#but when I go to a garden center I just like to get drawn to all different types of flowers

[rosicheeks]

What is your favorite flower?

Such a hard question 😭

[k0juki]

Good things take time

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the pictures is not mine! Credit goes to owner! Not edited! Also BIG thanks to the @catherinewithu!! Couldn't do it without her.

Summary: If you promise something, you have to keep it. But even Joost makes a promise and doesn't keep it, just like you.

Warnings: alcohol, both sad y/n and Joost, mentions of sex but nothing is here!

A/n: I have mixed feelings about this xdd. Idk if it's happy ending...

Wc: 2.8k

---

Joost. Joost fucking Klein. That man was always very charming and he didn't even have to try. He was always the center of attention whereas you were just somewhere back, trying to fit in. Looking for your kind of people that lay back just like you. And if a year back someone would have said to you, that you're going to be in love with this man, you wouldn't believe them. Probably laugh in their face. You and Joost? Ha, you could never... could you?

He was the god of the party. Whenever he walked into a room, it was like the atmosphere shifted. People gravitated towards him, drawn by his effortless charm and infectious energy. He had this way of making everyone feel like they were the most important person in the world, even if just for a moment. Yeah, you know, Joost.

You and him met pretty easily, not in some grand, starstruck way, but through friends. It was at one of those low-key gatherings that start with a few people and end up with the entire social circle crammed into a living room. Joost was in his element, entertaining the crowd with stories and jokes. You watched him, intrigued by how natural it all seemed to him.

As the night went on, you and him somehow ended up in the same conversation circle. It wasn't long before you were chatting like old friends that have always known each other. He asked about your interests, your thoughts on music, movies, and life in general that night. And you found yourself opening up more than you usually did, his genuine interest made it easy.

Then, you started seeing each other more frequently. Your encounters were never planned, but always felt serendipitous. You ran into each other at the shop center, at friends' houses, and even at the grocery store. Each meeting felt natural, unforced, but then it wasn't just for talking and sharing stories. Now, you and Joost were friends, but with benefits. Of course you didn't mind at all at first. But after some time you wasn't so sure anymore. At first it was just because of some release. But after some time, you started to feel some...things.

Then came the night of this unforgettable party. You didn't want to come here at all, but your friend, f/n, she promised it's going to be just for a few hours and that Joost is going to be here as well. Maybe, that's why you actually agreed to go here. She knew about you and Joost, and how you actually felt about him. But she promise to not say anything.

Joost was, as usual, the center of attention. But this time, at this party, it felt different. Every time your eyes met across the room, there was a spark, a silent understanding that something was shifting between you and him. You watched him laugh, dance, and engage with everyone, yet somehow, it felt like he was always aware of where you were and what you were doing, of who you were speaking with and when you looked at him.

It was like sixth sense.

It started to get hot here, or maybe it was just the alcohol that flowed through your blood. Either way, you needed some fresh air, so you excused yourself from your friend that was just as tipsy as you and you made your way out by the back door that went to the garden. There wasn't anyone, but it wasn't so surprising. Whole party was thrown inside because of the cooler weather.

Enjoying the muffled sounds of a party in the house behind you, you were startled when you felt someone's hand on your hip.

"Hey, hey, easy here. It's just me."

Joost.

"You scared me for life." Turning your head to look at him, you notice how his pupils were big.

"I'm sorry princess, I will try not to scare you away from me." You laughed it off. He was definitely a teaser. It was in his nature, to make people laugh, to forget everything, to enjoy their time with him.

"What are you doing here so alone, hm?" He whispered in the cold night and ran his hand that he had on your hip up and down. To warm you a bit. "It's cold out here."

"I know, but I needed some fresh air. I couldn't breathe in there." You said and pointed back at the house. Leaning your head on his shoulder you closed your eyes, but the drinks that your friend made you drink with her were a little bit stronger for your liking, so whenever you closed your eyes you felt the whole world spin, just like right now.

"Yeah, you're right." Joost put his chin on the top of your head after he kissed it, just as you relaxed in his hold. You always enjoyed his presence, but it wasn't just because of his personality, it was because he made you feel things that you believed that were never there. He was different, he made you feel different. Like no-one else before had. He lifted his hand from your hip and placed it on your arm, "You're cold." he said and raised his head for yours.

"It's nothing." You chuckled, "I will manage." you tried to assure him, but your skin was really ice cold.

"Yeah, in bed with a fever tomorrow morning. Come on, let's get inside." He took your hand in his and together you made your way to the house. He let you go in first, holding the door open for you like a true gentleman he is with a smile on his face. "Lady's first."

You returned his smile, never letting go of his hand. It wasn't strange for you to hold his hand and kiss here and there, but you weren't together, it made some people questioned your real relationship. But what they didn't know was that you and Joost have been sleeping with each other from time to time. And you had to admit, you were totally scared of your future with him.

He doesn't feel love. He never felt that way. You knew it because before you and him started to sleep together, you and him made a promise to not catch feelings, it's just gonna be about a sex. Nothing more, nothing less. And you knew you had crossed that line, but you couldn't tell him anything. That would ruin everything, it would have ruined you. So you swallowed your feelings and told yourself to not, ever, let or somehow show your feelings for him. Even though it hurts you.

"I need to find f/n. She's somewhere here and I need to stop her from doing something stupid." You told Joost and he actually laughed at that because he knew her and what she was capable of.

"That sounds like a good idea. I will be in the living room if you want to look for me after you find her." Joost winked at you with smug on his pretty face and left you here standing with red cheeks. No matter how many times he had flirted with you, you always gave in and let his charm affect you.

---

It took you some time to find f/n, but you also have found some other friends that were looking after her as well. They were leaving and told you they are taking f/n home too.

"Noo, Y/n I don't wanna go home." f/n pouted and hugged you before others basically dragged her off of you.

"You have to. I will text you in the morning, okay?"

She protested, but eventually gave in. Leaving the party and looking forward to your text when you will be leaving.

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself a drink, not so strong this time and then you started looking for another person, Joost. But he already told you where he's going to be. Making your way through bodies to the living room, you greeted some faces you recognised. Sending friendly smiles and little waves. But just as you stepped to the living room, you couldn't help the shock that went thru you.

He was sitting here with some girl. No, the girl was sitting on his lap and what was even worse, they were making out. How his left hand was running through her hair and how his other hand was on her waist, keeping her closer, just like he did before with you. All you could do was watch the scene before you.

"Y/n?" Joost's voice was barely making any sense, but he knew that was you who he was kissing right now. He was so sure of it.

"Actually I'm Mila."

"You're not Y/n? My Y/n?"

"I can be her, if that's what you want."

"You're not her?" Joost asked the girl that he assumed was you, but she pulled him back to kiss her. He wasn't complaining, but he was hoping that was you who he was kissing right now and not some random chick.

When they pulled away to breathe, Joost looked around the room and saw you standing in the back with a shocked face and how it, in a matter of seconds, turned into a pained expression. That was the real you. You weren't sitting in his lap right now.

What were you thinking?

It hurt. It all hurt so much. You really thought he felt something for you, just like you did for him. But you were wrong, so, so wrong. "Y/n?" His words were slurred. "C'mon it was just for fun, you know that right?"

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

You heard him say somewhere towards you in his now drunk state, you couldn't even properly look at him, all you could do in that moment was to turn around and leave. On your way out of the house, you passed by people that gave you this kind of sympathy look. Did they think you and him were together too? You weren't, and he made that crystal clear.

"Y/N!" He was calling for you to stop, but you didn't. "Y/n! Can you stop for a second?!"

"What!? What is it Joost!?" You turned to him, stopping in your tracks. Barely holding tears in your eyes.

"What's wrong with you?!" Joost almost shouted, but held himself back because of other people near you two.

"What is wrong with me?" You had to ask. "With me?"

"Yeah, you're acting like I fucked that girl right infront of you, and even if I did, we're not together so it doesn't matter."

"I can't believe this." You avoided eye contact with him. "I'm such an idiot." Whispering, you looked down, letting the tears freely fall.

"What? So it's mine fault?"

"No it's mine."

An awkward silence was between you two.

Joost sighed looking down and put his hands on his hips. "Look Y/n, let's just get inside, get some drinks and forget about it. It wasn't that big of a deal anyway." He insisted and took a few steps towards you, trying to reach for you, but you backed down. You turned back around and said.

"Yeah, you're right, it's not that big of a deal anyway."

With that, you made your way home.

---

That was two days ago, and from that time you felt like shit. You barely slept and eating food was bad too. F/n was worried about you, she insisted on talking to him, herself or you. But everytime she threatened, you told her to stop. That you're going to deal with it by yourself. She stopped after that.

Two fucking days.

Your phone was blowing with missed calls and hundreds of unread texts from Joost, but you didn't want to talk to him. Not right now. His words still hurt you. "It's not that big of deal anyway." Yes, you promised something to each other, but his words hunt you.

As you laid in your bed and re-thinking every detail of that night, soft knocking brought you out of your head. At first you didn't want to get up and answer, if it's important then they will try it later.

But the soft knocking was getting louder and more annoying. You slowly got up and made your way to the door. Ready to scream on anyone that was behind them.

"Y/n?"

That made you stop in your tracks. Joost? What was he doing here? You didn't want him near you at all. That's why you distanced everyone.

"Y/n, open the door."

His knocking stopped and you saw his shadow under the door and how he was stepping from one side to another.

"Open the door. Please."

Joost begged. And that's something you never heard from him before. Part of you wanted to let him in and hug him, but the other not at all.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said that night." You heard him say behind the door. Him still waiting for you to open to him.

"You didn't say anything wrong. Only truth." You muttered on the other side.

"Yeah, but..." He sighed and leaned his head on the door. Closing his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "You didn't deserve that."

That made you cry. He was right, you didn't deserve it like that.

"I hear you cry." He lifted his head from the door and tried to open them again. "Please don't cry."

"You made me look so fucking stupid." You cried more. "I thought...I thought that we-"

"I'm sorry."

You took the handle and slowly opened the door, letting that awkward silence spread all around you and him.

"What do you want from me?" You finally asked as your eyes were red and swollen from crying for the past two days. Just like his.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Probably everything..."

"That's a lot."

"I know I want you in my life." He began. "I'm scared that if I told you how I feel, you're going to leave me like everyone else."

"And why would I do that?"

He didn't say anything to that. Like you had caught him off of guard. But that didn't mean that you felt any better. You wouldn't admit it, but you didn't feel better.

"My heart always seems to be disappointed." You admitted quietly, letting it sink in. "Maybe it was made just to be shattered into thousands pieces."

"No, no, don't say that. It's not the truth, you don't believe that." His eyes were pleasing yours to say otherwise, but he didn't find what he was looking for in them. "Do you?"

"What if I believe in that?"

Now you were more scared of his silence than your damaged heart. Is this it? Is this the very end of yours and Joosts path?

"Are you going to say something?"

"I'm sorry." He stepped closer and opened the door fully. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, I don't know what I was doing...I was drunk a-and I know that it doesn't change anything, but I'm still so sorry and I need you to know it." He kneeled before you and hugged your waist. Trapping you in his hold.

"Joost." You didn't know what to say. Or what to do at that moment.

"I love you." He breathed out. "I don't want you to disappear from my world, because you are my world."

You stopped breathing for a moment. He loves you? Joost loves you? From all of the people he knows and ever met, he loves you?

"I need you to know how I feel." Joost admitted and held your legs tighter. "I should have said that sooner."

---

A/n: I could do better.

Don't copy or translate my work!

[paintedstories]

Y/n was tired of being stuck in the castle, Only being known as the king and queen’s daughter. She wanted to experience the world, So she snuck into the village and met hwang hyunjin, Local troublemaker and peasant. Kinda a jack and rose plot where they don’t like each other at first, but y/n keeps going into the village and they eventually fall for each other, Hyunjin sneaks into the castle during a party and they fuck each other in her room trying not to alert the guards. And also hyunjin being like a huge perv towards reader but in a charming way😭😭

pleaseeee I NEED THIS from ur beautiful mind🙏🏽💕💕

PHILOPHOBIA

♥: Thank you for the request and kind words! 💋💌

⚠: cussing ; weapons; almost caught up s3x ⚠: This is an AU meaning the SKZ band does not exist, and Hyun-Jin does not know any of the members. ⚠: Reader is a female 🚺 She/Her ⚠: Peasant Hwang Hyun-Jin x Royal reader ⚠: SMUT ⚠: Master list 📃 halter*= the design of the top of the dress(go search it up it'll help visualise better)

"Fuck it, I'm done with all this bull-shit," the Daughter of the golden king said to herself, she hated being perfect in the peasant's eye, hated being the pretty image of her mother gold and father golden, hatred was a small word for the sentiment she felt for her family, whom wanted to marry her for money. Dreadful washer life to say the least.

While looking outside the beautiful floral decorated garden an idea came up to her beautiful head, which everyone thought was all but mischief, only innocence could be seen through her eyes, which was a good advantage in the big castle when she had to lie her way out.

And this is how she is in this situation, lying to her father about going to sleep faster than usual and pleading with him to let her leave before the royal dinner, is not like it was something special, just her, her mother, and her father.

Fortunately, he agreed, as she tried to contain the excitement in her eyes she got the front of the dress in her hands and rapidly walked to her room, chuckling slightly when her dad ordered her to walk like a lady.

Closing the door to her room and getting the gown that she had with her own "incapable" regal hands made so she will look like the other peasants. Putting her hair in a messy ponytail and getting the leather shoes she made so the fit will be a total success she looked in the elegant golden framed mirror to see herself, unrecognizable she thought with a smirk. Finally, she will see the world, finally!

Climbing from her beautifully decorated window full of drawings she made of flowers and happy couples who found love by destiny not by the force of family she smiled and jumped on the branch from the big old tree from her childhood that stayed in front of her window as a welcome to escape the prison her golden family called the perfect home and finally be free, for a little while sadly.

Looking down from the tree while making the dress shorter by folding it in a spiral mode and knotting it at the front she jumped on the next tree and the final one that had the branch thick enough to go and jump from the tip on the big stone made barrier that kept her away from the world for so long.

the click of her leather shoes was heart on the rounded stones from the so called unbreakable golden fence.

Her hopes were almost taken away when she saw how far the imperial village was, but seeing a horse-drawn carriage, fortunately, by a peasant and not one of the guards, she jumped on the dirt path and walked rapidly to the peasant while fixing her dress and asked the very kind old man if he could leave her in the center of the village.

the man smiled and gestured for her to go and sit next to him, the man looked kind had blue eyes and a crispy-looking beard, he was bald and had a sun hat that was made of dried hard leaves, the traditional, and in the carriage was dried grass.

They talked and she asked where he was from, she found out he lives in the out-gate of the village but he had work in the center, that's why he accepted to let her come with him.

She found out that he had a beautiful wife and unfortunately event of her miscarriage, but they still hoped and prayed to god to give them a child. She was happy that the first person she meet was so kind, and on the 30 minutes of her listening to the poor man talking about his life, she silently prayed for all the happiness to come to him, when they arrived she hugged him and left the man shocked and smiling as she waved to him and ran to the deeps of the center, where all the people where.

Then she saw a guy with long black hair and dirty white clothes steal from a lady that was paying attention to three singers in the middle, the angry girl ran after him screaming.

"Hey you coward come back, stop stealing!" she screamed after him and when he turned on his track to look at the screaming girl he got annoyed and angry, who was she to scream after him!?! he just glared at her and showed her the middle finger while he kept running, thinking he will lose her and eat the sweet he stole from that hag, little did he know that she was trained and she had the stamina of a soldier. when he thought he lost her he turned to look behind him while jogging and saw that she was still running after him.

"What THE FUCK! WOMAN, STOP FOLLOWING ME" he screamed while he continued to run and slowly start to gasp for air, realizing that he was going nowhere he jumped onto wooden casks, but when his foot touched the cask he flew on the floor, as they were empty and very old, meaning, very fragile.

She watched as he fell on his ass grunting and rubbing his back, she then rush walked to him and punched him in the face. "what was that for?!" he screamed while rubbing the part of his face where she punched him. "for being a coward thief and not getting a job like normal humans and living in poverty because you're lazy and a coward" she repeated the word coward to him twice because of the anger she felt, she hated cowards, and hated thief's even more!

"How can you live like this!" she screamed at him. He truly didn't know the answer himself, for a second you could see the pain in his eyes as he registers the harsh words of the girl.

"fuck off, you don't know anything... stupid woman" he pushed her off of him and then handed her a hand to get up and she, unfortunately, accepted, when she got up half a meter he let her hand go and she fell with a squeak, cute, he thought before shaking bis head and smirking while gesturing to her that now she could trust him by grabbing his hand but he did not grab it, instead she swatted his hand away with anger "fucking peasant" she muttered under her breath while getting up and leaving the boy dumbfounded.

she started walking away from him, mumbling to herself while patting the hem of her dress and sleeves.

but he wasn't having none of her stubborn attitude and with his long feet slowly walked to her, with a mischievous smirk.

"you're new here, never seen such a stubborn lady around here," he said while grabbing her by the waist. Swatting his hand away and walking further ahead without responding to him. He just shrugged his shoulders and walked ahead, feeling annoyed about the girl not being like the others.

Y/n decided to ignore the boy, as she said in her mind.

"he is not worth enough to deal with, I have to see other things than talk with a thief" and she continued her adventure through the village, for another 1 hour and a quarter when she came back to the castle fortunately with the same man as when she left, she found out he goes to the village every day. "perfect," she thought, she will sneak out and go with the man.

for the past three days, Y/n kept sneaking out, of course, her family thought it was weird how all of a sudden she was happy, but glad she was they did not disturb her with unanswerable questions.

as the day's passed of the beautiful girl sneaking out of the palace in the village, sometimes (quite often) meeting with the handsome boy, whose name was Hwang Hyun-Jin, she found out after an unfortunate encounter of him bumping into her the 100th time, she could confidently say, he became more and more annoying, she hated him and knew he hated her too, always pinching her waist or taking a bit of her hair and yanking it. He was the dear devil.

it was the 35th day of her sneaking out, keeping track of her sneakings was always good, of course very well hidden under a plank of wood of her floor.

the sneaking went as it always went, no one said, saw, or discovered anything, or she thought so.

but while being in the village, walking without any thought where, she started thinking about tomorrow's party, again needing to act as the perfect spoiled princess, glad could say she was that only royals would be, but as fast as she entered her thoughts a rather someone or a one rather annoying Hwang interrupted her thoughts. "Oh hello ~ There princess" he purred in her neck as he circled her, how did he know?! she thought scared but without showing an expression.

"Come on Princess, I've known from our first encounter, knew something was different with you," he said while sneaking his arm around her shoulder making her feel trapped. "and what if I am?!" she said annoyed. "nothing, nothing, just curious what a spoiled princess would want to do around here" rolling her eyes she swatted his hand away and went back to the man who she saw was going to his horse carriage and hoped in with a huff after of course greeting the old man.

Laughing slightly the man made the horses start walking and in no time she was at the back of the palace after he left she started climbing on her spot, but little did she know that a certain someone was watching her.

and as fast as that, the next day came and everyone was on alert to get ready, themself and the party.

and as the days always pass, the party came too, after the dinner, where she should have been, she could excuse herself in her room, as always, only the face, nothing more, only a pretty face.

Walking towards her room in the annoyingly long hall while huffing she finally arrived in her room and after closing the door and lighting a candle as it was getting dark she heard shuffling from her window when she turned to look around she almost screamed but the stranger slapped his hand accidentally too hard around her mouth while turning her around with her back to his chest.

"shh princess, we don't want anyone hearing us now do we?" he said, his breath tickling her neck sending shudders down her spine. "what, do you want?"

she manages to mutter after removing his hand from her mouth. "Oh, nothing sweetheart, I just, came here to get a taste from the mysterious girl" he smirked behind her while he kept holding the scared aroused girl in his strong grip, making her feel trapped.

He took her breath away when she was thrown into her bed by the man, and started kissing her hungrily, he told himself that if she wouldn't kiss him bake he would leave her, but she started kissing him and grabbing his hair.

When the girl started moaning, he knew he could continue.

Smirking into the kiss he motioned to her that he wanted her Halter, when she nodded he removed it and started kissing her chest making her whimper, slowly sliding down to grab the corset and untie it from behind her after making her stand in a sitting position and freeing her from the dress.

Seeing her naked body made him even more hungered by the girl. Kissing her softly on the lips then going down to her chest and tummy like a starved man, making you whimper and shakily call his name. "shh, sweetheart, don't let them hear you" he smirked while moving his hand down to your undergarments making your legs close. "no need to close your legs on me, I desire to see all of you, my dove" he said then slowly entered her making her whimper. " I love you my dove, every since- ngh fuck- I saw you" Her eyes widened, and cummed instantly after hearing him confess to her, he started pounding into her harder after feeling her clench on him and hearing her heavenly moans, few more thrusts and he got out cumming on her stomach while his eyes rolled to the back of his head and whimpered then let half of his weight fall on your body.

*knock*

*knock*

*knock*

"mistress is everything alright, I heard a moan of pain."

"oh n-no Brunhilde I just stumbled my toe to the leg of the bed, haha you know how clumsy I get when I'm tired, no need to check on me, you can leave, and tell the others not to disturb me as I'm going to my much-needed slumber!* she said trying o sound normal. only if her maid knew what happened. fortunately the maid left, leaving the two alone.

"so mistress what are we?" he said with a smirk moving his face at the crock of her neck and kissing her while leaving a hickey at the back of her neck not visible when having her hair down.

"I don't know, my father would never let me marry you..." she said with sadness in her voice and eyes.

he hugged her back to his chest and kissed her naked shoulder while moving his left hand soothingly on her waist up to her underboob and down to her ass.

"lets run" he said with devotion in his voice.

OH my god hi love!!

I'm sorry for responding so late but I loved the ask so much that I had to remake it 3 times haha.

If you liked it please reblog, it helps a lot ♥

[adifferentsortofstrength]

Close to Her Chest

Part Three

Read Part Two

Read Part One

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I’m sorry this took so long to post! I had to go back through the first two parts and edit some timeline goofs. AO3 finally sent my invitation for my writing account so I’ll be posting this story on there soon as well! The username is the same, but I’ll start linking it once I get the parts posted!

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Azriel landed quietly in the back garden of the townhouse. His shadows whispered that Elain was alone inside, and he took this rare moment to observe her. He lingered outside the kitchen door, watching as she worked a large batch of dough on the center island.

She seemed lost in thought, her gaze unfocused and hands going through the motions of rolling and stretching the dough automatically. Once more, she picked up the wooden rolling pin, her arms trembling slightly, and he decided that now would be as good a time as any to interrupt.

Knocking lightly on the back door, he watched Elain straighten and turn her face to look at him. Even covered in flour and flecks of dough, her hair coming loose from her braid and wearing a simple blue linen dress beneath her apron, he was enraptured by her beauty. Azriel couldn’t stop the small smile that bloomed on his face at the sight of her.

She seemed to be considering whether to ignore him or not, and though he had called the townhouse home longer than she, or even her parents, had been alive, he was content to wait patiently for her to decide whether to welcome him in or not. If she chose to ignore him, he would go of course… after sitting in the garden for a while, hoping she reconsidered.

Seconds passed and still she did not look away, or make any move towards the door. He had just begun to doubt his plan when finally, she made her choice.

Brushing the flour and dough off her hands, leaving streaks of white on her apron, Elain walked slowly over to the door. Her eyes flicked back to his once more as she paused with her hand on the doorknob, but ultimately he heard the click of the lock disengaging and the door swung open.

Azriel stepped across the threshold, mere inches separating them now, and said, “Hello, Elain.”

She held his gaze, not balking at his proximity, as she quietly replied, “Hello.”

They stood there like that, the cool wind of the winter afternoon swirling in behind him through the open door, for one heartbeat. Two. Unspoken emotions flitted in her eyes, and the rapid fluttering of her pulse did not escape him.

Somewhere within the house, a clock chimed the four o’clock hour, and as if the spell was broken, Elain retreated to the sink. Her back was turned as she ran the water over her hands, the steam rising and fogging the windows. After closing the door, Azriel leaned one hip against the center island, his wings pulled in tight behind him.

When she finished washing, she turned back towards him, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. She did not meet his gaze, and he took just one more moment to appreciate the ethereal presence of the female before him. His head tilted slightly as he noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes, the drawn expression on her face, as she was illuminated by the sunlight reflecting off the snow-covered garden that streamed in through the windows.

Elain’s hands were wringing the towel, clasped at her waist, and he registered that she was still trembling slightly. With a frown, needing to break the heavy silence and hear her voice again, he asked, “What are you making?”

The question seemed to catch her off guard, and when she again locked eyes with him, the hollowness of her expression shattered something within him.

“Rolls,” she murmured absently, “Dinner rolls. Feyre and I- she said- well, it’s supposed to be just the two of us, me and Feyre I mean-” she paused and steadied herself, “I’m making rolls for dinner, for Feyre and I.”

She cast her gaze down to the counter now, next to where he leaned. It might have been his imagination, but her eyes appeared to linger briefly as they moved over his chest and arms, before settling on where the utterly ridiculous amount of dough sat.

“I suppose that we’ll have extras,” she said wryly, and a corner of her mouth quirked down.

Azriel could barely contain himself at the fact that, even with everything hanging between them, she still got flustered when they spoke. That had to be a sign that all was not lost, right? If she had stopped caring for him completely, surely she would be much more withdrawn, colder to him?

He leaned his head down slightly to catch her gaze, and as their eyes met he said, “I would be more than happy to assist with that. We wouldn’t want any of your hard work to go to waste.”

Elain blushed and looked away again, “I need to get these in the oven,” she hesitated for a moment before asking, “Would it be too much to ask of you, I mean if you don’t have somewhere else to be, would you help me?”

“There is nowhere else I would rather be, Elain,” he said, maybe too honestly, “What can I do?”

She instructed him to wash his hands and then showed him how to form the dough into rolls. They worked in semi-comfortable silence as she cut the dough into small sections for him to shape. She really had over done it, the final count being upwards of two dozen, but he wasn’t complaining for this excuse to be of use to her, to spend any stolen amount of time he could with her.

Once Elain had placed the rolls onto a baking tray and slid them into the oven, Azriel gathered the dishes and set to washing them. He felt her moving around the kitchen behind him, wiping the counters down. Suddenly she appeared next to him, less than a foot away.

He kept his focus on the dish in his hands and relished in the weight of her eyes on him. In his periphery, he noticed her brow was furrowed, and she was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Suppressing the heat that rose in him at the expression on her face, he watched as she cast her gaze down to where his hands had been washing the same bowl for far too long.

Deciding that he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer, he rinsed the bowl, and set it next to the sink to dry with the other dishes. As he turned to face her finally, she extended a clean towel towards him. When he took it to dry his hands, his fingers brushed hers briefly, and it felt like a bolt of lightning in his veins.

Elain must have felt it too judging by the speed of which she withdrew her hand, her eyes widening incrementally, and the sharp intake of breath that caused her lips to part.

“Elain, I-”, he started to say, just as she spoke.

“Can I ask you-”, he heard her begin, pausing as they spoke over each other.

When her eyes once more met his, Azriel thought he caught a glimpse of something resembling desire flickering there before she blinked, replacing it with a neutral expression. With her warm brown eyes on his, he managed to reply, “Ladies first.”

∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴

Elain felt as though she hadn’t taken a proper breath since she had opened the garden door to find Azriel standing there.

She had barely regained her composure when their fingers had brushed, renewing that static within her, sending her thoughts spiraling into a thousand different directions. If that is how the brush of his fingers felt, what would it be like to have the full expanse of his hands on her bare skin? The weight of his touch across the planes of her stomach, her thighs?

Nearly combusting at just the thought, she stammered out, “Can I ask you-”

Right as he started, “Elain, I-”

Her eyes met his and she had to tamper down the heat she felt evident in her own. Drawing in another breath, she forced that neutral mask down, one she had seen so often on Azriel’s own face.

“Ladies first,” he said raggedly, and her toes curled in her house shoes.

Struggling to regain her train of thought, she looked away from him, her gaze catching on the sunlight that fell across his wings over his shoulder. The crest of that red-black membrane glowed, revealing lines and scars across the taut skin. Every inch of this male was beautiful to her, but there was just something exquisite about the way each scar lined his skin. She wondered what they might feel like beneath her fingers, how the texture might disrupt the path of her tongue as she tasted him, and-

Elain had to shake herself out of her reverie before the desire pooling in her core became evident in her scent.

Shakily, she continued, “I was just wondering, do you remember the day you told me that I was a Seer?”

He exhaled, sounding as though he had been holding his breath as he waited for her to speak, “Of course.”

“How did you know? When no one else could get through to me, when even Madja didn’t know what to do with me, how did you figure me out?”

She chanced a look at his face, finding his gaze still fixed on her, eyes softening as he said, “I spent a long time in the library, after we returned from Hybern, as I healed. Reading, researching, felt like a way to help, when I felt so useless to do anything else. For you, for everyone,” a light blush spread across his cheeks, “I couldn’t begin to tell you how many books I read, mostly archives detailing all known abilities and powers through the history of Prythian.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, the other supporting his weight when he leaned his hip casually against the counter, his wings shifting with the movement.

Azriel continued, “I came across an account from a High Priestess. She had been travelling through the courts, between temples, fostering relationships across different factions of priestesses. She was near the wall in the Spring Court when she discovered a female who had collapsed in some of the underbrush along the path.

“The priestess, I think her name was Thalia, sat with the unconscious stranger until she awoke some time later. In her writing, she noted that the female said ‘The rains will not fall upon our scourged fields, birds leave never to return, those who failed to prepare wither into dust.’ Thalia helped her to the next town, where she left her with the local priestess to recover. A few dozen pages later, probably months between the two entries, she noted that a famine had taken some towns across the wall, and left them barren.

“The priestess didn’t seem to relate the two occurrences, but the way the stranger's words had been written, like a prophecy, had stuck with me. The day the Ravens attacked your sisters in the library, that’s when I finally put it together. I had read about Seers in passing a few times, but there hadn’t been any records specifically about them to be found. So when I heard you speak about the queen with feathers of flame… I knew.”

Elain had been so enraptured in his story, she had forgotten why he told it. It was not like Azriel to speak for so long, usually they were lucky to get a few sentences out of him. She felt as though she could stand there listening to his voice forever, it soothed something within her, quieted that voice in her head that had berated her constantly since Solstice.

She realized that at least an entire minute had passed since he finished speaking, and she had just been staring at him, lost in thought, the whole time.

“I had no idea you had gone through so much trouble on my account,” her eyes fixating on the floor between them, “I don’t think I ever thanked you. For seeing me, and finding the answer to a question I didn’t even know to ask.”

When she looked back up at him, he smiled and said, “It was no trouble at all, Elain. I would have read a thousand more books if it meant finding answers for you.”

Before she could reply, the timer for the forgotten dinner rolls went off, causing her to jump. He moved before she could, using a thick cotton oven pad to remove the tray and set it on the counter. She took the butter that she had set aside earlier and went about spreading it on top of each roll, conscious of his eyes on her.

When that was finished, she turned back to him.

“Would you like to try one?” she gestured to the rolls, some now piled in a basket to be brought to the dinner table later.

He paused before answering, his eyes flicking back and forth from the basket to her face. Elain was no fool, she knew why he hesitated. An offer of food was nearly sacred in Prythian, being the physical acknowledgment of accepting a mating bond. She was careful to never directly offer food to anyone except for her family… and now Azriel.

He spoke then, his voice sounding lower than before, “I would love one, thank you.”

She plated one for him, and another for herself.

“I don’t know if they’ll be any good,” she said sheepishly, stepping over to a small table on the far side of the kitchen, “I might have worked the dough a bit too much.”

Azriel followed silently behind her, and when she sat, he took the other chair. She pushed the plate across the table towards him, “Let me know what you think.”

Elain watched discreetly as he held the roll to his mouth, and took a bite. His eyes closed for a moment, as if he too was hoping for something to spark between them. When nothing stirred within her, she held back a sigh of disappointment and bit into her own roll.

“Excellent as always, Nuala and Cerridwen must have been great teachers,” he said, finishing his and looking at her fully. She was only halfway through the large dinner roll, and now mindful of the fact that there was excess butter dripping off of it, and onto her fingers.

Without thinking, she caught the drip with her tongue before it could get onto the clean white table cloth, only realizing how she must look after hearing a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the table. Elain could feel the dark red blush spreading across her face and chest, and averted her eyes down to her plate.

The air grew heavy as the silence stretched on. She could feel her pulse quickening as heat once again pooled within her. Every moment that she spent with Azriel always seemed to end up this way. With her making some mindless mistake, and causing this tension between them.

Before the tears that she felt welling could line her eyes, Azriel stood with a scrape of his chair. Surely he had grown tired of wasting his time here, and was about to depart. Her shoulders sagged as she imagined having to watch him leave yet again.

But all he said was, “Want some tea? I’ll put the kettle on.”

Elain looked up to him in surprise and nodded, her brows furrowing. She watched as he took her favorite green kettle down from a shelf and filled it before lighting the stove. He leaned over the sink as he waited, his hands braced on the edge and head lowered. His back to her, she could see him taking long, slow breaths. Azriel’s wings flared slightly with each inhale.

Allowing herself a moment to simply admire him, she couldn’t help wondering what it might be like to be there between him and the sink, bracketed by his arms. Elain could see herself reaching up to brush the hair off his forehead, staring into those warm hazel eyes as her fingers traced the lines of his face.

She pictured the smile that would blossom on his lips, sinful and secret and just for her. Azriel would lean in to brush a gentle kiss against her mouth, pressing against her, the hard length of his-

The kettle whistling tore her from the fantasy.

Elain averted her eyes, studying his hands as Azriel went about fixing their tea, spooning some lavender chamomile leaves into the filter of the tea pot and placing it on a tray alongside two cups, a small carafe of milk, and bowl of sugar cubes.

He gathered up the tray and finally looked over at her.

“Would you like to stay here? Or we could move to the sitting room?” He asked, not quite meeting her gaze.

“The sitting room please,” Elain breathed.

She went to smooth her skirt as she stood and realized she was still wearing her stained apron. Quickly undoing the ties at her neck and waist, she slung it over the back of her chair before hurrying out of the room. He followed close behind, his footsteps nearly silent, though she could sense his presence trailing after her.

Elain was glad that the fire had burned low even though it left the room feeling chilled. She sat on the sofa that faced the large bay window, giving a clear view of the street beyond. To her absolute surprise and delight, Azriel placed the tray on the ottoman that sat between the two couches and claimed the spot next to her.

Without giving her a chance to move, he placed three sugar cubes into a cup before filling it with the steaming tea. After adding just a splash of milk, he held it out to her.

When she didn’t reach out for it, her eyes wide and focused on him once again, Azriel turned his head to look at her fully.

“Sorry, was that wrong? I thought you took it with three sugars and a splash of milk,” something like uncertainty flashed in his eyes as he spoke.

“No, that’s exactly right,” she said quietly, “I just didn’t think you would remember. It’s been quite some time since we last had tea together.”

Azriel winced, actually winced, “Of course I remember. And I’m very sorry about that.”

She tried to rile up some of the anger she had felt this morning but found only a sour ache in its place.

Elain took the cup from him, this time taking care to not brush his hand with hers. Though her heart felt like it would jump from her chest, she forced herself to sip slowly, with a measure of control only possible thanks to the training she had endured at the hands of her mother in her previous life.

Azriel followed suit, adding his usual single sugar cube and no milk to the tea. The clock on the mantle ticked loudly as the silence stretched on.

His shadows seemed to swarm him, brushing over his neck and shoulders. Elain wondered if they were conveying a report or comforting their master, noticing his unease as she felt the air grow taut between them.

“I was so afraid when I found you in the garden last night,” Azriel almost whispered, breaking the silence like a pebble tossed into a still pond, “I know I have no right to ask, but… are you alright, Elain?”

She paused before answering, her mind going in a dozen directions at once. Battling the rising emotions within, frustration and despair and confusion, she settled for the diplomatic response.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” Elain set her empty cup down on the tray and clasped her hands in her lap.

“Don’t - don’t lie,” he challenged, “Not to me.”

Her eyebrows shot up as she slid her eyes up to meet his, “It is really none of your concern. It’s not as if there’s anything you could do about it anyway.”

Azriel stared at her for a moment. His eyes were assessing, some heated emotion flashing there before he blinked and hid it away.

“Let me try,” there was something desperate in his voice, “Please.”

Elain wanted to fight him, wanted to push back and deny him this glimpse of the fracture that threatened to split her open. Because what right did he have to know her now? How could he sit here and act as if he cared when he had torn the rug from beneath her unsteady feet barely more than a week ago?

Her resolve disappeared the moment he reached across the space between them and grasped one large, scarred, beautiful hand over hers. The contact chipped away at the ice she had slowly built around herself since Solstice, her skin instantly alight with that familiar hazy static.

She drew in a stuttering breath, “I’ve been struggling,” she paused, tamping down the urge to bare her soul and plead his forgiveness for overstepping his boundaries that night, “With my Sight. I can’t… I just can’t make sense of it. Any of it.

“The things I See, they’re all… it’s like catching a glimpse of a familiar face in a crowded marketplace. When I try to move closer, try to See clearly, it disappears,” Elain struggled to maintain any semblance of her composure, her voice quivering.

Azriel’s hand remained on hers though, and she drew strength from it. Difficult things were always easier to handle when he was near. His quiet companionship had been her touchstone in those dark days after emerging from the Cauldron. It was he who drew her from those murky depths, he who led her back to reality when she was lost within herself.

Elain decided then that she would rather have Azriel as a friend than not at all. Though her feelings grew each moment she spent near him, it would be her burden to bear.

“Has anyone ever spoken with you about training your Sight?” His voice drew her back to the matter at hand.

She shook her head lightly, “No.”

Azriel shifted closer to her, one knee brushing against hers, “Is that something you would like to try?”

Elain wondered if it was even worth the trouble. To inconvenience someone with the task, one which she was sure would result in nothing other than more frustration and failure. But the look on his face, the assurance of his hand on hers made her say, “Yes, please.”

A true smile was her reward for that choice. It crinkled the corners of his eyes, revealed the sharp points of his canine teeth, and stole the breath from her.

“You’ll have to talk to Feyre about it. And get clearance from Rhys. He might not be amenable to having me as your teacher, but I think if Feyre suggests it he might come around,” he mused, his words tumbling out, like he had been restraining them for too long and could no longer resist.

Her eyes widened, pulse now at a full gallop. Azriel would be her teacher? He would willingly take his time to work with her on a power she might never master?

In her shock Elain asked, “Is there no one else? I mean, I’m sure you are quite busy as it is. Are you certain that you would want to spend your time on this?”

She was the one who could no longer withhold her words, her inner thoughts now out in the open.

His brows drew down at her first question, “If you would rather, I’m sure we could arrange for Amren or Rhys to work with you,” his voice was laced with an emotion she couldn’t quite name, “They both have significant internal power, I suppose.”

“No! No, I would be glad to train with you!” Elain reassured him, “I just- you have been away so much lately, I assumed you would be too busy. I don’t want to be a burden to you too.”

Azriel looked down at their hands, “You are never a burden to me Elain.”

Three heartbeats.

That’s how long she allowed herself to study the angles of his face. Resisting the urge to refute his statement, Elain bit down on her lower lip. Even if he was lying, she decided to accept his offer of training. Any time she could steal away to spend with him was a precious gift she was not willing to waste.

“I will speak with Feyre tonight,” her voice was low as she replied, her gaze now focused on where the marked skin of his fingers grazed the top of her thigh.

Azriel’s hand still covered hers, but his thumb now swiped across the back of one, brushing over the prominent bone at her wrist with every stroke. Elain had to suppress a shudder at the intimate contact but could not stop the goosebumps that rose on her arms.

As if only just realizing what he was doing, Azriel pulled his hand away and stood, all at once breaking the tension that had gathered in the air. It felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped by at least twenty degrees with the absence of him, and Elain wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to retain some of that warmth.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ Azriel held the hand that had been on hers clenched at his chest, the other raked through his hair, “Feyre will be home shortly, her class is just finishing.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, but that was probably for the best. She felt the chill of the room seeping into her, the heat that had roiled at her center since he arrived now guttering out. That sense of hope and excitement at the prospect of training with Azriel, spending more time with him, clawed at her heart. She tried to shove it down. It would do her no good to allow it back in, to replace the hollowness that now ached there.

Elain was dizzy from the speed at which she had been drawn in and engulfed by him again, like nothing had changed between them that cursed Solstice night. It was only after he withdrew from her so quickly, in a way so painfully familiar, that she regained her senses.

“I should start the rest of supper then,” she rose from her spot on the sofa and approached him, “Thank you for your help on the rolls. I will speak to Feyre about training my Sight.”

Azriel looked down at her, finally meeting her eyes. The neutral mask that always seemed to slip around her was back in place.

Elain stepped around him, intentionally allowing her arm to brush against his as she passed. She expected him to vanish into his shadows but, to her surprise, heard him gathering the tea tray and following her back to the kitchen. That sense of hope still scratched at the wall she had erected around her heart, and she felt her defenses crumbling with each additional moment she spent in his presence.

He made quick work of cleaning their cups and the teapot, discarding the used leaves in her compost bucket without even needing to be asked.

Elain pulled out the ingredients she needed to construct dinner; a whole chicken to roast, carrots, potatoes, and plenty of fresh herbs. Azriel lingered by the center counter and she felt his eyes tracking her across the kitchen. The weight of his gaze had her glancing over to him once she had everything set out.

He shifted slightly, his wings rustling, and asked, “Would it be alright if I took another roll or two? I haven’t really eaten since leaving Illyria yesterday.” He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tic she had noticed long ago.

“Of course you can, take as many as you’d like!” her resolve to shut him out crumbled, “I’m sure Feyre wouldn’t mind if you stayed for dinner either, if you wanted to.”

Azriel’s mouth tilted up at one corner, the hint of a smile there not reaching his eyes, “Thank you for the invitation. I would love to stay, but I need to get back to the paperwork that piled up while I was gone.”

Elain nodded as she gathered together half a dozen rolls for him, wrapping them in butcher paper so they would be easier to carry. She knew it was a stretch to expect him to stay and eat with them. That didn’t stop the disappointment from settling on her shoulders.

He took the carefully wrapped package from her, smiling in earnest now, “Enjoy your dinner, Elain.”

“Good night Azriel,” she managed to reply, before he stepped into his shadows and disappeared. She stared at the place he had stood for a moment, and didn’t notice the hope as it found its way back into her heart.

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

Authors note: Yay! They talked! They touched! They’re going to train! I wasn’t joking when I said this was going to be a sloooooowwwww burn…

Formatting can get funny between Docs and Tumblr so let me know if anything seems wonky!

Thanks for reading!! ♡

[elrielsgarden]

Elain & ACOTAR 5

The next book in Sarah J. Maas's bestselling series Court of Thorns and Roses, though highly debated among the fandom, is 100% going to be Elain's. It has to be.

SJM states in a Q&A/interview transcript in the A Court of Frost and Starlight special edition: "But I do know that the Cassian and Nesta book is next. And I know what I want to write for the second spinoff, but I'm keeping the door open after that."

She also states in that same transcript: "When spring came, I was heavily pregnant-so I was really nesting-and we realized that the garden beds were pretty overgrown with ivy. There was literally ivy everywhere: in the garden beds, wrapped around the trees, crawling up the sides of the house. So I went into this obsessive, I-need-to-rip-out-every-last-strand-of-ivy-before-I-have-this-baby mode. And I remember the entire time I was ripping out the ivy, and trying to get some semblance of order into the garden beds, I just slipped into Elain's head. Elain is a gardener, and everything I did during those weeks became research for her book."

From these two remarks from SJM-within the same interview-we learn that she knows who the next book after A Court of Silver Flames will be, and she also knows she will be writing Elain's book. Therefore, the next Court of Thorns and Roses book will be Elain's.

This next ACOTAR book will be Elain's, and hers alone, in the sense that the title will revolve solely around her, just as A Court of Silver Flames does with Nesta. Of course, ACOTAR 5 will feature another POV, that of Elain's love interest.

Many people refer to ACOTAR 5 as "Azriel's book," but SJM has stated many a time what she says in a January 2024 TODAY interview: "I've always been drawn to writing women that can't be placed in any definable category." The focal point of every book SJM has written is the women, and so Elain will be the center of her book-not her love interest. This person will be Azriel.

The people who refer to "Azriel's book" are right about one thing, however. Azriel is set up in the ACOTAR series and in the most recent installment of the Crescent City series, House of Flame and Shadow. Both Azriel and Elain have been primed for their romance and future plot by SJM.

It is also crucial to point out that each of the spinoff novels are about side characters from the first three, automatically removing the possibility of "Azriel's book" having anything to do with Gwyneth Berdara, who arrived in the story in ACOSF.

Further, the title of Elain's book will revolve solely around her character, just as A Court of Silver Flames does with Nesta. Nothing about that title suggests Casein's involvement in the book, though of course he is the love interest and other POV. Elain's book, then, will follow this pattern, A Court of ________ _____, describing her character. Yes, Azriel will be the second POV, but just as with ACOSF he, the love interest and second POV, will likely not be indicated in the title.

In conclusion, the next book in the Court of Thorns and Roses series will belong to Elain Archeron, and be titled after her, and will feature Azriel as her love interest in the second spinoff novel. 🌸🦇

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

Azel: Good evening. I've been wanting to see you, you know?

When I came to, I was here again.

In this rose garden full of buds, there’s a man with an otherworldly appearance, resting his hand on an oak table.

I have a strange feeling like this has happened before, or maybe it hasn't.

(Somehow, only the presence of this Living God feels strangely vivid.)

Emma: ...A dream, right?

Azel: Oh? There's no way to prove which is the dream and which is reality.

Azel: Human wisdom hasn't progressed enough to unravel the mysteries of dreams.

Azel: It's possible that you being here is actually reality, and vice versa.

(I kind of understand, but I kind of don't.)

Azel: By the way, are you good at cooking?

Suddenly switching from a mystical topic to a realistic one, it took me a while to grasp the meaning.

Emma: I wouldn't say I'm good at it, but I can make decent food.

Azel: That's good. Actually, I've been interested in the local cuisine of Rhodolite.

Emma: ...Why are you suddenly bringing this up?

Azel: Because I know what will happen in the future.

Azel: When the time comes, you'll understand my intentions.

(It's hard to believe, but I guess that's how Gods are.)

Azel: By the way, I haven't had dinner today.

Emma: Eh? Are you feeling unwell?

Azel: No, it's due to various circumstances.

Azel: You're supposed to be a kind-hearted woman. You wouldn't do something cruel like leave a God on the verge of starvation, would you?

Emma: ...Rather than a prophecy, it feels like you're blatantly pressuring me to "come and cook for you."

Azel: Not at all, not at all. I'm just telling you that I prefer hearty meals to sweets, but I have no ulterior motives.

(I feel like there's nothing but ulterior motives.)

Azel: Besides, "you" over there hardly remembers what happened here.

Azel: There's no point in pressuring you, is there?

Prince Azel smiles mercifully – and the world begins to distort.

Azel: Ah, I'm looking forward to it.

Azel: –– ...I just happened to need a slave.

-

I woke up with a start, drawn by the light, and found myself in the guest room that had been given to me yesterday.

(I think I had another dream.)

(...It was a dream with the Living God in it.)

As usual, my memories crumbled away.

What remained today was the puzzling information "hearty meals, not sweets," and a chilling, inexplicable pounding of my heart.

(It wasn't a nightmare, but... how strange.)

-

Emma: There's something I've been wondering about...

Emma: Owner, what's that?

The city surrounding Tanzanite Castle was even more lively than Rhodolite.

The reason was obvious; everywhere I looked, there were tourists who seemed to have come from foreign countries.

Some people were enjoying food bought from stalls, while others were browsing souvenir shops selling pottery and textiles, which were local specialties. But what drew the most attention was the statue of the Living God, sitting majestically in the center of the city.

(I only passed by yesterday, so I couldn't get a good look at it...)

(Looking at it now, it's a spitting image of the real thing.)

Akatsuki: It's a tourist attraction. It's famous as a power spot where wishes come true.

Emma: Ah, that's why so many people are praying.

Akatsuki: You want to go too?

Emma: No... I'll pass.

(My wish is "to fall in love," so somehow I feel like I shouldn't pray to this statue.)

(...Really, it's just a feeling.)

Emma: So, what are we doing today?

Akatsuki: We're delivering an item that was requested.

Emma: So the Living God wasn't your only client?

Akatsuki: I have about 100 business partners in Tanzanite.

(That many...?)

Akatsuki: Sometimes I sell books, sometimes I exchange them for other books.

Akatsuki: Watch and learn.

Emma: Yes! I'll do my best to learn.

(This is completely different from looking after the shop. I have to work hard.)

Renewing my determination, I chased after the Owner's back as he walked ahead.

But I soon stopped in my tracks.

Akatsuki: ...Seems like something's happening.

Emma: ...!

The crowd gathered a short distance away was different from the others; they were buzzing with commotion.

Thanks to the Tanzanite soldiers, people were already starting to disperse, but through the thinning crowd, I could see a man with a swollen face.

Emma: He's badly injured. Was it a fight?

???: Something like that. It's been happening a lot lately.

(Ah, that voice...)

When I turned around, I saw Basil carrying a large amount of luggage, and Kamal, whose beauty, as always, was attracting attention.

Basil: I suspect a diviner misread the divine oracle.

Emma: What do you mean?

Basil: Divination in Tanzanite is considered to be the interpretation of the divine oracle, which reads the will of God from the stars.

Basil: Since Prince Azel is a God himself, his words directly become divine oracles...

Basil: Diviners are required to be skilled in how well they can interpret the will of God.

(Speaking of which...)

*flashback*

Azel: The basis of divination in our country is astrology.

Emma: Astrology...?

Azel: It's what you call astrology. What's popular here is unique to Tanzanite.

*back to present*

(Unique, so that's what he meant.)

Basil: However, it seems that many diviners have been misinterpreting the divine oracle lately...

Basil: Customers who are angry about the blasphemy against God sometimes lash out like that.

It was a logic I couldn't understand.

(I think divination is something that can be right sometimes and wrong sometimes.)

Emma: ...Are mistakes not allowed?

Basil: Well, divination is something that can change a person's life.

Basil: In this country, to call yourself a divinator, you need to have a certain level of resolution or preparedness.

(I guess I don't understand because I'm from another country.)

Basil: The idea that Prince Azel's thoughts are something that a mere divinator can read is preposterous.

I felt a shadow fall over Basil's face as he pushed up his glasses.

(Basil also has something on his mind, and that's dangerous!)

As he touched his glasses, the balance of his luggage was disrupted, and the Owner supported it with a speed invisible to the eye.

Basil: Oh dear, I'm so sorry! Thank you very much.

Akatsuki: Don't mind it. But, is this for a feast?

(I thought so too.)

The contents of Basil's luggage were a large quantity of groceries.

It was such an amount that it seemed difficult even to walk while looking ahead, and at least I wouldn't be able to carry it.

Basil: No, it's just an errand.

Basil: It certainly feels like there's more than usual, but I'm sure there's some noble reason for it.

("Noble reason" means it's an errand for Prince Azel, right?)

Only Basil was running the errand; Kamal was empty-handed.

When our eyes met, his long, beautiful fingers pulled out a letter.

The envelope was presented to the Owner.

Akatsuki: An additional order?

The Owner, who opened the seal on the spot, furrowed his brow at the letter he took out.

Emma: ...What's wrong?

Akatsuki: It says they found a clue to the book I was looking for.

Akatsuki: ...But it's suspicious.

Emma: Isn't that a good thing?

Akatsuki: If they were willing to tell me like this, they could have told me yesterday.

Akatsuki: Yet they deliberately contacted me later. And they're telling me to come and get the clue.

(...Indeed, I wonder if there's some intention behind it.)

Basil: Well, Prince Azel also apologized for that.

Basil: He said, "I accidentally forgot to tell you."

Akatsuki: .............

Akatsuki: In the first place, I don't have time to go get it for a while.

(I'm sure he has appointments to meet with his clients after this.)

(...But I think the information about the book is something the Owner desperately wants...)

(It might be rude to refuse the goodwill of a God.)

(Alright, this is where the assistant comes in.)

I raise my hand and volunteer to the Owner, who has a grim expression on his face.

Emma: Shall I go and get it?

-

Azel: My apologies… I am truly sorry.

Prince Azel warmly welcomed me when I visited his residence with Basil and Kamal, after parting ways with the Owner.

The way he emerged from the building with such perfect timing, as if he had foreseen everything, made me truly believe that he possesses some extraordinary power.

Azel: Thank you for your hard work, you two. Please bring the luggage inside.

Basil was frozen with his eyes sparkling, saying "H-huh..." Kamal grabbed him and pulled him inside.

(Now it's just the two of us.)

Emma: I've come on behalf of the Owner. I heard that you would give me a clue about the book...

Azel: Yes. I will give you a map.

Prince Azel turns his back to me and starts walking.

His eyes urge me to "follow me," so I follow him, but he's fast.

(Are his legs long, or is he just unusually fast...!)

I desperately chase after him, and as I follow Prince Azel through the uniquely shaped entrance---

Emma: ………… Huh?

I stop involuntarily, blink a few times, and pinch my cheeks.

It hurt like normal.

Azel: What's wrong?

Emma: No...

(Wh... what's going on here!?)

It was a shock, as if I had stepped into another world.

Unlike the weathered exterior walls, the interior was so neatly maintained that it didn't feel like it had 1000 years of history, and there was no sign of the precariousness that made it seem like it was about to collapse.

It's hard to say it was a brand new building, but the description of a "castle" truly suited it.

(I initially thought it was a solitary castle in the desert, and maybe I wasn't far off.)

Emma: The atmosphere is quite different from the exterior.

Azel: Of course, I can't just live in a 1000-year-old building as it is.

Azel: It's under major renovation right now.

Azel: The right side is mostly finished with renovations, so there's no problem, but the left side has partially collapsed.

Azel: If you happen to walk around here, never go to the left side.

Azel: If you do happen to enter it–

Emma: ...If I do?

Azel: Hehe.

(I'll be careful not to accidentally wander in there.)

Azel: Please be careful where you step.

Prince Azel goes up the stairs and proceeds to the right.

While chasing after him at a running pace, I casually glance to the left, and even though the sun should be directly overhead, it seems like a dim darkness lingers there.

(...I wonder if it's because the renovations aren't finished yet.)

After passing through the entrance hall, there's a corridor, which is also beautifully repaired.

At the end of the corridor where Prince Azel strode purposefully, there was a door.

Azel: Now, please come in.

Even though I was out of breath, I entered through the open door without a shred of suspicion... and found myself not in a guest room, but a kitchen.

(...Why?)

In the tidy room, the large amount of luggage that Basil had been carrying was carelessly placed. As I picked up a fruit that had rolled out of a bag, question marks popped up in my mind one after another.

Emma: Prince Azel... is the map in the kitchen?

Azel: Of course not, you idiot.

(!?)

(What? I just heard him speak like a different person...)

The door slams shut.

Prince Azel leaned against the closed door, blocking my escape route, and the corners of his mouth lifted.

Azel: Now, it's time for collection.

Emma: C-collection?

Azel: Here you go.

A letter, seemingly produced from thin air, is thrust in front of me.

Emma: This is...

I rub my eyes and look again.

No matter how many times I look at it, I can only read it as a "divination fee invoice."

Moreover, the numbers lined up on it were of an exorbitant amount that I had never seen before.

Emma: ...Is this addressed to me?

Azel: Yes, it's addressed to you.

Emma: I'm sorry, but I don't recall this.

Azel: Don't tell me you thought a God's divination was free?

Emma: ...Eh?

Azel: Wow, how rude. Don't underestimate me, okay?

(The divination from yesterday, it wasn't free!?)

I hurriedly pulled myself together as my senses started to fade.

Emma: But you said it was a thank you gift...!

Azel: There are many people who want to receive my divination but can't.

Azel: The thank you gift is the "right to receive divination."

Emma: You didn't say a word about that!

Azel: Well, it's common sense.

Emma: I don't know any such common sense!

Azel: Don't blame your ignorance on me.

(This is a scammer's tactic!?)

The me of yesterday, who thought he was a merciful and kind God – it seems I was seeing an illusion.

(Maybe this is his true nature.)

*flashback*

Clavis: But it's surprising. You're the current "Belle," and you're good at seeing through people's true nature, right?

Clavis: ...No, that's not right. Or rather, is it that impression precisely because you "saw through" it?

Clavis: Hmm, very interesting. I wonder if it's me who's seeing the illusion, or you.

*back to present*

(–That's what he meant. How pathetic of me, even though I'm Belle.)

Azel: Ah, but please rest assured. I'm not so cruel as to say "pay now."

Azel: We have two payment methods available: cash or labor.

(I can't feel assured at all.)

Azel: You don't seem to have any money, do you?

Azel: To repay this amount, you'll have to work like a slave...

Azel: Good luck.

His benevolent smile fueled my anger.

(Everyone's been deceived.)

(This person is not a merciful God at all. Rather...)

Emma: You, evil God!

Azel: Oh my, are those insults? As expected, a foreign girl is quite spirited.

Azel: But you see...

As I glared at him, Prince Azel grabbed my chin with his large hand–

Azel: Shall I show you what happens if you defy me?

.

.

.

Letter

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to leave me a tip here or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar!

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

"i love you" in Taylor Swift's lyrics masterlist

summary; as the summer reaches its end, so does your summer fling with Rafe, however, you have realised that you love him and now you refuse to let him go

warnings; mostly fluff, some angst, Rafe being an asshole at the beginning, a lot of swearing and slight mentions of sex

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

You were drunk, totally wasted. That night, Sarah had invited you to a party at John B's house and it was full of people. Obviously, most of them were pogues, excluding a few kooks that must have crushed the party, however, none of those kooks was the one that you couldn't stop thinking about.

Rafe Cameron

You met Rafe at the start of summer vacation, when you moved to the house next to his and became a good friend of his sister. The first impression you had of him was nefarious, your initial thought being: "God, this guy is a jerk", and yet, you couldn't help but feel attracted to him because of his charisma and good looks.

You tried to keep your distance, though, since you didn't want a guy like him hurting your feelings. He was selfish, self-centered and cocky; that type of guy that would send you to therapy sooner rather than later. But one evening, you two ran into each other at the beach, bought a few beers at some vending machine to drink together and ended up kissing

You didn't realise at the moment, but it took just one kiss for you to fall for him.

And every night after that little rendezvous, you would snuck through the garden gate that divided his backyard from yours just to meet with him in secret. That's how you fell in love with him. You fell in love with that one guy that could tear your heart apart in the blink of an eye.

That was the thrill of loving Rafe, though, one moment you were up, the next moment you were down. Sometimes it hurt, but most of all it was exciting.

Your relationship was down that night, because he had stood you up to go out with another girl. And the worst part was not having the right to be mad at him, since you two weren't exclusive; he made sure to remind you of that at every chance he got, so you had drunk more that you should have to forget about him. You were failing your mission, though, because you couldn't stop checking your social media, waiting for him to post something, anything really, that would calm your anxiety; you just wanted to know if he was fucking her or not.

You refreshed his instagram profile one last time and the pink circle that notified that he had posted a new story came up on screen. Without giving it a second thought, you opened it and you heart sank when you saw the guy you loved kissing another girl.

You downed your cup of whisky in just one sip, before getting up from the log you had been sitting on, and walked towards Sarah, who was dancing with Kiara next to the bonfire to join them. Before you met Rafe, you had never cried over a guy, let alone been depressed at a party because of one —and that wouldn't be the first time you did it. You wanted to have fun; the summer was ending and you would have to return to New York soon, you couldn't let him ruin your last days in Outer Banks.

Sarah and Kiara welcomed you with a big smile and included you in their dance circle. The three of your moved to the beat of music, rubbing your bodies together and drawning everyone's attention, especially from the opposite sex.

Not long afterwards, you started dancing with a cute guy that had approached you, offering you a drink. You had seen him a few times at the Cut when you were visiting the pogues and he seemed nice, so you accepted the drink and agreed to dance a few songs with him.

The dance soon turned into a proper make out session in the middle of the crowd. You didn't even like him that way —'cause he wasn't Rafe—, but you were on the rebound, so you took what you could get. You heard your friends cheering you, oblivious to the emotional roller coaster you were going through; you hadn't told them about your relationship with Sarah's brother, so they didn't suspect you were acting like that because you were heartbroken. You wanted to keep it that way, though.

After you let go of the guy —whose name you did not know— a drunk Sarah approached you while laughing. She just showed you her phone screen, where a picture of you kissing that stranger could be seen.

"Look! You are so cute together!" she said.

You laughed too and then, out of the blue, you had a brilliant idea.

"That's a cool pic. Post it, babe."

It really was a cool photo, but that was not why you wanted her to post it on her instagram stories. You wanted Rafe to see it. You wanted to make him jealous. And it worked. Only five minutes later, he was blowing up your phone with texts, voice mails and calls. You answered one of them with a smile on your face just to tease him a little, but he wouldn't give you the opportunity to do so.

"Where are you? l'm coming for you," he told you immediately.

"What? No. l'm having fun with my friends. Leave me alone, jerk," you answered, walking towards the drinks to get another one.

"Are you drunk?" He was surprised; you weren't the type to get wasted at parties.

"It's none of your business, asshole," you shouted after drowning a tequila shot.

You didn't even bother doing the salt and lemon thing and you almost puked in John B's front porch.

"Go fuck that blonde you stood me up for."

"Baby," he sighed, "I'm gonna find you whether you tell me where you at or not, so let's make this easier."

You ignored his request. The image of him sucking off that blonde's face was stuck in your head and was making your blood boil.

"Shut up, Rafe, you're an insensible piece of shit," you accused him, "I wish we never met."

You hung up the phone, leaving him speechless. Of course, you didn't mean what you said, you had spent the best summer of your life with him, but you were drunk and furious, and you weren't thinking straight. You regretted what you said right after, so you took another shot to handle the guilt and then returned to the improvised dance floor to keep dancing.

He wouldn't let it go that easily, though. Fifteen minutes later, he appeared at The Chateau and looked for you until he found you dancing with his sister. His heart started pounding in his chest when he saw you; you looked beautiful that night, well, you always did, but there was something about you being tipsy and carefree that made him smile like crazy.

He made his way through the crowd, without taking his eyes from you, and grabbed your hand when he reached you; his action catched you by surprise so you couldn't resist being pulled away from your friends. He dragged you to his car despite all your complaints and insults, letting your hand go when you arrived there.

"Get in the car please," he asked nicely, opening the passenger's door for you.

You were far too drunk and exhausted to fight with him, still, you were so stubborn that you sat in the back of the car just so he didn't have it his way.

You heard him sigh before he opened the driver's side door and entered the car. He started the engine in complete silence; before you knew it, he was driving you home.

"Why are you mad at me, baby?" he asked a few minutes later, his attention focused on the road.

"Why?" You laughed sarcastically, "You had fucked another girl, Rafe, am I supposed to be happy about it?"

"We aren't exclusive, we both agreed on that when we first started this," he said, and he was right.

Actually, you were the one who came up with that idea, but you did it just because you thought that it would prevent you from falling too hard for him; apparently, you were wrong.

"Things have changed now," you admitted.

You felt a tight knot appear in your throat, but you resisted the urge to cry. If you showed weakness in front of him, he would realise that you cared too much. He would know how you truly felt for him. He would hold your heart in the palm of his hand, and he would have the power to crush it anytime.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking concerned.

Despite your efforts to hide your tears, he had noticed your eyes were watering a little bit.

You said, "I'm fine."

But it wasn't true.

"Baby, what's happening? You can talk to me," the tone of his voice was calm, yet worried, and you couldn't hold back your emotions anymore.

You bursted out crying.

"I love you, idiot! That's what happens!" you shouted, sobbing, "And you're so self-obsessed that you haven't even noticed it."

He looked up grinning like a devil. His eyes staring right into your teary ones through the rear view.

"Baby, stop crying and listen to me, please," he requested, with a smile so big that it lighted up his whole face, "I feel the same way," he recognised and your heart skipped a beat.

He pulled over, getting out of the car and opening your door to face you. He gently grabbed your cheeks so he could wipe away your tears and pressed a little kiss over your lips, which were salty due to all the crying.

"I love you," he repeated, making you smile but you couldn't stop sobbing like a baby; your thoughts were all over the place.

To help you calm down, he entered the car and placed you on his lap, holding you in his strong arms. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and the rich scent of his expensive perfume clouded your senses; you relaxed instantly.

"I haven't fucked other girls since we got together," he whispered, stroking your hair slightly, "I couldn't do it, because you were all I could think about."

"But tonight..." you started off saying, but he interrupted you.

"Yes, I kissed her because I thought you didn't feel the same way about me," he explained, pushing you away to look at your face, "I thought you would forget about me as soon as you got back to New York. I just didn't want you to break my heart."

His words sounded honest, and you could relate to that feeling. You had been feeling like that since you realised that you loved him.

"I can't forget about you, trust me, I've tried," you recognised, "I was scared too, that's why I didn't tell you," you traced his sharp jawline with your thumb, staring at his mouth.

You were dying to kiss him.

"There's no reason to be scared anymore, is there?" he murmured so close to you that his lips caressed yours.

"Not as long as we're together," you answered.

After that, you finally kissed him, revealing with your lips all the secrets you had kept during that cruel summer.

[cnnmairoll]

hello hello! may i ask for a luka x fem!reader where luka sees reader taking care of the moles and he just gets this very homey and fluffy feeling within him? :'DD please only do it if you're comfortable + are okay with doing it given your sched!!! have a great day/night ahead!

The Moles' Beloved Miss

Pairing : Luka x Fem!Reader Genre : Fluff a/n : When I saw this rec I immediately stopped whatever I was doing and got into writing. Luka favoritism? Yes but I'm not sorry for it. Anyways hope you liked this anon!!

You had always been the nurturing type. Whether it was tending to your garden, or baking cookies for your neighbors, your heart was as warm as your freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. You had a special place in your heart for children, which is why it was no surprise that you found yourself surrounded by a group of adventurous kids who called themselves "The Moles."

You had become fast friends with Hook and the other members of The Moles, Timmy and Julian. It all started when you noticed them playing in the park one day. Hook had taken a tumble, and you couldn't resist rushing to her aid. Since then, you had become their go-to caregiver, a role you embraced wholeheartedly.

One breezy afternoon, you sat in the center of a circle of Moles, their eyes wide with wonder as you spun a fantastical tale of knights, dragons, and magical kingdoms. They hung onto every word, their imaginations running wild.

Meanwhile, not too far away, Luka watched with a soft smile. He had always been drawn to your nurturing spirit, and your ability to bring joy to these young souls only deepened his admiration for you.

As your storytelling session concluded, Hook, the self proclaimed leader of the Moles, jumped up with enthusiasm. "Miss, can we hear more stories tomorrow? Pretty please?"

You chuckled, ruffling Hook's hair affectionately. "Of course, Hook. I'll have a new adventure ready for you."

Timmy and Julian exchanged excited glances, and Luka couldn't help but be touched by the happiness radiating from the children.

After your storytelling session, the Moles led you on a little expedition through the hidden corners of Belobog's Underworld. They showed you their secret hideouts, mysterious caves, and all their favorite spots for games. Along the way, you couldn't help but notice their youthful curiosity and wonder, and it warmed your heart.

As the day turned into evening, you returned to your small cottage in Belobog's Underworld. It was a cozy little place with wooden walls and a thatched roof, and it felt like a second home. You had a feeling Luka was responsible for its comfort, as he often popped by with small surprises, like freshly baked cookies or a bouquet of wildflowers.

Tonight, as you entered your cottage with the Moles in tow, you discovered a delightful surprise. The room was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, and the smell of something delicious wafted through the air.

"Miss, look!" Julian exclaimed, pointing to a table laden with cookies, hot chocolate, and a pile of storybooks.

Hook grinned mischievously. "Luka helped us set up this surprise for you, Miss!"

And there, standing by the table, was Luka himself, wearing his characteristic warm smile. "I thought we could all have some cookies and milk and continue with the stories," he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

The Moles cheered in delight, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of happiness in your chest. You all gathered around the table, munching on cookies, sipping hot chocolate, and sharing tales long into the night.

Luka, with his infectious enthusiasm, added to the magic of the evening. He told stories of his own adventures, ones that inspired the Moles to dream even bigger. As the hours passed, you couldn't help but admire the way he connected with the children, just as you did.

The night drew to a close, and as the Moles left your cottage with tired smiles and full hearts, Luka lingered behind. He looked at you, his blue eyes filled with warmth and admiration.

"Thank you," he said softly, "for bringing so much joy to their lives. You have a gift.

You blushed, feeling grateful for Luka and the bond you shared with the Moles. "It's my pleasure, Luka. And thank you for always being there to support us."

With a fond smile, Luka reached out and gently held your hand. "You know," he began, "I think the Moles are right. You're like a guardian angel to them. And to me."

As you looked into Luka's eyes, you realized that this peculiar little corner of Belobog's Underworld had become a place of magic and wonder, filled with friendship and love. And in that moment, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world.

[geddy-leesbian]

A carved oak table tells a tale, of times when kings and queens sipped wine from goblets gold, and the brave would lead their ladies from out of the room to arbors cool. A time of valor, and legends born. A time when honor meant much more to a man than life, and the days knew only strife to tell right from wrong through lance and sword.

fantasy + cowboys + don quixote variety pack for Serennedy week

plus little snippet of a princess Luis story:

It's the moment of truth. Leon has hacked and slashed his way through what felt like endless waves of monstrous wolves and gigantic insects, navigated through a maze of a garden lined with thorny bushes, and solved a few puzzles. Finally he's reached the base of the tower. If the stories he's heard are true, there's a beautiful princess up at the top waiting to be rescued.

Scaling the tower isn't too bad. There's hardy vines growing on it, that Leon is able to use like a rope to climb up to the lone window at the tower's top. His heart races as he heaves himself through the window. There might be a beautiful princess in the room. A princess so beautiful and special that Leon will actually be attracted to her without conscious effort, and she'll be so grateful to finally be rescued that she'll agree to marry him right away.

Or the room will be empty, and Leon will just have to make peace with the fact he's going to die alone, because this whole “find a princess to rescue” thing was his last ditch effort after years of trying and completely failing to court women the normal ways.

Shutters magically snap shut behind Leon, covering the window, trapping him. The room is lavishly furnished. At the center is a large canopy bed, with intricately carved wood posts and lacy fabrics. And there's a figure in a dress laying on it. Success. It isn't until Leon gets closer that he realizes: It's a man. He approaches stealthily, dagger drawn and presses it to the man's throat.

“Oye, what the hell are you doing?! Barging into someone's bedroom, putting a knife to their throat?”

“There's supposed to be a princess here. You've got her dress. Where is she? What did you do to her?”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but there is no princess here. Never has been. Just a very charming prince who happens to enjoy wearing his mother's dresses.”

“You're kidding.”

“No, you have the wrong castle, hero boy. But, while you're here… Untie my hands?”

“I can't believe this,” Leon complains, rolling the man over and using his dagger to cut the rope tying his hands together. “I went through hell to get here expecting my soul mate, and instead I get you.”

“Easy, easy. I may not be the princess you expected, but I'm not nothing either! Can the handsome and amazing Prince Luis Serra know his savior's name?”

“Leon.”

“Thank you, Sir Leon,” Luis purrs, before breaking Leon's brain a little bit by boldly going in for a kiss. “Now let's get out of here. Just a few flights of stairs, no more traps. Oh, and there's a dragon at the bottom of the tower that you'll have to slay.”

“Of course there is. Whatever.”

[bevswashere]

Koi No Yokan

Chapter 32: Departure

December 2013 The next morning.

Shigeri presses his lips to the lobe of my ear, hands enveloping mine tightly. "We need to celebrate the engagement more once you're back."

"What kind of celebration?"

"Nice dinners," he kisses my jaw softly, "My sister will want to go out with us too," my cheek, "We can finally visit the National Garden in Shinjuku like you've been asking," my nose, "And we also need to practice."

I run my hand through the ends of his hair. "Practice what?"

"You know," he smiles, "Consummating the marriage."

"Oh, Sensei!" Sachi waves from the top of the stairs to the courtyard, running down towards us with the other two trailing behind. Shigeri and I pull apart immediately. "You don't have to do that, Uematsu Sensei," he smiles, so large that his eyes squeeze shut. "We all know you and Kamo Sensei are together."

I fail to find my next words, and stutter profusely. Perhaps because I'm their teacher or simply because I'm older, I don't feel the urge to scream to the world that I'm with Shigeri—not the way I had with Satoru. This partnership felt reserved, private, but at the same time, concrete. I'm not being held over the edge of a cliff with him and I like that.

Shigeri laughs, "Don't embarrass her, Sachi-kun."

"Is it true you're leaving?" Sachi asks, "Who's going to look after us?"

"Shigeri—I mean Kamo Sensei will take care of everything," I say, "It'll go by quickly. You won't even realize I'm gone."

"They said they're sending you away because Ryomen Sukuna is after you." Runa arrives at the ground level of the courtyard with Iwao, little ribbons tied into the bottom of her braids.

"Who said that?"

"The other students. It's a test they said. If you manage to find a finger overseas, then he really is drawn to you."

My saliva gets caught in the center of my throat, rolling down painfully slowly from Runa's soulless tone, her steel, wide eyes staring straight into mine.

"Don't believe everything you hear, Runa-chan," Shigeri says lightly, "The other students like to scare each other with rumors."

Runa's voice is small, but clear, "And if it's not just a rumor?"

"It is a rumor." I force myself to smile. "Besides, if the day ever comes when I have to face him, I'll win."

"Of course you would, Sensei!" Sachi pumps his fist into the air, "We'd be right there with you!"

"Good." I smile again, genuinely this time. "I like that attitude."

We let the students break into their own chatter as we wait for my departure. Shigeri leans in, lowers his voice so only I can hear, "Students don't come up with those kinds of rumors on their own."

"Yaga mentioned something before," I say, "About sending Kei-chan to monitor me."

His brow furrows. "You think it's true, then? That this is some kind of test?"

I glance at my students, laughing, bright-eyed, hope still intact. "I don't know."

"This is ridiculous," he scoffs, "Using you as bait for Sukuna—or baiting you into giving them a reason to have you executed. All of this trouble," his jaw tightens, "For coincidence."

I shift my eyes from them to the endless sky above, the clouds moving slowly through an even blue. "Six times is too many for a coincidence. If I am the reason the fingers are being gathered into one place.... Maybe something should be done about me."

"How can you say that?" The sick look on his face is no longer the one reserved for the higher ups. It's more pitiful than that, more personal. "We're getting married, Kaede. Spending our lives together. You understand that, right? We're not in the position to self-sacrifice anymore."

"It's bigger than just the two of us."

He grabs my hand with a sudden force, "Exactly, which means even if you give up, another sorcerer will come along and be targeted by him all the same. Who will be there to protect them?"

I sensed him far sooner than I could hear him. "Good morning!"

Satoru was waving at us from the top of the courtyard, cursed energy drowning us so far beneath him. For a fraction of a moment, I saw his long limbs, smiling and waving on the grounds of a school he hadn't been to for years and I saw him—seventeen and in uniform, hair bunched up at the back of his head, running towards me with the urgency I adored.

"Are these your students?"

"No way!" Sachi cried, "Gojo Satoru?"

Though Iwao and Runa's reactions were not as vocal, I could see their eyes scanning him in awe. It's times like these I remember he's merely a concept to most Jujutsu sorcerers, an unattainable symbol of strength. None of them really know his voice or his eyes, that he's ticklish around the torso, or gets confused trying to build furniture. That he likes to feed stray cats and is awful at karaoke. He's not human to them.

Is he still human to me?

"What are you doing here?"

"I brought a gift for your travels." He pulls a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, the same round-rimmed pair he had worn while we were students. "Try them on."

"I won't be able to see."

"I had the lenses changed," he says, "It's one-way glass now."

My mistake was reaching out for them, raising the hand with the ring I know he immediately saw. But when he goes on speaking as if nothing has happened, I'm... wounded almost. All the little things about him I held safe in my memory seemed to fade out within a second. They're not about him anymore, they're about someone else—someone who was still human.

The world is masked in gray by the glasses, a mourning color. "It's... nice." My words are heavy, struggling to find their way past my lips. I pull them off almost immediately. "Thanks."

"They're the only ones I've owned," he says, "One of a kind."

"Maybe you should keep them."

"No." His hands disappear in his pockets. "They're yours."

"It's useful for your technique," Shigeri—too kind for his own good—offers, "Now they won't know where you're looking."

The air thickens around me. I can feel the glasses in my hand, the fragility of frames I could crush between my fingers if I really wanted to—but I didn't. I couldn't let go of the Satoru who used to wear them. "I think I'll go now."

"Really?" Shigeri says, "You still have some time."

"No, I should leave." The distance would be better for our engagement, for my own sanity—maybe even the preservation of Satoru and I's friendship. "Take care of each other, okay?"

Sachi grins. "Don't forget about us while you're gone, Sensei!"

"How could I forget you guys?" I manage a smile. "I'll be searching for your souvenirs the entire time."

"Sensei..." Runa speaks up, eyes wandering as if she's reconsidering, "...Be careful."

Shigeri squeezes my hand one last time, pressing down on his ring. "Come back soon."

And then, like the final nail in my coffin, Satoru speaks calmly, "Safe travels."

I look at him, an immense pressure forcing the air out of my lungs, and I can't speak. I can only turn away like a coward and leave everyone before the situation confuses me more than it already has.  

[pinkpoweredpunk]

---

VIDEO: Blake is seen walking along Castelia's docks, overlooking the bay where the inky black waves roll lazily against the bleak, gray city shores. Their two newest additions to the team, Phaedra and Boo, are out with them- the Sandile waddling behind them, and the Yamask loosely linking his arm with theirs as he drifts along with them. The two young Pokemon gawk and marvel at the city sights around them, but Blake seems focused on getting wherever they're headed. "They're probably still waiting for us at the center," They say, briefly looking back at their companions. "Rotom, can you shoot them both a text and say we're on our..." Blake trails off when their eyes are drawn to something up ahead, and they come to a stop. Rotom whirs, then flips around to let you see what they're looking at- a person donning a Plasma Grunt uniform sitting casually on a bench with one leg propped up over the other, tapping away at some device on his wrist. For a moment, you see Blake recoil back apprehensively, but that confused scowl quickly lights up in realization. "Cole?" The teen turns at the sound of his name, and he seems just as surprised. He stumbles up from his seat, and waves awkwardly. "Blake? I didn't think you'd still be in Castelia." "I'm about to leave," They say with a shrug, awkwardly glancing towards Boo. "I just came to get my friends so we can head out." "Right, your friends..." Cole murmurs, and Blake raises a brow when something in the boy's expression seems to sadden. "...How are Cheren and Bianca, by the way?" "...You know them?" "We..." He briefly fidgets with the fabric of his uniform sleeve. "We were in the same first grade class. We basically grew up together, but uh- we haven't talked in like, a year. Small world, huh?" "Oh," Blake nods towards red roof of the Pokemon Center in the distance. "I was just about to go meet with them! You can come, if you wa-" "No, no, it's fine!" Cole quickly declines, frantically waving his hands in refusal. "I- I shouldn't- I shouldn't let them see me like this..." "But..." Blake frowns in concern at his protest. "If you told them you're just undercover, I'm sure they'd understand?" "Tr-trust me, it's for the best if as few people know about what I'm doing as possible..." He sighs, eyes falling to his boots dejectedly. "I'm here on a mission, anyways. In fact, I should probably-" "A mission?" Blake stops him just as he's about to turn and hurry away. "Team Plasma has some secret operation going on at Liberty Garden," he explains, gesturing out to sea, where you can see the silhouette of the aforementioned island against the thick fog. "I don't know what they could possibly want there, but it can't be good. I have to go and try to stop whatever it is they're doing!" Blake takes a minute to process everything he's telling them, then shakes their head and pinches the bridge of their nose. "Wait, wait wait- you're telling me you're planning to sabotage them, alone, no backup, on a tiny, secluded island out at sea? And somehow keep up your undercover identity?" "It... uh, well..." Cole, stutters over himself, like he's realizing now himself the scale of what he's trying to pull off. "I've... handled... worse, before." Blake just looks at him doubtfully, then sighs, running a hand over the side of their face. "Yeah, no, kid, that isn't going to work in a million years." "Well at least I'm actually trying to do something, unlike someone!" He jabs a finger at their shoulder accusingly. "I get it, okay? You think I'm in way over my head, and-" "Cole, wait," They interrupt, and give another long exhale as they rub their temple. "Look, you are way in over your head. Which is why I... I'll help you." "You-" Cole is about to keep ranting, but then blinks in surprise. "What?" "I... had time to think about what you said last time," they admit. "A-and uh, also, I had another run in with Plasma, too. A... pretty bad one." "I heard our base here was compromised..." Cole rubs his chin, and looks back up at them when he puts the pieces together. "That was you?!"

"And a few friend," Blake chuckles, but their serious tone is quick to return. "It made me realize just how big a deal Plasma is. They... they hurt people I care about," their gaze momentarily falls to where King's ball hangs on their belt. "And I'm not about to let them get away with it. I'm sorry I didn't take you seriously before..."

Cole simply stares at them for a moment, processing their words. Eventually, he just sighs, and offers them a forgiving smile. "It's alright. I guess I can't blame you too much. It's like you said- you came here for school, not to do hero business."

"I don't think I could escape hero business if I tried," they huff lightheartedly, but... there is a hint of sad acceptance in their eyes. It's gone as quick as you notice it, though, as they look to Cole and cross their arms. "But hey, I might as well try and do what I can to help, right?"

"Thank you," Cole says, sounding relieved as he turns towards and points his finger at an ominous black boat docked not too far from where they stand. "That's the ship they're boarding and taking to the island. We set sail about two hours from now."

"Alright." Blake nods affirmatively. "...Any plan to get me on there, or...?"

"Actually, I do happen to have one," Cole says with a grin, then reaches for the duffle bag he had hidden underneath the bench he'd been sitting on before. He crouches down, rummages through it, then pulls out a white piece of clothing with the Plasma insignia printed on it. "You any good an actor?"

---

[kariachi]

Okay, part of the problem with the cutscenes in USUM is that so many of them just, aren't necessary.

For instance, most recent part I've played, let's look at how the Aether Foundation and Malie City go.

Aether Foundation is introduced in a cutscene

You get a max 30 second break to run around a small area with nothing to do

Then you get another cutscene where you meet Lusamine

Then a quick battle with Nihilego

Then another long cutscene comprising of leaving Aether and the ferry ride to Ula'Ula

Theh another to introduce Malie City and remind you to go to Malie Garden

Hit up the pokemon center, it and the docks being the only thing before Mali Garden

Walk four steps and get waylaid by Hau for a battle and reminder to hit up Malie Garden

Don't bother trying to walk passed it- Lillie will stop you and remind you to go to Malie Garden

Get a cutscene as you enter Malie Garden

Get to run around a little bit, do some exploring, until you come across Kukui

Another cutscene that's functionally just 'we saw an Ultra Beast!' 'Cool! Go down Route 10 and do your next trial!'

Leave Malie Garden and run directly into a scene with Lillie who says she's going to the library

Freedom! You can explore the city as long as you don't get too close to the library entrance, and maybe even go onto Route 11 I didn't try it

Still though, Route 12 is closed off until you finish your next trial and 11 is short so the only other way to go is Route 10

Try and you will be stopped until you finish the Lillie stuff

Go to the library and you immediately get a cutscene that exists only to go 'btw Hapu is here too and might help Lillie, some other time'

In the library, a cutscene and then a brief moment of getting to walk around

Another cutscene

Finally get actual freedom to leave the town and do whatever- at least until you get to the end of Route 10 where Kukui arrives to go 'pokemon league *winkwink*' and escort you onto the damn bus to the next trial

It's ridiculous. And entirely unnecessary. You could literally cut out the entire thing with Malie Garden and it would change nothing except having less railroading and cutscenes. It doesn't do anything for you, the game's not about to let you miss the next trial, you literally can't go anywhere else without backtracking. And having multiple little cuts there for the Lillie stuff is just- Again, you don't need it.

Just, have your team heal at the end of the Aether cutscenes. Hau challenges you when you arrive in Malie City. Cut the whole Malie Garden deal. That frees up a bit of breathing space. Put Lillie a little farther up the road, so players can notice and go to investigate the Garden themselves if they'd like without being drawn into her stuff damn near off the bat.

When you trigger her scene she asks about her mom, then notes that she hit a clothes shop up the road and got a new outfit, though she can't see herself wearing it (a statement that especially so soon after meeting Lusamine and with so little between them would put a pin in player's heads). She tells you she's planning to hit up the library, and hopes she'll be able to find it on her own before heading off.

Look at that! With just that we've cut out a good three cutscenes! And a roadblock! Then you can have Lillie's library stuff trigger when you enter the library, with her noting that she got lost on her way there but a nice lady with a Mudsdale showed her where to go. This cuts out another cutscene. If you really want to open shit up, you could allow the player to just rush right up Route 10, since the path back from the trial drops you back in Malie City right next to the library anyway.

Without the Malie Garden stuff, you can cut that bit of Kukui faff at the end of Route 10, instead giving him just the whole League monologue at the top of the mountain. Instead, if you have to get him informed of the Wormhole stuff you see, you can add that to the stuff that comes after the trial, which I fucking hope is not as much a slog as all this shit- it has been a while. It would still be annoying but less so.

And bam! You open up and lift the weight off a whole portion of the game that feels bogged down! It would be less work even, aside from possibly putting in some code to trigger the Rotomdex to go 'oh hey isn't that the library Lillie wanted to visit the first time you enter Malie City from that direction if you haven't already met up with her. But for some reason I doubt that's that much more effort than putting together four extra cutscenes and two roadblocks.

[chiskz]

《 FIREWELL - STRAY KIDS' 1ST DIGITAL EP 》

♡𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @alyszaen , @smh-anon , @neohyxn , @stealanity , @alixnsuperstxr , @kimcheon-sa , @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs , @qtnoaly

♡ 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝟏. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐔𝐬 (𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧)

Lyrics by Changbin (3RACHA), CHICHI

Composed by Changbin (3RACHA)

Arranged by Bang Chan (3RACHA)

Length: 3:09

𝟐. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐲 (𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐇𝐀𝐍)

Lyrics by HAN (3RACHA), Lee Know

Composed by HAN (3RACHA), Bang Chan (3RACHA)

Arranged by Bang Chan (3RACHA)

Length: 2:58

𝟑. 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 (𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧, 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱, 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧)

Lyrics by Bang Chan (3RACHA), Felix, Seungmin

Composed by Bang Chan (3RACHA), Seungmin, VERSACHOI

Arranged by VERSACHOI, Bang Chan (3RACHA)

Length: 3:17

𝟒. 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 (𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧, 𝐈.𝐍)

Lyrics by Hyunjin, I.N

Composed by Hyunjin, CHICHI, Bang Chan (3RACHA)

Arranged by Bang Chan (3RACHA)

Length: 3:22

𝟓. 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥

Lyrics by Bang Chan (3RACHA), Changbin (3RACHA), HAN (3RACHA)

Composed by Bang Chan (3RACHA), Changbin (3RACHA), HAN (3RACHA), DallasK

Arranged by DallasK, Bang Chan (3RACHA)

Length: 3:04

♡ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋

1. The Light Above Us

I can't explain it. Sometimes I don't know where to go. Fortunately, you are like a star. You watch over me and guide me... Forever and always.

Changbin once again proves how much fun he has with music. An energetic yet nostalgic sounding ballad with fast rap parts sounds impossible? Not for "The Light Above Us" from this extraordinary duo - CHICHI and Changbin!

2. That's What You Say

With time it will get easier, with time it will be lighter. In time I will come to terms with all this, even if it is impossible now. Well... at least that's what you say.

Do you long for the memory of summer, the warmth of the sun and nostalgic conversations with friends over a flavored beer at a plastic table in the garden? Lee Know and HAN come to the rescue with their light, country-inspired song with a deep message.

3. FORBIDDEN ROUTES

Don't go there? Don't do it? Don't say it? Wear something else? Now I want to do it even more, thank you for giving me the courage. What? What can I do about always being drawn to forbidden routes?

From the amazing trio of Bang Chan, Felix, and Seungmin, you can expect nothing less than a song that will stuck in your head for a long time. The phonk sound with a pinch of Stray Kids' signature ODDINARY album sounds will make you want nothing more than to stand up to everything and everyone around you just to be yourself.

4. Promise

Among all these people I see only you and I will always be able to find only you. Maybe because you are the one I am always looking for? Please, always look for me with your eyes the same way as I do. Let this be our promise.

This song from Hyunjin and I.N has only seemingly innocent lyrics. The sweet melody gradually turns into almost orchestral music filled with suffering. "Promise" is a veritable rollercoaster of emotions that perfectly describes the state of longing for someone who was never ours.

5. Firewell

The fire is burning, you can't do anything about it anymore. I am here, holding your hand, but the fire will not stop. We can only watch until we find ourselves in the flames. Only then will there be a farewell to the past.

Accepting ourselves and trying to be the best version of ourselves at the same time are values that Stray Kids have been teaching us for a long time. Sometimes the healthiest thing we can do for ourselves is to break with the past, but we can't completely forget it either, because it's what shaped us - that's what Stray Kids talk about in this lively song, in which an electric guitar takes center stage for the first time. Also once again, we get the great wordplay of combining Fire with Farewell - fire plays a key role in the song when saying a symbolic goodbye to the past.

[[ descriptions come from a music critic who has already been able to listen to the album! ]]

♡ 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐭

♡ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚

chichi and changbin wrote their song while staying in tokyo last year.

minho and jisung's song was supposed to be jisung's solo at the beginning, but he felt bad singing it alone.

forbidden routes was supposed to be on ODDINARY album, but didn't end up there in the end (hence the similar musical vibe).

hyunjin and jeongin are the only ones who wrote a unit song specially for the album. they wrote it in one night.

firewell was written by 3RACHA at a similar time to The Sound and was originally intended to be in Japanese.

there is a physical version of the album, but it can only be purchased by fanclub members.

chichi participated in composing Promise when Hyunjin asked her to - this is because his favorite song from MEMBER BRANDING is dans l'obscurité

♡ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐭

[sleepyfangirl18]

Random thought about who V (in the movie) is.

This may have been discussed already and I just haven't seen it. It seems the most popular theory is that V is Valerie. But if V is someone we were introduced to and not some random, unknown character (which I've thought ever since I saw the movie in theaters), then I think Ruth makes sense.

I came to this conclusion because when V came for Dr. Delia she told him that she received one of his flowers, a Scarlet Carson, earlier. And in Valerie's letter, she said that Ruth grew Scarlet Carsons for her. How did Dr. Delia know the Scarlet Carson was V's flower? We never saw what happened to Ruth after she was taken but we did see that Valerie was kept in a similar room as Evey. Maybe Ruth had some kind of gardening role in the detention center before the experimentation?

Also, in her letter Valerie said she was going to die in there and seemed to be barely holding on to life. And we saw her body getting thrown in the pile with all the others who died. But Dr. Delia said the person in room V was responding differently than everyone else, getting stronger, faster, etc.

This also fits with Evey saying that V was getting back at them for what they did to Valerie. And can you imagine? If that was how Ruth found out Valerie died?! Ruth was taken when she was out getting groceries and they hadn't crossed paths in the detention center (I'm assuming they didn't since Valerie didn't mention it in the letter). So she had no idea what happened to Valerie, and then she gets the letter from someone else who was just passing it along to bring hope to another prisoner.

It also explains the shrine V had to Valerie, which was filled with Scarlet Carsons. Seems like something Ruth would do, if she survived and Valerie did not.

And it makes sense why V would be drawn to the letter V.

Just a thought ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[tessiete]

Either of this for Korkie and Obi-wan pretty please? 👁

• ansare - to hardly breathe, to be out of breath

• selcouth - unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful

@featheredmoonwings Look! Look! I did it! It took me ages, but I did it! I...I do feel as though each attempt is getting better though I think ultimately the take away from the end of this is not quuuuuuite as clear, or as focused as I intended. Still, I think what I meant is *in* there. I'm trying!

Anyway, all that said, thank you for the lovely prompt! I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you enjoy it <3

selcouth

He’s in the dining hall, fork halfway to his mouth, when his aunt comms him asking if he’d like to come with her to Coruscant. Later, he’ll wonder if there’s a catch, some sort of agreement lying in wait he’ll have to adhere to. He’s missing class to go. Perhaps she’s arranged some extra assignment, or a supplementary report to be handed in upon his return. Maybe there’s a junior delegation he’ll be required to join to justify his attendance. Or maybe he’s meant to act as her personal aide, standing silent and attentive in every meeting.

It doesn’t matter. He says yes. He’d agree to anything, he wants to go so badly.

“What do you think you’ll do there?” asks Lagos. Her envy is so potent he can practically feel it curling the ends of his hair with its heat. 

He throws her an infuriating smirk – the kind he knows she hates. “I don’t know,” he says. “Probably meet a lot of important people. Emperors. Queens. Maybe even a Jedi. Maybe –” he catches himself. “Maybe I’ll send you some holos so you won’t feel left out.”

Lagos tuts, and crosses her arms but promises to water his daesyn while he’s gone. He takes his databank, his pad, and – almost as an afterthought – he grabs the little paper book on botany from beneath his pillow. Just because…well, somehow it feels wrong to go without it. 

This is silly because on Coruscant, the person who gave it to him will be closer than ever.

–

“Do you think we’ll have time to go to the Cala Brin Gardens?” he asks his aunt. Coruscant looms in the viewport, and they’ve received their docking permits. Only a few more minutes before they’re breaking atmosphere, and Korkie can contain his enthusiasm no longer.

“If you like,” she replies, smiling.

“And the Galactic City Library? Or maybe the Shrine of the Laughing Goddess? I know that’s on the other side of the planet, but I read they’ve put in those vactracks now that make the magna-trains look like a fathier-drawn carriages.”

“They’re not quite that fast.”

“Faster,” he says. “Do you think we can go to the Temple?”

His aunt frowns. “The Temple?”

“The Jedi Grand Temple. I checked – it’s open to the public. At least, parts of it are. The Archives, apparently, and they’ve got a gallery of relics –”

“Korkie –”

“They’re open to the public, so anyone can go. It wouldn’t mean anything.” He can feel how his aunt withdraws like a physical thing against his skin, like the bristles of a brush bending back. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Anyone can go.”

She waits to speak until there is nothing left on her tongue but denial. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

Korkie feels his own upset eating out the center of his chest like acid, filling his mouth with a sharp and bitter taste. “Then what was the point of coming here at all?”

–

She takes him to the opera. He toggles through the list of languages on the babble-deck until Stewjoni comes up. The letters are strange and he can’t read them, but through the headset provided, he can hear the music translated into this foreign tongue. 

He takes the botany book to the Gardens. His aunt takes him on a path that meanders through a thicket of trees before opening into a wide meadow dotted with thousands of little white flowers like stars in the night sky. She points out a clutch of Mandalorian peace lilies growing in a grove of galek trees. He’s seen one of those before in the Civic Center, but never so many together. On their way out, one of the little star flowers drops into his path.  When no one is looking, he picks it up and presses it between the pages of his book, hoping that the nectar won’t stain the ancient paper leaves.

At the Galactic City Library, the librarians there tell him not to worry! There is even more to be found here than in the Jedi Archives. But he knows that is impossible. The library could be as big as the planet itself, and it still wouldn’t hold what Korkie is looking for.

They pass by platoons of clone soldiers on their way back to their hired speeder. Korkie can’t help but be fascinated by their presence. He’s looked at his own face and seen his aunt in it. He has her nose, he knows, and her mouth. But he wonders what it’s like at someone else and see your reflection. 

“Don’t stare, Korkie,” his aunt chides. “Now come quickly, before we miss our afternoon sup. I promised you little cakes!”

The soldiers disappear, and Korkie turns back to his aunt, eyes gleaming.

“You did, indeed!” he says, and they take of racing to see who makes it to the speeder first.

Most mornings, though, his aunt goes to work at the Senate building. Korkie goes with her. They have breakfast in her office, and she regales him with stories he’s never heard before about her university days in the city, or anecdotes about the most ridiculous stunts pulled in the Convocation Chamber, or what she thinks he positively has to see while he’s here. Afterwards, she holds private conference hours out of her own office. Initially, Korkie had worried that he’d have to attend these, too. Perhaps these sessions were the catch and he’d be expected to observe and report back.

But no. Instead, his aunt hands him a chit full of credits, assigns a Protector and an aide, and sends him off to explore the city. Sometimes he’ll glance at her itinerary before he goes, though he rarely recognises any of the names. This makes sense. After all, her friends tend to visit after hours. What he does recognise is the frequency of delegates and diplomats making appointments with military titles.

“We are at war, kairkiyc,” his aunt reminds him gently when he points this out.

“Well, the Republic maybe,” he says. “But we aren’t.”

Mandalore is neutral. Mandalore is safe. While these captains and generals bow and scrape, he remembers how his aunt stood in front of her own parliament on Commemoration Day two years ago. The Republic had just declared its intentions against the Separatist faction while the Duchess recited her Names of the Fallen, and promised her people never again. 

“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” Her voice is light, and her smile is wide and clear as she welcomes the next soldier into her office.

Korkie leaves, his freedom settling easily upon his shoulders. The day is bright, and the city of Coruscant is vast. There is no limit to the things he might do. He might go see a holoflick, or visit a gaming lounge. He meanders the shopping district, and tries on suits in the modern styles of distant stars. He overindulges on glass pearls in the heart of the culinary district, and then later throws them all up after spending the afternoon at a theme park that has a coaster with a drop of three city levels. He skirts the edge of every district that surrounds the Temple, but his aunt’s caution nags at him and so he keeps his distance. Close, but never touching. It wouldn’t do to draw suspicion, and he is never without eyes on him. The aide keeps time so that he gets back to the Senate before dark. The Protector follows behind.

–

Once the sun sets and the work of the day has been put to rest like a recalcitrant child, his aunt receives more welcome visitors to her offices.

Senator Organa, he knows. He has been to Mandalore before, and though Korkie is endlessly curious and eager to see the wider galaxy, and though he appreciates the insight into the mechanisms of governance, he can’t help but feel relief at the sight of a familiar face here on this strange world.

The senator passes Korkie a small parcel of Alderaanian candy. A label reads sweets for the sweet in his wife’s hand. Korkie grimaces. It seems Her Majesty The Queen still thinks him three years old and unblooded. But after the first bite of licorice kangan he forgives her.

“So! Is the seat of galactic democracy everything you thought it’d be?” Organa asks.

“There’s a lot more paperwork than I imagined,” Korkie says, mouth full.

Organa chuckles.  “Tell me about it.”

Korkie likes Organa. He likes how he carries himself. He likes the easiness of his laughter and the flexibility of his good humor. He likes how Organa listens to his opinions on things without interruption, and without throwing indulgent looks in his aunt’s direction. He likes that he drives his speeder with the roof down, even at the height of Coruscant traffic. He likes that he doesn’t tell him to sit back when he leans over the side to see how far down the city levels go. He likes that on their way back to his aunt’s apartments near the Senate, he slows down and points out the Jedi Temple as if it is a new thing and not something Korkie has thought about or imagined a million times. Korkie lets him believe this.

“That’s the Processional Way,” Bail says, pointing at a long mall lined by ancient stone figures. “That’s the route a Jedi takes the day before he’s knighted. Then, they climb the spire to spend a night meditation. Do you know anything about the Jedi?”

“A bit,” Korkie says, leaning over the door to get a better look. Temple airspace is restricted, but he can see the tiny flecks of shadow walking up and down the path. He imagines what it must be like to walk it. The sound of his feet against the stone. The swirl of robes brushing the back of his calves. The wind spilling over the towers and flowing along the concourse like a river. The weight of a sabre at his hip. The brush of the Force at his fingertips. “Do you?”

“Can anyone ever know the Jedi?” Bail chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, in my experience, they’re never quite what you expect.”

“Have you ever met one?”

Bail laughs. “Oh, I’ve met many.”

“I met one,” he says, looking back over his shoulder with great authority. “Ahsoka Tano. Though she was just a Padawan, I suppose. And I – Do you know Master Kenobi? I met him once, too.”

“Master Kenobi, of course,” says Bail. “One of my good friends. You’ll never meet a better Jedi than him. Or a better man.”

“He’s not what you expect?”

Bail laughs. “No,” he says. “He’s better.”

The Temple glistens gold in the sunset.

–

Garm Bel Iblis is easygoing and free with his laughter, too, but even so, he frightens Korkie. There’s just something about him that seems dangerous as if even his joy must be held in check. But his aunt assures him he’s harmless. 

“As harmless as a tooka in a toko nest,” Korkie mutters.

His aunt laughs, and gets out her best bottle of tihaar, cracking it open at the same moment Bel Iblis lets himself into her rooms. Garm has come for a visit three times in the last week. Always, he has exceptional timing, and he never turns down a drink. Usually, Korkie joins them with a frizzpop or a tea, letting the tide of their conversation roll in and out, and drag on and on. But this time, when he sees the two tumblers Satine has set out he winks at Korkie and tells her she might as well get another.

“How old are you, kid? Man enough, I’d say. Your Honorable Grace, we ought to raise a toast to your nephew’s first trip to the Core.”

“I’ve been to Alderaan before,” Korkie protests.

Garm claps him on the arm. “Coruscant ain’t Alderaan. Come on, Satine, let the kid have a drink.”

Shockingly, his aunt agrees. 

He sits with the alcohol cradled in his hands, sipping when his aunt takes a sip, and when he’s finished, Garm laughs and says, “Better keep an eye on the boy, Satine. No one’s that stoic if it’s really their first taste of tihaar.”

Korkie ducks his head as his cheeks flush, the heat of the alcohol only heightening the heat of his embarrassment. He coughs, but it’s clear the deception comes far too late – it serves no other purpose than to send Garm into a bout of raucous laughter.

His aunt hums speculatively as Korkie turns his glass over in his hands.

“Would anyone like a drink of water?” he asks. 

“No, but you can bring the bottle if you’re going to the cold box.” Garm shakes his tumbler, rattling the ice cubes that have yet to melt.

Korkie rolls his eyes but obeys. The tihaar has left a sweet-sour taste on his tongue that reminds him of school, and of his guilt. He pours some water into his empty glass and downs it before refilling it again. Behind him, he can hear snatches of a conversation about people he doesn’t know going places he’s never been.

“I saw Amidala on my way up,” says Garm. “She mentioned dinner plans. You’ve been dithering about for two weeks. Can I assume this is your true reason for being here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Senator. I came for work – though I don’t expect you to have much understanding of that, either.”

Garm laughs again, warm and comfortable. “The best business is done over drinks,” he says.

“Then I suppose Padme is taking your lesson to heart.”

“You and I both know that dinner isn’t drinks. It’s something else.”

“A coincidence.”

“Good,” he says. Korkie hears the sound of the glass hitting the table as it’s set aside. “Then I’ll take it to mean if I were to ask you now, you’d be free tonight?

Korkie grasps the bottle of tihaar by the neck and turns back to see Garm sprawled out with his legs spread and his arms folded behind his head. His aunt laughs softly, hesitating on the edge of an answer. 

“I –”

But Korkie gets there first.

“A top up, Senator?” Korkie asks, holding the bottle out towards Garm’s glass.

Garm smirks, looking from Korkie and back to his aunt. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t think so.”

–

The next night, he gets dressed in a fine set of twill trousers and a cross-cut tunic that’s so popular in Sundari these days. He combs back his hair, and pats it down until it lies flat and orderly, parted to the side.

His aunt comes in dressed in shimmersilk. She stops short, her gaze meeting his in the mirror. Though beautiful, she looks pale, her mouth drawn and discontent drawing a line between her brows. In her hands, she holds a battered travel cloak. 

“I thought we were going to Mozca’s for dinner,” he says.

She crosses the room, pressing the cloak into his hands then raking her fingers through his hair, mussing it up.

“Hey –!”

“I am going to Mozca’s,” she says, stepping back and looking him over. He tries to sweep his hair back but it refuses to stay in place now that it’s been set free. “I am going to Mozca’s. You are not.”

“What? Why?”

She turns on her heel and hurries out of the fresher, throwing on a much more fashionable cloak over her gown. He follows after her, all confusion.

“Auntie, if this is because of the tihaar, I swear it was one drink. And it was Tav’s graduation! That was practically a year ago, and –”

“Senator Organa is waiting in a speeder downstairs.”

“I don’t want to go back to our rooms. Please can’t I come?”

“Not tonight.”

“But –”

“For Hod’s sake, Korkie, must you debate everything?”

He stops in his tracks. When maybe a few years ago he might have burst into tears and plaintive whines, he now cocks his head, the defiance of adolescence taking great offense to this accusation.

“I don’t debate everything,” he says.

His aunt merely looks at him.

He sighs. “Fine.”

He throws the ratty cloak over his shoulders and she pins it closed at the front, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek and then pulling up the hood.

“It’s cold out,” she says. “Keep this up. For my sake.”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“Remember. Senator Organa. He’s waiting in Bay Four.”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“Comm me when you –”

“Yes, Auntie. Goodness, it’s not as if I’m going to get lost between here and home.”

She only smiles at him, tight and somewhat sad. Why sad? He wants to ask but he half thinks that if he says it, she’ll confirm it, and he’d rather believe it was only the shadows and his imagination that makes her look so. Still, he keeps the hood up as he makes his way through the corridors of the Senate building and down the lifts to the docking bays. For her sake.

Senator Organa’s speeder has the roof up today.

He’s still familiar, but that ease about him is gone, replaced by a strange and worrying gravity. He throws open the passenger door, looking back over Korkie’s shoulder though no one is behind him.

Once he’s safely inside and wearing his harness, he throws back the hood and exhales against the mounting tension. Bail gives him a once over, taking in the cloak and the messy hair. 

“Thank you for the ride, Senator,” Korkie says.

Bail hums. His speculation becomes acute and Korkie squirms breaking whatever thought it was that had Bail so entwined. “Don’t mention it,” he says, then backs out of the space, dropping them into the Coruscanti night.

–

Organa doesn’t take him home. 

Instead, he asks, “Are you hungry?” and without waiting for an answer, he drops them down several levels and swings into park at a seedy little diner on the edge of a district.

Korkie looks at the restaurant. He wants to be polite, but he’s never been down this low before, he’s never been out alone with Senator Organa before, and he promised his Aunt he’d go straight home. 

The Senator reaches over and lifts his hood back up. Then, in a voice that makes Korkie think they ought to be whispering in a dark corner of the Senate building, he says, “Keep this up, and keep your head down. Find Dex. Dex, okay? He’s a besalisk. You know what that is?”

“Yes.”

“Only Dex. You find him, and you tell him that Ben’s waiting for you.”

“Who’s Ben?”

“Talk to no one else.”

“Senator –”

“Do you understand?”

It’s strange. He ought to be afraid. But just like with Almec, there is no fear. Only a calm kind of certainty. There is danger here, but it doesn’t come from the senator. He can be trusted.

“I understand,” he says.

Then, he exits the speeder and walks toward the diner with his shoulders hunched and his face hidden by the fall of his cloak.

Inside, it is as if all the light of the city has been condensed and poured out into cup. There are voices raised in laughter and debate. The smell of fried food and syrupy sweets floats through the air, mingling with the chemical tang of cheap cleaning supplies. A sweeper droid butts at his heels, urging him out of the way, and a set of tentacles prod at his shoulders, sending him stumbling out of the way as a Parwan in a rush barrels through. 

Korkie tugs at his hood, and pushes his way up to the bar. Over the heads bobbing up and down, he sees a large alien with a ridged head and four arms slinging drinks and pushing plates. He aims for him. When he’s up against the countertop, bodies pressing him into the ledge, he reaches out to tug on the stained white hem of the besalisk’s shirt.

“Excuse me, sir –”

The besalisk turns, his frown melting into a look of comprehension.

“Let me guess. You’re looking for Ben, aren’t you?”

“I –” Korkie nods.

“Flo!” A droid whirrs up behind Korkie, bearing a tray and a load of dishes. “Show him to his seat. Then wipe your banks after.”

“Sure thing, honey,” she says. Then, her hand on Korkie’s elbow, she leads him through the throng. “This way.”

At the very back of the diner, in a tiny booth by a window with the privacy screen drawn sits a man wearing a worn grey suit similar to those worn by Senate administrators and data clerks. But he is not a clerk or a secretary. 

He is a Jedi.

Korkie’s heart leaps up to his throat as if it’s trying to make a bid for freedom as if it’s trying to reach its origin and its home. He slides into the seat. “Master Ken–”

“Thank you, Flo.”

“No problem, sugar.”

Right. No names. He understands that. He understands subtlety and subterfuge. He has lived it his whole life. Suitably chastened to silence, Korkie watches the serving droid disappear into the crowd. He licks his lips and dares to look at the Jedi again. It seems to him he very nearly shines with light, gleaming golden and bright under in the gloom of the diner.

“Seems like an awful lot of people here to be private,” Korkie says.

Master Kenobi smirks. “Sometimes the more voices speaking, the less there is being heard. I would have thought your Aunt had taught you that.”

“She – well…” He doesn’t want to insult Master Kenobi by debating with him. “Perhaps I’m only a terrible student,” he says.

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“Oh.”

Korkie wriggles in his seat, pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves, and twisting the hem of his cloak wondering what on Urch his aunt has said about him. And what is he meant to say back? It he meant to talk about his day? About his schoolwork? Is he meant to tell his father about Tav’s graduation and the tihaar they smuggled in after curfew? Is he meant to complain about his the prefects and juniors who bag for them? What does one say to the Hero of the Republic?

Master Kenobi has liberated worlds and saved thousands of lives. He lifts his lightsaber and despots fall. Dictatorships crumble to dust under the might of his fist, and tyrants surrender to the melodies of his silver tongue. He is a Jedi. To Korkie, he is the Jedi, and he remembers as a child how his aunt would point to this man in old holoreels and tell him how brave he was, how strong, how pure. His throat goes dry, the silence growing awkward and heavy.

Then they both speak at once.

“I hope you like nerf burgers –”

“I saw they had nerf burgers on the menu – oh.”

Master Kenobi makes an aborted huff. He laughs, or maybe he sighs. It’s hard to tell and Korkie has very little to compare the sound to.

“Yes,” he says. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering us a bit of everything. Or near enough. And Dex will supply the rest anyway. He’s very enthusiastic.”

“Is that the besalisk?”

“Yes. A fine chef, and cleverer than he looks. Fingers in more pies than he has hands, you know.”

“Oh.” A joke? Korkie isn’t sure, so he smothers the little laugh that beats against his teeth.

“Well, anyway…thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for – I suppose my aunt asked you to do this? I’ve been bugging her and bugging her for weeks, but I swear, I only asked to go to the Temple. It’s open to the public, you know, so it wouldn’t have to raise any – any suspicions. Not that there are any. To raise. I mean, I just – but I didn’t mean for her to put it on you. I would never have asked you –”

“I asked your m – aunt. I asked to meet with you. I didn’t know how we’d manage it, but I thought that after our last…encounter…I thought it was unfair. To ask of you so much grace, and offer you so little in return.”

“Oh,” says Korkie. He doesn’t feel lacking in grace, or whatever it is his father is speaking of, so he rushes to reassure him rather than risk him running off. “I don’t mind.”

Master Kenobi smiles. The curve of his mouth is hidden by his beard, but his eyes crinkle at the edges like the pages of Korkie’s botany book, and for a brief, delirious second he wonders if that can be pressed and preserved like the star flower he kept.

“So, how are you enjoying Coruscant?”

“I like it a lot!”

“Do you?”

“Yes, of course,” Korkie says, leaning hard into enthusiasm. “The opera was wonderful, and all the people have been wonderful! I’ve never seen so many different cultures in one place. And we went to the Gardens, and a speeder race, and at least three or four ceremonial galas. Thankfully, she’s excused me from any obligation I might have had to Senatorial duties. I was half-afraid in coming she might assign me a report or make me take notes on it all, though, between you and me I rather despise politics though I find the theories and philosophies interesting enough –”

At this, Master Kenobi throws back his head, his laughter bursting out and coloring the rest of the ringing din with its notes of unexpected delight. Korkie can’t help but smile, though he doesn’t know what’s so funny about that.

The Jedi reaches out across the table, palm up to forestall any offense. Korkie twists his own hands together on his lap so that he doesn’t reach back and take it.

“Oh, Kiorkicek,” his father says. “You and me, both.”

Something that was so tight it was on the edge of snapping instead uncoils gently in his chest. His shoulders relax, and a genuine smile, wide and unguarded, spreads over his face.

Flo returns once with their food, and Korkie assumes it must be the whole menu for how loaded up she is. There are nerf-burgers, of course, but also blue milkshakes, protato wedges, tip-yip wings tossed in agu-sauce. There’s a plate of steaming poppers, and crispy O-rings. Master Kenobi claims a whole plate of muja bites to himself, while Korkie makes a dash for the blimas and cava cake rolls. There’s frizzpop and ting, and Korkie doesn’t think for one second that his father would even consider letting him have a taste of tihaar so he takes the pop and asks for nothing else.

“I saw the holoreport on the battle on Castell,” he says later, after they’ve tucked away a respectable mountain of food and are picking at the last few protato chips. “They said you took the base with only one squadron.”

“Oh,” says the Jedi. “Did you receive the Gossam bead-braid I sent?”

“Yes, in one piece this time. And in school, we were reading the Armistice Proclamation of Enarc and I saw that you were one of the appointed witnesses.”

“Enarc? Oh, yes, I took advantage of its access to the Hydian while I was there. You got the stockings?”

“Mhm. And then I couldn’t find out anything about Felucia, but I figured out the lumi-sphere you sent me must have come from there. Or that sector, I suppose. The ‘net said that was a ‘decisive victory for the Republic,’ and I’m sure it must have been.”

“I don’t – I don’t quite recall Felucia.”

“Then they said they were sending you to Kiros, but I couldn’t find out anything about that, either. Was there victory on Kiros, master?”

“Ah,” says Master Kenobi. But he doesn’t say anything else. He tugs at his sleeve, picking at the hem of one cuff, his gaze sliding away from Korkie’s to watch the people lounging in other booths or teetering on their stools at the bar. Korkie feels the loss of his attention acutely.

“Well, I assume there was,” he says. “I can’t imagine there’d be defeat. Not if you were there, anyway. I must’ve just missed the declaration. Or perhaps there were too many. It probably wasn’t that important, anyway. I don’t think you sent me anything from there – not that you have to. I don’t expect – anyway, that’s all one. Anyway…”

Master Kenobi shakes his head and smiles at him, attention focused once more. But this smile feels forced, and Korkie feels like a burden.

“Kiros was liberated,” says Master Kenobi. 

“Oh, good,” says Korkie. “Of course. I had no doubt you – and I didn’t mean anything by –”

“Not at all,” he says. “We were not there long. I’m afraid I didn’t have a chance to find you anything of worth.”

“It doesn’t have to be of worth,” Korkie says. 

“Well, we weren’t there very long, and I –” He tugs at his sleeve again, but this time he winces. Korkie’s gaze follows the movement but now he sees more than he did before. What he’d thought was the skin-tight sleeve of an undergarment is actually a web of bandages wound around Master Kenobi’s wrist, and though his father is quick to pull the cuff back into place, he is not quick enough to hide the blossom of pink that has stained even the topmost layer of wrappings.

“You – you’re bleeding,” he says.

“Yes, I –” But he says nothing else. There is nothing to say. 

All the things that Korkie had wanted to talk about, all the things he had wanted to tell him but was still working up the courage to mention, all of it evaporates in the face of the tight-lipped man before him. He doesn’t look glowing or golden. He looks wan and waxy, washed out under weak yellow lights, the pink stain darkening to red then black beneath his sleeve. 

He is not a untouchable hero. He is not an invincible shoulder. He is not a saviour, or a saint, or a god. He is horrifyingly – humiliatingly – mortal.

He is a stranger, Korkie thinks. I don’t know him. For all that he has his eyes and his hair, for all that he has seen his face on every holoscreen, on every frequency for years, for all that he has followed his exploits and studied his gifts, and tried and tried and tried to know him…he doesn’t. 

This man is a stranger. He doesn’t know how to make him laugh, or frown. He doesn’t know what will goad him into action, or urge him into consideration. He doesn’t know what he eats, or drinks, or how he takes his tea – if he even likes it. He doesn’t know at all what to say. And Master Kenobi says nothing to him, either. Perhaps there is nothing between them.

“It’s getting late,” says the Jedi. “I’ll comm Bail to bring you home.”

–

The lights are on, but his aunt is asleep when he lets himself into their apartment. She’s slumped in a chair near the door, still dressed in her shimmersilk with flowers in her hair. The fabric glimmers in the starlight peering through the window, and the rippling headlamps of the passing airtraffic. 

Korkie goes to wake her, to let her know he’s home safe, but he stops before his fingertips graze her cheek, looking at her. Really looking. 

Her skin is pale, and soft. He knows how the inside of her forearm feels beneath his palm when he presses there. He knows the weight of her shoulder when she leans into him to mutter a joke beneath her breath. He knows the warmth of her lips upon his brow, the tug of her fingers through his hair. He has memorised the beat of her heart, and he holds his breath now to hear it. They are so close, and it is so quiet, and he knows her so well he imagines he does. Or maybe it’s his own heart thumping softly in his ears.

He exhales, and looks away. Dawn is liming the edges of the buildings in bloody golds.

“Auntie,” he whispers. Satine jolts awake, alert but instantly calmed when she sees his face. Korkie smiles. “You ought to go to bed.”

“Yes,” she says with a yawn. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m alright,” he says. “See you in the morning.”

She stumbles off to her room, still half asleep, but Korkie doesn’t go to his. Instead, he sits in her chair and watches the sun rise.

–

The next day, he doesn’t leave when the Convocation Chamber is opened for debate. He goes with his aunt, and he stands behind her. When she speaks, he watches as the whole of the galaxy listens. She argues her reasons, and states her position, and though generals and kings and warlords and even the Chancellor try their advance, she gives them no ground.

She is dressed in her regalia. The mythosaur tusks hang like daggers from her ears. The collar of her gown bursts outward like a blade, her purple shift glinting like arterial blood. Her voice is like iron, and her spine is as stiff and straight as beskar. She is a guardian. A sovereign. The Duchess of Mandalore. 

He is hers. 

And she will always be his.

[talentforlying]

"Hm." The remade Corinthian has stopped, looking at Constantine in the dark as if transfixed. "Your eyes..." [ i just want to see john refuse to examine this any further. but also thinking about these two working together after constantine spent however long getting TORMENTED by the first one is very funny to me ] @nightmarecountry

the shimmering foil film that's crept over the dark center of each bright blue eye vanishes like flash paper when they roll in exasperation, head falling back with a groan so loud and absurdly heartfelt that it could only have been drawn up from some uncharted depth of his soul so choked with revulsion that even the briefest release is enough to drain the system entirely.

' christ on a cocksucking zeppelin, not you too. ' which, HE figures is a clear enough refusal to entertain whatever the christ the nightmare's going on about to get them back on their way; except, the new corinthian doesn't look ready to budge, and like hell is constantine turning an unprotected back on that one.

he drags his feet about it, but oh-so-begrudgingly comes to a stop of his own — several paces off and with his back securely to a wall — balled-tight hands planted pissily on his hips and chin jutting defiantly out of the shadows cast beneath two shrewdly-assessing, lamplight eyes. ' y'know, it's right about now that i'd tell ye to buy me dinner 'fore you start gettin' lost in me vast oceanic gaze, f'i didn't think i'd wind up recognizin' the main course. '

see, originally he sort of thought it would be NEAT, right? to watch dream of the endless cook up a nightmare from scratch ... fuck, what garden-variety mortal busybody ever gets to see something like that in their lifetime?

now, though? with the way these things seem to come right out of the kiln with a lust for eyes? he's starting to pick up an uncomfortably queasy feeling that maybe — just maybe — whatever it is that powers the mysterious maker mechanism of the Dreaming is a process that he ought to be steering a-a-a-all the way clear of. and that just means he has as few fucking answers as to what goes on in the mind of this nightmare as he did before.

still, at least he's not the only one in the dark, now — at least dream'd had the sense to pick all the psychic pieces of the old one out of constantine's brainstem before starting in on the fresh template. it'd be right fucking embarrassing if the new-and-improved multi-mouth could actually feel the brief, sharp spike of panic that their sudden interest speared through the central branch of his limbic system — that just around the edges, like, felt a whole lot fucking similar to that OLD DARK SHARD.

what's already right fucking embarrassing is that he can find it in himself to be really, truly pleased about the blissful silence that's usurped the bad dreams — about the fact that his recycled sidekick stands as testament to the fact that a living thing, creepy bastard or no, was undone and remolded like it had never earned the right to exist in the first place. like the only proper punishment for strolling off of dream's assembly line was to pulp the fucking thing with hammers. right fucking embarrassing, because constantine knows all this, now, and he is ACTUALLY inclined to just let that slide.

those shiny moonstone pupils blink out again as he pinches the bridge of his nose, blowing air out in a half-growl. ( and, only because they're still stood round in the dark and he thinks he won't be seen, his fingertips ghost out to press down gently against each closed eyelid; verifying, just in case. ) only a minute ago, he'd felt just like himself — just how he'd been all those years ago, when dream first turned up at HIS DOOR for help. just proud enough and curious enough that fear and trepidation could take a backseat to the journey new at hand.

now, though, he's starting to feel more like rachel: convalescing aimlessly in the blissfully ignorant bubble of her bedroom, starving herself on grains of blind idealism while the slime of collateral damage coagulates just outside the door. and this time, dream's not the one walking with him.

' ... hhhh fuck. i'm settin' a new ground rule, alright? you start goin' ga-ga about my sodding eyes, sunshine, and i call up bloody lord build-a-beast to fix me up a new sniffer dog. we understand each other? ' christ, that feels low. ' ... or i get in a free punch, somethin' like that. quit bloody starin'. '