made a small, surprised sound. A thick, fluffy tail whipping behind them. Puffy fur dripping down in a line of pastel purple hues. The main body of the tail darkening to the familiar soft purple on their eyes, a giant pink star on the side the same color as their curly mohawk.

They were strange. Visually and in purpose.

Still, they stared at him in surprise.

“A-Ah, my apologies, Reverend Kuma.” They sighed, letting his glasses go and stepping back. “I’m a little surprised you can see me… though not that surprised, I guess.”

“What are you doing here?” Kuma asked of the stranger. They blinked, tilting their head, halo following the motion cutely.

“I was sent to watch after you, Reverend Kuma. Heaven sent me to ensure a speedy recovery.” They pouted a little, putting their palm on their soft face, robe puffing out before falling down a little lower. The motion rhythmic and familiar—like a jellyfish at sea. “I’m Starbii, your guardian angel. You may use ‘they/them’ to refer to me—gender isn’t really something most angels… get.” They shrugged with a soft smile.

Truthfully, Kuma had few doubts about their nature. Their appearance difficult to fake and… their was an undeniable air about them. Holy in the way a church was in the early morning light. Graced by God in some ephemeral way. Though Kuma had some reservations. Devils, after all, were known to take strange forms to trick men off the righteous path.

Kuma was unsure if they’d be this blatant though.

“I’m a simple man of God, Starbii. I hardly require heavenly assistance to watch over me while I sleep.” Kuma smiled, certain that there would be some obvious temptation eventually if they were lying and truly a demon in disguise. Starbii shrugged.

“Perhaps not, Reverend Kuma. But they sent me anyway. Just in case, I suppose.” Starbii huffed.

“Well then, thank you for watching over me, Guardian Starbii.” Kuma accepted after a moment, watching as they flushed a little with a pleased smile.

“I-I’ll be here when your daughter is not. J-Just so you’re aware. So, if you need something… call for me.” They sighed before disappearing from sight.

And that’s how his week went, more or less. Either Bonney at his side or Starbii’s unmistakable aura of Grace close to him. His foot aching less with every day, the pain meds barely needed after the third day. Kuma suspected Starbii was helping him heal faster, but had yet to comment on it. If they were, he hardly minded.

And the sooner he heals, the sooner he could stop bothering an Angel of the The Lord.

Until one day, things changed.

 Kuma was shuffling from the bathroom, carefully swinging his crutch forward as he turned the corner. The rubber end caught on the rug and, despite normally not moving in such a manner, slipped. Cold sweat breaking out as his body jerked with the sudden motion.

“O-OOH!” Kuma gasped, pitching to the side in alarm.

But a soft weight pressed against his body, keeping him upright. Gentle hands around his chest as myrrh filled his nose. Kuma’s arm wrapping around the body next to him. Soft, giving curves meeting him as he was guided carefully to the couch by Starbii’s firm grasp.

When he was sitting, they pulled away, his hand slipping over their soft fabric and skimming their fingertips.

The instant he made skin contact, bright light bloomed between them. A golden thread binding together their pinkies, floating in loving loops in the air before fading from view.

With wide eyes, Kuma looked to Starbii to find them just as shocked as he was.

“Soul mate?” Starbii asked, eyes wide as they looked down at their hand. The thread of fade shining back into existence under their sharp focus, igniting with holy light to his own hand.

“I-I…” Kuma was speechless, unsure of what to say to his apparent soul mate.

An Angel of God.

“Huh… I didn’t even know I could have a soul mate.” Starbii mused, relaxing and looking to him shyly. “Usually, that’s a human thing, you know? But still, my assignment makes more sense with that in mind, doesn’t it?” they asked.

“…truly? Is this some test of God?” Kuma asked breathlessly, trying to make sense of things.

Truthfully, if Starbii was some demon ready to tempt him from his righteous path, they were doing a poor job of it. Only offering their gentle support when he had need of it. Still, the idea that his soul mate was an angel…

Well, hopefully The Lord would forgive his skepticism.

Soul mates were a gift, after all, and to imply a simple man like him could be gifted such a pure being?

Starbii frowned, brows furrowing.

“I see why you’d ask that. But Father doesn’t really… test like that. Not anymore, at least. Too cruel and… well, what would he even be testing?” Starbii questioned.

“If I am so corrupted I would think to taint an angel, perhaps? Though you have no gender, your form is somewhat feminine. I am not immune to such allure. And you are strikingly beautiful, Guardian Starbii. Perhaps testing if I believe I am worthy enough for an angel, of all things?” Kuma huffed, leaning back onto the couch.

Starbii snorted, shaking their head.

“Soul mates aren’t about ‘worth’, Reverend Kuma. They’re decided upon birth, before you commit any sins to be redeemed for or acts of greatness.” Starbii paused, looking at him fully. “You think I’m beautiful?” they asked, their tail pointedly swaying behind them.

Kuma smiled.

“How could I not? You have looked after me for some time now without any expectation of reward. Kind in your duty even when you could be cold and I would fault you for it none. And your colors are soft. Reassuring, even if you are strangely inhuman—as far as angels go, you could be quite frightening.” Kuma pointed out. “You look… soft. Which is a sweetness I rarely behold after all that I’ve seen.”

They flushed again, pleased and a little startled by his words.

“You flatter me, Reverand Kuma.”

“Just Kuma, please. If we are indeed soul mates in truth, you above anyone else should be permitted to address me by name alone. My title implies a sort of duty—the kind that would not suit such delicate matters of the heart.” Kuma protested softly.

They smiled at him happily.

“K—”

“Hey, dad!” Bonney called out, opening the door. Instantly, Starbii was gone. Bonney holding up boxes of Chinese food. “I brought dinner for a movie night!”

Kuma felt… strangely bereft without his angel present. But in the face of his daughter’s excitement, he silently apologized to Starbii for the interruption and waved his daughter over.

“I see that, dear. Come, you wanted to watch that new sci-fi movie, didn’t you?” Kuma asked gently.

He’d consider the matter of… his soul mate later. Starbii likely needed some time to wrap their head around it as well.

In the meantime, all his attention went to his daughter and her latest movie obsession. She had good taste in movies, but tended to favor ones that make him cry for some reason. Still, the tears were cathartic and this time proved little exception.

The both of them sniffling as the credits rolled, Bonney wiping away her tears as she looked over.

“Oh! Your crutch, it’s all the way over there—you didn’t walk without it, did you?!” Bonney suddenly turned towards Kuma. Sheepishly, he shook his head.

“No, dear, I did not! I… hopped a little. Dropped it and was afraid of falling again, I fear.” Kuma carefully responded, cutting around the unbelievable truth. Bonney smirked at that, poking his side playfully.

“Dad! You gotta be more careful!” She huffed. “So! Are you ready to actually sleep in your bed tonight?” she asked curiously.

Kuma thought for a moment before nodding.

“I think I would. If you could assist me? I can clean up a little and get dressed if you grab my pajamas.” Kuma asked, knowing that Bonney was aware his pajamas were stored in the lowest drawer of his dresser and, therefore, very difficult to access safely at the moment.

Bonney jumped up, retrieving his crutch and helping him stand.

“Can do, dad!” She laughed before zooming off.

Kuma managed to get to and from the bathroom without incident this time. Pleased to find his comfiest pajamas draped on his bed, Bonney waiting by the door and hesitating fretfully.

“I can get dressed on my own, dear. Just give me a moment.” Kuma smiled, kissing her head as he passed in thanks. Bonney huffed, pleased at the affection as she kept her back turned.

It wasn’t a… graceful process by any means. The tank top easiest to put on. But the pants required some finessing and awkward hopping to shed the old pair and pull up the new ones. Still, he managed, and all without falling onto his face.

Well, he face planted into the bed, but no one needed to know that but God and himself.

Bonney assisted him into the bed and affectionately tucked the blankets around him.

“Alright, you comfy, dad?” Bonney asked with an eager smile.

Kuma nodded.

“Indeed, dear. I think I’ll read the bible a little before sleeping. If you could be a dear and turn off the other lights before locking up?” Kuma asked, flicking on his bedside lamp. Bonney smiled wide.

“Of course—night, dad!” she kissed his cheek and closed the door.

Kuma heard her traipse around the house, going from room to room until the front door closed firmly.

Relaxing, Kuma leaned back and sighed.

Starbii…

His strange, stalwart companion was indeed enchanting and sweet. Unconventional as they may be—he’d be lying if he claimed no affection or attraction to them. Still, did he have a right to such feelings? As an Angel, are they not meant to be pure from such human sins as lust? Do he dare voice these feelings and risk tainting them—making them fall for the sin of laying with a human? In some stories, such couplings were deeply frowned upon.

But as his soul mate, doesn’t that imply an exception? Though, admittedly, he knew that not all soul mates were inherently sexual. Many people simply feeling no compulsion for such things. But as his other half—and himself very capable of being swayed by lust—would they not crave such intimacies?

If they even wanted to be by his side in any manner at all. Duty an important burden for anyone—let alone an Angel.

“…Starbii.” Kuma sighed.

A soft weight sank into the bed beside him.

Kuma turned his head to find Starbii leaning on one arm, facing him with a soft look.

“Kuma… so. I did some asking around.” Starbii informed him gently. “It’s rare, apparently, but not impossible. No mistake, either. Father is busy, so I couldn’t ask him personally, but the others agree this was intended all along. My… ‘assignment’ here for your lifetime.” They sighed.

“A-Are you barred from heaven or…?” Starbii shook their head.

“Nah, I can go back home anytime I want. I’m not fallen or cast out or anything. I just… have something to stay for.” Starbii smiled.

“And… this is what you want? To stay with me?” they nodded. “Starbii… I… what is it you want? With me?”

Starbii seemed surprised with his question.

“You mean…? Oh! That…” Starbii looked away for a moment in thought. “I’m not sure… this isn’t really something I’ve thought about before, you know. But… I think I would… like to kiss you. If that’s alright.” They asked, looking back at him shyly.

Kuma’s heart stuttered.

For a moment, old suspicions arose.

About Starbii being a demon in disguise.

But they gazed up at him so earnestly. Keeping their distance until he gave a sign he was willing too.

God, please, give me a sign that this is true. That this truly is a gift you have given me after all these years, Kuma prayed softly.

And, as though summoned by his desperate hope, the golden thread came to life. Casting off a heavenly glow and a rain of stars as it twisted elegantly between them.

Kuma’s eyes followed the delicate thread to Starbii’s pinky finger, reaching out to lift their hand to his lips as he kissed their soft knuckles. So close to their skin, he saw the gloved fabric shifted with a sea of heavenly stars and smiled.

“If you would be willing to bless me with such a thing?” Kuma asked softly.

Starbii’s smile widened as they shifted closer. Kuma’s arm sweeping around their back, pleased at how their soft body felt against his as he pulled them closer. Bending somewhat awkwardly to press their lips together.

It was soft and sweet. Lips like satin as his eyes drifted shut. The two of them moving against each other, drawing out the kiss as their senses fell away. Their tongue flicked out across his lips and he met theirs in turn. Deepening the kiss eagerly, both of them following each other in the downward spiral of passion.

Starbii moaned, shifting to throw a leg over his waist and climb on top of him fully. Pulling away to gasp for air, face flushed with pleasure as they looked down on him as though he held divinity on his tongue. Their dress puffing around their thick waist, revealing much of their soft thighs to his eyes.

“I think… I want more. A lot more.” Starbii informed him softly. Kuma smiled.

“I would be honored.” Kuma sighed, slowly placing his hands on their exposed thighs, stroking their skin above the stockings. They squirmed a little, letting slip a startled moan. “Speak the word and I will stop.” He spoke gently, tipping up his head for another kiss as they leaned down.

Their lips resuming their lost places as Kuma fondled their thick thighs. Despite his generous size compared to them, his hands nearly failed to circle the breadth of their thighs. So small… but not quite fragile. A strength in that softness that left him dizzy with need. So many found his height intimidating—he could scarcely recall a partner that did not find his ‘size’ equally as frightening.

As his tongue swept over theirs, chasing that faint taste of sweetness, his hands gripped their ass under their dress. Warm, silky skin filling his palms as he traced lower between them. Expecting to feel a thin barrier of some kind, he moaned in surprise when his fingers instead brushed across wet folds. Soft curls brushing his fingertips as Starbii moaned, arching their back beautifully, though it broke the kiss they had been sharing.

Their heavy eyes were nearly slits as they teared up, panting, trembling from his touch.

Kuma slipped one hand to the front, curling his hand beneath their pussy and teasing their wet folds. Rubbing their clit and circling their entrance as they panted in shock, hand over their mouth as they trembled. Their pussy sucking in his finger as he carefully teased open their walls. Cunt instantly clenching down on him as they came apart on his hand. Soaking him with a sweet, low cry.

“A-Aahhn~! K-Kuma~!” Starbii moaned out, swaying heavily as they rocked onto his hand. Kuma hummed, a pleased smile on his lips as he let his finger slip in deeper, stroking their pussy in firm rolls of his fingertips.

“What beauty before my eyes…” Kuma breathed out. “More, little angel?” he asked softly. They nodded drunkenly.

“N-Need more i-if I’m going to… mmmmhnnn~!” Starbii whispered softly, rocking their hips harder, letting his hand fuck them.

“It’ll be difficult, my angel. You already came just taking one finger.” Kuma warned softly.

“D-Do—ooooonn’t care~! W-Want you, K-Kuma! Want to f-feel you… deeper~!” They sighed, trembling and clenching down onto him again, dangerously close to cumming. “So big, Kuma—need more~!”

Kuma slipped in a second finger and they gasped, freezing and panting hard for air, eyes wide as they clenched onto the broad stretch. Kuma barely parted his trapped fingers and they keened, cumming onto his hand again with a soft cry. Chuckling, Kuma settled down a little and sighed.

“Think you can take off that dress, angel? You feel so hot—it must be stifling.” Kuma teased. Starbii nodded, still trembling as the grasped the puffy skirt and pulled it over their head with a firm tug, freeing their body for him.

Their body was as soft as the broad curve of their waist, plush and full. Speaking of a life lived gently—begging for his full attention in every fold and curve. But, with his injury, a full appreciation would have to wait. His gaze drifting down to the soft purple curls grinding into his wet palm as they rode into it.

“T-That feels better, thank you.” Starbii sighed, rolling their hips with less urgency now.

“No thanks are needed, little angel. The view alone is enough for me. Does it feel good? Feels good to me, your soft walls clenching onto my fingers. Not too much?” Kuma asked. They shook their head furiously.

“No! More~!” They mewled, and Kuma answered with another thick finger. Their pussy struggling to take it in despite soaking his hand past reason. Kuma gestured into their walls, as though coaxing them closer, and they cried out. “A-AHhhhn~! O-Oh! Oh, Kuma—aaaaahh~!” they trembled, collapsing onto his chest as their hips ground onto his hand still, riding out the high he provided.

Kuma’s body was burning hot now, cock achingly hard and flush with precum.

Still, he rubbed and scissored their soft pussy until their lips parted in a moan against his chest again, trembling violently before falling still. Pussy quivering in soft flutters until they finally relaxed.

“How do you feel, Starbii?” Kuma whispered, leaning down to kiss their curly hair.

They moaned low in their throat for a long moment.

“… so good. C-Can I have more, Kuma?” They asked, looking up at him with teary eyes. “I-Is it time for y-your… can I have your cock?” Kuma’s breath stuttered with shock over the lewd request.

Still, he would rather die than deny his soul mate.

“Yes—would you help free me, little angel?” He asked, kissing their forehead. They mewled, lifting off his hand and tugging the blanket off his body enough to reach his pants. Grasping the band of those and pulling them down until his cock sprang free. Their eyes wide as they stared at the dark member, tip flushed red and spilling beads of precum. “Y-You do not have too—”

Kuma was silenced by a lick of their tongue across his tip before they clambered up his body and settled over his cock. Letting him grind into their soft folds, soaking his thick cock. And Kuma could see it all.

How their pussy was forced open on the thick tip, clit grinding into him with every wet pass. Lips parting on the broad head as their thighs trembled with effort to remain raised. Kuma grasped their waist to assist, tilting their hips to press into their soft pussy. Grinding them onto him as they cried out, clenching over the tip as he struggled to slip inside.

“O-Oh, K-Kuma! G-Give it to me! L-Let me have it—s-so big, I-I—hhhahhhn~!” Starbii moaned as he finally breached their body. As he expected, they came instantly, sensitive pussy clenching onto him as he held them still. Refusing to go any further until their walls relaxed.

When they finally did, Kuma let out the breath he had been holding.

“So precious, little angel. Steadfast in taking me, does it hurt? C-Can you handle more?”

“Yes! Yes, I can—I swear—need more—so g-good—Aaaaahhhnnn~! O-Oh! Oooo~!” Starbii grasped his hands desperately as he lowered them onto his cock in small thrusts. Feeding their pussy his cock in the smallest increments he was capable of without losing all sense and hilting before they were ready.

And Starbii loved every inch of it. Face flush and nearly drooling with pleasure as they struggled to not cum with every bit of progress made.

“I’m astounded by how wonderfully you’re doing, little angel. I had worried it would be too much for you, but look at you. Almost halfway down my cock~ so beautiful and small.” Kuma sighed, lifting them up his cock until only the tip remained. Their tail thumped hard against the bed in protest before he let them slide back down again, watching as their pussy eagerly took every inch with increasing whines until they finally settled onto him fully. Cock hilted entirely within their tight cunt. “…oh. Y-You feel divine~” Kuma breathed out, clenching his eyes shut in an attempt to hold his orgasm at bay. Heart thundering in his chest.

“So… big. Y-You’re so deep, Kuma. W-Wanna move—Can I move?” Starbii asked breathlessly. Kuma swallowed hard and nodded, looking at them as their face lit up with elation. They threw back their hips in a slow roll, grinding his cock into their walls as they swayed. Moaning softly as he devoured the sight of their pussy spread on his cock, lining him with streaks of creamy white.

“Go ahead, little angel. Cum for me. As many times as you want.”

“B-Burns so good. S-So thick, Kuma—gonna c-cum—gonna—a-Ah~! Ah! A-Aaahhhn~!” Starbii threw back their head and squeezed onto his cock hard, cream dripped down his balls as they trembled. Still, Kuma held on, narrowly avoiding cumming himself. Waiting for the moment they finally collapsed onto his chest, coated in sweat and quivering in his eager arms.

“So sweet, little angel. A-Are you ready for me to move?” Kuma asked and they whined sweetly, pressing kisses to his now bared chest. His hands settled onto their ass and he lifted them up slightly. Hips canting into their overstimulated pussy as he fucked them slowly, relishing every hot, tight inch around his cock. Moans drooled onto his skin as they babbled nonsense that made his skin tingle.

The language of angels, perhaps. Undoubtably cries for more and compliments Kuma had no desire to protest against. Not when they made his cock throb with intrigue. His tip grinding against their walls as he steadily inched closer to the edge.

“—ooooo-ma~ k-k—ooo-mahn~! Ah-ah-a-ahhn~! K-oooomahn~!” They slurred, clutching his shoulders weakly as they came on his cock again, this time milking him over the edge. Cum spurting out in thick, harsh bursts as he cried out, head thrown back as his vision whited out. Hands grinding Starbii as far onto his cock as he could as they rode out their pleasure together.

When sense returned, Kuma realized his foot no longer ached.

And his cock was still thick inside their walls. Lips kissing over his chest in happy giggling pecks. Praise whispered drunkenly as he stroked their sweaty back.

“… I take it the experience wasn’t too much, Starbii?” Kuma was compelled to ask softly.

They laughed a little in disbelief, dark eyes looking up at him through wild curls.

“Too much?” They grinned mischievously, throwing back their ass onto his cock. “I can’t wait to go again.”

Kuma, despite his exhaustion, was hard pressed to disagree.

Any thought about their future—how was he going to introduce them to his daughter?!—a distant worry. His only concern seeing the limits of his soul mate in bed.

It was hardly a sin to love your soul mate entirely, after all.

[landofzero-archive]

Ibara Saegusa - Reinforcements From Heaven

Event: Cunning ◆ Wonder Game

(Location: Hallway)

Ibara: Your Excellency~? Where did you go, Your Excellency~? 

Oya? Anzu-san, meeting you here must be reinforcements from Heaven! The truth is, His Excellency has disappeared. 

I’m very sorry to trouble you, but I would truly be blessed if you would help me look for him! 

Option 1: Where was the last place you saw him? 

(Response A)

Ibara: The last time I saw him was at the Garden Terrace! 

He was reading a book, and that view made for such a lovely picture~ 

It could be that he has moved on to find other books. Let us look for him in the library! 

(Response B)

Ibara: The garden terrace! 

However, it seems that Yumenosaki Academy’s cafeteria is structured to use meal tickets to purchase food with…… No no, I don’t mean to make fun of you! 

Because each of Shuuetsu Academy’s luxury restaurants has their own chefs who will propose the most optimum menu for our exclusive use, it simply feels novel! 

Option 2: Of course. 

(Response A)

Ibara: Thank you very much! 

Anzu-san’s help is akin to the strength of a hundred people! Ah, I am truly lucky! 

I would be most grateful if you would contact me on my smartphone once you find His Excellency! I will come running no matter where it will be! 

(Response B)

Ibara: As expected of Anzu-san, you’re so kind! 

Even my filty self feels as though I’ve been purified when touched by that kindness! AHaHaHa♪ 

Oops, this isn’t the time to be chatting. Well then, I’ll be counting on you!

(Location: 1st Floor Passage)

Ibara: Anzu-san, thank you oh so much! Salute~☆ 

As I’m not one of the students of this Academy, if I were to search all over by myself, I surely would have gotten lost! 

I’m glad to have run into Anzu-san! I really am lucky! 

Option 1: I got lost at first, too. 

(Response A)

Ibara: I see. So you have that easy to like aspect to you, Anzu-san! 

If you found interesting places or such when you got lost, please do tell me about it! 

Hmm, you’ve walked here every day so you’ve long since forgotten about it? AHaHaHa♪ That’s just a matter of course, isn’t it! 

(Response B)

Ibara: Come to think of it, you’re a transfer student! 

In that case, if Anzu-san had transferred to Shuuetsu Academy, maybe we could have been classmates?

Due to Shuuetsu Academy’s structure, that probably wouldn’t happen in real life. Being classmates with Anzu-san sounds so sweet♪ 

Option 2: You’ve been investigating. 

(Response A)

Ibara: Ooh, so you know, Anzu-san! 

It’s true that I did some research, but as expected, there is a huge difference between looking at the information and actually walking around! 

I am grateful from the depths of my heart for all of your help, Anzu-san! 

(Response B)

Ibara: AHaHaHa, you got that one point from me…..☆ 

I’ve had a grasp on Yumenosaki Academy facilities, but I haven’t actually walked around!  

Moreover with it being this big, getting lost is a given! 

(Location: Garden Space)

Ibara: Oops, Anzu-san! Today is the day I randomly meet you isn’t it? 

No no, if anything, I’m very happy to see Anzu-san so many times!

More importantly, what you’re holding onto dearly with both hands…… Aah, of course it’s fine to just say what you want to! 

Option 1: ……Would you like to try it on? 

(Response A)

Ibara: ……What? Oops, sorry for the lifeless reply! 

However, to my eyes, it appears to be an Alice costume for use by women…… Ah, it really is Alice?

As you can see, the size is slightly too small for me. Oh my, I’m truly sorry! 

(Response B)

Ibara: Ooh, a light blue apron dress! Is this Alice’s costume? To my amazement, it’s handmade by Anzu-san……! 

If you don’t mind someone like me trying it on, I will happily try it on! Is there anywhere I can go change? 

Eh, a joke? Oh my, really! How rude of me! AHaHaHa♪ 

Option 2: It’s Alice’s costume. 

(Response A)

Ibara: Alice’s costume…..? The costume used in Wondergame…… It doesn’t seem like it. 

Oops, sorry for prying! If it’s uncomfortable for you, I will zip my mouth shut so please don’t hesitate…… 

That’s not the case? Anzu-san made this costume because it’s your hobby? I’m impressed at how adept you are at sewing♪ 

(Response B)

Ibara: I see, so you made this costume as a hobby? Wow, what a coincidence! 

The truth is, this time’s Wonder Game is also based on Alice’s motifs! May I touch it for a bit?

Thank you very much! Ooh, such intiricate handiwork! Even as a layman, I can tell that this costume is wonderful! 

[saveregblackordie0726]

Sombre et Pur'

Chapter 10

Sixth Year – 1976 – October 31 

The weeks leading up to Halloween felt like a blur of forced normalcy. Patrols with Regulus became a chilling game of avoidance. He maintained a rigid distance, the very air between us crackling with unspoken hostility. We walked in silence, his icy demeanor a stark reminder of the unsettling encounter in the Astronomy Tower. Surprisingly, I preferred the silent tension to his cruel provocations. It offered a semblance of control, an illusion of peace in the midst of the storm raging within. 

Lily, with her usual enthusiastic flair, had been consumed with costume planning for weeks. Her choice – an angel, of course – was so perfectly fitting that it bordered on cliché. Her halo sparkled with what I suspected were real diamonds, and her flowing white robes were made of silk so fine it seemed to shimmer with celestial light. She had spent hours perfecting her makeup, aiming for an ethereal glow that would put the moon itself to shame. 

Amidst Lily's angelic preparations, I played my own supporting role. I helped James and Sirius spread the word about the Halloween bash, delicately balancing secrecy with generating enough buzz to ensure a decent turnout. There was a reckless thrill in defying the rules, in claiming a space where we could, even for one night, cast off the shadows of the war looming outside the castle walls. 

The night before the party, under the cloak of darkness, Remus, James, and I slipped into the kitchens. Remus, bless his ever-pragmatic soul, had struck a deal. Madam Rosmerta with promises of increased patronage for several weeks and a few extra galleons. The result was a generous supply of whiskey and Fire whiskey that, with a flick of James's wand and a muttered doubling charm, promised enough alcohol to fuel any party. 

With pockets overflowing with enchanted candy and baskets filled with stolen treats, we crept out of Hogwarts kitchens feeling like a band of merry bandits. The weight of stolen pastries in my pocket mingled with a giddy sense of rebellion, and for the first time in weeks, I felt a genuine sliver of joy pierce through the persistent gloom. 

Halloween night arrived with an electric energy that crackled through the ancient castle. Old Nick had generously offered to share their celebration room, with promises of secrecy in exchange for copious trays of rotting meat. The room had been transformed into a den of spooky delights. Glowing jack-o'-lanterns flickered in corners, their grinning faces reflecting the boisterous energy of the gathered students. Cauldrons bubbled with mysterious, sweet-smelling liquids, and cobweb-draped tables overflowed with treats. The scent of pumpkin spice and spiced cider hung heavy in the air, an intoxicating blend that promised both mischief and merriment in equal measure. 

Lily's dormitory was a whirlwind of feathers, glitter, and frantic last-minute adjustments. Dorcas, dressed as a mesmerizing siren with shimmering scales and a crown of seashells, deftly applied shimmering eyeshadow to Marlene, who had transformed into a convincingly rebellious Joan Jett. Alice, her pale features accentuated by dark lips and a enchanted whiskers, checked out her cat-suit in the floor length mirror. Then it was my turn. Lily and Dorcas, armed with an arsenal of hair products and charms, skillfully teased and coaxed my auburn hair into soft, cascading waves. They carefully painted my face, highlighting my cheekbones with a shimmery bronze and subtly darkening my eyes with smoky browns and greens. My costume, the result of weeks of clandestine collaboration with my artistic roommate Beatrice, was an enigmatic creation. It hinted at something nocturnal, yet ethereal. 

My dress, a short concoction of shimmering emerald silk overlaid with delicate layers of brown and bronze chiffon, swirled around my legs with every movement. But the centerpiece, the part that made Beatrice beam with pride, were the wings. They were attached like a backpack of sorts and extended nearly three feet on either side. Each feather, painstakingly crafted from dyed parchment and wire, was a work of art. They shimmered with vibrant yellows and earthy greens, enchanted by Lily to open and close every few seconds, leaving a simmering of glittery dust behind. 

A mask, in the same rich hues as my dress, obscured the upper half of my face. It sparkled with strategically placed flecks of glitter, catching the flickering candlelight as I moved. Beatrice had insisted on a final touch, liberally dusting my hair, shoulders, and exposed skin with a shimmering gold powder that gave me the appearance of having stepped straight out of a moonlit forest clearing. 

As I surveyed myself in the mirror, a strange mixture of nerves and excitement danced in my stomach. The costume felt like an armor of sorts, a way to hide behind a carefully crafted facade. Unlike Lily's overt celestial beauty, or Marlene's edgy rebellion, my disguise was more subtle, a whispered secret rather than an open declaration. 

A collective gasp from the girls snapped me out of my thoughts. "Oh, Clem!" Alice exclaimed; her eyes wide with delight. "You look absolutely magical!" 

Marlene whistled appreciatively, and even Dorcas, with her penchant for gothic darkness, grudgingly offered a nod of approval. Their affirmations swirled around me, a warm bath against the lingering chill of the last few weeks. 

A flicker of apprehension gnawed at my edges as I waved the girls on ahead. They disappeared down the corridor, a whirlwind of feathers, leather, and glitter, leaving me alone in the deserted dorm. 

"I'll be down in a minute!" I called after them, my voice echoing slightly in the sudden silence. Turning back to the full-length mirror, I hesitated, a familiar wave of insecurity washing over me. Did the dress make my legs look too long? Was there too much glitter on my collarbone? Was the concept too obscure, too strange? 

Banishing the doubts with a determined shake of my head, I took a deep breath and turned away from my reflection. The costume, the party, the carefully constructed facade – it was all a temporary distraction, a shield against the encroaching darkness. There was no point dwelling on appearances when the weight of a silent war hung heavy between me and Regulus. 

Descending the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor common room, I was startled to find Peter waiting, his customary nervousness amplified beneath a tall, pointed wizard's hat. He straightened hurriedly at my entrance, his eyes widening in surprise as they took in my appearance. 

Peter had changed over the years. His frame, once soft and slightly pudgy, had hardened. Though still on the stocky side, there was a new solidity to him, a hint of strength in his shoulders and the line of his jaw. He was less of a timid boy and more a young man, still navigating the awkwardness of adolescence but with a flicker of determination in his eyes. 

"C-Clem," he stammered, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "You ... Wow." 

A warm smile spread across my face, genuine and unforced. "Peter," I teased gently, tucking an escaped tendril of hair behind my ear, "Why are you still here?" 

He grinned sheepishly, ducking his head in a gesture that reminded me of the shy second-year I'd befriended all those years ago. "W-Waiting for you," he admitted. "Lily." 

Understanding dawned. The worry etched on Lily's face before disappearing down the corridor flickered in my mind. Of course, she wouldn't want me wandering alone, not with the ever-present threat of darkness bubbling just beneath the surface of our revelry. She likely instructed Peter to be my escort, her own version of a watchful guardian angel. I felt a rush of fondness for both of them; their unwavering loyalty was a beacon in the storm. 

“Shall we then, Peter?" I asked with a playful curtsey, offering him my arm. 

His answering smile was wide and genuine as he led me out of the portrait hole. The walk to the dungeons, our usual route to a vacant classroom for shared study sessions, felt different tonight. The flickering torchlight painted the corridors in an air of mystery, and a festive buzz vibrated through the very stones of the castle. Peter and I, normally comfortable in our shared silences, seemed to find our tongues loosened by the unique atmosphere. 

"I saw you practicing with Beatrice in the courtyard," Peter remarked, his voice low. "Your wings, they're ...incredible." 

"She's an artistic genius," I agreed. The wings were Beatrice's masterpiece, the culmination of our whispered conversations about elusive creatures and forgotten lore. 

Sensing an opportunity, I turned the conversation towards him. "So, a classic wizard, Peter? Are you planning on casting any real spells tonight?" I teased. 

He blushed again, a charming contrast to his serious wizarding attire. "Maybe a charm or two," he admitted, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I've been practicing." 

Our conversation continued, a lighthearted blend of observations on the passing costumes, playful bets on how much pumpkin juice James would consume, and Peter's reluctant admission that he'd been working up the courage to dance with a Ravenclaw girl for weeks. The ease of our banter was both comforting and bittersweet. We were growing up, changing, and the unspoken fear was that the threads of our friendship might fray as our paths diverged. 

To avoid the congested main corridors, Peter steered us towards a hidden passage known only to a select few. He navigated the maze of dim corridors and crumbling staircases with a surprising confidence, a stark contrast to the timid boy who used to follow in the confident stride of his friends. 

"Nearly there," he announced as we rounded a corner into a forgotten stretch of corridor lined with dusty portraits. 

A soft glow emanated from behind a iron-barred doorway. With a grin, Peter pushed aside the heavy gate, revealing a pathway pulsating with muffled music and the excited murmur of a crowd. 

The makeshift party space seemed a world away from the rest of the castle. The dungeons, usually cold and imposing, had been transformed into a den of spooky delights. Glowing skulls hung from the ceiling while enchanted bats swooped playfully through the air, narrowly missing the heads of giggling students. The room throbbed with a chaotic energy – masked figures danced with wild abandon, groups huddled by a makeshift bar, exchanging gossip and scandalous rumors, and in one corner, a particularly dedicated group was attempting to levitate a protesting cat. 

The roar of the party hit us like a wave as we stepped through the hidden entrance. Laughter, shouts, and the pounding rhythm of an unfamiliar tune assaulted our senses, a delicious change from the quiet order of our everyday lives. I glanced at Peter, who was surveying the scene with wide eyes and a hint of anxious excitement, and couldn't help but grin. His determinedly calm facade was endearing, a testament to his bravery in venturing into the center of such boisterous chaos. 

Peter followed my gaze as we weaved through the throng of students, their laughter washing over us like a warm tide. He nudged my arm, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Look, isn't that Prongs?" he exclaimed, pointing towards a tall figure clad in surprisingly realistic chainmail. 

My eyes followed his gesture and landed on James, resplendent in a knight costume that seemed far closer to authentic armor than a hastily assembled outfit. He was leaning casually against a stone pillar, his gaze scanning the crowd. Upon spotting us, his face split into a wide grin, and he lifted his tankard in a silent salute. 

We navigated towards him, pushing through groups of giggling vampires, superheroes who had clearly raided their parents' wardrobes, and what appeared to be a colony of particularly enthusiastic house-elves. As we drew closer, a familiar face appeared next to James, her fiery red hair and shimmering halo unmistakable. 

"Clem! Peter! Over here!" Lily called out, a radiant smile illuminating her face. She straightened from where she had been leaning against James, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Have a drink," she urged, extending two intricately carved silver goblets brimming with a suspiciously pink liquid. 

I took a tentative sip, my eyes widening as a fiery warmth burned its way down my throat. "Merlin's Beard!" I choked, fighting back a cough, "I thought Remus was in charge of the punch?" 

James, never one to miss an opportunity for a dramatic reveal, puffed out his chest. "I nicked the job from dear Moony," he announced grandly. "He was far too focused on choosing the perfect party playlist." A smug grin spread across his face as Lily swatted at his arm with playful exasperation. 

"Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you lot ever pass your exams," she muttered, though her lips twitched in amusement. 

The warmth of the alcohol and the contagious energy of the crowd washed away some of the lingering unease that clung to me like a shadow. Here, in this hidden dungeon filled with music and laughter, the darkness gnawing at the edges of my world seemed distant, muffled by the thumping bass and punctuated by the clinking of glasses. 

Peter, emboldened by the punch and the infectious spirit of the festivities, shed his usual reserve with surprising speed. He challenged a group of Hufflepuffs to a particularly raucous game of wizarding charades, his impromptu performance of a banshee earning him raucous applause. Later, I spotted him locked in an intense conversation with the same Ravenclaw girl he had admired from afar, a wide, shy smile on his face. It was heartwarming to see him blossom, to witness the quiet courage that had been growing within him all these years. 

Lily, ever the life of the party, had taken charge of the dance floor. She whirled and twirled with reckless abandon, her laughter echoing through the room. Her angel wings shimmered with every movement, casting dazzling reflections on the stone walls and drawing admiring glances from every corner of the room. 

James hovered nearby, his knightly persona morphing into that of a devoted attendant. He replenished her drink, adjusted her halo when it inevitably slipped, and generally basked in the glow of her radiant smile. I felt a pang of wistfulness, a reminder of the unspoken question lingering between them, the tantalizing possibility of something more than friendship. They were so perfectly in sync, so obviously meant for each other, that it seemed almost cruel the universe was making them wait. 

The crowd pulsed and swayed around us, a blur of shimmering costumes and joyful faces. Yet, amidst the revelry, a lingering awareness of Regulus nagged at the edges of my consciousness. There was a dissonance in my enjoyment, a guilt in letting myself drown in laughter while he lurked in the shadows, his icy gaze a persistent weight upon me. 

It was as if the universe read my thoughts. In a brief lull between songs, as snippets of hushed conversations drifted around me, I caught it – the name that sent shivers down my spine. A hushed whisper, carried on the wind of gossip that wound through any gathering: 

"...Black... heard he crashed the party..." 

Instinct took over. My eyes darted across the crowd, a desperate search for a familiar figure shrouded in darkness, for a glimpse of stormy grey eyes that could extinguish the fleeting joy within me like a snuffed-out flame. My gaze swept over disguised faces, half-hidden by elaborate masks, desperately seeking any sign of him. 

But he was nowhere to be seen. Relief washed over me in a cool wave, followed quickly by a pang of guilt at finding comfort in his absence. The music surged back to life, the crowd roaring its approval, yet the whispers lingered. Regulus, even unseen, was a specter haunting the edges of my joy, a stark reminder of the war that would inevitably seep back into these ancient halls, poisoning even the most lighthearted of celebrations. 

Over the thumping beat and the roar of the crowd, a familiar voice penetrated the haze of merry chaos. My eyes darted across the room, a flicker of recognition replacing the disoriented confusion. 

"Kit!" The call came again, followed by a waving hand and a familiar flash of dark hair. Relief mixed with a flicker of apprehension washed over me as I spotted Sirius weaving through the crowd. Beside him, Remus navigated the party with a quieter ease, his eyes sweeping the room with a watchful attentiveness that never truly faded. They were joined by Katie, resplendent in a figure-hugging blood-red mini dress with elaborate, lacy bat wings, ripped stockings, and a smoldering gaze fueled by smoky makeup and a healthy dose of party punch. 

With a final weave around a group of particularly enthusiastic werewolves, they reached my side at the edge of the dance floor. Sirius wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug, the scent of Fire whiskey strong on his breath. He released me, holding me at arm's length to assess my costume, a drunken grin plastered on his face. 

"Don't get too sloshed, Pads," I teased, grabbing the empty goblet from his hand and accepting the replacement he offered. As I took a sip, the potent punch burned a fiery path down my throat, bringing tears to my eyes. 

"Ugh, don't remind me," he chuckled, the memory of last year's disastrous Halloween party apparently still fresh in his mind. "Kit, you look bloody brilliant!" 

I flushed at the genuine compliment, the warmth spreading through me despite the cool air of the dungeon. My wings fluttered slightly in unconscious response, and a touch of the shy, insecure girl I used to be peeked through. 

His attention flitted to Peter, who stood slightly behind me, a tentative smile on his face. "Pettigrew, fancy a proper drink?" Sirius asked, winking at Peter, who nodded eagerly. The two of them disappeared towards the makeshift bar with surprising speed. 

I returned my attention to my friends. Remus, less talkative than his boisterous counterpart, offered a warm smile and a squeeze of my shoulder. 

"You look beautiful, Clem," he said, his voice low and sincere. 

A comfortable silence fell for a moment as we took in the scene before us. Nearby, a group of spectral figures in tattered clothing glided around a table laden with rotting meat, placed there for their ghostly enjoyment. The acrid smell of smoke filled my nostrils, the source quickly revealed as Katie, Remus, and Sirius passed around a suspiciously rolled cigarette. 

"Clem!" Katie shrieked, drawing me back from my momentary observation of the resident ghosts. She abandoned her post at the spectral snack table and swept me into an enthusiastic hug, nearly knocking the precarious mask off my head. The pungent scent of patchouli clung to her, an intoxicating mixture with the faint hints of smoke and spilled punch. 

Releasing me, she gestured towards a tall boy standing beside her. He had a shock of curly brown hair and a friendly smile that put him oddly at ease in the midst of the drunken revelry. 

"This is Ed—" she began, then paused, a frown momentarily creasing her brow. 

"—Eddie, right?" I finished for her, a jolt of recognition hitting me. I'd seen him around the common room, usually buried in a Charms textbook or quietly playing a game of chess with another student in a forgotten corner. 

"Right!" Katie chirped, clearly relieved that I remembered. "Seventh Year, Hufflepuff," she added proudly. Eddie offered a polite smile and a slightly awkward wave. He seemed sweet, his nervousness endearing in the face of Katie's exuberant confidence. 

I took a drag from the spliff Katie passed me. The smoke filled my lungs, leaving a slightly acrid taste on my tongue. I exhaled slowly, a cloud of hazy smoke dancing before my eyes. The alcohol and the smoke combined to create a pleasantly disorienting effect. The music pounded in my chest, the laughter and conversation swirled around me, and the worries that lingered in my sober mind began to fade. 

As the night wore on, I let myself fall deeper into the haze of smoke and laughter. Tucked into the shadowy corner of the dungeon, Katie, Remus, Sirius, Eddie, and I formed a cozy island amidst the raging sea of partygoers. Peter hovered somewhere nearby, his cheeks flushed as he engaged in an animated conversation with the Ravenclaw girl who, by the looks of it, was thoroughly charmed by my usually reserved friend. 

Katie regaled us with dramatic tales of Quidditch victories and near-death experiences with rogue Bludgers. Her voice rose above the din of the party, laced with laughter and an enthusiasm that was both captivating and infectious. Sirius, never one to miss an opportunity for theatrics, occasionally burst into exaggerated renditions of whatever song was playing, much to Remus's amusement and Eddie's bewildered fascination. 

My eyes flickered towards Sirius and Remus. Their shoulders occasionally brushed as they passed the joint, a flicker of a smile or a whispered comment traded between them. There was a new softness in Remus's eyes when he looked at Sirius, a tenderness I hadn't seen before. A wave of happiness washed over me; after so many years of witnessing their complicated dance of friendship and unspoken longing, the open affection was a heartwarming sight. 

Then, like a burst of vibrant energy cutting through the dimness, ABBA's iconic melodies filled the room. Lily and Dorcas appeared at my side, their laughter echoing as they grabbed my hands and pulled me away from the smoky corner and into the heart of the dance floor. 

The three of us twirled and swayed with reckless abandon, our voices joining the chorus of singing partygoers. Dizzying lights spun around me, casting the world into a kaleidoscope of colors and hazy edges. Lily's angel wings shimmered, catching the flashing lights with every spin. Dorcas let out a wild whoop of delight as she kicked her fishnet-clad legs high in the air. And I, swept away by the music and the infectious joy of my friends, danced as if no one was watching, my moth wings rustling gently with each step. 

In the aftermath of the ABBA craze, James materialized, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a shot glass clutched in each hand. 

"Shots for the Evans girls?" he declared; his voice thick with the effects of the potent punch. 

Never one to back down from a challenge, I grinned and tossed back the fiery liquid. It burned a familiar path down my throat, momentarily grounding me in the swirling chaos. The alcohol warmed my veins, fueling a heady recklessness that danced just beneath the surface of my control. 

More smoke, more shots, more laughter echoed around me. The hours seemed to dissolve, the party transforming into a pulsating blur of colors, music, and carefree moments. My inhibitions, usually so carefully guarded, retreated like a frightened animal. 

At some point, the room began to spin. I stumbled slightly, clinging to a stone pillar for support, and glanced around. The realization hit me like a cold splash of water. It was nearing the end of the night, and couples were beginning to drift away in pairs. 

Lily and James leaned against each other, their laughter quieter, tinged with a sweetness that spoke of plans yet to be made. Sirius had an arm slung casually over Remus's shoulder, their heads bent close in a whispered conversation seemingly oblivious to the thinning crowd around them. Even Katie and Eddie had disappeared, most likely to find a quiet corner of their own. 

A pang of loneliness struck me, an unexpected chill amidst the warmth of the alcohol and the lingering smoke. My meticulously constructed armor, the carefree facade built on laughter and drinks, began to crack under the weight of a bittersweet realization. 

The truth settled over me, as stark and unavoidable as the cold stone beneath my palm: I was alone. 

Oh, my friends were still there, a comforting presence a mere glance away. But in their stolen glances, their shared smiles, their quiet intimacy, there was a reminder of what I lacked. 

The music, moments ago a beacon of joy, now grated on my nerves. The laughter echoing around the dungeon no longer felt like my own. I was adrift, caught between the retreating tide of merry chaos and the sobering dawn that lurked just beyond the castle walls. 

A shaky breath escaped me, and I pushed myself away from the pillar. The world swayed and dipped, the edges of my vision blurring uncomfortably. With a determination born more of desperation than true bravery, I navigated my way out of the dungeon. 

With each wobbly step away from the heart of the party, the weight of isolation pressed down upon me. The laughter and music faded into a muffled backdrop against the pounding in my head. The darkness of the dungeons, previously a source of secretive thrill, now seemed to press in from all sides, mirroring the encroaching shadows within. 

My feet, clad in fishnet stockings and ridiculous platform shoes, seemed to have a mind of their own. The corridors twisted and turned, each corner revealing another stretch of dimly lit stone and echoing silence. With no clear destination and a growing sense of disorientation, I simply kept moving, propelled forward by a stubborn refusal to succumb to the overwhelming weariness that threatened to drag me down. 

Then, like a specter materialized from the dimness, Regulus Black stepped out from a shadowy alcove. His sudden appearance sent a jolt of unpleasant surprise through my alcohol-addled system. Of course, even in the depths of the dungeons, on a night fueled by reckless abandon, I couldn't escape him. His presence was a chilling reminder that the darkness I sought to avoid was woven into the very fabric of our world. 

He wore no costume, no playful mask to hide behind. Just his usual dark clothes and an expression of cool disdain that seemed permanently etched onto his pale features. The flickering torchlight played across his face, casting stark shadows that accentuated the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the icy glint in his eyes. 

"Great," I slurred, the word heavy on my tongue. "Bloody fantastic." A bitter laugh escaped me, echoing strangely in the empty corridor. 

He didn't respond immediately, just observed me with a dark amusement that sent a shiver down my spine. The silence stretched, punctuated only by my uneven breathing and the faint echo of his own footsteps. Finally, he spoke, his voice a low drawl that cut through the haze in my head with unsettling clarity. 

"Fitting, you'd be a moth," he remarked, a sneer twisting his lips. 

Indignation sparked within me, a flicker of defiance pushing back against the creeping despair. I crossed my arms defensively, the motion causing the world to lurch uncomfortably. 

"Figures you'd be the one to get it right," I retorted, my words tripping over each other in my drunken state. Frustration gnawed at me as I fumbled with the intricate fastenings of my mask. "People have been calling me a butterfly all night," I grumbled, finally ripping the mask away from my face. 

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "You're too dark for a mere butterfly, Evans," His words were laced with a cruel amusement, a calculated jab aimed at the shadows he saw lurking within me. 

"Says you," I mumbled, more to myself than to him. "Now, if you'll excuse me," I made a move to step past him, determined to continue my aimless wandering, but he was quicker. 

Before I could react, he shifted, blocking my path. His presence loomed over me, the scent of old parchment and something darker clinging to him like a second skin. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine. 

"Wrong way," he declared with a smirk, "unless you're looking to sneak into the Slytherin dorms?" The suggestion hung heavy in the air between us. 

My face flushed hot with a mixture of anger and a reluctant, traitorous heat. His suggestive tone, the way his eyes raked over me with a predatory gleam, ignited a familiar battle within me. Revulsion warred with a flicker of shameful excitement, a recognition of the dangerous magnetism he exuded. 

"Don't flatter yourself, Black," I spat, struggling to maintain an air of defiance. "I'd rather face a dragon than spend another minute in your company." 

A wave of nausea washed over me. The alcohol sloshed uncomfortably in my stomach, and the room spun with renewed vigor. I needed to get away from him, from the darkness he embodied, from the temptation to dance with the shadows that both horrified and fascinated me. 

"Get out of my way," I demanded, my voice laced with a desperation that bordered on pleading. To my surprise, he stepped aside, a flicker of something I couldn't decipher passing through his eyes. My escape from Regulus was short-lived. The corridor seemed to warp and stretch before me, the floor tilting at alarming angles. Just as I thought I was free, I stumbled, my knees nearly buckling beneath me. A gasp escaped my lips as the world lurched sickeningly. 

Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, a hand shot out, gripping my elbow with surprising strength. The sudden support halted my impending collision with the cold stone floor. I whirled around, my glare fueled by a mixture of indignation and the unsettling dizziness that threatened to send me sprawling. 

There he was, of course. His pale face was etched with a frown, his eyes narrowed in a mixture of annoyance and what might have been reluctant concern. 

"You're sloshed," he stated flatly. There was an accusatory note in his voice, as though my inebriated state was a personal affront to him. 

"What a clever boy you are," I snapped, my words slurring slightly. "Mummy must be so proud." 

He tightened his grip on my elbow, a flicker of anger replacing the disdain in his eyes. "Stop being so bloody difficult, Evans," he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. 

A defiant hiccup bubbled up from my throat, a ridiculous counterpoint to the seriousness of the situation. The room spun alarmingly, my vision blurring at the edges. "Why don't you," another hiccup interrupted me, "go back to whatever creepy activities you were up to?" I managed, the words dripping with forced sarcasm. 

To my immense annoyance, he didn't let go. His grip remained firm on my arm, a constant reminder of his presence and my own vulnerability. The room tilted dangerously once more, and a wave of nausea washed over me. 

"If you'd like to stumble around like a fool until you pass out, or something," he paused, the unspoken threat hanging in the air, "far worse than me happens upon you, then be my guest." His words were harsh, laced with a bitter truth I couldn't fully process in my disoriented state. 

"N-not many people are creepier than you," I managed to bite out, but the retort lacked its usual conviction. Fear, an unwelcome guest at this drunken party in my mind, began to gnaw at the edges of my bravado. 

He let out a sigh, a sound filled with a strange mixture of exasperation and resignation. 

 "I'm taking you back to your common room." The statement wasn't a question, but a declaration delivered with the same cold certainty he'd used to taunt me earlier. 

My stomach lurched violently, a stark reminder of the potent punch coursing through my veins. The battle was lost. I couldn't fight him, couldn't argue, could barely stand on my own. Defeat, bitter and acrid, settled in my throat as I reluctantly nodded, the gesture causing the room to spin wildly. 

His grip on my arm tightened as he began to lead me forward. The world blurred into a kaleidoscope of torchlight and shadows. With a jolt of disorientation, I realized he was walking in the opposite direction of the Gryffindor common room. 

"Wrong way!" I protested, my voice a hoarse whisper. 

He didn't slow his pace, his strides long and purposeful.  

"Taking a shortcut," he replied curtly. His tone brooked no argument, leaving me to stumble in his wake, fighting back the waves of nausea and the unwelcome realization that I was entirely at his mercy. 

The corridor twisted and turned, each step a perilous journey. Panic bubbled beneath my drunken haze. Where was he taking me? What were his intentions? The darkness, once held at bay by the boisterous energy of the party, now pressed in from all sides. I tried to focus on his back, on the rhythm of his footsteps, but my vision swam, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. 

The shortcut, it turned out, was a winding labyrinth of narrow passages and forgotten stairwells. It was as if Regulus was leading me deeper into the bowels of the castle, away from the lingering warmth of the party and into the very heart of the ancient stone. 

His grip on my elbow tightened as we navigated the uneven ground. I stumbled repeatedly, my vision blurring and my legs threatening to give out beneath me. It was only his unwavering hold that kept me from collapsing into an unceremonious heap. 

After a particularly vicious stumble, his hand shifted from my elbow to my waist. The unexpected contact sent a jolt through my alcohol-addled system. It wasn't overtly intimate, more a pragmatic adjustment to better support my faltering steps, but the warmth of his hand seeping through my dress sent a strange shiver down my spine. A shiver that had nothing to do with the chill of the dungeon. 

The silence between us was deafening, broken only by our uneven footsteps and my labored breathing. I longed to break it, to hurl accusations, to demand explanations, but my tongue felt heavy and uncooperative. Instead, the quiet gnawed at me, amplifying my disorientation and the growing fear that clawed at my insides. 

Finally, unable to bear the oppressive silence any longer, I managed to croak out a question. 

"Why are you being so..." my voice faltered as a wave of nausea washed over me. I swallowed, forcing back the bile rising in my throat. "Unlike yourself," I finished weakly. 

A harsh laugh escaped him. "It's not as if you know me, Evans," he muttered, the words barely audible over the echo of our footsteps. 

His dismissive response was a slap in the face, a brutal reminder of the chasm that divided us. True, we were bound together by the invisible threads of this war, but our understanding of each other was as shallow as a puddle after a summer rain. 

He continued; his voice laced with a bitter cynicism that mirrored my own growing despair. "Besides, I just don't fancy being blamed..." he paused, searching for the right words, "if something were to happen to you in this state." 

A chill shot through me at his words, his implication hanging heavy in the air like a poisonous fog. The thought sent a fresh wave of shame washing over me. To have stumbled so spectacularly, to need his assistance, was humiliation enough. But for there to be witnesses to my disgrace.  

Our pace slowed as we neared the familiar territory of the castle kitchens. The tantalizing scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread drifted through the air, a tantalizing reminder of the warmth and comfort that awaited at the end of this treacherous journey. With each step, the realization that I would soon face my housemates settled over me like a suffocating cloak. 

The weight of his hand on my waist was a constant presence, a grounding force amidst the chaos swirling in my head. Yet, beneath the necessity of his touch, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease. This strange, forced intimacy was both a source of stability and a constant reminder of my own vulnerability. 

As we reached the top of a short flight of stairs leading away from the kitchens, I finally found the courage to look up at him. Our eyes met, and something shifted between us, an unspoken acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. 

"Thank you," I murmured, the words barely audible above the pounding in my head. My voice was thick with a mixture of gratitude, mortification, and the lingering effects of the potent party punch. 

We paused at the bottom of the stairs, the warmth of the brightly lit kitchens a stark contrast to the cool darkness of the corridor. The entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, concealed behind a stack of enormous barrels, was a mere few steps away. 

For an extended moment, he said nothing. Instead, he met my gaze, his own eyes surprisingly unreadable. There was none of the usual cold disdain, nor the cruel mockery I had come to expect. Instead, his expression was... almost guarded, a strange blend of detachment and something I couldn't quite define. 

"For not being a prick," I clarified softly, a flicker of defiance reigniting within me. 

He let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound echoing strangely in the dimly lit corridor. 

 "Don't mention it, Evans," he finally replied, his voice devoid of any warmth but laced with a touch of sardonic resignation. A renewed wave of dizziness washed over me, threatening to send me tumbling. I blinked rapidly, struggling to maintain focus. The alcohol swirled in my veins, making the world tilt and warp at an alarming rate. 

"Sorry," I managed to mumble, feeling the weight of embarrassment crashing down upon me, "I can't... think straight..." 

He seemed to understand. A flicker of something akin to concern flitted across his face, a fleeting emotion that contradicted his carefully manufactured reputation as heartless. 

His gaze drifted down to his polished black shoes, as if seeking an escape from the uncomfortable moment of vulnerability that had briefly settled between us. When he looked back up, the familiar mask of indifference was back in place. 

"Get some rest," he said curtly, any hint of softness gone from his voice. 

The disorientation washed over me in relentless waves. The corridor, once so familiar, seemed to blur and distort. I clung to the barrel beside me, fighting to maintain a semblance of composure as the room spun. In the flickering light, Regulus Black seemed to transform before my eyes. The harsh angles of his face softened, the sneer replaced by a flicker of amusement, the shadows retreating as if the darkness within him was momentarily held at bay. 

For a dangerous, disorienting moment, he was simply a boy. A boy with tousled dark hair and surprisingly kind eyes. I could almost convince myself that this was an ordinary scene, a boy seeing a girl safely home, an echo of countless, innocent teenage interactions. 

Then, the absurdity of the situation hit me with full force. This was Regulus Black, the boy who haunted the Astronomy Tower, who reveled in cruelty and whispered promises of violence. This fleeting moment of unexpected connection was an illusion, a mirage shimmering in the depths of my alcohol-fueled haze. The spell was broken as another wave of nausea crashed over me, leaving me weak and disoriented. I turned away, desperate to find the sanctuary of my common room, to escape both his disconcerting presence and the relentless assault on my senses. 

Fumbling for balance, I glanced back at him, my vision blurring. "You... you're quite pretty, you know that?" I slurred, the words tumbling out before I could comprehend their full impact. 

His head snapped up, his eyes widening in startled amusement. I was instantly mortified, a flush of heat flooding my cheeks as the room spun dizzily around me. But through the haze, I also saw it – the flash of surprise, the way his lips twitched in a hint of an unguarded smile. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cool composure that I couldn't help but admire even in my drunken stupor. 

"Go to bed, Evans," he commanded, though there was a strange gentleness in his tone, as if humoring a foolish child. 

A wave of exhaustion washed over me, rendering further argument impossible. With a final unsteady wave and a slurred

“Night.”

I turned towards the barrels that masked the entrance to my common room. As I fumbled with the rhythm required to open the hidden passage, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had stumbled not only through the dungeons but also through my own preconceptions. 

My vision swam, the barrels blurring and shifting before me. The rhythm, usually as familiar as my own heartbeat, seemed impossible to grasp. Panic began to bubble up, threatening to consume the last vestiges of my composure. Just as I was about to sink to my knees in defeat, a pair of hands appeared before me, their movements sure and steady. Regulus, it seemed, wasn't quite done with his unexpected role as my unlikely savior. 

He tapped the barrels with his wand, a precise cadence I was too far gone to decipher. The massive wooden forms swung open, revealing the cozy warmth of the Hufflepuff common room. 

"Go," he said, his voice low and strangely devoid of mockery. 

With a last grateful glance in his direction, I stumbled over the threshold. As the entrance swung shut behind me, obscuring his figure from view, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over me. I had made it. I was safe, at least for now. 

The walk to my dormitory was a blur. My feet moved through familiar motions, propelled by instinct more than any conscious effort. The scent of honey and warm wood, the welcoming yellow glow that seemed to radiate from the very walls, enveloped me like a comforting embrace. 

Finally, reaching the sanctuary of my bed, I collapsed into a heap of disheveled party attire and drunken exhaustion.  

[a-m-pyra]

First Burn: Ch3 Indian Summer (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

Everyone was acting strange, even Gemini. They gave him strange smiles, Otto humming quietly to himself, coming up to him every hour and telling him how many hours remained until the meeting.

P didn't understand what all the fuss was about at all, instead he finished redrawing Alice's portrait onto a sheet of paper so he could give it to her.

“Why is everyone acting so strange? Is it because I invited Alice for a walk? What's so strange about that?”

“You know, pal,” Gemini began, “as a rule, when a young man invites a lady out, it's not for, well, platonic purposes.”

P's eyes widened. If he could, he would definitely blush.

“That's not the point at all!”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of…”

"I am not ashamed!"

He put down his pencil and put his hands on his knees, wondering for a moment what he really wanted to say. He slid further into the chair and tucked his legs under him.

“She's nice to me. Seems interesting; her person and her work. She works in the theater, sews costumes and likes it. Is there anything more interesting than a person who comes true?” He grabbed his pencil again, perfecting the sketch.

He heard the door open. He didn't even have to turn around to know it was Otto; and his suspicions were only confirmed when slender fingers grabbed his arms and a glimpse of red strands of hair appeared in the corner of his eye.

“Thirty minutes, P. I think you should start getting ready.”

He pursed his lips and turned his head to look at Otto.

“Why do you all think I like Alice in that way?”

“Because if it were otherwise, it wouldn't be bothering you so much,” Otto replied in the most assertive tone of voice he had ever heard. “Up to a certain point I thought it was a joke, but now…” He looked at the portrait, “You see.”

P sighed and reached for the frame to frame the drawing — it was one of the ones Mrs. Seymour used to frame her cards, and it was perfect for framing the drawing.

“You won't answer?” Otto asked as P stood up to reach for his bag where he had put his sketchbook, pencils and drawing.

“I will not answer.”

“Are you taking Gemini with you?”

“Of course he's taking me. I have to be a chaperone.”

“Stupid rules,” P muttered under his breath, still hoping that he would be able to spend time alone with Alice. Only then did Gemini make him realize that a single woman and a bachelor walking alone were considered extremely indecent.

“I can go,” Otto suggested, and P rolled his eyes this time.

That sounded like an even worse scenario. Otto listening to their conversations, seeing every uncertainty, with full permission to act like Otto. At least Gemini had promised not to comment on their conversations or actions in any way unless the above were inappropriate — something he couldn't be sure of with Otto.

Gemini chirped.

“I think you would be a bit liberal chaperon.”

Otto laughed.

“Right.”

P slung his coat over his bent arm and his bag over his shoulder. He had Gemini's lamp attached to his belt.

“We'd better go to the ground floor.”

Otto sat at the table with P; and they waited. Alice showed up on time with basket in hand. There was a blanket and small snacks there; nothing that would burden her additionally, but P, ​​following Gemini's advice, decided to take the basket from her.

She smiled at him, and then he helped her get into the cart that would take them to Hyde Park, and once they arrived, they began looking for a good place to set up the picnic blanket; somewhere with a little less people.

“Where did the idea of ​​inviting me come from?” she continued, and P thought for a moment.

“Otto suggested this idea, and I… I thought it would be nice to talk in a place where children wouldn't crowd under our feet.”

She laughed. He managed to make her laugh.

“If Alex gave you her blessing, then it looks like I have nothing to worry about.” She looked at Gemini. “And Gemini is not needed.”

There was a faint chirping sound.

“I'm here for decoration, don't worry about me.”

P looked at Alice, who smiled softly.

“Alex?”

Alice looked at him questioningly, then realized he didn't need to know that. Alex didn't tell him, and she didn't have the opportunity to do so either.

“Oh well. It's a bit strange for me to talk about Alex in the context of my mother. Don't get me wrong, I love her like a mother, and she is a mother to me, but addressing her this way is still something for me to process.”

“What do you mean?”

“Alex got married so she could list me as her daughter. We're not related, and neither is Clara.”

“What about your adoptive father?”

“He died a few months ago.”

She said it so lightly, as if his death had no effect on her, not now, not then, not ever.

“Both Alex and I knew he was doing us such a favor, even if he was her friend. I just feel sorry for Clara.”

“Mrs. Seymour does not seem affected by the loss.”

“Because she isn't. It wasn't a good marriage. They reached out as friends, but it eventually had to fall apart. Difference of views and characters. When Alex reopened the orphanage, she actually moved in there immediately, and she found out about Reginald's death from the housekeeper.”

“How did she react?”

Alice was silent for a moment.

“Relief. She was happy. Free.”

“And you?”

She shrugged.

“I didn't care. I cried at the funeral out of courtesy and for Clara. I never built a bond with Reginald; in fact, Alex’s friend is more like a father to me than he was.” She passed him and turned to look at him, walking backwards. “But let's stop talking about me. What brought you to London, puppet hunter?” She smiled at him with a challenge on her face.

“You'll fall over.”

“Not at all. At most, I'll bump into someone.”

He sighed and glanced behind her, just in case she ran into someone innocent as a lamb.

“After all this, Venigni said I looked different. More sick. Then Eugénie told me this, next Sophia. Even Gemini noticed that something was wrong.”

“Explain, please.”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her aside and keeping her from bumping into the older couple.

Her hand was soft and warm. For a moment, he forgot what she had asked him, focusing on the feeling her touch evoked.

“You better grab my arm and let's walk side by side. This will make you less likely to hurt yourself.”

She rolled her eyes in amusement and did as he said.

“And so? Will you explain?”

P tightened the legion arm, then stretched his fingers.

“You don't have to if you don't want to.”

“If you tell me how you and Mrs. Seymour met.”

“Deal.”

P told her everything; how Sophia brought him to life; about puppet hunting; about the father, Ergo, Carlo and Romeo; about the death of Lady Antonia, Geppetto's plan and the rescue of Sophia.

He took so long to talk about it that they managed to find a good place to spread a blanket and rest.

Under a tree where practically no one was hanging around.

Alice listened and didn't interrupt him. She was quiet, looking at him as he spoke.

“I think I understand how you feel. I know what it's like... not knowing who you really are.”

“Mrs. Seymour says that even if I have Carlo’s Ergo in me, I don't have to identify with him. That I have reevaluated his ego and values ​​because of me.”

“And? What do you think about it?”

“I think I like this version. I think Carlo would be happy that I am the way I am now and not the way my father wanted me to be.” He looked at her and smiled gently. “Now it's your turn.”

“It’s easy, actually. Alex and I met when I was maybe five years old. She attended lectures and appeared at meetings with students. She befriended my sister and charmed my parents. She, Jacob and Elizabeth were The Incredible Three. My father always got crazy because if something happened, it was always their fault. A big pub dance? The Incredible Three. Kidnapping a bride who was sold to a count? The Incredible Three. Throwing the party of the decade in a room that was maybe seventeen feet by seventeen feet for a boring banquet? Alex, Jacob and Lizzie. Everyone was covering for everyone, including my and Lizzie’s parents, they were covering all three of them.”

He saw the nostalgic smile on her face and he laughed quietly.

“I never thought Mrs. Seymour could be so rebellious… ever.”

“Wait until Jacob comes to the sabbath, then you will see what it means to be rebellious.”

They both laughed.

“Nevertheless, Alex was in my life from an early age. And she was also there at the most important moment, my recovery after the fire in which everyone died. My entire biological family. She didn't leave me even for a moment, she was always there when I needed her. And then... the nurse separated us. I came under the care of Angus Bumby when the orphanage at Houndsditch was still called the Home for Wayward Youth. Alex fought for us to be able to see each other and... we finally succeeded. She married Reginald, adopted me, and here we are. A family of three women.”

“What happened to the previous director?”

He saw Alice's face tense.

“I'll tell you when I'm ready. All right?”

He nodded, he had no intention of forcing her to do anything.

“God, I would forget. I have something for you.”

“For me?”

P reached into his bag and pulled out Alice's portrait. He looked at it for a moment and handed it to her with his heart in his mouth. All the tension in his body disappeared only when she covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes sparkled with a mixture of surprise and happiness.

“Is that me?”

“I drew it yesterday, after you left for work. I just...couldn't resist, sorry.” He lowered his head.

“No! Don’t apologize. It's beautiful, thank you.”

He saw that she was looking at the drawing.

“It's just that no one has ever drawn me. And definitely… not like that.”

The atmosphere between them thinned. They felt much more at ease. P and Alice lay down on the blanket, looking at the cloudless sky and the leaves above them.

“Did you think what would have happened if it hadn't been for the fire?”

She frowned, thinking for a moment.

“I would definitely still live with my parents in Oxford, Alex and Lizzie would still be together. I certainly wouldn't have to work in the theater. Who knows, maybe it would be the case that I wouldn't be able to fulfill my dream.”

“At first, together?”

“I lied. They weren't friends.”

Alice reached out her hand, catching the gossamer that fluttered between her fingers.

“I don't remember the last time I saw gossamer.”

“I've never seen it.”

“When I was younger and went picking herbs with Alex in the early fall, it was full of it. Alex’s grandma and later Alex even had a superstition about these spider webs.”

“Really?”

“Mhm! If a young, unmarried lady catches a gossamer during a flight, she can expect to find her future husband. Less often, a lover. The gossamer was supposed to symbolize the wedding veil.”

“Do you believe in this superstition?”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She was silent, unable to utter a single word.

“I… I take it with a grain of salt. If it weren't for society, I wouldn't mind living without a husband, children and all of that.”

“I see. But I haven't asked about the second thing yet.”

“Ask me, then.”

“What dream?”

Alice sat up, drawing her legs up to her chest.

“I'm planning to make a musical.”

P was listening with incredible interest about the Alice’s musical, first listening to the story she had read, and only then listening to the plan for adaptation.

“I'm planning a show in the style of a 1866 extravaganza. Only… maybe with less dancing, at least that done by the main actors, I can't imagine the actress playing Victoria dancing burlesque… Oh!”

He could see her eyes sparkle with joy, and her whole body was overcome with excitement.

“And with even more music, I wanted it to be almost all sung and only the important parts spoken. Besides, I have some ideas on how to make some of the songs — Élise would, for example, sing throughout the entire show, but Victoria, Victor, Lucien and a few other characters would have lines sung, although not many of them, and rhythmically recited! I imagine that Sir Interdit would be a kind of narrator of the entire play, although, of course, as a member of the Priory of Sion, in which Victoria was a member, he would also be the narrator in the plot. Alex and Jacob are helping me compose the music, and I'm finishing the script and costume concepts. And then I will give it all to the director of the theater with the hope that he will agree.”

“And what will you name it?”

“Cruel. Vicious. Vengeful.”

[kamil-a]

transform my heart into a tunnel over you

there is no line between what you do and who you are. to love what you do is to love you, and oh, is this love? you've never been loved before, barely even liked or held in any positive regard at all. you fall hard for this loving person you found inside you.

peter/alice or peter & alice (ymmv) minidoodle of a fic. precanon parasocial meetcute.

theoretically, it needn't be a surprise. you could count each tick of your clock, one, two, three, between each time it happens, and know for sure. but the others insist on keeping you a busy rabbit, and so your count is always getting broken and it remains a joyful surprise each time when you feel it. that's what it is, it takes you a few repeats to put a word to the sensation of it blooming through your chest, joy.

so you continue letting it catch you unawares, ducking out of gunfire and leaving papers unfinished when you feel it.

the overlap, the moment when she enters inside you- everyone on the Outside passes through you, of course, that comes with the role same as paperwork and assassinations, but not like this. you don't pay attention to just anyone, you dont savor the weight of everyone's footsteps falling second by second, just hers. the sounds spoken that echo inside you, such as-

"I love this part of the day."

love! love, this mysterious Outsider said it plain as day in the garden under a tree that she loves you, forever having been spoken between 3:00 and 3:59, curses on whichever of the others were blessed with the final syllable of "oh, it's getting la-", those foul, dirty people don't appreciate it, don't deserve it.

"No, I'm not missing out on anything," she reassures her sister another time. "This is my favorite time of the week," sweet on your tongue, warm throughout your body. you're her favorite.

given to you is her name, Alice Liddell, and her sister's name, lorina, only important as far as she is important to Alice. given to you is discussion of several books, only mattering if Alice liked them. The odd interloper, a younger sister sometimes, occasionally a man not at all worth the looks Alice gives him and the furtive handholding, hushed debates on whether there's time for a kiss while the sister goes inside to bring out a snack or a deck of cards or a board game. inside you, sitting heavy like a greasy meal, is the end of that relationship, Alice Liddell wiping her tears before her sister can see, wiping her hand on the grass at 3:25 according to her watch, at 3:26 laughing shakily at a small bunny hopping through the yard and grazing on the grass, greedily tasting her tears on your actual tongue in addition to digesting them directly into the hour. so this is heartbreak. you wouldn't make her cry like that.

sometimes she's in you but she isn't yours, another new feeling you're learning, a bitterness. you hadn't realized it wouldn't be enough just to be together until you felt the frustration of her attention divided, turned away from talking about how much she loves (loves, in her own words!) you, how nice the weather is or how glad she is to be safe at home when it isn't. occasionally her shine is dulled under the costume of a student, or more often in simple clothes in what looks like an office somewhere, answering phones, carrying heavy boxes and unpacking them onto shelves. scribbling with a red pen on stacks of paper, and-

oh! she's drawn a rabbit! you should never have doubted where her thoughts were, just because she was given roles to play doesn't mean her love has dimmed! don't be a hypocrite, you tell yourself, you have your own work to do as well, but it doesn't mean she isn't always on your mind.

she must know you're watching. she must have felt the embrace of the hour she's in and wrote her love letter to you deliberately, where you could see it. some guy looks over her shoulder, (disgusting, say the word my beloved i'll kill him), to tell her she's "a good drawer", which she modestly denies. you savor it, the time- 3:52 according to the clock on her wall- wrapped fiercely around her. you hug her tight as long as you possibly can, until the minute hand points straight upwards and hour hand fully hits the 4. her drawing of you is burned into your eyes even after she has slipped away.

unlike yourselves, outsiders change. uncontrollably, even. you've peeked ahead- you know how it will end. the sparkle in her eyes dulled as she sits alone under the tree. her sister no longer joins her. you duck back into the safety of the happy times, but you know there are only so many of them left.

you wish she would tell you what's wrong. it's making your stomach twist- it's scaring you, you put a name to the feeling, you are worried for her.

"she wants you."

that's nightmare's report back from checking things out in his own time, and you can barely understand the meaning of the words, you're so jealous. not just her life but her thoughts are known to him, what you'd give for that, if you didn't need him you'd kill him right here-

"hey, hey, if anyone should be jealous here it's me! she's crying out for you, remember."

"she is?"

"not on the outside. but in her heart. for the golden afternoons, the time spent with her sister inside you." 

she wants you. she misses you. she's embarassed to tell you directly but she wants you. 

down the hole you go, taking her deeper and deeper inside you. the hole like a mouth, swallowing her up, so that no matter the time period now you will always feel her weight within the bounds of a beautiful sunday afternoon, gently pressing in on her as she tries to expand outward, remember, catch up to her proper time. it's not her fault, of course, you're the ones bending her into an unnatural shape, she'll struggle until she sets. 

as for actually putting your mouth on her- it's the only way!! well, that's...

no time to reflect on how that feels. your darling angel has punched you in the face. 

NOTES:

written around the core concept of "is being inside a roleholders hour like they vored you? (or maybe its mroe of a womb thing...?)" , ive definitely strayed from that here but that's quite alright. sorry if peter pov like is too freaky or something lol. i think i kind of held it a bit restrained pulledback but still. i hope i got across that its peters (nonliteral) first day being alive and hes figuring out what emotions are as he goes. he also does not actually grasp 'age', 'growth', or 'life stages', understanding alice to be occasionally filling the role of a student or a worker as opposed to like..... she was literally in school and had a job. he doesn't get it. it's up to you whether alice actually meant what she said verbally about loving the time spent with lorina or if it was just to make her happy, or if perhaps it was a Secret Third Thing. usually in a fantasy setting with a sort of emotional bodydissociation kind of thing id go hard on the emotional mindmeld but with peter (and all roleholders except nightmare) i think its actually completely opaque to him- he has NO idea about her inner world, only what he can interpret from her actions, expressions, and speech. he certainly didn't understand at first that in the frilly dress with lorina was not where she felt most 'herself'. he also of course has no concept of 'peter white' being seen by an outsider as a different entity than 'the white rabbit' and '3:00'. okay im back. forgot 2 hit post. weighing "odd little world, arbitrary days" vs the title i currently have and in the process from being on dylan kanner's bandcamp page watching jonni phillips' secrets and lies in a town of sinners s1 in its entirely save for the barber westchester movie. anyway. the title is from blood from the concrete by the scary jokes, which i think peter sees as him to alice but alice would be horrified if she knew he saw their relationship in that way. anyway so this is just a little doodle of a fic. happy new years!

[henrysglock]

James' Working Master List

My Bullshit Theories:

Mother Is God In The Eyes Of A Child (Mothergate origins, Vecna’s mother imagery)

Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce Que C'est? (Neither Henry Nor Vecna Are Psychopaths: An In-Depth Behavioral Analysis)

A Night of Monologues (Splicing together the released 4.07 script and the transcript of One’s filmed monologue. Spoiler: They’re two halves of a whole speech)

Shattered Mirrors and Cracked Walls (An analysis of Henry’s dematerialization scene, the aftermath, and a determination that we’re being shown all 4 timelines interchangeably in the NINA version of the 1979 HNL Massacre)

One Does Not Simply Lose A Gate (The 2nd part of the 1979 massacre aftermath and proof that a timeline exists where Henry/Edward did nothing wrong)

Where Is All The Blood Coming From? (A comparison between the NINA massacre's smeared blood and the carnage resulting from democreature attacks)

A Tale Of Two Vecnas (An analysis of Vecna's scorching in Dimension-X, which shows us two distinct and physically different men)

Pick A Damn Jumpsuit! (Matching up the Dimension-X jumpsuits to NINA massacre jumpsuits)

Barnes And NO!! Where Did He Go!! (A write up on the discrepancies in One’s appearance, tattoo, and color grading in the closet scene as evidence of his disappearance from the plot)

Why Do You, As The Big Bad, Have No Lines Or Powers? (Vecna’s physical form in the UD has no dialogue and doesn’t use psionic powers: evidence and theories)

So Which Is It: Night or Day? (Discrepancies in time-labeling in the released 4.07 script and how they might link to El’s 1983 escape)

Plinko Power! (NINA's plinko game as a microcosm of timeline theory and Henry's time-based powers)

The Mystery of the Move-In Date (Physically speaking, there’s no possible way that the Creels moved in in 1959)

Our Lord and Savior…Vecna? (Why Vecna/001 is God, Based On Analysis Of ST4, The Bible, And Other Supporting Media)

The First Shadow: Who Knew Whom in 1959 (Why Certain Character Were Removed From Hawkins Prior To ST4)

Proto-HeIIcheer: Who Did George and Betty Become? (Why Patty Newby and Allen Munson may be the pairing to watch for in The First Shadow, rather than Patty and Henry)

Fics:

Paper Faces — POTO x ST fusion fic (Complete)

ptolemaea (blessed be the children) — Henry’s fix-it fic (3/?)

Spider Fact, Anyone? — 1959 RPG-style ST minific

Featured Art:

Creel Siblings Outfit Swap

Creelarke Aesthetic Board

Featured Edits:

NYMPHOLOGY (ft. HNL)

The Colors of ST4 (ft. Le Monde)

Henry Creel: Brainless Borzoi

Art:

TUNNEL VISION (ft. Henry Creel)

Edits:

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (ft. Henry Creel)

Left-Brain, Right-Brain (ft. Henry and Edward Creel)

House of Leaves (Mini-Library):

House of Leaves Initial Analysis

House of Leaves Excerpts

Creel Files:

Henry Files:

Rebuke of Apologism Claims

A Note on Script Analysis

Our First Impression of Henry Sets Him Up For Failure

The Seagull

Stand By Me

The Divine Comedy

Henry and Edward, Jekyll and Hyde

Young Henry, Adult Henry, and the Rabbit Scene

Multiple Henries: Screenshots and Brenner Comparison

Perspective On The Length of Henry's Imprisonment

Vecna as the Villain: Defining Stranger Things' Narrative

I, Tonya and Perspective-Based Truth

Henry's Unseen Costumes

Kate Trefry and The First Shadow

Henry Didn't Manipulate El Re: Soteria

Details the Duffers Must Address

The Fallacies in Henry's Spider Schtick

NINA and Vecna’s Black Obelisks

Henry and Brenner Expansion Pack

Expansion Pack!

Creel Cousins:

Eleanor “El” Creel

The Stare Runs In The Family

Room (2015)

And Soon, Others Were Born

Sleepyhead

She’s Mike’s…Cousin! Second Cousin! Lots of family in Sweden.

Luke and Leia vs El and Mike (Stav’s Post)

Luke and Leia vs El and Mike (2)

Luke and Leia vs El and Mike (3)

Henry/Edward…Anakin…

Family Files:

Heritability of Powers

Psychopathy: Learned or Genetic

Karen, Virginia, and Tortured Husbands

ST5: Which Wheelers Live and Why?

Alice Creel: Admission of Innocence by Omission of Fault

ST4 Victims: A Story By Proxy (AKA The Breadcrumbs Post)

Even if Henry killed Virginia, It Would Be Self Defense

Brenner and Virginia Expansion Pack

Pedo-Files:

Mamas and Papas: Spiders, Flowers, and Bathtubs

Karen, Billy, Virginia...Henry

Will and Vecna Expansion Pack

Will Files:

Expansion Pack

The First Shadow/Creelarke:

Creelarke Origins

IT (1990) Reddie Aesthetic Similarities

Scott's Funeral Scarf

A New Timeline

IT (1990) Aesthetic Updated for TFS

Radiationgate:

Radium Files:

Eben Byers, Radium, and ST3's Soviet Plot

Chemistry Class: Maria Skłodowska-Curie

Radiation Sickness Files:

Psionic Powers and EM Radiation

Vecna's Curse: Radiation Sickness Symptoms

ST5 Predictions

Nuclear Disaster Files:

Henry Creel Literally Nuked Hawkins

Chemistry Class: Nuclear Explosion Imagery

Chernobyl, Hawkins Earthquake and ST4's Soviet Shadow (1)

Chernobyl, Hawkins Earthquake, and ST4's Soviet Shadow (2)

Phantomgate:

What in the POTO Visuals?

POTO 2004: Film Analysis

Dart and Gustave: Love Never Dies

Secret Admirers: Puzzle Tales Connection

Anime/Manga References

Coming Soon: Fullmetal Alchemist

Rambles:

1: On Byler and Rink-O-Mania

2: On Demoslugs

3: On Byler and Open Secrecy

4: Sad Thoughts About Post-S2 Will

5: On Spore Lore

6: On The Rain Fight

[acy-art]

(REUPLOAD) My MHA oc lol more under the cut!

Alicia (Alice) Carroll is a Mexican-British Hero-in-Training. Her parents, her, and her little brother moved to Japan from the South-Western USA after the retirement of Allmight to try and help fill in his large absence, and to aid in the rescue efforts happening on the site of the battle.

Alice transferred into UA into class 1-B through the foreign exchange student program, though with some difficulty due to the language and time-zone differences, and thankfully has made friends. Her little brother was transferred to a local elementary school and quickly gained a reputation for being a trouble-maker, due to his quirk allowing him to slip through walls, smell and hear better than his classmates, and have a powerful bite. In addition, because his big sister is making her way towards being a hero, he's already started crafting a hero persona; El Chupacabra.

Her parents are having lots of success integrating into the local hero scene, especially with rescue teams. Her mom's (hero name La Llorona) quirk activated after she disappeared in a flash flood. She is functionally a ghost, being able to walk through solid objects, move completely silently, and phase in and out of corporeality, though she has the ability to interact and touch the living. She also has a slight silver tongue, where she can influence people to stop or freeze in their place when she cries, but that may just be because she's literally a ghost and that's terrifying to encounter unexpectedly. Physical weapons don't tend to hurt her unless they are blessed. Otherwise, she can only be hurt by attacks made directly from living flesh (such as a punch or kick). Her dad's (hero name Barghest) quirk gives him a monstrous appearance, similar to that of an anthropomorphic black dog or werewolf. Along with this he has a heightened sense of smell and hearing, a powerful bite, a high stamina, and twice the strength of a normal man. He's also massive and eats enough for two people. He sometimes enjoys eating stuff from the trash because of course he does he's a gigantic dogman. Yes he does dig holes in the yard and you can get him to fetch. Also, he's related to Lewis Carroll. Just straight up actually related to him. Together, they are able to scout, track, and take down opponents. They also make an amazing rescue team, as La Llorona's non-corporeality and Barghest's senses combine to make quick work of locating and often rescuing people trapped in buildings or rubble.

Back to Alice! Alice's quirk, which she calls Cheshire Cat, allows her to make some or all parts of herself invisible. In addition, she has the ability to enthrall people when she goes only partially invisible, but this power is relatively weak, and she doesn't use it often. With training, she can become completely incorporeal. The invisibility extends to anything that contains her DNA, but the further the item is from her, the less control she has over it. Because of this, her hero costume is made out of fiber spun from her fur. Her fighting style is stealthy and cat-like, prioritizing speed and misdirection over brute force. She's trained in hand-to-hand combat by her dad and uses her invisibility to gain the upper hand in fights.

Alice is a huge horror movie buff. She especially loves slasher horror from the 80's and 90's, but is always a sucker for new stuff, especially if it's weird and a little goofy. She loves to customize her clothes and customize things for her friends too. She initially designed her hero costume with blue and white stripes, but realized it looked like the Argentine flag and switched it out for the more blatantly Disney pink and purple, which she initially didn't love, but it's been growing on her.

Back in Mexico, her Tia (hero name La Catrina) is actually super famous. She has the ability to rapidly grow and wilt plants and is basically one of the top heroes there due to her skill and professionalism. She uses her abilities in a sort of AOE swarm, ensnaring anyone who might cause trouble.

uhh thats all for now i'll add more when i think of it

[candysweetposts]

It's here! Allow me to introduce you to Shen and Catherine. They are Alice's grandparents from the mother's side. I talked about them separately in this and this post, but to sum up: she was a princess who eventually became the queen and he was a traveler who decides to stay because he liked her.

Here's what happened that day:

Catherine wanted everything to be perfect so she had to be very involved with all from the location, to decoration, to her dress and also Shen's costume.

About Shen's costume. He was extremely uncomfortable in it. He was used to wearing clothes where he could move freely and this tight-ass pin-pointed costume wasn't for him and he only wore something like that at his grandkids' school gathering. (it's actually a very interesting story)

At the wedding, there were guests from all around the world including lords like the vampire lord (Vlad), the dragons' lord (Olrinlor), and even the all-mighty kitsune lord himself (Ryuu). Unfortunately, Shen's brother (Wei) didn't come, but his best (Tao) friend was.

Because at that time, they didn't have cameras, they had to pose for the painting (that happened way before the wedding). Ironically, nobody knows where that painting is now.

The ceremony+party took some time (2 and a half days to be exact) because Catherine likes to party and had to form new connections and brag and dance, etc.

Unfortunately no, and I mean NO celestial being went to the wedding because they felt like something bad was about to happen but it didn't... at least not at the wedding.

But after all, everyone had a great time, Shen also got to meet new people and feel happy in general. He got to marry the woman he loved (which was very rare at the time since all the weddings were planned by parents who wanted to form alliances with more or equally powerful people).

And yes, the wedding was expensive as heck. They had a very big cake with cherries dressed in gold. There were some famous musicians, a big orchestrate with acrobats and dancers. Others include: 110 white unicorns and 88 peacocks, wedding bands made by the purest light (this means that most of the time, the rings were invisible bc...you know, but when they wanted, the rings would be this glowing energy around their fingers), 12 faires, all with different blessings, 1 million flower petals and last, but not least, a future reading (there were extremely rare at that time)

The groom and bride dance was actually nice. Both had to take some serious dance lessons before, especially Shen. It was your standard waltz since it was very easy to learn.

Yes, they did "consume their marriage" afterwords.

[persephonesfill]

hotd season 1 rewatch notes 💖

episode 1 the heirs of the dragon

one of the things i'm noticing, and enjoying, is the costume designer's attention to detail. literally in the opening scene at the whatever of harrenhal, aemma's gown looks like one of the gowns young rhaenyra wears later on. wouldn't surprise me if rhaenyra had some of her mother's gowns altered to suit her own style/current fashions, and as a way to honor aemma 💖

speaking of aemma, the fact that we first see her and she's pregnant,,,nine years later she's still pregnant,,,just like it's such a great (and terrible) way of showing us her plight. her entire existence is reduced to being the mother of viserys' children and we literally never see her in a non-pregnant state.

putting the rest under a cut because i have can't shut the fuck up disease 💖

love that rhaenyra's opening scene is of her flying with syrax. she's bold and free-spirited (and they have the budget to show dragons in the first episode bdhfdhd)

baby alicent and rhaenyra are so cute together! they're literally always touching or finding reasons to walk arm in arm or hand in hand (which makes 1x7 and 1x8 even more gut-wrenching) love is stored in the hands etc etc

corlys being one of the few council members who actually wants to get shit done>>> literally he's the only one taking the threat of the triarchy seriously and considering the longterm affects of them controlling commerce through the stepstones and narrow sea.

otto hightower is a cunt, what else is new. but the way he speaks for viserys in council meetings, before viserys even gets a chance to voice his own opinion, incheresting

daemon shrouded in shadows on the iron throne like an edgelord fhhdhdhdh

aemma's bath water being lukewarm,,, i may be reading into it too much but you can't tell me the maesters weren't deliberately sabotaging her pregnancies

"after this miserable pregnancy, i wouldn't be surprised if i hatched an actual dragon" "rhaenyra has already declared that she is to have a sister" "she even named her visenya" OH MY FUCKING GOD

viserys' vision of aegon,,,not once did he think to consider that maybe the vision was an omen and not a blessing

daemon's police brutality sequence is still terrible and hilarious but i will say it does a good job of setting up the storming of the dragon pit. like is it any surprise that the smallfolk revolt when the targaryens treat them Like That

i am getting SICK of otto not letting the other council members speak like SHUT THE FUCK UP.

him bringing up daemon's wife, while they're supposed to be discussing the city watch, AND the fact that he does it after corlys defends daemon...this man is absolutely trying his best to ruin daemon's image (not that daemon needs much help with that but still)

otto's wife passed recently (my guess is at the most a few months ago) and he hasn't remarried yet aemma's ashes are still smoldering when he brings up marriage to viserys 😑😑

mysaria and daemon are so interesting to me. sexual relationship aside, the fact that daemon allows himself to be vulnerable around her, and mysaria accurately pinpoints why he's so upset (thinks viserys is replacing him) shows how much she knows about him.

i also think that's partially why daemon and rhaenyra are so drawn to each other. they're both wild and impetuous and seek these close relationships with viserys that don't exist anymore so they're finding a replacement in the other in true targaryen fashion.

corlys and rhaenys judging people at the heir's tourney because they know they're better than everyone 💅💅

i still think the tourney scenes are great. there's so much at play here and it's more than just blood and guts and violence. daemon asking for alicent's favor was 100% him fucking with otto. aemma's birth scenes being intercut with the gore of the tourney is a great callback to her earlier line of the childbed being a woman's battlefield. also boremund baratheon asking for rhaenys favor, highlighting the familial ties between both houses. AND the final fight scene between criston cole and daemon targaryen. i don't recall if they fight each other later on during the dance, but i can't help but feel like it was foreshadowing for the black-and-green conflict later on. especially given the fact that criston cole wins after attacking daemon from behind and aemma dies right after, possible symbolism for the greens taking the throne through underhanded means/the hightowers taking the place of the targs, starting with aemma? or maybe once again i'm reading too much into it

the grand maester gives a weird look to baelon and once AGAIN i firmly believe that they had something to do with aemma's failed pregnancies/baelon's death.

otto using alicent's grief of her mother to get her to go to viserys' chambers is so fucking FOUL. i wouldn't be surprised if his goal was to make alicent queen all along. maybe if aemma had given birth to a son at some point, he would have used alicent's close relationship with rhaenyra as leverage "you two are already as close as sisters, wouldn't you like to make that a reality :)" but obviously that never happens so he starts weighing his options. i think he would die before he even considered getting alicent and daemon together, but viserys and alicent could serve for his purposes. viserys is malleable and open to suggestions in a way that daemon isn't. all he has to do is make viserys see alicent in a mature light. terrible terrible man and i can't wait to see him die

i think in his own way, daemon is grieving aemma and baelon and he does care for his family. the only reason he makes his heir for a day speech is because he's goaded into it, and it's very telling that they cut away from the scene right before he actually says it. before his speech he does look like man trying to drown his sorrows in a cup of ale

it's easier to accept aegon's prophecy scene if you pretend that hotd takes place in an alternate universe where got didn't end Like That

rhaenyra's confirmation (or whatever you want to call it) fit is 🔥🔥 10/10 no notes

nice nod to the dance towards the end with the lords swearing their fealty (velaryon, stark, hightower, and baratheon) especially with the way boremund baratheon hesitates 🔥🔥

the cut to rhaenys' face,,,diabolical

CARAXES LONG BOIII

viserys telling rhaenyra about the long night as rickon stark swears his oath 🔥🔥

"promise me, ned" "promise me, rhaenyra" 🫠🫠

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/awkward-sultana/731118413651542016/almost-every-costume-per-episode-elizabeth

alicents sister swearing loyalty to the greens after she found out her husband (harwin) is having an affair with rhaenyra, she started wearing green everyday

Bless, and she's so conservative as well ..for now.

Harwin had not even noticed, too distracted by the births of his sons

[historicalfictionsims]

Uncle Gard and Cornelia’s wedding was less than a week away. Samantha and Grandmary had traveled to New York City and were staying at the Pitt family’s elegant townhouse. After just three days, Samantha had become good friends with Cornelia’s younger sisters Agnes and Agatha. The twins were almost exactly her age, and a lot of fun to be around.

Samantha hid behind the curtains in the bedroom and was joined by Agatha. As they huddled together, Agatha’s hair tickled Samantha’s face, and they burst into giggles. As soon as Agnes came into the room, she found their hiding spot. Last to find was the youngest Pitt sister, Alice. But at three years old she was very predictable, and the twins knew that she would be in the sewing room.

Cornelia invited the girls into her bedroom. They were thrilled to see three pink dresses on the bed. Mrs. Pitt voiced concern about having such young bridesmaids, but Cornelia was sure that they would behave well. Samantha was grateful that Grandmary agreed with Cornelia.

The wedding gown hung in Cornelia’s wardrobe. The girls admired it, but their attention was drawn to the veil that Cornelia held out to them. Agnes asked if she would be allowed to wear the veil at her own wedding, and Cornelia assured her that all of the girls were welcome to it. Samantha thanked her, but shyly explained that she already had a veil, which she had inherited upon her mother’s death. It sat in a box in the attic at Mount Bedford. Cornelia sensed how awkward Samantha felt, and told her that she was lucky to have such a special gift to remember her mother by.

The girls spent the rest of the day playing as brides, cutting up some old curtains to wear as veils and skirts. Alice joined them, but was disappointed that they didn’t have enough material to make her a flowy skirt. Samantha felt bad for the little girl and promised that they would find a better costume for her the following day.

On the day of the wedding, the girls busied themselves in getting their skin and hair ready for the ceremony, but made good on their promise to Alice and started a game of hide-and-seek. However, before they could find her, the they got called to check out their bouquets, and the game was quickly forgotten.

It was now five hours until the wedding, but time stood still as Alice strode downstairs draped head-to-toe in tattered fabric. Once it sunk in that she was wearing Cornelia’s veil, the silence turned to chaos. Sensing that she had done something wrong, Alice burst into tears. Grandmary sent the older girls to their bedroom so the adults could sort out the mess.

The girls felt terrible. No one had blamed them, but they felt like it was their fault. If they had known that Cornelia put the veil in the sewing room, they would never have started the game of hide-and-seek. Alice always hid in there, and she desperately wanted a bride costume.

The veil was beyond repair and there wasn’t time to purchase a new one. But Samantha realized that they didn’t need a new veil when an old one would do.

Finding Uncle Gard in the study, Samantha explained her idea. Uncle Gard was doubtful that they could drive to Mount Bedford and back in time for the wedding, but agreed that they had no choice but to try.

Though they drove fast, it felt like the longest car ride Samantha had ever been on. As soon as Uncle Gard pulled up to the house, she dashed out and sprinted to the attic.

Knowing what to look for, it didn’t take Samantha very long to find the right box. The scent of roses petals drifted up, and it felt as if Lydia Parkington was giving her blessing to Cornelia.

They made it back to the city half an hour before the wedding was due to begin. As Mrs. Pitt pounced on Uncle Gard, Samantha ran up to Cornelia’s room. The woman was sitting on her bed in distress, but brightened up when Samantha gave her the box. Cornelia was honored that Samantha would share the veil with her, and they quickly finished getting ready for the ceremony.

In front of their family and friends, Samantha, Agnes and Agatha stood proudly in their pink dresses as Uncle Gard and Aunt Cornelia repeated their vows. No one could imagine three happier bridesmaids.

[caterpillarinacave]

Thelma Fairchild:

She’s trying, bless her.

She is dripping with that special brand of autism. She doesn’t realize when people are being mean to her, and doesn’t know how to tell them to leave her alone. She’s just as weird and exuberant as Henry, so she’s a prime target for the asshats of the shadowhunter world. She’s honestly very friendly, but just as lonely. 

Her poison of choice is dance.

When she was something like five, her mother took her to see a production of the Alice in Wonderland ballet and she fell in love. She’s tall for a ballerina, but the height standard for shadow hunter ballerinas is way higher than for mundane ones. The idea is seeing someone whose six foot tall dance en pointe is much more impressive than it is for someone a foot shorter do the same. 

Thelma, weird as she may be, is a genuinely brilliant dancer. She’s downright ethereal, totally willing to work at it 24/7 at it, great musicality, excellent actor, and an amazing storyteller. She’s a student at a ballet academy in Idris- arguably the best school in the world, and certainly one of the most challenging. 

She doesn’t love staying one her own, so she usually stays at the family residence in Idris as opposed to in the dorms at her academy.  

She loves the color yellow, loves her family, and is hopelessly enthralled with life.

Sunlight streaming over wood floors, books and candles, beating in pointe shoes, bobby pins in every drawer, dancing on your own, golden hour, freckles on your arms, sun faded furniture, poetry, reciting Shakespeare to yourself, watching your shadow move, yards and yards of fabric, nooks and crannies, hidden corners, being loved by your family, “You’re just like your father”, blisters on your ankles, bruises on your knees, bones and angles, alone in a crowd, sweet candies, twirling in courtyards, costumes and dresses, yellow everything, carefully polished jewelry, secrets whispered in candlelight, falling asleep on the floor, the satiny scent of a ballet studio over the scent of beeswax, and something warm and orangey, like wassail or mulled wine, loving the world despite everything it throws at you. 

(Part 5/5)

[isfjmel-phleg]

For reference

Closet Cosplay of 2022 (friends' choice):

Anne of Green Gables (from the 1980s series)

Vintage AU Merian (lady-merian's OC)

Nezka Sorkina (scarvenartist's OC)

Kon-El (gender-flipped)

Vintage Alice in Wonderland

Morwen (eddis-not-eeddis's OC)

Harriet Vane

Greta Hayes

Howl Jenkins

Constance Contraire

Halloween costume for Rietta (my OC)

Vintage Batgirl

Closet Cosplay of 2021 (friends' OCs):

Renee Rant (allieinarden)

Icarus Bancroft (gender-flipped) (awesomebutunpractical)

Pauline Gray (e-louise-bates)

Tanza (fictionadventurer)

Merian (lady-merian)

Agnes Sweetheart (lover-of-the-starkindler)

Hetty Brown (praise-the-lord-im-dead)

Ivy (rj-anderson)

Cazda Sorkina and (gender-flipped) Kiro Velkhirin (scarvenartist)

Silence Williams (why-bless-your-heart)

[dragonmuse]

Hello! I’ve just been rereading the very first story in the series, and when Eddy’s been around for just about a week, Lucius says something to Stede along the lines of “You told me you were going to try being slutty!” That, coupled with the “he was dropped on his head as an adult” snipe, paint such a great picture of Stede and Lucius’ early friendship!! (Didn’t Lucius and Jim have to whisper and plan about Eddy’s reputation and business?) Do you have any extras or thoughts on those conversations or era ?

(Been holding onto this one for absolute ages and since I was enjoying some Lucius and Jim earlier this week, here's their friendship just really starting out)

For the first year that Lucius worked at the Revenge, Jim was one of the few people that he didn’t connect with. They were disinterested in flirtation, turned down offers of portraits when other options failed and generally exuded a low-level menace that Lucius usually would push through, but couldn’t find a chink in.

He knew, in theory, that they had some kind of sticky feelings underneath their shell. Anyone that spent that much time with Oluwande had to, especially if it was a romantic time. So mostly he admired them from afar and concentrated his efforts on the more interested.

Then Eddy had shown up.

Lucius had laid out his concerns in the dressing room and been mostly met with gentle dismissal.

Jim hadn’t laughed. Jim hadn’t smiled. Jim met his eyes in acknowledgement. In the span of seconds, they became a team. A week later, Jim rocked up to the bar, asked for their usual pre-show shot, down it then said,

“They haven’t left his place.”

“Could be a con,” Lucius muttered. “You got eyes on the money?”

“Some.”

“Keep it there.”

They did that for weeks, updating and checking in. Gradually Jim said other things. Mentioned a day trip with Oluwande or something they’d watched. When Lucius asked questions, they answered, perfunctory, but acknowledging. When he offered things in returned, he noticed how intently they listened, even if they didn’t always respond.

“Hey,” Lucius whispered one day. “You want to help get rid of a douchebag customer?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Okay, here’s the play. This guy comes in and orders a sloe gin fizz every Thursday, but he always has a dick comment when he does. He’s worse to the Swede, but I get them too. I’ve tried volleying back, but then he thinks it’s funny. Tried giving him nothing, doesn’t give up. So I’m thinking you can come behind the bar this time. I’ll make the drink, but you give it to him.”

“And?” Jim eyed him curiously.

“And then you let the spirit move you to what you think is best.”

“That’s your plan?”

“You are the plan. Have fun! Get creative!”

“All right then,” Jim’s smile was slow and edged. “I like it.”

The guy came in and Lucius signalled Jim, who was waiting when the guy came up to order.

“Who are you supposed to be?” The guy wrinkled his nose. “Shitty cowboy costume?”

“What do you want?” Jim stared him down.

“What kind of customer service voice is that? C’mon, gimme a smile and I’ll tell you.”

Lucius knew he was pulling quite the face, but luckily he had his back to the scene.

“No.”

“No?” The guy laughed. “I’m a regular customer here, sweetheart. Very respected.”

“You?” Jim’s voice dripped with disdain.

“Yeah, ask anyone!”

“Swede?” Jim barked. “You know this guy?”

And bless him, as if he’d been read into the scene, the Swede looked at the man with wide-eyed bewilderment.

“No? Maybe? Must I? Should I? Hold on! I’ll think of it….Alice!”

“Alice?” The guy growled.

“Allison? Last name?” The Swede tried again. “I’m so bad with names, I’m so sorry!”

“You’re fine,” Jim assured him and turned back to the guy. “Okay, so. You were saying?”

“I was saying,” the guy was getting annoyed now, shoulders tight. “That you should be treating customers with some respect!”

“Why?” Jim asked blankly.

“Because! That’s your job!”

“No,” Jim repeated.

“You’re in the service industry, you’re here to make customers feel good. It’s the most basic tenant of the job!”

“Oh. You’re confused,” Jim nodded.

“I am not!”

“Yes. You are,” Jim said gravely. “You think we care how you feel. We do not. You think we care if you come back. We do not.”

“I’ll leave a Yelp review that’ll get you shut down!”

“We have a four and a half star rating with about like… a hundred and fifty reviews?” Lucius couldn’t help, but jump in. “And the health inspector was here last week. Perfect grades.”

“I will make you regret this!” The guy seethed.

Jim leaned forward, their hand going casually into their pocket. Just enough to reveal a line of steel. The guy clearly did not come to Friday shows because the sight startled him.

“Please try.” Jim grinned, wide and toothy.

“You’re crazy! You’re all fucking crazy!” The guy backpedaled out. “You’ll never see my money or any of my friends money in here again!”

“Think he’s got friends?” Jim asked doubtfully as the guy almost knocked someone else over on his way out the door.

“None that I want to meet,” Lucius snorted. “You’re damn good at that, by the way.”

“It was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.”

They would do it often enough that Jim didn’t even have to flash steel at the end, a polished double act that scared people off without drawing the wrong kind of attention. By the time they’d both decided Eddy wasn’t a threat, they had settled into just straight up gossiping about them and Stede and the others. Not the usual scuttlebutt type secrets that Lucius would giggle over with Frenchie or the more salacious stories he’d share with Roach. Jim just liked to be in the know about people’s movements, something they had very deeply in common.

Their whisper network oversaw a lot of comings and goings over the years. No one suspected Jim of being one of the biggest information wells, but they were quiet and they listened and once they started working with Izzy, they got very good at research. Lucius always knew who to ask if he was missing a critical piece.

Together they kept the collective psyche of the Revenge as safe as they knew how.

[torchwoodfanfests]

🦇The 2022 Torchwood Fan Fests Halloween Fest Masterpost 🦇

A big thank you to everyone who participated in the 2022 Halloween Fest! We hope you had a spooky time :)

You can browse all the submissions for this fest under the cut, and check out the AO3 collection here!

If you’d like to give feedback on this or any past fests, or make a suggestion for the future, you can fill out our survey to let us know!

FANFIC 

@toshsato

Ianto Jones Ends Up In the Dashcon Ball Pit (Doesn't Live to Regret it!)

Selling Ianto Jones to One Direction

@monstermince

preacher says the devil loves a sensitive heart

@ultraviolet-eucatastrophe

Still my heart this moment

Night Shift

Take my heart, pull it apart

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly, in little ways

@horselover107

A Graveyard Smash (But Not That Kind)

@juette

'til the grave

halloween night

@xandra73

Torchwood/Doctor Who - The Haunting Of Satellite 5

PHOTO EDIT

@secretartquotes

Mermaid Toshiko

Witch Emily and Alice

Blessed Cursed

Vampire Owen/Andy

Suzie/Ghost!Gwen

The Resurrection of Owen Harper

ART 

@juette

top 10 silliest halloween couple costumes

@celstese

Halloween traditions

@cozsheep

Vampire Ianto

VIDEO EDIT

@torchwood-99

Torchwood Halloween Mash Up

The Hub In Haunted Bay