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roguelov · 1 year

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Crimson Stained Petals (Ch. 2)

Summary: Set in the 1880s, rumors and mysteries swirled around a quaint town, mostly about a lord tucked far into the woods. Arriving in town, you could not deny your curiosities, but you were not here to stay. Or so you thought. Low on funds, and a job for a live-in servant advertised in the paper, you now found yourself in the home of Lord Morpheus - the source of all rumors. Passions and tensions will grow. Questions will be answered, but may come at a hefty price. And a promise may be broken. But, is Lord Morpheus, and those few residents, truly as scary as they seem?

Words Count: ~3.4k

Reader: Neutral (unspecified now, however fem leaning)

Warnings: Minor angst (hints of Morpheus’s past), mutual pinning, some fluff, hints of bloodlust

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

After a week of working in the manor, you quickly found routine in your new life. It was far easier than anticipated, although somewhat tiring at points. And despite exploring the manor, you still tended to become lost or forgetful where certain rooms were. It was massive to say the least, but you adored the architecture, the different colors and styles of each room, and the obvious love - even if slightly dusty due to negligence - poured into it. Two rooms in particular captured your interest and attention: the upstairs library, and the sunroom.

The sunroom was magical. The glass - a soft sea green - dome roof sparkled in any and all lighting. On sunny days, it was as if the heavens rained down on this secret cove. Plants of all colors and variety outlined the room from vibrant dark green ferns - nearly an envious green - to signature staple of the manor’s passionate red roses as well as strong and proud sunflowers, delicate lilacs, and the intricate petals of the blushing pink carnations. Fern leaves as large as dinner plates bent towards the doorways like curtains. You could not help but imagine you were an explorer traversing the jungle as you entered.

In the center, a couch, two chairs, and a table were set out. However, there was a very obvious empty space for furniture to be pushed aside. The true beauty of the room was it could double as a ballroom if needed. You could see where a musician could sit, you could imagine a dozen people dancing in unison, you could feel the air crackle with potential energy. When you walked the pristine tile floor sang with every step of your shoe, heels clacked and echoed like a chorus; imagining a group of people in here, and oh how the room would harmonize.

The library, on the other hand, was quaint and far less grandiose compared to the sunroom. Yet, it held its own type of magic, one of comfort and warmth. It was draped in rich dark browns, glowing oranges of the sun and lanterns, and overall warm tones. The walls had built-in shelves and overflowed with books. A single thin window with a nook to sit and read by sunlight was nestled between two shelves. Two long wooden tables with chairs were placed in the room, almost more of studying than reading comfortably.

The air in the library was calmer, and gentle like an escape, or a brief pause on life. If you strolled over to the collection of books, most were published from Morpheus’s company ‘The Dreamer’s Palace’. Which wasn’t too surprising, but the library held many other books from the popular to the unknown. Every genre filled the shelves: drama, contemporary, romance, horror, fantasy, mystery, nonfiction, mythology, and poetry. You had worlds at your fingertips and each of them called to you.

When you had time, you would eventually borrow a book, with Morpheus’s permission of course. Maybe you could take the book and lounge in the sunroom, now that sounded like a lovely idea.

However, you supposed there was another place besides the sunroom and library to entertain you and your thoughts. You desperately wished to explore the ground, especially the maze. The rose maze enthralled you. The hedges must be ten feet tall, barring all from sneaking a single glance in. The full, perfect lush red roses filled the hedges and dazzled in the sunlight while somehow seemingly glowed in the moonlight. With the moon above, they tempted you like some Greek tragedy. The maze was your labyrinth. Maybe a monster lurked among the roses, maybe you would become lost and lose your sense of self, or maybe it was simply just a maze.

One day.

One day, you would run freely through the hedges and happily lose yourself amongst them.

Late in the morning, Morpheus had requested some tea. If it wasn’t in the morning after what you expected a long night, then he requested afternoon tea for one last boost to finish the day. Light seemed to always shine under the crack of his door. His footsteps creaked along the home constantly even as you laid still in bed.

Maneuvering up the stairs, you carefully balanced a kettle and a tea cup with a saucer. Stepping onto the second floor, you immediately veered left. Morpheus’s study was the first door. You knocked, announcing yourself. His reply was muffled, but allowed you in.

Opening the door, Morpheus was hunched over his desk. Stacks of paper covered his desk, with his pen scratching away editing and making revision notes on a new manuscript. A dying fire crackled as embers burned a reddish orange hue casting the room in a radiating warmth. The curtains were opened showing off the dreary morning. Rain tapped against the window, adding to the ambiance.

You beelined for Morpheus. You efficiently, as possible, set up his tea in the small corner space free of papers. Morpheus - who had been watching not just since you walked in, but since you first arrived - wondered about something that had been bothering him for a few days. The scratching of his pen seized, and he glanced out of the corner of his eye. “May I ask you a question?”

You paused as you set up his tea. It was one of the few other times he addressed you, besides your first interaction and occasionally calling for tea. Shaking yourself out of your stupor, you poured his tea. “Of course, sir.”

He laid down his pen, and turned his head to address you. His eyes - an enchanting pale blue in such dim lighting - locked with yours. “You are not afraid of me.”

You stepped back from him, having finished your assigned task. The kettle left besides his cup if he wished to have more later. You folded your hands in front of you with the empty tray in your hands. His sentence tossed over and over in your head. You frowned slightly in thought, “That is not a question.”

The corner of his lips twitched upward. “You are correct, apologies. I suppose I was more inquiring about your opinion.”

“On what?”

“Myself, and said rumors that circulate the manor.”

You didn’t need time to think. Most people warned you of this place whether directly or indirectly. “The townspeople have their beliefs and I have mine.”

“So you have no care for the matter?”

“I can form my own opinions.” You cocked your head quizzically, “I’m sorry, but did Lucienne not inform you of my answer? She asked a similar question during the interview.”

“She did, but I wish to hear it from you especially given you have been staying with us for more than over a week now.” He twisted his body in his chair, facing you directly. He gave you his full undivided attention. “So what are your opinions? What do you think of the rumors?”

You paused, considering his question. “Do you want my honest opinion, sir?”

You had your opinions. Ones that had been slowly formulating since your arrival, ones that may be an unpleasant truth to hear.

“I do.” He saw the hesitation written plainly on your face. “You can be blunt.”

You nodded, and sighed releasing any tension. “If you wish -“ you cleared your throat - “the way I see it you revel in said rumors. You can easily dispel them by ingraining yourself more into society, but you don’t. You do the donations, you have the well liked bookshop, but you do not show your face. Either you isolate yourself to protect yourself, or because you believe you deserve it - deserve the isolation.”

Morpheus hummed, utterly fascinated by your answer. “Truly? And what do you think? Why would I sever my connection to society?”

Your eyes dragged up and down over his body - you were dissecting him. Morpheus noted how a change came over you. You were not a servant, head bowed, but an equal with a sharp eye. You were clever, far more clever than you let on. A mask had momentarily slipped. “Because you deserve it or so you believe.”

He nodded. You may have indulged a mere facet of his curiosity, but somehow stirred more within this one conversation. He turned back to his work, “Thank you for indulging me.”

“Is there anything else you need, sir?” You smiled, and your tone suggested a hint of teasing, “Any other of my opinions you wish to know?”

His smile was hidden from you. “No, thank you.”

“Of course.” You bowed and swiftly left.

“And do not feel frightened to share your honesty.” He spoke the next sentence softly, whispering, “I enjoy it.”

You paused at the door. A faint flutter hummed in your chest. “If you wish, sir.”

I do, he thought.

You turned your head, glancing back once more. He had returned to his work. Your mind thought back on the conversation, on Morpheus’s self imposed isolation. You opened your mouth, only to quickly close it and simply left. As the door softly clicked shut, Morpheus put his head into his hands.

A mortal.

A foolish mortal who had unknowingly walked into the lion’s den. His thirst rose when you walked by, and the smell of you now imbued his home. Before he remembered a time when his thirst could be quelled for months at a time, unbothered or unaffected by hunger. But now as you freely roamed his halls, he could barely go a few days without feeling its intense and paralyzing effects. The taste of human blood has not touched his lips in nearly a century.

Idiot, he thought. Why did I allow this?

“I believe it would do you some good sir,” Lucienne pressed. She had approached her lord, proposing to introduce a servant, more so a cleaning servant, into the manor. Or more accurately cornered him in his study.

Morpheus huffed under his breath. “Lucienne, I respect you and your opinions, however, this is ridiculous and out of the question.”

“Lord Morpheus, you need to try more or dare we have another fiasco such as the last manor.”

Ah, yes, how could he forget.

He had gotten complacent in his solitude. He kept to himself, and worked on new stories that continued to be sent in from all over. He only cared about his work, and nothing else.

No. That was incorrect.

No, he was purposely drowning himself in it; all to forget the painful heartache. No, he had not gotten complacent in solitude, he had gotten complacent in his endless grief. Let the people gossip, he bitterly thought. Let them believe in the monster. He did not care for his world were these dingy walls with the ghost roaming amongst them.

But, a strange man who lived on the outskirts of town stirred vile imaginations. After a decade and possibly longer of living - in what Morpheus ignorantly believed to be peace - the townspeople charged one night forcing everyone to flee.

He had to rebuild.

He had to remake himself in this new town. He had hoped his donations would soothe the townspeople, but mortals were weary of newcomers and indulged in their superstitions far too often.

Even if their intuitions were right most of the time.

A tap on the window broke Morpheus out of his thoughts, his memories. Through the haze of the night, a small black mass was perched on the window sill. Morpheus wordlessly strolled over and opened the window. A bird, a raven specifically, swooped in and landed on the desk.

“And what do I owe the pleasure, Matthew?” Morpheus asked, facing the raven.

The raven shuffled, his talons clacked against the wood. “Sorry to interrupt, boss, but Merv is asking for something for the pain again. He says his supply is almost out.”

Morpheus’s features softened, a miniscule change. “Okay, tell Merv I will send for more immediately.”

Matthew nodded, but he did not move.

“Is there something else you need?” Morpheus asked, raising his eyebrow.

Matthew sighed, sinking a bit. “I may or may not have been listening to yours and Lucienne’s conversation.”

Morpheus’s lips thinned, not angered Matthew was listening - it was nothing new - but because he knew Matthew would side with Lucienne. “And what do you think of the matter then?”

“Well,” he drawled out, “I have been visiting the town a bit, and some of the people have begun to talk and they’re not too … happy.”

Morpheus barely contained his eye roll. “I have done all I can to appease them, if they want to make speculations then let them. I don’t harm them in any capacity.”

It was true. His diet these days consisted solely of animals.

“Maybe an appearance at the bookshop then,” Lucienne suggested. “But, I still urge you to hire someone. If others see someone unharmed in your care then it would lessen the problem.”

“I will not bring a stranger into my home just so mortals can stop gossiping.”

“If not for you then for us, for the manor. We already had to run once.”

Morpheus frowned.

Lucienne cautiously stepped forward. “You opened your door to me - for Mervyn, and Matthew - you brought in a stranger once before.”

“That was different. This will be a mortal, Lucienne.”

“And do you not trust yourself, or do you not want a repeat?”

Morpheus’s shoulders tensed. An intense, chilling, glare settled into his eyes. His eyes glowed ominously like a feral animal. “Lucienne, I will ask you once to not bring that up again.”

Lucienne stepped back, but did not look away. She held her ground in a way. “Apologies, sir, but I do not want to find a new place so soon.”

Matthew chirped up, disliking the heavy tension in the room. He flapped his wings to turn all the attention onto him. “And it would be nice for you, boss. The manor has been gathering dust, so it would be good for all of us, right?”

Morpheus closed his eyes then exhaled slowly. Opening his eyes, they had returned to a normal shade. “Fine.”

“What?” Matthew muttered, stunned.

“Bring someone in, do what you must.” He turned his back. “If we can survive another decade here peacefully then do so. I don’t want to start again so quickly.”

“Of course, sir, thank you.” Lucienne bowed her head and left as Matthew swooped after her.

Look at all the good it has done, Morpheus thought.

Morpheus was confined to these walls with you lurking around. You were haunting him, and you reminded him of -

He shook away those memories. He had a new ghost in his home and he had to deal with this unfortunate reality. This wasn’t about him, this was about Lucienne, Matthew, and Mervyn. They were lucky last time to escape before the home burned, but luck always ran out. If people discovered the truth, if they came in the night unheard, he couldn’t forgive himself for anything that would happen to his friends - his family.

This was his family unlike the one born from blood.

Meanwhile as you strolled away from Morpheus’s study, your thoughts were tangled together. He was odd. Polite, yes. But, odd. He created a wedge between him and most; a wedge you clearly saw. In the short time you were living here, it was becoming obvious who Lord Morpheus was: a tortured soul. But, why? What drove him to this state? If you were to continue to live here, you would find out.

Curiosity was powerful, and you had your reasonings to do so.

Taking the tray to the kitchen, you once again passed by another oddity in the manor: the plain wooden door under the stairs. Earlier in your adventures of the manor, you tried to open it to no avail.

“I wouldn’t keep trying if I were you.” You whirled around - panicked you had been caught - and thankfully only saw Lucienne. She smiled, a joking smile, at your reaction. Her eyes darted to the lock door. “It leads to the basement where the plumbing goes.”

You frowned, disappointed.

“Sorry, I know it’s not as wondrous as you might think.” She strolled forwards, eyes kept on the door. “But I assure you, it’s not pleasant down there. It’s damp and dark with old pipes.”

Her eyes flickered over, locking with yours. She peered over her glasses to ensure she looked at you directly. ‘Don’t’ was all her eyes said.

“I suppose the wonders of plumping is something I’m not too keen about,” you chuckled lightly.

Her smile softened, and laughed along with you. “No, I don’t think most are. Now, if you excuse me, I was going to get a drink.”

She skirted by you towards the kitchen. Once, she was down the hall and out of sight, your eyes swiveled back to the door. Only one thought ran through your mind: she’s lying. You pressed your hand to the door. In your chest, deep within your bones, something hummed on the other side.

Stepping back, you searched and no one was around. If not today, but one day you will see what was behind that door. A voice told you to be cautious in your curiosity, but to also not let it die out. Trust your gut. And your gut needed the door to be opened to reveal all its secrets.

You paused, running your hand over the grain of the wood. The hum still called out. Similar to how you swore to uncover the secrets of a Morpheus, this door fell under it as well. This manor reeked of secrets and lies. It did not frightened you, not in the least. It compelled you. And the rumors only spurred your thirst for knowledge.

But, today was not the day. All of this required a touch of patience.

A skill you honed over the years.

Brushing past, you made your way into the kitchen dropping off the tray. Glancing out the window, the late rainy morning reminded you of all the hours you still had left in the day. You sighed.

Now, what should I do?

The rest of the day you decided to busy yourself with cleaning the kitchen. Most of the appliances were new, and strangely did not seem to be used as frequently since some dust had collected on them, much like the rest of the manor. You scrubbed the cabinets and the floor, cleaned dishes and silverware, and threw away any rotted food - which was surpassingly little. The kitchen nearly sparkled by the end of your work, and luckily the day had passed between all of it.

You retired for the night and drew a well deserved and needed bath. You soaked for almost an hour, letting your skin prune and your thoughts wander: thoughts of the manor, thoughts of Lucienne, thoughts of the mysterious gardener, thoughts of Morpheus, and thoughts of your past and life now.

You sighed, sinking into the water until it barely touched your nose.

Here was a new start with new promises while the past still loomed heavily over your shoulders. No, you truly couldn’t start anew until the past was settled. You knew this, and you were constantly reminded of it.

With the water now cold, you decided to get out. You dried off and pulled on your night clothes. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you passed the writing desk.

You paused.

Changing direction from your cozy bed, you veered to the desk. You needed to write a letter, one you had forgotten - and may have purposely neglected - to write. You plopped down into the creaky wooden chair and began to write a letter. Amongst your initial search of the desk, you were surprised, and thankful, to find paper and ink already inside the drawer.

You had an old promise to keep.

You pulled out a paper and addressed it to your uncle. An uncle who raised you and taught you many things. An uncle who you spoke exclusively in letters since leaving his home nearly over a decade ago. You loved him dearly, and hoped maybe one day after your journey of self discovery, and possibly after truly settling down, you would visit him again.

Under a candlelight, you wrote about the past week. You spoke of your new job, your new lord, and the others who lived here - even if you spoke only to one. You spoke how this job could be the one, the one to change your life. You told him he was still always in your thoughts, and wondered how he was doing since his new retired life per his last letter. You smiled down at the letter, and signed it. You neatly folded it, and tucked it into an envelope to send at the earliest convenience.

Maybe Lucienne could take it to the post office for you, or maybe you’ll make a visit into town.

The decision will come later, for now you need to sleep.

#the sandman #the sandman au #morpheus #dream of the endless #vampire!morpheus #vampire!dream #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #vampire!morpheus x reader #vampire!dream x reader #fem!reader

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merakiui · 1 year

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[vii.] ᵏⁱˢᵐᵉᵗ ᵏⁱˢˢ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, brief mentions of death/murder chapter vi│chapter vii (you are here)│chapter viii

Today’s Schedule: Breakfast at 8. Supply shopping from 9 until 10. Read the next two chapters in Criminal Law and Logistics from 11 until 12. Take notes. Lunch at half past 12. (At some point, organize materials for school within the next hour. Arrange a story regarding the internship before calling Mother. Free time between the hours of 1 to 5 (possible outing with (Name)?). Begin dinner at a quarter past 6. Bathe by 7 and prepare for bed by 9 (10 at the latest).

Riddle peers at the white notebook in his lap with a disappointed frown. It’s a simple life planner with vermillion carnations stenciled on the front like floral bloodstains. Inside, the pristine, cream-colored pages are blotted with black ink. He’s crossed out and corrected a few lines, adding notes when necessary—keep empty parcels for Rosa’s maze or forward that new recipe to Trey—and for all of the unsuspecting fastballs life hurls at him he has never once strayed too far from his carefully crafted schedules. Never once…until today, that is.

“Two hours,” he mumbles, his blank stare fixed on the police station sitting beyond the confines of his car.

With the sun positioned so high in the pastel sky, nearly at its peak with midday summer heat, he concludes that he has already wasted his morning away, foregoing shopping and studying in favor of talking to the authorities.

And for good reason, he reminds himself, a balm intended to soothe the irritating sting brought on by the disturbance. This is important. It’s worth the interruption.

He could fret over it, huff and puff like a dragon readying to spew wicked flames, but doing so will get him nowhere. It will not return the hours he’s lost, nor will it bring him any closer to a fraction of the truth regarding your sudden, untimely disappearance. He resolves, while chewing restlessly on his pen cap, that it’s best to remain composed in situations like the one he’s found himself in.

Calm and objective, he thinks, scribbling over the time slots he had marked at the beginning of the week, so certain nothing would interfere with his schedule. There are far greater things at stake than missing a day’s worth of plans.

He leans back in his seat, humming thoughtfully. The past two hours must have gone by in a blur, for he feels weightlessly detached, as if surfing upon a smooth wave, led along by some other force that is not his own internal compass. It’s been a while since he’s felt this way. Often, when his mother would lecture him about the many high expectations she had for him, he would retreat into the corners of his mind, safely content with tuning out her howls of hatred. This response came naturally with each passing year, a necessary safety net that caught him before he could fall. Using this method, everything else that came with her also became easier to stomach. Like the bland, too-healthy meals he’d learned to choke down as if they were not-so-fine wines matured with delusion. An acquired taste, some might say, but even with that optimistic outlook Riddle would never wish flavorless foods on his worst enemy.

The officer who interviewed him was the same officer who met him at the beach the night he stumbled upon the body with you. In fact, he recognized Riddle as soon as he stepped into the room, a notebook in hand and a water bottle in the other. He’d set it on the desk, offered his hand to him (he’d taken it hastily, and for some reason he wondered if his nerves would make him look guilty), and then the officer pulled his chair towards Riddle, situated away from the desk that separated them like a cavernous pit. Riddle knew it was goodwill—to put his fears to rest and build rapport like it was a glass house, perfectly transparent so that it would display every crystalline truth.

“Back again,” he said after introducing himself as Officer Rayne. Briefly, Riddle pondered how one might spell that surname—R-A-I-N or R-A-Y-N-E? Perhaps even R-E-I-G-N or R-E-I-N? “Any more visits and you might become one of us.”

He didn’t understand the joke—was it intended to be humorous, or was it meant to lessen the tension that blanketed the atmosphere?—so he didn’t laugh. But he did produce an awkward smile, shrugging dumbly. Sitting before an officer in uniform, not restrained or reprimanded in any way, felt eerily forbidden. Every infraction Riddle had ever committed weighed heavy in his chest like a pile of stones, each one gradually sinking into the trenches of his stomach, and he was nearly on the verge of admitting every misdeed in a messy tangle of a rant. He swallowed thoughts of his most recent and longest crime to date and, still feeling like a timid boy who knew nothing of the real world, looked at Officer Rayne.

He was going to say something—have you found any information regarding (Name)’s whereabouts?—but the question felt foolish. They wouldn’t know when they haven’t even begun looking. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut with a sigh, soothed with the knowledge that they would begin a proper investigation soon.

Luckily, Officer Rayne filled the awkward silence. “I hope it was okay for me to catch ya while you were making your report. Been meaning to ask a little more about the body, but I suspect that’s not why you came here today.”

‘Catch ya’ and ‘suspect.’ Using those words while I’m completely innocent… Now that was a little funny, morbidly so, and he almost smiled at the irony.

Riddle nodded and, his apprehensions at a low simmer, asked, “Did you…learn more about the body?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

He’s doing that thing, he thought, unimpressed. Being intentionally vague. Does he think I’m untrustworthy?

“Well, you’re correct. I wasn’t here for the body and I’ve already told you everything I know, so I can’t answer any more questions regarding that matter.” He allowed the previous topic to roll off his back like water, feigning nonchalance—but asking that question made it seem otherwise—and felt himself slip over the edge of consciousness, words coming far too easy this time. “It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I’ve heard from my friend. Today marks the fourth day of no contact. I’m worried something’s happened.”

Officer Rayne clicked his pen, put it to paper, and said, “I take it you’re willing to fill me in on the details, then?”

“More than willing.”

As if the thread of sentience had reached its fraying point, it snapped and with it Riddle fell into that empty void he’d cherished so much in his youth, his body entirely there, but his mind and soul elsewhere. Vacant and distant. Packaged in a neat box and ready to be unwrapped at the slightest shove into an environment that was far more comfortable and colorful than the dull, dismal interview room.

When he’d passed the lady at the desk—the one he’d given such a hard time before and the one who’d sat through the filing process—she nodded her farewell. Only then, when Riddle stepped into the blinding bright of the outdoors, did he return to his body.

He stares at the list he’s created in his agenda, surfacing from the momentary rumination, his bottom lip between his teeth.

Important Information to Consider

(Name) and her temperament leading up to the disappearance.

(Name)’s history with disappearances. (Did she run away again? Spontaneous vacation?)

Our connection as friends.

Why I moved to the city.

How long I’ve been in the city.

What I was doing the day of (Name)’s disappearance.

What (Name) was doing the day of the disappearance.

The last time I talked to her. (phone call on Tuesday morning)

The body under the boardwalk.

The Devil’s Delight.

Other connections (Cater, neighbor, glasses-wearing fellow/potential partner, other coworkers from previous and current jobs, friends from university?)

What the above were doing the day of the disappearance.

????

I should’ve paid closer attention, he thinks woefully. I shouldn’t have shut off like that.

The tip of his pen waltzes circles around the question marks. “Focus,” he whispers, glaring at the page as if doing so will cause a helpful clue to materialize.

I remember telling him her phone is still on because every time I’ve called it rings and rings before going to voicemail. It’s possible they can trace it…or something tech-related like that.

Riddle sets the pen down to run a hand through crimson locks, heaving an exhausted groan. This is, by far, the worst puzzle he has ever had the displeasure of piecing together. It would be tolerable if the image he’s trying to assemble wasn’t so uncertain and frightening, shrouded in a gloom that may spiral to depths he hasn’t even considered. This puzzle doesn’t even come with a box, so he can’t possibly follow along with the portrait either. He’s working from scratch.

It’s not a complex landscape puzzle. Don’t treat it like one, he thinks, shaking his head, strands of hair falling between his fingers. Although if it was, I’d know exactly where everything goes and in what order it should be arranged. But this has all sorts of weird pieces. A mutilated corpse missing vital organs. A murder investigation. Whatever information Cater’s withholding. The incident reports. A missing person. What am I not seeing?

He skims his list once more until he reaches the sixth bullet point. At the time, he had only called to find solace in your voice, as you were the only one who could sympathize with the horrors that had swiftly descended the night prior. It did a world of good to talk as if nothing had ever dissolved your friendship—as if all that had transpired in the Rose Kingdom long ago never drove that troublesome wedge between the both of you.

But he’s matured a considerable amount since then, and so have you. Adults can be civil (most of the time). He can be civil (usually). And if it weren’t for that tell-tale edge in his voice he would have seemed flawlessly unruffled and he could have conversed naturally—or as naturally as one possibly could after being kept awake with spine-chilling dreams of a dead man. Saturday was supposed to be the day in which you would show him around the city, get him acquainted with your favorite haunts, and bake a strawberry tart in the comforts of your apartment together.

Together. As old friends.

Today is that day, but you aren’t sitting beside him in the passenger seat, rattling off locations and directions while he agonizes over which way to go: “Is it left or right, (Name)? Stop laughing and be clear!” he’d gripe, his hands curled on the steering wheel, and everything would be normal. Instead, he sits alone in an empty vehicle, his planner in his lap, pen at his lips, and is left to sift through what were once mundane, unimportant recollections. Everything, even the slightest shift in mannerism, matters now that the circumstances have changed.

I should’ve just agreed to come over that day. Then none of this would have ever happened. If I wasn’t so stubborn… If I wasn’t so scared… He shakes his head. No, that’s not it. Regardless of what I could’ve done then, it might not have had a significant impact. (Name) was already busy, so we would’ve had to part ways eventually. She had something to do when I called… A run. Right, she invited me to go on a run because she exercises.

He’s halfway through writing this fact when his hand halts, pen poised on the page.

“The run,” he whispers, as if it’s some terrible revelation. “Great Seven… The run!”

It occurs to him in a flash. You suggested he accompany you and he had declined as politely as he could, and then you offered he could walk as an alternative because, in your exact words, “Azul does that sometimes.”

Riddle hastily adds something else to the list in his agenda, perfect cursive unraveling with the frantic, jerky motions of his hand.

I wasn’t the last one to talk to her and neither was Cater. He even said she had gone on a dinner date the night prior to her disappearance, and he was gratingly evasive when I pried for more details. Following that logic, if she didn’t voluntarily disappear, the one she met for dinner would be my top suspect. Either them, or her running friend. This Azul fellow…

There’s only one Azul he knows.

Riddle fumbles with his phone, hands trembling as theories swell like a rising tide.

He wouldn’t, he thinks, but then he hesitates. Would he?

It’s been ages since he’s communicated with most of his peers from Night Raven College. In fact, he’s really only kept in touch with Trey and Cater over the years. Deuce often sends him a message every month or so to check in or to discuss and exchange career advice, but other than that everyone else has gone their separate ways, linked only by the sticky, near-invisible strands of social media. Riddle doesn’t use his. Ever. It still has the posts he made to mend Cater’s abysmal studying regimen, and if it was capable of accumulating physical age it would certainly have its fair share of dust and cobwebs by now. As he scrolls through the accounts of those he’s following, grey eyes roving usernames and profile pictures, he considers the best and the worst of this situation.

On one hand, he’s entirely wrong and the Azul you mentioned is not the Azul he knows. On the other hand, he’s entirely right and the Azul he knows is connected to you in some strange, unsettling way. He’s really hoping it’s a third possibility: He’s merely overthinking the matter and everything he’s considered up until this point is a jumble of false complications.

His search yields nothing fruitful. Unfortunately, Azul’s account is not amongst the few he’s following. Riddle may not know Azul as well as he knows his closest friends, but he’s certain Azul wouldn’t abandon social media when it has so much potential for plentiful business connections. Either that, or he just never followed him when they were classmates. The latter seems more likely. Riddle has never been able to wrap his head around the intricacies of social media etiquette and he certainly has no need for it.

Cater had once instructed him in the art of many trending things—the art of the selfie, the art of the filter, the art of the block button—and so Riddle knows a few things about the online world. Very basic things, and most are rules and social protocol regarding a phenomenon he’ll never be able to grasp. Apparently, if you’re stalking someone’s page, you never like a post that’s dated by years. Apparently, you’re intended to file the facts you glean from invasive observation for later use. The mere concept sends a shiver of repulsion up his spine. He’s not a stalker or a cyber-stalker or a Magicam fanatic like Cater, but he is a novice sleuth (as of now) and that sits much better on the tongue than any of the previous titles.

Riddle finds Cater’s profile, clicks on his list of followers, and types Azul Ashengrotto into the search bar. And, miraculously, Azul is there, but his account is private and Riddle finds himself at a digital roadblock.

“Private,” he mutters; it comes out hateful, a nasty word. “Of course you are.”

Despite that, he still makes note of the username in his agenda. He writes, Possible personal account? Multiple accounts? in perfect, slanted cursive. And then, just to be thorough, he writes the number of posts made and the follower and following counts beside the theories.

“How in the world would you know her?” he questions Azul’s profile picture—a generic photo of an ocean sunset. “And, more importantly, why?”

Perhaps he’s the one who took you on that dinner date, that cursed voice in the back of his skull pipes up. Riddle musses his hair and heaves another sigh, but as much as that supposition stabs him through with a horrible ache he has to take it into consideration. A date… If Azul truly does play some role in this and was potentially the last person to meet with (Name) before her disappearance, that would make him a prime suspect.

Potential Suspects

Azul (supposing it’s Azul Ashengrotto and not someone of the same first name)

Cater (on account of suspicious behavior)

(Name)? (supposing this is intentional? Voluntary?)

He’s in the process of writing the Leech twins’ names when his hand stills. They aren’t always glued to Azul, and they aren’t being forced to stick around like loyal sentinels. The last he heard of them, they resolved to return to the Coral Sea after graduation on account of familial obligations. Riddle had always heard the shudder-worthy rumors that they came from a ruthless crime family, but in spite of all of that the twins had always acted more like clever nuisances or intimidating bullies rather than callous criminals. Of course it was a different story if you found yourself at their feet when you broke contract terms, but even then they kept within socially acceptable boundaries. Most of the time. As loath as Riddle is to admit it, it’s admirable that they’re able to break things silently. After all, if your jaw is too shattered, you’re sworn to secrecy until it’s repaired.

With great certainty, the pen strikes through the words.

Potential Suspects

Azul (supposing it’s Azul Ashengrotto and not someone of the same first name)

Cater (on account of suspicious behavior)

(Name)? (supposing this is intentional? Voluntary?)

Floyd Leech (on account of connection to Azul)

Jade Leech (on account of connection to Azul)

“Ah. Well, maybe it’s too early to rule anyone out…” His pen is at his mouth, tapping out a steady rhythm. “But, really, what business would those three have with (Name)?”

Unable to pluck a reasonable answer from thin air, he slouches in his seat and then, realizing his horrid posture, straightens at once. Riddle drags a hand over his face, exhales slowly, and lowers his hand after a minute of quiet reflection. The police station looms ahead and he glances between the familiar brick-walled building and the notes in his agenda. Logically, he should walk right back inside and share what he’s written to aid in the investigation.

“It’s important you keep a clear head during all of this,” Officer Rayne had told him as the interview had reached its conclusion. “We appreciate any and all info you’ve got, so don’t be shy to give us a ring.”

Riddle thinks he might have protested then. Something about how it felt wrong to sit around and do nothing. Something about feeling like he owed you. Something about wanting to disprove those reports. Something about building a better profile for you. Something about…something.

“You’re doing plenty.” Officer Rayne smiled and indicated the notepad, which detailed all of the information from the hours-long conversation. “This situation’s out of your hands, and we wouldn’t recommend you do our work for us. Best let us handle the rest.”

Again, he opened his mouth. A grievance must have come tumbling out.

“By filing a report and talking to me today, you’ve done a great deal of service. Don’t blame yourself for being unable to do more. What else could you have done? These things are unpredictable.”

Things, Riddle thought with a frown. What a casual way to refer to a disappearance.

He stood from his seat and Riddle followed his lead. At the doorway, he extended his hand and Riddle took it, shaking it firmly. “If your friend contacts you, let us know right away.”

Riddle nodded and stepped out of the room.

“And don’t let it get you down. We’ll find your friend.”

One way or another, he expected to hear, but he was already walking away.

In the few minutes he spends ruminating, he manages to assemble a new list. Riddle peers at it, unsure of when he started writing and when he stopped thinking.

Priorities

Get in touch with Azul.

Question Cater more thoroughly.

Return to (Name)’s apartment and ask neighbors for any information.

Continue transcribing any and all findings.

Look for clues that might point in the direction of where (Name) went.

Create a timeline up until the disappearance and keep track of the number of days missing.

Transfer the above and all new information into a notebook.

Again, his eyes fall upon the police station. He wonders if there’s a rule that forbids normal citizens from doing investigations of their own. It can’t hurt to want to gather some proof for himself, right? He won’t cross any laws so long as everything’s within legal bounds, and if more than one person is working on the case it might even speed up the process. After all, aren’t two brains better than one?

And if there is a rule, he thinks as he reverses out of his parking spot, I certainly didn’t hear about it.

Turning onto the busy road, Riddle drives further from the station towards a far-off horizon spotted with wispy strands of cloud.

His first objective: Find Azul.

Microphone in hand, Cater stands in the center of a soundproofed room and announces in an energetic tone, “My dearest, most loyal besties, a big TY for coming! As a newly formed band, our first order of business is to celebrate with cute snacks, cute drinks, and even cuter company!” He punctuates that last part with a playful whistle and a wink.

In response, the two men sitting in the neon pink booth raise their glasses high. Both are filled with a sparkling substance, one so vermillion it’s nearly blood itself and the other a vivid orange. Lilia has ordered a Crimson Whisper—a delightful strawberry and raspberry margarita accompanied with a lime wedge and a skewer of sliced fruits. Kosher salt lines the rim, and under the dimmed lights it twinkles like pinpricks of diamond. Kalim’s beverage is known as the Tropical Tryst Twist, and it’s a fizzy tangerine and lemon cocktail decorated with a blue paper umbrella. A few ruby-red cherries are nestled amidst the ice.

Cater makes it a mission to familiarize himself with his favorite karaoke bar’s menu, but despite every food and drink combination he’s come across (some photographed and strung up on his social media and others admired from afar) he cannot stomach the sweetness. So for tonight—like most nights—he chooses something that is, as his sisters would often say, “so not cute.” Beer is his go-to, even if his carefully curated Magicam feed is adorned with photos of pastries and sugary drinks galore. Peel back the pretty wallpaper and you'll find the dollhouse is not what it seems. But festering in rot is so not cute, and so for this reason he plasters the bitter with beauty.

Fortunately, tonight is not a bitter night, and unlike the boring drink in his hand he still raises it to toast with the others. Their glasses join with a resounding clink.

Kalim pulls his drink away first, bringing it to his lips for a long sip. “This is exciting!” He sets it down on a coaster and beams, radiating raw joy. “I’ve never been in a real band before! Oh, we should publicize it, right? I can get my dad to help with that. He’ll be our first fan!”

Cater chuckles awkwardly. “Loving the enthusiasm, Kalim. Super-duper cute! But we need songs before we can start putting ourselves out there.”

Lilia hums his agreement. “I suppose what we’ve produced thus far wouldn’t exactly qualify as a true song.”

“At least it’s something… Oh! What if we took one of our short clips and extended it? Maybe add a few other instruments and beats so it feels like music you’d want to stop everything you’re doing and dance your troubles away to! Something summery and sweet!”

“Ooh, brilliant idea, Kalim. I wouldn’t mind giving it a shot. You never know until you try.”

“Right? Right?! Everyone likes to dance, and you need fun music to create fun energy! We could definitely do it.”

Their eyes flit to him now. Cater twirls the microphone in his hand, humming as he considers it. It’s a lot of work to produce music, and they often fooled around during club hours when they were in school. But they’ve done it before. Granted, thirty-second previews of sound can’t quite make it to trending if they aren’t captivating enough. Things like that aren’t anything to write home about, or so he often thinks when he browses the list of unnamed tracks cluttering his laptop’s home screen.

Cater’s grip on the microphone tightens. He smiles, slackens his shoulders, and flashes a cheerful thumbs-up. “Cay Cay’s got a plan!”

“Oh my.” Lilia’s eyes sharpen with curiosity. “If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say you’ve gathered us here for the sake of this very plan.”

“Discerning as ever, Lils! That’s right. I was actually hit with some crazy inspiration recently. And because of that…” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “A drum roll, if you would be so kind.”

Kalim laughs and slaps his hands upon the table. Lilia follows suit until they’re both pounding on it, the force rattling the macaron pyramid they ordered earlier. Cater, invigorated by their support, swipes his phone from off the table, flicks it on, and scrolls through his song drafts. He turns his screen towards Lilia and Kalim with a dramatic flourish.

“Behold—my soon-to-be magnum opus!”

They peer at it, and then a duet of awestruck oohs fills the room.

“This is shaping up to be very exciting.”

“Wow!” Kalim whistles, impressed. “I can’t believe I’m looking at lyrics for a potential song! Aha, you’re so cool, Cater!”

“Aren’t I?” he boasts, lowering into the booth across from them, a picture-perfect portrait of nonchalance. “I call it ‘Kismet Kiss,’ and it’s a song about fun feelings! It sounds kinda pop idol, but hear me out! We can find some way to work punk-rock into it, or we could hit everyone with an idol song and then ease into rock.”

“Like a sound buffet!” Kalim plucks a macaron from the tower and pops it in his mouth. “I think that’s a great idea. I’m down if you are, Lilia.”

“I wonder if we’d be able to handle so many genres at once.” He takes a slow, contemplative sip from his drink, a smile spreading on his lips. “I certainly look forward to experimenting. Is that not what youth is all about?”

“Well, don’t keep us in the dark! Let us hear your lyrics!”

“It’ll sound really yikes if I sing without any music, so give ‘em a read and lemme know what ya think! The Cater Inbox is open for criticisms! Constructive only, please and thank you.”

Cater passes his phone to Kalim, who takes it in his hands and sidles closer to Lilia so both can read simultaneously. While they peruse the lyrics, Cater taps out an anxious rhythm against his half-empty pint glass.

Kismet Kiss! - Cicada City Lyrics

I could never tell you

Of the feelings locked in my heart

For they’re twisted and thorny, but a special work of art!

It must be fate or destiny

Maybe even cosmic chemistry

Look only at me, me, me, me, me!

And soon you’ll begin to see…

Why is it that you gaze at me with such sincerity?

It’s kinda weird

Because suddenly everything’s so sparkly

Brightness blinds me eternally

You take my hand in yours and lead me astray

Hey~

Won’t you turn my way and promise you’ll stay?

Woohoo!

We share a bittersweet kismet kiss

Under a silver moon, where all is heavenly bliss

A cutely curated kismet kiss

Trapped in the confines of a moon-mired abyss!

It's as if the tarot has foretold,

That I’ll follow you wherever you go

No matter what, it’s a clingy kismet kiss

And now the skies have darkened with mist

The fortune says it’ll rain

I wonder if it’s a reflection of all this pain

Since everything has become so very

Otherworldly and strange

What are the secrets you keep,

When you think I am asleep?

Leaning in to lo-lo-lo-love you!

Forevermore, it’s brand new!

All these moods

You match my fake attitudes

Astral planes,

They rise and fall

You’re a jellyfish witch who knows how to enthrall

A sculpture of elegance in a crumbling hall

Oh dear, you’ve gone and collared me

And I can no longer say I feel free

Hey…

Whatever happened to the sugar strains in your veins?

Woohoo!

We share a bittersweet kismet kiss

Under a silver moon, where all is heavenly bliss

A cutely curated kismet kiss

Trapped in the confines of a moon-mired abyss!

Our very own kismet kiss

Painted in hazy constellations you’ll miss

If you can’t open up your eyes

And confront your star-spotted demise!

There’s an uncomfortable silence that thickens in the air, and Cater counts the seconds it takes before it’s disturbed by Kalim’s gasp. Eleven seconds.

“You wrote this?”

Cater curls his fingers into a tight, self-assuring fist, nails pricking his palms. “Sure did. Penned by yours truly and everything! It’s still not finished, though. I’m always going back to edit, but so far that’s the most coherent draft I have. So whatcha think? It’s totally cute, yeah?”

“It’s very telling,” Lilia praises with a cryptic grin. Cater doesn’t like the wisdom discreetly woven into his next words. “You can learn a lot from the speaker in the song. Some truths are best expressed in writing, after all. When we put pen to paper, left alone with but our wrist and brain, we’re usually very honest with the page.”

As always, you’re a mystery, Cater thinks with a thin smile. Maybe I shouldn’t have shared it so confidently.

“It’s a masterpiece! Seriously, this is poetry and art and everything else! I love it! Oh! Did you write it with anyone in mind? You said you had some inspiration, right? I’m always getting inspired when I see the sun or clouds shaped like animals or even when I’m eating sweets! But what about your inspiration?”

Cater uncurls his fist to take his phone from Lilia’s outstretched hand. “Riddle said a really cool line a few days ago and it kinda stuck with me.”

It’s not a total lie.

“Ah, that’s right. You’ve mentioned before that he took up a position at your workplace,” Lilia muses, flicking his wrist to swipe three macarons from the tower with magic. They float over lazily and he opens his mouth to receive each one with a delighted hum. “How is he faring?”

“He became Mr. Manager in under two weeks.”

Kalim laughs. “It was also like that at NRC, wasn’t it? Sounds just like Riddle to go for the top spot!”

Cater waves his hand through the air dismissively, suddenly disinterested in the subject of this conversation. “DD’s become Heartslabyul: The Sequel ever since he joined.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not not a bad thing?” He slumps in the booth. “I mean, it’s cool to work with an old friend, but Riddle’s so…Riddle. He just never eases up, you know?”

“I think it’s fun! Maybe I should work there, too! Ooh, wouldn’t that be cool? We could all work with Cater. It’ll be like club meetings all over again!”

“That sounds super-duper sweet, but I don’t think we’d get any work done if that were the case.”

Kalim deflates with a nervous chuckle. “Ah, yeah… You make a fair point.”

“I surmise Riddle wouldn’t be very keen to work with all three of us. That boy has always been too diligent.”

Cater gazes at him from over the rim of his glass. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Lilia quirks a sly smile, amused to have his own words pointed right back at his throat. “It’s unhealthy to have too much of anything. After all, excessive diligence leads to perfectionism taken to extremes.”

“Isn’t that just the cutest description for our ridiculous Riddle?”

“I dunno,” Kalim says, shrugging. “It’s kinda admirable, don’tcha think?”

“Perhaps.” Lilia commands another macaron with ease. He bites half of it this time, the other half suspended in the air. “Even the most debilitating obsessions stem from some unique form of admiration.”

“Oh? Is that experience talking, Lils?”

Cater’s eyes are sharper than a sword when they pierce through the faerie sitting across from him. A fanged smile is the only response he receives just as Lilia closes his mouth around the remaining macaron half. Crumbs flutter to the floor. And just before he can pry a little further—dig into him with a verbal knife and fork—his mobile phone chirps out a happy ringtone, thus disturbing the tension stretching taut between them. Cater holds Lilia’s gaze a moment longer before surrendering and peering at his phone. He doesn’t have the forethought to stifle his annoyed groan.

“You totes jinxed it!” He flips his phone towards them to show Riddle’s icon on the caller ID.

Kalim lets out a hearty chortle. “We really did! Hey, why don’t we invite Riddle since he’s calling? We have enough macarons for him, and if we run out I’ll just order more. Does he drink, Cater? We can order something before he gets here!”

“Oh, you’re way too nice! Although Riddle’s a pretty busy guy… I don’t think he’d wanna intrude. Maybe next time?”

“But he’s always welcome! The more the merrier.”

“I could ask, but I’d hate to bother him if he’s already busy. That’s never cute.”

Drop it, Kalim. I don’t want Riddle here.

“Oh?” Lilia cocks his head to the side just as Cater’s phone rings a second time. He watches him hurry to switch it off. “If it’s important, don’t let us get in your way.”

“It’s fine.” It comes out harsher than he intended, so he laughs and plucks a macaron from the tray. The sweet remains in his palm. “I mean, come on! I see enough of Riddle already. He can just tell me what he wants the next time we’re on shift, or he can text me. Calling is so old school nowadays.”

“But if he’s calling you more than once…” Kalim’s lips curl into a concerned pout. “If it’s a secret, I’ll cover my ears.”

“No, no. Really, it’s A-okay! He’s just been a little cray ever since (Name) disappeared.”

The oxygen in the room seems to slither away and suddenly he can’t breathe. Or, more realistically, he’s forgotten to take a breath when Kalim and Lilia fix him with stern looks.

“Oh my.”

“(Name) disappeared? That’s not good!”

“It’s not a big deal. She’s always getting lost and found, so she’ll come around eventually.”

“You don’t seem very worried,” Lilia notes, brows furrowed.

“Should I be?” Realizing how frigid that sounds, he chuckles airily. “I mean, it’s normal for her to go ghost for a few days. She’s been like this for years now. It’s nothing new.”

“Still, isn’t that scary? Aren’t you afraid she might’ve gotten into trouble or worse?” Kalim insists, nodding in agreement with Lilia’s earlier observation.

Cater blinks, allowing their words to seep into the very pores on his skin. “Um, well, I guess it’d be concerning to people who don’t know anything… But trust me on this. I know (Name). She’s probs living it up with her pseudo-boyfriend.”

“Well, if you say so.” Lilia shrugs, but those carmine hues remain centered on his phone as if awaiting another call.

“Shouldn’t you file a missing report? What if she isn’t with her boyfriend? Or, uh, her not-boyfriend?”

“Guys, I promise she’s finer than wine!” To prove it, he pulls up your Magicam profile, scrolls through the feed, and clicks on an older post. The photograph in question is a view of the expansive ocean from a cruise ship’s deck, glossy wood railing displaying two half-empty drinks: a mojito and a daiquiri. “She cut all contact with me for, like, a few days, and I went to file a report because I thought something had happened. But then she posts this just as I’m leaving the station, and so I had to go back in there and let ‘em know it was a false alarm. It totally harshed my vibes! I looked like I was crying wolf and that is so not the mood!”

Kalim peers at the photo. “Looks fun, but why didn’t she tell you where she was going?”

“She never does.” Cater shrugs and pockets the device just as another call comes in. Thankfully, it goes right to his voicemail. “That’s just how she is.”

“Does that upset you?”

Cater raises a brow. “I’m not her babysitter, Lils. Besides, besties don’t have to tell each other everything. It’s not part of some bestie code or anything. We’re not sworn to each other in some blood pact either. She lives her life and I live mine. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

“Aw. But sharing secrets makes a friendship so much stronger,” Kalim says, slouching in the booth. “Jamil knows some of my secrets! Like that time I accidentally swapped the salt and sugar. He’s the only one I’ve ever told. Ah, wait! I’ve just told you and Lilia… Pretend you didn’t hear that, okay?”

Cater pantomimes locking his lips and tossing an invisible key. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Not that it’s anything criminal.

“It follows me to the grave! Swapping the salt and sugar is an offense punishable by death, after all.” Lilia chuckles, though Cater suspects his amusement stems from another place. He’s definitely guilty of that exact mishap.

“If I’m being honest,” he starts, and that first part is already a lie, “I don’t think (Name) wants me to know about her life. Or, more specifically, her super-secret not-boyfriend.”

“Why? Are you curious?” Kalim cocks his head to the side.

“Obviously! Dude’s, like, megarich! Of course I’d be curious. Who wouldn’t?” Cater taps a painted fingernail against the macaron in his palm. “Every time we talk about him, she keeps it real vague. Sometimes I think this guy’s just fiction. TBH, if I had rich arm candy, I’d flaunt them all the time. No offense, Kalim.”

“Huh? Why?” He blinks in confusion. “Isn’t it good to feel proud of someone you like?”

“Well, this situation is slightly different, isn’t it?” Lilia asks, looking to Cater for confirmation.

“Based on the data I’ve acquired,” he says, raising a finger and putting on a professional voice that earns him laughter from Kalim and a grin from Lilia, “I can confidently theorize that there’s more to their little game of give and take. Because, really, how much loveless sex can you possibly have before the feels start seeping through?”

“But she never claimed to harbor feelings, or am I assuming incorrectly?”

“It was the opposite, actually. She told me she was breaking up with him because he couldn’t hit the right spots.”

Lilia raises his hand to his mouth, shielding a razored smile. “Dear me. That’s no good.”

“Or maybe,” Kalim posits, “it has nothing to do with sex. Maybe he can’t hit the spots in her heart.”

Cater stares, realizes he’s staring approximately ten seconds later, and forces himself to laugh in disbelief. “(Name) in love? Please, Kalim! She’d never.”

“How do you know? If there’s a connection, but it isn’t reciprocated…” Kalim shrugs and stuffs a macaron in his mouth, continuing his next words with a muffle: “I’m just guessing. Actually, I just thought it felt right, you know? I don’t know your friend—but I’d like to one day—so I can’t say that’s why she did what she did, but not everyone has the same spots. Maybe she wanted more from him, but he couldn’t give it to her.”

“Kalim, you know I appreciate you and your pure heart, but good dick and love are two separate things. You can love good dick, but good dick can’t give you love if the relationship isn’t built on it to begin with.” Lilia cackles at the phrasing, but Cater adds in a clipped tone, “I know (Name). It had nothing to do with love. It’s just convenience.”

Kalim pouts. “Then, if she really didn’t love him, what if he loved her?”

“Oh? Is this a sudden twist in the suspicious soap opera? I’m on the edge of my seat.” Lilia interjects, eyes wide, hands spread like he’s a magician who’s just performed a magnificent trick worthy of applause. “The youths of today are so creative. Back in my day, you could pierce your lover with Cupid’s arrow if you sang a love song, wrote flowery poetry, or defeated a rival in a bloody battle for the heart!”

“Lils, that’s so medieval…”

“Far from it! Even today, love songs and poems are still quite popular. Sometimes the battle part applies. Or am I a century behind?”

“That’s funny! You’re so silly, Lilia!”

I don’t think he’s joking, Kalim…

Lilia tilts his head, blinking owlishly, a smile spreading on his face. “I’m happy to entertain.”

“Listen, if he loved her, I wish him the best of luck. (Name) makes herself hard to love. I should know. I’m her bestie, after all. Maybe that’s why she’s ghosting us. Things got too lovey-dovey and she had to set sail. She’ll be back in a day or two once she’s returned from her boring little island of loneliness.”

“I suppose patterns are easier to predict once you’ve fallen into them…”

“Right? You get it, Lils. She’ll be fine. Everyone will be fine! (Name) just needs her space, Riddle needs a chill pill, and we need to get back on track. So! ‘Kismet Kiss,’ yeah? It’s a good debut song, right?”

“What if he didn’t give her a choice?” Kalim blurts, and both heads turn in his direction. He fidgets, his fingers curling into his jacket. “I guess… Well, it’s scary to admit, but what if she really did disappear and Riddle’s worries are totally valid?”

“You think she got kidnapped?”

“Um… I’m not saying that…”

“He’s saying it, but it’s at a frequency we just can’t understand. Like subliminal messaging.”

“Lilia!” Kalim squeezes his eyes shut with a groan. “You’re gonna jinx it!”

“That’s what Riddle thinks happened. I keep telling him it’s nothing like that, but you know how he gets. Once his mind is made up, it’s hard to change it.”

“Riddle’s not wrong in thinking the worst.”

“Yeah! Riddle’s always been so sensible, so I trust his judgment. Your gut never lies, after all.”

“But he’s wrong this time, okay?”

“How can you know for sure?”

What is this, an interview? Give me a break.

“I just know.” Green eyes sparkle under neon lights, no longer pits of gloom set into his skull. “Her pattern’s easy to follow, Lils. And I used to burden myself with the worst of the worst, but that’s so not cute! I’d rather chalk it up to her usual behavior than think she’s lying in some dark ditch, hacked to pieces.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say, Cater…”

“I’ll admit it does paint a rather grisly image.”

“You think?”

Kalim stares, his mouth foolishly agape.

He shakes his head, tutting, and holds his finger up to his lips. With a wink, he says, “The worst becomes ten times cuter when it’s absurd! There’s no way she’s in a ditch. We’re in the city. Where is anyone gonna find the nearest ditch when everything’s all concrete and steel?”

Lilia hums, but Cater surmises he isn’t buying the cheery assurances. In fact, the more he tells himself these things, the less he believes them. “If you say so. I shan't push it further.” He lifts his glass with magic and brings it to his lips to finish what’s left. “The worst lies are often, as you usually phrase it, ‘addictively adorable,’ so perhaps you aren’t entirely wrong either.” Blood-red liquid tilts towards waiting lips. “Your friend may not be in a ditch, but she might be enshrouded in a gilded falsehood.”

Cater opens his mouth to reply and is promptly interrupted by the ringing of a timer.

Kalim gasps and scrambles to silence it. “Has it already been two hours? No way! We haven’t even had a chance to sing yet!”

“I suppose old habits die hard.”

“Aah, this really is like club meetings all over again…” He smiles fondly, his eyes glazing with reminiscence. “I guess it can’t be helped. We always have things to talk about when we meet up!”

Lilia grins and bumps shoulders with him. “You’ll never be short of conversation topics with me.”

“I believe it!”

They glance at Cater. He blinks back at them.

“Then should we call it a night? Jamil’s probably wondering why I haven’t gotten back to him yet… Oh, right. I forgot to tell him we were hanging out tonight. Haha! Oops!”

How can you be so carefree? I’d like to know your secret.

“As much of a night owl as I am, we’ve long overstayed our welcome. Perhaps we’ll meet again tomorrow? We can discuss your song and goals for the band then. Travel is not a challenge for me, though I assume you might be a little busy, Kalim?”

“It’s complicated, but I can definitely make time for you guys! You’re my friends and I wanna hang out! Next time, we definitely have to invite Riddle and I’ll bring Jamil, too!”

No, it’s not being carefree. You’re just careless.

Cater flashes them a smile that’s just as empty as his eyes, yet it seems to do the trick. Either that, or Lilia just doesn’t wish to verbalize his observations. “Totally! We’ll get to it when we get to it.”

“I look forward to it. I think Cicada City is shaping up to be quite the shining star with a promising future.”

“Ooh, shining stars! I love it! We gotta talk about outfits, too.” Kalim pops up from the booth. “Ah! But before that, you should talk to your friend, Cater. Make sure she’s okay. I hope she’s safe.”

“As do I. Better to be safe than sorry, as they often say.”

Cater nods. “Yep, yep! You can count on Detective Cay Cay! I’ll get to the bottom of this mystery in no time.”

The macaron in his hand is subjected to a brutal crushing.

This is so not sweet. I completely forgot to take pictures for Magicam.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #serial killer jade #death row undertow #death row undertow chapter seven

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uhohwhathaveidone · 2 years

Text

~Hawke Request and Info~

o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

About Me

20, they/them, British, ISTP-T, Hufflepuff. Asexual girl lover

Currently playing: Genshin Impact

Currently watching: Jujustu Kaisen

AO3

Star Wars, Wednesday, Haikyuu, Jujustu Kaisen, and Obey Me stories can be found on @fluffshisuga

Currently working on 46 requests

Requests

Angst, Fluff, Platonic, Hurt/Comfort, Song fic

Do Not Request

nsfw (aged up or otherwise, no exceptions i won't write it)

Ask box is: CLOSED (but just wait o(^▽^)o)

Masterlist (This is your holy grail, you'll need it)

Sebastian Sallow

Duel of The Fates (Angst)

The Little Things (Fluff)

You'll Catch a Cold (Fluff)

Lay Your Head on my Shoulder (fluff)

Loverboy (Fluff)

Here with me (Hurt/comfort)

Cardigan, part two of Here With Me (Hurt/comfort)

Brewed Crush (fluff)

Tainted Crush, pt2 of Brewed Crush (Fluff)

Shy Slytherin (fluff)

My Knight (Slight angst, fluff)

For You (Hurt/comfort)

Astronomy Tower (fluff/slight angst)

With Me Instead (Fluff/Angst)

Flipside (Fluff)

Sneaky (Fluff)

For Us (Hurt/Comfort)

Anything To Save You (Hurt/Comfort)

Polyjuice (Fluff)

First Date (Fluff)

Overslept? (Fluff)

Loyal Hufflepuff (Angst? Fluff? It's something)

Caramel (Fluff)

Without Hesitation (Hurt no comfort)

Ominis Gaunt

Marriage? (Enemies to Lovers)

Marry Me, pt2 to Marriage? (Angst/Fluff)

Have A Look (Fluff)

Clearly In Love (Fluff)

Secret Admirer (Fluff)

Seeds of Love (Fluff)

Garreth Weasley

Support (Fluff)

Poppy Sweeting

Carnation (Fluff)

Ominis Gaunt & Sebastian Sallow

What Happened to You? (Hurt/Comfort, Angst)

Jealousy (Angst, Fluff)

For Both of You (Hurt/Comfort)

Choices (Hurt/Comfort)

Reckless (Hurt/Comfort)

What I write for

Harry Potter (Hogwarts Legacy), Supernatural, Wednesday, Maze Runner, Obey Me! Shall we Date?, Star Wars, Criminal Minds, Genshin Impact, jujustu Kaisen

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rabbit-reveries · 2 years

Text

— 𝑷eace

“All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?”

It seems hard to believe it now, but there were days before the war when you and Aemond were friends. The best of friends. When was it that he became a Green and you became a Black? you wonder. Against your best judgment and your parents' wishes, you are now lovers in secret.

Day after day, it gets harder and harder to maintain your relationship. You love Aemond, but being with him is betraying your family and yourself. Navigating this conflict and this connection is exhausting. All you've ever wanted was peace. — A story, from how it came to be to how it ended.

Pairing: Aemond x Targaryen!Reader

Tags: Childhood Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Multichapter Fic.

Warnings: None in this chapter

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 1 : Bloom Later

You remember being a young girl in your grandsire's court; eyes seemed to follow you everywhere you went. It felt like you could not afford to ever make a mistake. You could not. As Rhaenyra Targaryen's eldest child - and a girl, no less - there were whispers about your every move. "There goes she, the 'strong' princess," they would say when they thought you couldn't hear. You would wonder what they'd meant by that but would never find anyone willing to explain. You did not consider yourself particularly strong, much more interested in books and playing in the gardens than roughhousing with the boys and their weapons.

You remember Aemond as a young boy, so bright and shy, used to being cast aside for Aegon to the point he went about as a ghost haunting his own home. You remember how alive he was when you would sit with him in the library and listen to his rambles about old Valyria and dragons, though. He'd chase after you in the Red Keep's halls, and when no one else was around, he'd let you braid and weave flowers through his silver-blonde hair. "White carnations," you'd say, incorporating the blossoms to the do, and he'd nod as if he had any idea of what it meant. Once, his mother caught you alone in the garden maze with white camellia crowns, and you remember he never again allowed you to play with his hair. Alicent hated you and your siblings: you could tell, even at a young age.

You remember your brothers taunting Aemond about being dragon-less. You remember being ten years old when your mother tried to make amends with the Queen by offering to wed you to Aegon, then five and ten. Your only option was to accept such a fate, but you were terrified of the boy and ran crying to your best friend. You remember well how he held your hands and promised you he'd become a great man, an even greater dragon rider, and he'd wed you himself. He'd protect you from his brother, he promised. Copying what he'd read in books, you two used the small dagger he kept attached to the hip to cut your bottom lips and perform a makeshift wedding ceremony in the maze. Orange blossoms and white roses, you remember.

Then, not many days later, dark crimson and marigolds. You were a bastard, you learned, and your true father was dead in a fire, as was your aunt Laena. You were only allowed to grieve publicly for one of them, crying in your mother's lap while she made up stories about you and your aunt being close. The same night of the funeral, orange lily, yellow hyacinth, and so many geraniums.

You were there to see Aemond lose his eye by your brother's hand. The hate in his face when he questioned your lineage; when he held up a rock to attack Jace; when he was down bleeding and found you there, paralyzed. The guards you called tried to help him stand while you did nothing but stare. "I promised you I'd protect you from my brother. Why did you not protect me from yours?" he asked. You didn't know how to answer. You remember Aemond so well, but that moment never fit in with the rest of the puzzle pieces that formed his image in your head. You remember Aemond very well, and he was never the same.

Back to the Red Keep after six years, you catch yourself looking for silver-blonde hair everywhere. Every time you think you might have seen him, you didn't, and when you do see him, he feels like someone else. Aemond is impossibly taller, sharper, and alien. You are right in front of him; he could be anywhere else. You struggle to meet his eye, and it's like you are the ghost this time, haunting a home you don't belong to. He stares at you in silence.

"Aemond, say hello to princess Y/N." Alicent nudges him, stern as you remember.

"Hello, niece."

His tone is mocking and dry of emotion. You feel stupid for expecting some warm welcome from your former best friend after half a decade gone. Did you... Did you perhaps imagine all of your moments together? The afternoons spent reading to him, all the flowers he brought you without knowing the meaning, only because he knew you'd like them... You remember it all, so why now is he like this...? Are you really dead to him? You force yourself to snap out of it and present him with a smile.

Niceties done, your mother makes up an excuse to retire. You give them a sorry grin as if it is truly unfortunate that you have to take your leave of their presence, and Alicent mirrors you the best she can. Both of you know every second of the exchange was torture, but it is the fortune of women to pretend. You used to wonder why but realized it is easier to accept and bear it than to spend your time moaning and questioning. Before you turn to the door, a hand catches your arm, and you half expect it to be Aemond's. Instead, you find Helaena, who lets go of you as if your skin is poison.

"Sorry." she says and bites her lip like she really is "I wondered if we could take a stroll around the garden together. Would you accompany me?"

You sneak a look at Alicent, who stares at her daughter like she's gone mad. You figure that isn't too foreign to Helaena since she doesn't even react to it.

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you." she all but beams and takes your arm.

Helaena is quite different from what you remember, and at the same time, she hasn't changed a thing. She is a year younger than you, barely five and ten, with twin children of her own, and by her big eyes, you can tell she's still very much a child herself. In the gardens, she tells you about different types of bugs and encourages you to hold the insects in your hand. In fear of insulting her, you nod along and swallow your disgust when she places a centipede in your palm.

"Now that I look at it, it isn't so frightening..." you muse.

Helaena seems thrilled to hear. "It's not frightening at all! It's quite fascinating, actually, but not many are willing to appreciate the little things." she says. "I knew you would, though."

You two were good friends once, weren't you? When you were little, you used to play with dolls together, creating all sorts of stories. Sometimes she would gather a handful of bugs, line them up and pretend you two were their Septas. She'd spend hours telling you about insect trivia, and you'd teach her about flowers. White rosebuds and iris. You grin at her and leave the centipede on the leaf of a nearby bush.

"I missed you, you know." she says "Being alone with my brothers... Aemond pays me company sometimes, but he mostly spends his day training and riding Vhagar. Aegon... I thought maybe he'd be kinder to me once we were married, but that's my fault for being foolish."

Your heart aches. You can't begin to imagine how lonely it must have felt. Helaena sent you a raven when you had just gotten to Dragonstone, but you were mad at Aemond and so hurt that you never replied. You reach to take her hand.

"I missed you too."

Helaena looks up at you, smiling. She'd never been missed before. "You did? I did not think you would."

"I did! Dragonstone was nice, and I love my brothers, but I missed having a girlfriend. And I missed you, specifically." it's true. It's a shame you let your anger towards her brother nip your friendship.

The blonde is surprised by your confession, pleasantly so. "I figured you'd miss Aemond since you were always so close... I thought there was no space for me."

"Nonsense." You pull her into a hug, but she doesn't seem very used to it, so you settle for holding her hands. You two continue walking, arm in arm. You really did miss her.

"He missed you too." she says after a moment of silence. You immediately know who she's talking about, although you pretend not to. You say nothing. "The book you left about the language of the flowers, he took it. He must've read it a thousand times."

"It's good that Aemond tried to learn new things." you say, eyes on the birds in the sky.

"He did it because it reminded him of you."

"And yet it seems that he has forgotten. You were there, you saw how he ignored me." You are hurt but try to appear absentminded out of pride. You expected him to hug you and spin you off the ground - or to acknowledge your presence, at the very least.

"He didn't ignore you. He's just bad with emotions." his sister reassures. You remember him having a hard time expressing himself when he was a boy, but he'd always find a way to overcome his limitations somehow when it came to you. "I'm sure if you went to him..."

You shake your head "Absolutely not. He should come to me."

Helaena tries to convince you some more, but you are stubborn. Not much time passes before a servant calls the two of you to supper with the King.

It is your first time seeing your grandsire in a long time. He looks like a feeble whisper of the man you remember. Shaken, you search your mother's hand, but she isn't sitting close to you, and you grab the closet person's instead. With shock, you realize it is Aemond's. He says nothing, and you say nothing. You let go of him, trying to not let it show how his touch burns your skin. Under the table, you flex your hand, trying to get rid of the feeling.

Aegon talks to you briefly, an insulting comment you try hard not to understand. He soon turns his attention to Baela and Rhaena, probably to enrage your brothers. Unfortunately, he's just as you remembered.

Tension is high and rising. Jace gets up from the table causing your heart to speed up, anticipating a fight. Thankfully, the King intervenes and makes a toast, then your mother and the Queen follow. You relax in your chair, thinking you might go to sleep regarding the day to have been peaceful. You only ever wanted peace. Aegon toasts, though you try not to pay attention, and then Helaena.

"To Baela and Rhaena, they will be married soon! It isn't so bad, mostly he just ignores you. Except sometimes when he's drunk. And to Y/N, who will be wed before any of us knows it."

She sits down again, and you send her a quizzical look. What did she mean by that? You were hardly an old maid, and in no hurry to marry.

"Thank you, aunt, for the lovely wishes." you say when it comes to your turn to pay a tribute. "I wish to toast to my grandsire, King Viserys, who kept the realm stable for decades and made his name as The Peaceful. I only wish to be half the ruler you are."

They clap and get back to eating. You notice Jace asking Helaena for a dance, a bit of confusion in your frown. He was never that interested in her, not even when you were children. "Well," you think "as long as it's all in good fun". Turning back to watch them dance, you see they seem to be enjoying themselves. You sigh in relief. All the conflict you were exposed to growing up made your anxiety high in the face of stress. Unfortunately, the same can't be said about other members of your family. Your brothers, for example, seem to have a knack for provoking others.

Half the feast goes by with the cheeriest tone the Targeryans are capable of - meaning you are able to chat with the other ladies, and neither your mother nor your brothers are being threatened or threatening anyone. You look up from your plate to see your grandsire coughing and wailing in pain. In a matter of seconds, the Queen orders the guards to take him to his quarters. She seems worried but not unused to it.

All of a sudden the meal in front of you does not seem so appetizing. You want to excuse yourself, but it'd be rude to leave the table when there is still food being served, and your mother looks like she needs you there more than ever. As the eldest, you feel like you have no place to complain. Sat in front of you, you hear Luke's giggle, and realize a roasted pig has been set on the table, right in front of Aemond. No, not the Pink Dread again. You are so tired. "Fuck." you mutter under your breath.

You think Aemond was only waiting for your cue to get up, his eye set on you as he raises his goblet. He turns to Luke and Jace, a viper ready to strike. "Final tribute. To the health of my niece and nephews: Y/N, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them talented, wise... Strong. Let us drain our cups to these four Strong princes and princess."

He drinks, a poisonous grin on his lips. You are insulted, you are betrayed. You expected him to at least keep it civil.

"I dare you to say that again." Jace challenges. From what you know of your brother, he's about ready to throw a punch.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment."

"You know perfectly well it was not." you accuse, tears of anger in your eyes.

"Do you not think yourself Strong, my lady?" you hear Aemond ask, that grin directed at you. Jace punches him straight in the jaw, and you are sure that if he hadn't, you would. Luke gets up from his seat to help, you think, but Aegon stops him. You, in turn, get up to push him off your brother. A guard grabs you by the waist and lifts you off the ground.

"Get off me!" you squeal, but he only lets you go when you are on the other side of the room, painting and held off from jumping on either of the silver-haired brothers. Aemond says something else, you didn't quite hear it, but it's enough to have you fighting the hold of the guard.

To your surprise, your mother's husband, Daemon, gets involved. "Wait, wait!" he says, and you obey. Your mother then orders you and your siblings to head to your quarters. Alicent's boys are free to do as they please, you see. With the corner of your eye, you catch Helaena crouched in a corner of the dining room.

You go back fuming to your chamber. Gods, all you want is to have peace! Is that so hard? Is it such a sin to be tired of deaths and bloodshed? You begin to tug at the strings holding your dress together, trying to be set free from the heavy fabrics without the help of your handmaiden, when you hear a loud knock on the door. Outside, a vase of forget-me-nots and a note.

You immediately know what it means. Dress half undone and half a mind made to throw the vase out of the window, you bring the items inside. Forget-me-nots, you can't believe it. Does he think he can treat you in whatever way he wants and then send you flowers? You're unsure what to make of the mixed signals. You open the note, if only in hopes of better understanding what is happening. It read:

“Meet me in the maze at the hour of the owl.

- A”

#hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond #aemond targaryen #bunnie writes #not hp

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dicegoblin47 · 6 months

Text

Carnival! AU OC!

Oro!

Snakes!

5 eyes- C! Daisy

4 eyes- Nightshade

3 eyes- Carnation

2 eyes- Dandelion

1 eye- Lotus

“Whack-A-Mouse” (Oro’s Game)

Oro's level is set in the center of a garden maze with huge holes in the ground. It gives you a mallet to hit the giant mice that come out of the holes, but you need to be careful not to hit its snakes! To win, you need to get through 5 rounds where the mice progressively move faster.

If you hit a snake, Oro will begin to hum "Run Rabbit Run Rabbit" and pull out a huge mallet. They will then slowly chase you throughout the maze, humming the whole time. Your goal? Find the snake you hit and get their forgiveness before Oro catches you. If you get their forgiveness, it begrudgingly guides you back to the center and allows you to restart after some convincing from its snake.

AU by @sm-baby

#tadc au #my artwork #my art <3 #digital art #carnival au #tadc oc #tadc carnival au #the amazing digital carnival

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hannahmaysolis · 4 months

Text

National Museum of Women in the Arts

Online Art Exhibition: Wanderer/Wonderer: Pop-ups by Colette Fu

Collette Fu crafts enormous pop-up books that are so detailed—they resemble mazes—that illustrate myths and legends and shed light on lesser-known cultures.

First Picture:

This is a picture of Collette Fu creating her art piece.

Second Picture:

Title: Dai Food from the "We Are Tiger Dragon People" collection.

Concept: The Dai people, an ethnic minority in China's Yunnan Province, are acknowledged in this work. The photographer documented the area and its residents for three years. These pieces served as inspiration for this artwork.

Presentation: This book is about 60 pounds, it consists of ultra-chrome pigment ink, and Epson-enhanced matte paper mounted onto a cougar. The book has a smooth cover paper made up of black iris cloth. Its dimensions are 17x25x10.5 in. Featured in this piece in the Dai people's cultural foods. There is a young Dai woman who is cooking, she has her hair up and is decorated with flowers, she is wearing cultural attire and has an apron around the waist. I can pick out foods like kebabs, a pig`s head, grilled chicken, beef with red peppers, and spicy noodles. I also can see a type of leaf that is used to wrap food. This art piece incorporates a variety of colors and shapes.

I am quite the foodie. I think many of us who live in America and are not Chinese have this image of what "Chinese food" is. But just like many cultures, there is a variety of dishes. What I love about this artwork and find most fascinating about it is the 3D effect, the dishes look as if I could hold them.

Third Picture:

Title: Robin Museum (from Haunted Philadelphia), 2005-2006

Concept:

"Fu found inspiration for this book in the tragic story of young lovers who met secretly in the garden of Philadelphia`s Robin Museum. After the young woman`s family sent her away to try to break up the romance, she returned home to discover that her beau had been killed in the Vietnam war. Devasted, she went alone to the museum, found it locked, and was killed by a car as she dashed across the busy Benjamin Franklin Parkway. Fu associated this story with the unhappy love affair between French sculptor Camille Claudel (1864-1943) and Auguste Rodin (1840-1917), her mentor." (“Wanderer/Wonderer: Pop-Ups by Colette Fu | Online Exhibition”)

Presentation: This book is about 60 pounds, it consists of ultra-chrome pigment ink, and Epson-enhanced matte paper mounted onto a cougar. It has a smooth cover that is held by glue and Chinese joss paper with newspapers. Its dimensions are 53x36x21 in. Featured in this piece is Fu`s spin on the Robin Museums garden. We see fall leaves all around, and trees in the background that surround the centerpiece. Within the trees, sculptors are sticking out. These sculptors are pieces of Robin and Claudel`s work. In the center is a sculpture of a man and woman, representing Robin and Claudel.

This piece is very different from the second picture. The Dai food is colorful, and fun and creates a lively vibe. But in this art piece, there is a type of gloomyness and sorrowful attitude.

I don`t want to take away from you exploring these pieces yourself. Other artworks were presented in this art exhibition, I encourage you to check them out as well and learn of the stories that brought them together.

Fourth Picture:

Title: Ashima, (From the collection "We Are Tiger Dragon People"), 2008-2014

Fifth Picture:

Title: A Pop-up Book of Lillies, Roses, Iris, Pansies, Columbine, Love-In-A-Mist, Larkspur, And Other Flowers In A Glass Vase On Table Top, Flanked By A Rose And A Carnation, 2023

Website to Exhibition: https://nmwa.org/whats-on/exhibitions/online/wanderer-wonderer-pop-ups-by-colette-fu/

#art detail #artwork #art #art exhibition #chinese art #paper art

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ankhbot · 5 months

Video

youtube

A vision, a call In times before my fall In life before I became I dreamt I was insane I saw the unseen I heard the unheard I rode the sky above the earth I felt the breeze of the world I walked along I should have retrieved...

What was real as a merry blue sky Was long gone within of me...

Crimson tide Wave of lost time Scenario of a velvet blue sky I dreamt about day But I lived in the night I looked and I saw That in my dream I was free Red turned blue White became black The daylight erased the shadow of me

Insanity reached Whispering voice The sky above the stars The wind below the moon The light created shadows The dark beyond the eyes I sat before myself I looked above below

Doves and birds, grass and trees Where was all I used to see? Why am I not What I used to be? I embrace My living self I see the unseen I hear the unheard I learned the secret But not before I learned Night divide day, day erase night Light of day, day of Darkness...

They are inside my head Climbing the walls Falling off the ceiling Jumping on the floor

Voices and calls... And on the edge of sanity I stumble and fall... Through the gates of the endless halls

Soldier, walk with me Through the valley of eternity In passion I see Am I the one only the mirror sees? Through the valley of eternity Am I the one only the mirror sees? A distant call for me I am lost within my memory Lost in the maze The secret place that no one's ever seen I am lost within my memory The secret place that no one's ever seen Silent cries of despair Through the valley of eternity What sanity remains Within this fragile, twisted mind

I am all alone Me, myself, and I Echoes pound my head Shapeless forms everywhere

I think, therefore I am You are a fantasy Made by me I dream this world When I end, the world will end with me I am everything You are me Sleep my child to never be...

I fell asleep, to sweet lullaby A sleep in which I had a dream In this dream I conceived a perfect plan That would change the face of mankind

For it was my dream To create a perfect world From this cold imperfect world And all the answers were inside my mind And I was unafraid The dream was so enticing...

Light of day, day of Darkness

Layla!!!

Float and vibrate in peace my own SOULar power of an angel.

Green Carnation - Light Of Day, Day Of Darkness

#a matter of life and death #spoken word #of love #of hate #of death #green carnation #light of day day of darkness #atmospheric #dark #poetic #melancholic #sombre #progressive metal #symphonic metal #theatrical #music #dark academia

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slashercult · 7 months

Note

hello, lovely! <3 may i please participate in your tarot game? if it's still open that is!

[🕯 - what film couple is like me and my fs?] may i ask this one, please?

my details

i'm ss, and i'm a female. i'm attracted to males. i'm from india, [so bollywood fever lmao] so my favourite movie is a hindi movie— 'bhool bhulaiyaa'/'maze' lead actor akshay kumar, directed by priyadarshan. i like it because it's both, comedic and highly engaging! the suspense was very properly displayed and everything felt like it went in sequence, like dots connecting yk, not just jump around and then bam, ending.

if i had to recommend you a movie, it'd be 'pirates of the caribbean' or 'pride and prejudice'. i love kiera knightley's works in all of these films! and a last one—'the portrait of the lady on fire.' it's based on a gay couple, so it take it as you may, but i seriously love it so much! i don't even have a reason lmao i just enjoy it a lot! it's originally french, but has translated versions, and it is set in eighteenth century-ish france.

your fs

when i began thinking about your fs, i suddenly had this feeling to look up and first thing i notice is all the red and black in my room. i don't have a lot of these colours, and usually i don't pay much attention to the walls [who does when the living place is constant yk] so either that is their favourite colour or they really like to see that on you. i pulled cards with these things while thinking of your fs: 1] white carnations 2] perfumeries 3] capricorn, pisces and/or aquarius energy 4] the star tarot card 5] lashes fluttering very quickly, blue irises i feel they're an indulgent but practical person. someone of high morals and clear goals. i felt anxious too suddenly even though i was very calm while starting the reading, so they might be someone who gets worked up easily about things. they take others stress on their head, too. also, pretty lashes fluttering very quickly is the first thing i saw when i closed my eyes thinking of them—the colour blue appeared just after, but i wouldn't take it so seriously lmao i don't do tarot but the star card literally just kept throwing itself at me, like pick me, pick me. i personally tend to associate it with past life connections and changes that happen for the better. but once again, i don't do tarot so take it however you'd like! this may be a connection that enters your life suddenly. this person would love to take care of you and be with you. not do anything, they just like your presence is what i heard.

they remind me of this character from genshin impact—chongyun. just the personality, nothing else!

i hope this would be enough <3 i'm new to the practice and don't do it on a regular basis, but tried my best! i hope it's to your liking!

thank you for this cute game!

hello hello, first of all thank u so much for the detailed ask and im so so sorry about the late reply. here is some feedback for your reading, so firstly i think you are very talented and would love to do an exchange with you in the future if you would like! also funny that you mention the star card, because i think that is the only tarot card i have ever had appear to me in a dream. here is your reading, i really hope you enjoy:

bones and all (2022)

okay okay lots of stuff is coming, after reading the cards my brain just like automatically connected the dots and i think the bond between lee and maren in bones and all captures your relationship with your fs perfectly. i think you both may meet unexpectedly, almost like you weren't supposed to meet each other but somehow found yourselves in the same room with one another. they did something that caught your attention and you immediately get drawn to them (not because you love them or anything but because you think they seem interesting and fun). i think you both will become friends rather quickly, there are a lot of similar hobbies and there's just this energy that you both share that makes you feel seen in one another. i personally do not believe in love at first sight but i think that this is the closest thing to that because of how drawn to each other you are. your fs has a pretty cool appearance, they have poofy hair and wear beautiful clothing, i think they tend to wear more cultural clothes. there is a playfullness between you two, it reminded me of this one behind the scenes of this film. i'll put the link here. you both will become really comfortable and close with each other, and you can confide in them and they will do the same to you. some more things im getting on your fs is that they are kind of like a bear, they are serious about protecting those that they love, also they are just cute and gentle like a bear too. they have attractive hands and have a cheeky smile. i think they were kind of troublesome during their school days, like they would love to prank teachers, they also did well in school. some final details im getting about this person is that they enjoy drinking tea, often wear bandaids because they always end up getting themself hurt some way or another, and they have a very structured face. they enjoy reading and consuming horror related media because it fascinates them. i also picked up some charms for ya (i hope they resonate because ive never done this before): the color pink, maple leaf, mini elephant, and a finch charm.

#tarotblr #free readings #ask

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kaijubluu · 2 years

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carnation, daffodil, azalea 😊

hello!!

carnation: hmm, my 3 favourite bands (black veil brides, ice nine kills, motionless on white) went on tour together this year, so probably a ticket to one of those shows!!

daffodil: one of my best friend's got me a happy birthday video message from lonny eagleton, bassist of black veil brides, that gift def holds a special place in my heart

azalea: oh i CRIED during the third maze runner movie. SOBBED i tell u

#ty for the ask!!#ask game #i got mail!

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homestuck-human-generator · 1 year

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Name: Xr. Sage Hoffman Color: Carnation #Ffa6c9 Symbol: robot Strife Specibus: tridentkind Handle: tragicGabion Animal: badger Pronouns: it/its Age: 16 Birthday: 341th day of the year Sexuality: gay Interests: computer programming and mahjong Dream Moon: derse Classpect: Maid of Doom Land: Land of Reluctance and Beryl, an arrogant place, with zealous Brown Basilisk (Striped or Common) consorts. It is a place full of twisting mazes and lava. Adrastea lurks in this land's savanas. Instrument: concertina

#IFTTT #homestuck #oc generator #homestuck kid

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macveigh · 2 years

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@iilvecchio asked: do you know where we’re going , exactly ? ( cesare ) [ the devil in me prompts ]

“It’s a surprise,” Morgan couldn’t contain her glee as she dragged Cesare by the hand through her family’s gardens. All around them the warm summer wind carried the clean scent of lavender, lilies, carnations, and tulips through the air. The flowerbeds were in full bloom a colorful ocean of yellows, pinks, whites, and violets surrounded them as they took a bare side path around the back of the MAcVeigh estate. Tall green canopies of fig and apple trees shielded their eyes from the sun, while the cobblestones in the dirt beneath their began to grow less and less the further they descended deep into the maze that made up the backyard grounds. “Did you happen to leave your sense of adventure back in Italy? Ever since your arrival you’ve been as cold as a statue. I’m going to get a smile out of you one way or another, mister.”

#iilvecchio #allies & friendships ; cesare borgia.#asks.#main verse.#rp.#adolescence.#coven bound AU.

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pictomaze · 2 years

Photo

Maze: Carnation

https://pictomaze.com/7549668444048070

Pixel art by DOTOWN

#carnation #pictomaze #pixel art #maze

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ackerfics · 3 years

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the parent trap — levi ackerman (x)

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

— warnings: controlling parents. other than that, it's pretty much the anxiety of meeting your s/o's family for the first time.

— summary: the last chapter before the epilogue. even though it's quite unexpected but both levi and altair received quite a welcome from your family.

— word count: 10.7k

— notes: hi, apparently, i'm not dead and ... i can still write long-ass parts and stories. i've been in a bad spot the past couple of weeks ... where i don't find it in me to interact with anyone, even my friends and close family members (like i reply to their messages days later and never get back on talking to them). i just feel so drained these times. anyway, soooo, i hope you enjoy this bc i freaking miss tumblr so bad. ^^

reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3 my masterlist is here if you want to check out the previous chapters uwu

“Wow, what the hell, this is a huge house.”

Caelum looked over at his twin brother, who was gawking at the mansion (borderline castle) in front of them. The younger boy mindlessly hummed under his breath.

Every person’s first impression of the [Last Name] manor has always been amusing to watch, leaving behind astounded yet spellbound faces. As much as Caelum wanted to pull Altair into the house and introduce him to everyone he knew in this place, he pensively stared at the balcony overlooking the driveway and fountain of the front yard. The double doors were open and there’s no sign of the woman he was dreading to meet after a few months. Despite the beauty boasted by the mazed hedges surrounding the fountain, Caelum wasn’t feeling the welcome to his grandparents’ home. The gardeners a few ways from the parked cars were waving at him with smiles, to which the little boy reciprocated half-heartedly. He went back to staring at the manor until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

Silver eyes met with yours and suddenly Caelum felt like he could breathe again. You tilt your head, wrapping your arm around his shoulders, and rubbing comforting circles over his suit. “Let’s go, little prince.” Caelum nodded at you with a small smile, patiently waiting for the four of you to start walking to the entrance. You returned it, turning to Levi and Altair right after. “Thank you for coming with us, love,” you murmured to Levi, who ducked a little to let you whisper in his ear. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

“Of course,” Levi told you. “It’s about time I formally introduce myself to your mother anyway. She has every right to be mad at me for sweeping her daughter away without her knowing. I just hope she won’t make me feel like shit for it.” Levi said everything in a rush, his face impassive and he’s occasionally gulping down his nervousness.

He was acting like this was when you got an impromptu call from your father back in university. Levi froze up in the middle of the cafe you two chose for your random date when you told your father about having a moment with your beau. It wasn’t an experience he’d like to relive. Yet here he was, standing in front of the stairs leading to your childhood home.

Your chuckles brought a small smile to his face. Leaning up, you kissed him on the corner of his mouth, with your lips lingering on his skin. “Don’t worry, Maman mellowed out through the years. If she gives you hell, you have me by your side to defend you. Plus, I have a feeling that she won’t be as haughty as she was twelve years ago.” You lightly sigh, thoughtfully walking in the front yard and waving at the gardeners. You wistfully smile. “So much has changed even though I only visited a month ago.” You eye the new flowers decorating the hedges. Your mother always favored roses. However, instead of the romantic blossoms, there were carnations of various colors.

The entire trip towards the countryside of London has Altair questioning if they’re nearing their destination every few minutes. It came off as something endearing to you and Caelum but Levi was having none of it, thus, telling the older twin to sleep it off so that the car ride appeared faster than normal. The cityscape turned into pastures until your entourage of two cars arrived in a gated estate that spanned for miles. There was a long road leading to the main manor and for the people who only stepped on this place for the first time, it baffled them how wide the land under your family name was.

Now, Levi and Altair were at a loss for words as they stood in front of the manor. For them, being greeted every time a butler or a maid passed by wasn’t exactly the most normal situation.

For Caelum, however, it was a monotone routine.

“Welcome back, Mistress [Name]. Welcome home, young master Caelum.”

“Hello, young master.”

“Young master, I baked your favorite cake for dinner tonight.”

“I hope the flight back home is nice and cozy, Mistress [Name]. It’s good to know you came back safe and sound.”

“Have a good stay in the manor, Mistress and young master.”

Yet it was something he thoroughly enjoyed since he grew up under these people’s care and guidance. When his mum wasn’t around in this manor because of an urgent call from the studio, the maids made sure to have his every concern checked out. During the times when he’d rather isolate himself from prying eyes during galas, the butlers always noticed whenever he appeared too tired to communicate with doting relatives and guests, giving him a reason to escape the scenario by reminding them that it’s way past his bedtime. So, with every greeting from the help, Caelum returned them jovially. The dullness present in the hallways of the manor immediately lifted with the younger twin’s genuine replies.

“I’m glad that you came home without any hitches.”

The entire group paused in the middle of the foyer.

Caelum looked away from the two winding staircases and gripped his brother’s hand, eyes flickering from the floor to the couches arranged in the space between the stairs. That welcome was not what he expected this early. He expected it to echo during dinner, not this soon. Altair raised an eyebrow at his little brother’s actions, shifting his gaze to the rather bedazzled woman donning a white suit making her way down one of the stairs with a flourish that only women in noir movies have.

“Oh, Hange, you’re looking amazing, dear. It’s been a while since we talked. And Oluo, I give you my most heartfelt gratitude for attending to my daughter’s whims. Who knows which corner of the world she will go to next time.”

Oluo bowed his head while Hange pursed their lips in an attempt to not blurt out anything comical yet scandalous.

You tried to school your face in a neutral expression, your hand on the crook of Levi’s elbow tightening its grip on the fabric of his suit jacket. Your ex-husband felt your nervousness. As much as Levi was shaking internally, he unwound his arm from yours and wrapped it around your waist, his fingers rubbing circles over the bodice of your dress.

“I’ll ring the maids to further prepare a more extravagant buffet for tonight’s dinner.”

The woman reached the middle of the staircase when she saw the twins standing beside each other. One of them was staring down at the shiny hardwood floor while the other one was narrowing his eyes at her. The boy under your care wouldn’t stare at her openly with those judging eyes so she figured that the one who was finding the flooring interesting, was indeed her grandson. Then, she noticed the man wrapping his arm around your waist. She hummed out of reflex, running her eyes from the top of the man’s well-kept black hair to the tip of his dress shoes. So, this was the man you married back when you’re gallivanting in America. The one who she threatened to cut down for you to come back home. Still, she smiled in that usual manner of hers that sent chills down every person’s back. The woman continued walking until she stepped on the floor of the foyer. She never once lifted her gaze from the black-haired man, who leveled his stare with hers.

“Maman,” you greeted, patting Levi’s hand on your waist to let him know you’re about to give your mother a greeting.

“Ah, my darling dewdrop,” Geneviève [Last Name] announced, her face remained in that cool blank canvas. She opened her arms for you to bury yourself into, her lips now tugged into a forced little smile. Lightly kissing your cheeks as your welcome-home greeting, your mother held you at arms-length with a hand cupping your cheek and glacial eyes running over your features. “I’ve missed you terribly, sweetheart. You never visit these days.”

“I visited last month.”

Maman hummed thoughtfully, her hand still caressing your cheek as if you’re a sculpture she just made and added to her collection of masterpieces. The comparison in her head almost made her laugh, for you’re definitely one of her most-prized masterpieces. After hearing the news that you were going home, Geneviève casually told the help to prepare a lavish feast worthy of your arrival, as always during every visit you did in this labyrinth of a manor. Only this time, she had to control her cold exterior since you have people tagging along, those people being her other grandson (who she had an inkling of) and your ex-husband (who she doubted the entire time you were in America). Her gaze unconsciously flitted to something behind you, her eyes meeting that of the narrow-eyed twin. It took a moment for her to look away from that sharp gaze, only to linger at the boy you nurtured for more than a decade.

Caelum. That’s his name. Rare were the scenarios where there were only two of them in one room. It was awfully awkward for Maman to keep a casual relationship with her grandson. She remembered how he cried the first time they met when he was a baby. Almost as if she was the monster parents in fairy tales warned children about.

It was a stab to her carefully frozen heart.

You noticed how your mother kept looking at something over your shoulder, prompting you to turn around to where her gaze was fixated at.

Altair stopped glaring at Maman the moment you were met with the sight of the twins. Your eldest son blinked before looking at you, his shoulders relaxing at the familiarity of your warm irises. But it wasn’t Altair Maman was staring at. Your heart pinched at Caelum’s stiff disposition. Your mother never had a soft spot for children before, even for your son. Despite you standing in both parental roles in Caelum’s life, she still dared to suggest putting him to adoption, and it was something that caused this entire debacle. So, what has changed now? Why was your mother looking at your youngest son as if she was missing out on something? Or maybe Maman thought that it was due time to show how much she cared.

No secret parasols over sleeping little boys or extra strawberry tarts for hungry grandsons.

Was this the time for your mother to stop leaving a trail of ice inside your home?

Maman clapped to gain everyone’s attention, jolting you from your little trance. “Shall we retreat to the main dining room, everyone? I believe all of you are famished from the trip. Do follow me.”

Levi listened to each and every story your childhood holds.

Every single tale you unfold during your relationship with him was exactly like the atmosphere your childhood home brought to him.

You told him of the hallways that were endless rivers of ice where you pretended you’re an ice skater with your socks on, twirling ballet dances you learned on the polished floor. You recalled the parties you attended in this place, how extravagant they were. Levi remembered how you pulled him to the middle of his apartment to slow dance to a song that was once played in one of those parties. You two pretended that you have the freedom to attend to your family’s galas with the love of your life, without criticism and judgment, as he twirled you until your back pressed against his fast-paced heartbeat. You giddily shared one time during a rainy day that you were so honored to have a hall of books in one section of the mansion. College Levi grasped what it looked like based on your vivid descriptions but now, he could see it even though he only saw the most shallow parts of your family’s manor.

The earlier nervousness Levi held gradually disappeared at each step towards that main dining room your mother mentioned. The hallway all of you were walking on had glass windows that stretched towards the ceilings, the rays of the noon sun making everything glow. Even with a straight face, Levi could straight-out say that your childhood home was built on enchantment. His admiration for the architecture fell short when he noticed that you’ve grown silent ever since your little group landed in London. Before coming here, you suggested that Levi and Altair stay in your house in the city instead of finding a hotel to accommodate them.

During your preparation in your house, you were fidgeting.

“Is it okay for me to sleep here, beautiful?” Levi tentatively called out to you in the doorway of your room. He was leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed, silver eyes trailing over your frantic figure. You were trying to find what to wear in front of your mother, dresses, and suits of various colors and patterns littering your bed. It seemed like you didn’t notice him standing by your door. Levi pushed himself from the doorframe and walked towards you, placing his hands on your arms. You quickly turned to him in surprise, visibly relaxing when you saw that it was Levi. He stared at you with a little quirk on his lips. “Hey.” He pressed his lips on your right temple, your contented hum letting him fully hug you.

“Hey,” you greeted back, your hand brushing over his forearm. You tilt your head to let Levi bury his face into the crook of your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin with light kisses. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you by the door. Did you need anything?”

Levi took in your flowery scent with closed eyes. “I asked if it’s okay that I sleep in your room. You know I don’t mind if I take the couch in your living room, right?”

You turned around to cup Levi’s cheeks in your hands. His hands were still snug on your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles over your blouse. “I know I’m fine with us sleeping on the same bed. It’s not like we didn’t share one for years back when we were together.” Your eyes became half-lidded as you caressed his cheeks, your face turning pensive. “But if it makes you uncomfortable sleeping in my room, I won’t have any say in it. Whatever you decide is perfectly alright with me, love. I don’t want you to force yourself in situations that might not sit right with you.”

Levi let out a little blissful sigh. “I’m not against us sleeping on the same bed. You know that, beautiful.” He pressed his forehead as gently as possible on yours. “You’re the reason why I can sleep normally. I’ve never slept peacefully throughout those eleven years without you by my side. This, right now, sounds like a blessing — even if it will only last for a couple of days. So, thank you.”

You were silent for a moment before looking down at the carpeted floor while your hands slowly trailed from his cheeks to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry for leaving you and Altair behind. It’s so naive and uncalled of me to do that.” You felt soft lips on your forehead and you wanted to cry from the tenderness that Levi showered on you, something that you didn’t deserve. “I’ve hurt you. I don’t know why you even want me back. What if something happens again and I’ll put a stop to this fairy tale of ours? What if Altair won’t have his mum back? I truly want this to work between us, love, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about what ruins this again.” You closed your eyes to prevent Levi from seeing how glassier they became. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Look at me.”

You did and your breath hitched at the enchanting smile on Levi’s face. Just a smile from this man could render you speechless. Every single thought in your mind vanished at the affection etched in the specks of his irises, at the way his eyes drooped that always made your heart stutter. You wished to look away because it wasn’t healthy for your chest to beat this loudly. However, the firm hand touching your face prevented you from doing exactly that.

“Yeah, I was hurt when you left but I know you were, too, when I didn’t chase after you.” Levi had to make you believe that none of what happened eleven years ago was your fault. If he had to sound like a broken record while proving it, so be it. As long as you were starting to feel confident that it wasn’t just you who put a stop to your domestic life back then. “What happened all those years ago won’t change the fact that I’m planning on getting back together with you. Hell, I was willing to ask eleven-year-olds for advice — eleven-year-olds, beautiful — just to get everything right this time. I even followed you here to ask for your mother’s approval in marrying you again. I don’t want another eleven years of me talking to the moon and night sky — wishing that I get to see you one last time.

“Beautiful, I want to make this right. So, will you let me?”

If you said no, Levi would’ve gotten on the next flight back to Los Angeles but seeing as he was trailing after you through this long-ass hallway, Levi was relieved to have you say yes.

All that was left was your mother’s approval.

God, that sounds like something impossible.

When your mother walked down the stairs, Levi instantly thought how much you took after her. You two were almost the same person (only the lines on your mother’s face differentiating you two). He never had a clue on what your face looked like when you’re pissed off because he never had any reason to elicit that kind of reaction from you during your relationship. However, as your mother descended from the second floor of the manor, Levi witnessed the most unnerving blank face he ever saw on a person.

With a white suit on and hair pinned back on her head in an elaborate bun, the presence of your mother shouted how superior she was amongst the people waiting for her to reach the end of the stairs. Levi had to bite his cheek to control the scowl that was forming on his face when he saw how your mother scanned him from head to toe with an impassive expression. Is that what he looked like when he sometimes didn't like strangers trying to chat him up? Levi would have to lessen his frown in public because he had seen what it did to this woman. It was anything but physical (because the lines on her face could be signs of old age).

It pushed her back into this shell of an individual, Levi concluded.

His guard was up the entire time because you once told him she bought a company to prove a point without a blink.

The giant double doors leading to the dining hall opened, the aroma of different dishes enticed everyone’s stomachs to grumble. Fuck, how much food was on that table? If Levi wasn’t part of any of this, he would immediately say that everything on the table was fit for the entire workers of his tea plantation. He then felt a tug on his sleeve. Looking down, Levi was met with Caelum’s small smile, his hand pulling him to one of the chairs at the table. His throat became dry when his younger son directed him to the chair on the left of where your mother was supposed to sit. He had to check if this was the right chair but Caelum was already sitting on the chair beside him, the little boy putting the napkin on his lap.

Grumbling inwardly, Levi chose to sit on this cursed spot. Good thing you were right across from him.

“I believe there’s no need for words,” Maman stated, poise still in her posture even when sitting. “The food is prepared for all of you, so enjoy.”

Levi watched Hange make a dive for one of the main courses like a mad person. He also noticed that Oluo disappeared when they went inside the dining hall. He looked around and the said butler was one of the help pouring the juice and iced tea in glasses. Levi went back to his plate. He stayed still for a moment, eyebrows knitting at the arrangement of utensils laid out in front of him. There were forks of various sizes beside his plate, even different kinds of knives and spoons.

What the fuck? Levi lifted his head to survey the dining hall, only to slowly look away when he met gazes with your mother. Shaking his head, he rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek in mild annoyance. Movement in front of him prevented him from choosing the wrong utensil.

You were teaching Altair which spoon is for which type of food or which fork is needed for the salad, your whispers are only for the boy to hear. Altair was attentively listening to you, looking up at you when he chose the outermost fork for the salad. His beaming grin was everything for you when you told him he was correct. A stare that signified a cry for help alerted you to fix your attention to Levi.

You nearly let out a small laugh at the look of your ex-husband. He only slightly narrowed his eyes at you when your lips tugged a little bit in a smile. You mouthed, “salad?”

Levi nodded. His eyes then followed your finger, pointing at the correct fork on your side of the table. Now knowing the correct fork to eat his salad, Levi felt his lips quirk a tiny smirk, eyes flashing a glint of gratitude towards you. While he was scooping up a good portion of various foods to his plate, your mother was eyeing him at the corner of her eye, trying to observe his mannerisms when placed in a situation that called for guessing. Your mother eventually stopped inspecting your ex-husband when you turned to her to ask her a few questions about your father. The entire lunch was only Levi silently asking you from across the table about the appropriate utensils for every type of food he placed on his plate. But when he was about to ask for your guidance as he shifts towards the roast beef, you were preoccupied in a conversation with your mother.

Now, he’s stuck.

“Dad?”

Levi turned to Caelum, who was staring at him with brilliant silver irises. “Yeah, Cae?”

Caelum pointed at the second knife beside his dad’s plate. “This is the meat knife. You’re going to eat the roast beef, right? I saw you trying to communicate with Mum.” Then, the boy squinted his eyes as he relayed his observation. “Though you look like you’re trying to shoot her with a laser using your eyes.”

The black-haired man laughed a little before ruffling his son’s hair, making it curl at the ends. “Thank you, Cae. Good thing you’re right here beside me. Shooting your mom with a laser is the last thing I’d do in any lifetime anyway.”

A pleased smile lights up the younger twin’s face. He looked down at his share of roast beef and stuffed his mouth with a large bite, asking something through a mouthful of his favorite food. “Are you enjoying here, Dad?”

Levi still understood his son’s question. “Yeah, I am, surprisingly. Your mom and you are with me and Al, so I guess we’re in good hands while talking to your grandmother.”

He watched Caelum once again gobble a huge bite of the roast beef on his plate. Amused at the complete effect of this certain food to his son, Levi marveled how such a boy with a meek appetite threw that away for the sake of his favored food. Well, Levi’s one to talk. When he was younger, he always preferred to eat smaller portions like Caelum; but if his mom cooked seafood and tarts for their meal, he would turn into a completely different kid. Making a laugh through his nose, Levi noticed the smear of sauce at the corner of Caelum’s lip.

Levi took his napkin and reached out to wipe his son’s mouth clear of sauce. “There. You better slow down, kiddo. There’s plenty of roast beef for you to eat even at dinner. They won’t go anywhere.”

Caelum gulped down the roast beef. “I’m happy that you’re enjoying your stay here so far, Dad.” He dropped his voice in a whisper, making Levi duck down as well. “Grand-Maman can be quite a handful. It’s a surprise she’s this kind for guests. I was expecting her to let her guard up because you know, you’re the one who paid a visit, Dad.”

Levi didn't know what to feel from that statement. He inconspicuously looked at your mother from the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t deny that there were similarities between you and the older woman. Spending time with you during university, Levi was always caught off guard whenever your expression dulled because of a certain situation, very much like your mother’s default face. It happened when somebody was hitting on you while your group of friends was watching or turning down confessions without remorse. They also appeared when your mother called while you’re hanging out with Levi. That empty smile that never reached your eyes was something Levi vowed to never inflict on you. Hell, he even saw Caelum make that cold expression.

And people say that the Ackermans had the most fear-inducing resting bitch face.

Figuring that he wanted to be in your mother’s good graces, Levi opted in humming as his response.

“So, Levi Ackerman, correct?”

Fuck.

Levi looked up from his plate with a pleasing smile on his face. He hoped that he didn't look like someone who got irritated. His smile twitched at the snort coming from across the table. Levi pointedly glanced at Altair, who was downing a glass of iced tea to conceal his hilarity. Caelum appeared to be wide-eyed while you never lifted your stare from your plate, grips on your utensils tightening, expression never betraying what you feel of the unlikely situation unfolding in the dining table.

Fixing his attention back to the head of your family, Levi solidified his smile. “Yes, Ma’am, that’s my name.” Treat this as a random recitation (read: humiliation in the means of grilling someone), the ones where you fucking went through in university, specifically with the merciless professors.

Maman dabbed the napkin on the side of her mouth before coolly regarding Levi. “We finally meet, then, Mr. Ackerman.” The look you shot became unnoticed as she vacuously smiled at the black-haired man who married her daughter without so much as a hello to them. “Would you care to join me for a cup of tea later in the afternoon?”

Oh. That sounded civil enough.

Your breath hitched. Hange winced. Even Oluo shifted his head towards the matron of your family.

Damn, is having tea with his (again) future mother-in-law that bad?

Levi was rigid in his seat.

This is worse than he thought.

Your mother calmly waited for the maid to finish putting the tea set on the table underneath the gazebo.

It was as Caelum said, your childhood home’s backyard is magical enough to be painted in fairytale storybooks. There were flowers wherever he turned his head to, blooming under the delicate care of the help jovially passing by with their wide brim hats to protect them from the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun. It reminded him of the busy days in the plantation, the flower garden bearing similarities with the one his mother started, which was later cultivated under Mikasa and Annie’s cooperation. The picturesque scenery didn’t help in lessening the tension pulsating in his shoulders. He was staring at the spot right above your mother’s head, zeroing on a solitary purple flower between the vines wrapping around the gazebo. The silence was deafening and Levi shifted in his seat as subtly as he could.

The click of a teacup or a spoon became the only sound surrounding the pair. Maman looked down at her teacup with a straight back, her hand showing years of finesse as she dripped honey onto her drink. It was agonizing for Levi; but for the older woman, she took her time. She tapped her teaspoon against the rim of her cup before putting it on her saucer. Sipping on her tea, she failed to notice that Levi was still sitting like a sculpture in front of her. Maman sighed a little when she took a sip of her drink, the flowery undertones of her preferred flavor letting her breathe even just for a moment.

Eyes similar to yours, they met with Levi’s.

“What are you waiting for, Mr. Ackerman?” Maman asked him, slightly raising an eyebrow at the immobile guest. “The cup of tea won’t be as good when lukewarm.”

Levi knew that so he quickly shook his head to keep himself grounded in the reality that your mother was willing to talk to him. He leaned forward and poured himself a cup of tea. Might as well critique the tea in his mind and ask for a recipe. Without any additives to his drink, Levi took a sip. He detected a faint taste of roses but there was a slightly tangy citrus aftertaste if you let the drink settle in your palate for a little longer. It doesn’t need the slightest hint of additives, it’s perfect just the way it was presented. He could tell that this was homemade as well since there were small amounts of bitterness lingering right after the citrus. They steeped it too long or maybe it’s because of the roses they used.

“I assume it’s not to your liking?”

Levi lifted his gaze. Your mother remained neutral but the slight raise of her brow indicated that she was curious about Levi's hesitance while sipping his tea. Levi cleared his throat before saying, “It’s a very well-made brew, Mrs. [Last Name].” The arch on the older woman’s eyebrow rose. Once again, Levi shifted in his seat. “But I’m more of a black tea kind of person.”

Your mother hummed under her breath. “Yet you make a variety of tea flavors in your company. I thought one would broaden their tastes in that industry.”

She knew of his business, it seemed. “I grew up liking black tea. I find sweetened ones a little too much.”

“I see. That’s quite strong for a young child to drink.”

Levi placed his teacup back on the saucer. “I wasn’t one for sweet things, Ma’am.”

“Oh?” Maman expressed interest in the statement. “What made you change your mind?”

Was he really saying this to your mother of all people? She looked like she’s ready to skin him alive with just a wrong move on his part. Levi picked up a blueberry scone from the tiered stand. “It was [Name] who slowly made me change my mind.” He quickly closed his mouth to avoid any interrogations but the look on your mother’s face betrayed no malice. She appeared to be attentive. “She always took me to the nearest cafe in our university, even when we were just friends. It wasn’t an immediate change of heart. It took me years to get used to the taste of macarons and macchiatos. But, now, I associate those flavors with her no matter how many years have passed.” The whole time Levi was talking, he wasn’t meeting your mother’s gaze.

A breath of laughter came out of Maman. “It seems she carried that habit all the way to the other side of the sea.”

The older woman faced the maze-like hedges. There was no coldness present in her expression, unlike what the other suitors saw while she interviewed them or what the other wealthy families in the galas connected her with. An air of wistfulness enveloped the matron of your family, the crease in between her forehead evening out as she breathed in the nostalgic scent of the garden. Her little moment of tranquility was overshadowed by the churning feeling of shame and blame. Both of which originated from her treatment of you and your son. It took her years to realize that what she was doing did nothing to uplift the legacy of the family she married into. Instead, she turned it into something more controlling and pernicious. She remembered what her mother-in-law said.

I picked you as my son’s potential wife because there was no other choice. It wasn’t because you appealed to me, it was because we were tired of looking for someone striking.

It hurt.

But seeing as Orion gradually fell in love with her, she took the role seriously to prove her mother-in-law wrong. She remembered how her husband’s mother paid no mind to family matters after she entered into the portrait. It looked like everything was placed on Maman’s shoulders the moment she said ‘I do’. The grudge she held for the woman who stood as a mother to her husband lasted until the older woman breathed for the last time. To this day, Maman always prioritized family, sticking to the old ways of maintaining status in society. Her realization came too late when you ran away from home, to another continent, just to get away from her authoritarian views of leading the family.

Maman never witnessed you walking down the aisle to the person who made you feel safe. She failed to remember the birthdate of her grandchildren because she was never told that you were carrying them. She always told you to act a certain way to attract suitors worthy of the [Last Name] surname. She was absent during your ballet recitals even though she was the one who told you to pursue it. She waved away your dream of designing dresses and ball gowns, determined to have you take over one of the businesses that the family owned. There it dawned on her that she was never a mother to you, to begin with. Her eyes flickered at the thought. Maman became slightly frantic as she tried fixing her gaze solely on one object. She lifted her head and tightened her hold on the handle of her teacup.

“I didn’t like you, Mr. Ackerman.”

Levi nearly choked on his scone. He opened his mouth to ask if he heard her right but your mother continued talking.

“You were merely a distraction for my daughter.”

Levi swore he felt Time stopped.

“You were never good enough for her.” There was a hint of disbelief in her voice that made her tone quiver. “I threatened her when I found out she married someone way outside of our circle.”

“You mean someone poor?” Levi bluntly asked, face stony and void of emotions. “And what do you mean by ‘threatened’? What the fuck did you say to [Name] that made her fly back here?” The word triggered something inside him. The truth is sitting right there, all in the form of your annoyingly unsympathetic mother. Now he will find out what really pushed you to leave him.

“Yes, I didn’t want her to marry someone who wouldn’t manage a single day in a lavish lifestyle.” Levi clenched his jaw, his fists curled on the armrest of his chair. Good thing that there weren’t any maids standing close by or else they would’ve seen how his grip crinkled the cushion of the armrest. Maman went on. “And to answer your other question, Mr. Ackerman, yes, I threatened her.” It looked like Levi was waiting for her to add something so she did. “It was your business that I threatened her with for her to come back to us and forget about her life with you.”

Levi slackened his jaw. The tea plantation?

The shock on the man’s face bubbled a sardonic laugh from your mother. She took a sip from her tea before slightly lifting her chin with a sarcastic smile. “I would do everything just to give my family glory. Even cut down what’s important to the people giving them happiness. I was that malicious to think that by putting a stop to your starting business, my daughter would come back to my arms. She was too selfless to try to have you give up on your dream, Mr. Ackerman, because I know people like you will also do everything to cling onto someone way more important than a risky move in the business sector.” Maman looked away from him. “She was supposed to come back alone. The child was a miscalculation.”

“How fucking dare you,” Levi murmured dangerously. “You’re cold-blooded.”

Maman smiled a little. “Maybe I am.”

“Calling your grandchild a fucking miscalculation? The grandchild who wished to have a normal family because you couldn’t give him the kindness and guidance that he needed? The kid you’ll willingly put into adoption because you thought [Name] wasn’t taking care of him enough? Fucking bullshit.” Levi was seething. “And manipulating your daughter and taking away something that makes her happy sounds like a nice plan for you? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“She wasn’t supposed to run away from here,” Maman punctuated it with a tone that offered no openings for rebuttals. “[Name] shouldn’t have flown to America. She wasn’t supposed to meet you.” Desperation was evident in her eyes whilst Levi carried anger in his. “She was supposed to be inheriting the fortune to our family, not dally with someone without us knowing. What do you think I felt, Mr. Ackerman?” Her voice kept rising and rising. “I was worried that she might have made the wrong decision. I was thinking of her well-being as her mother.”

“Yet you acted as if you’re not.”

Maman sharply inhaled. The world caved in when she heard those words. The grudge she held for her mother-in-law and the need to prove her wrong vanished without a trace. All that was left was a gaping hole inside her chest. She was never a mother to you, to begin with. She bit her lip to prevent herself from spiraling down the rabbit hole she just made. Levi’s eyes will forever haunt her. They were like bullets shooting down her perch. There was no sign of sympathy nor understanding. In their stead, blankness covered his silver irises, showing that it was her fault that all of this fiasco happened. It was her being your puppeteer that the twins thought it was better to swap places and spend the week with their respective parents.

“Is it that satisfying to see your daughter drift away from you? To have your grandson be afraid of you until he’s aloof whenever you’re around?”

Maman took a deep breath. To calm herself down or to gather patience, Levi would never know.

“I get that you were trying so hard to make your family as perfect as possible,” Levi laughed through his nose, “but people are suffering because of you. You’re a fucking sick bastard if you ever thought that amounts to happiness.” Levi stood up, loosening his white button-down over his forearms. “You know what? I don’t care if I don’t receive your blessing in re-marrying your daughter but do remember,” the black-haired man sneered, “I won’t let you ruin this for the second time.”

Just as he was about to leave the gazebo, Maman uttered, “I didn’t like you because I was once in your place.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Levi turned around. “And do tell me what makes us both so similar?”

The older woman straightened in her seat, head tilted to meet the glacial stare of her future son-in-law. The smile on her face wasn’t like the others. It was colored blue this time. It wasn’t even forced. If anyone from the massive estate saw this, they would be having a field day because Geneviève [Last Name] never blatantly smiled at anyone except her husband and daughter. The man standing in front of her was frank and didn't give two shits about anyone. At first, she didn’t see why you fell in love with such a brash individual. You’re royalty fit for a prince. This man is more of a protector than a marriage prospect. Yet you two fit like unlikely pieces of a puzzle. With that in mind, Maman shed the chilly exterior for the first time in years.

“We were placed in unlikely situations that led to an uncalled downfall. For me, it was accepting the arranged marriage proposal by the [Last Name] family until I spiraled into someone that I vowed to never become. For you, it was marrying my daughter and separating for years. I didn’t ask to be in this family because I was never my mother-in-law’s first choice for Orion, much less the second. You, on the other hand, were just roped into my dilemma of being a better mother and wife.”

Levi’s left eye twitched as he watched the woman struggling for her next words. It looked like she was spitting out a hairball but that could be an exaggeration on Levi’s part.

“For that, I am deeply sorry.”

Ah. So that’s why she looked constipated.

Levi nearly blurted out that he didn’t need the apology. It was too late anyway. He opted to stay quiet, inserting his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he hummed in response. There was no point in trying to erase what happened with a half-assed apology. It wouldn’t change the fact that he and Altair suffered for eleven years without you and Caelum. Might as well be impassive about it.

“I know you won’t accept it, Mr. Ackerman—”

“Levi. Call me Levi. ‘Mr. Ackerman’ sounds like I’m an old man.”

Amusement painted your mother’s features before they slipped away when she took something in between the sconces.

“I know you won’t accept my apology, Levi, but I hope you accept this.” Your mother pushed a velvet jewelry box towards the center of the table. It was a striking shade of beige with gold linings. It caught Levi’s eye and his curiosity prevailed over his previous anger. Maman opened the box and nestled between the plush was a ring with the most brilliant diamond as the main attraction. It glinted even without the help of artificial lights. “It’s the [Last Name] family ring. Even though my mother-in-law showed no concern for me joining the family, she was still resolute in not giving this ring for the proposal. My husband fought to give this to me. He won. And now,” Geneviève smiled at a wide-eyed Levi, “this will be yours for your proposal to my daughter.”

“Why?” Levi uttered. “I can buy any ring out there.”

Your mother laughed. “Yes, I won’t disagree with that, Levi. But you can’t buy this ring. It has been passed down since the previous century.”

The black-haired man was at a loss for words. He couldn’t help but echo, “Why?”

“Think of it as my gift for you, Levi. Welcome to the family.”

“Cruella. That’s who she is in my head.”

“Grand-Maman doesn’t have an obsession with furs though.”

“Well, she looks like she can kill dalmatians at random times of the day.”

“She’s allergic to dogs, Al.”

The two boys were left to loll inside the massive library of the manor. After watching over them for a couple of minutes, your assistant, Armin, called from the studio after hearing that you’re back in London. Two clients were inquiring for you to design their wedding gowns and suits. With a kiss on each of their heads, you went out of the library.

Altair was just telling Caelum about his first impressions of their grandmother. Just like any other guest, Altair already had an idea of how Maman ran things in this household. Even though they were just assumptions, the older boy’s gut feeling never failed him. If he surmised from that short encounter that his grandmother from your side of the family screamed like any supervillain he knew, then that thought would stay in his mind until the older woman changed his mind.

“That’s a bummer,” Altair murmured under his breath. “Either way, she seems like a Cruella to me.” The older twin sighed while staring at the paintings on the ceilings. Fairies were in every corner, their hands cupping butterflies that glowed rainbows. Altair pouted when he remembered the face his now grandmother gave him while sizing them up. It sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted the comforting ambiance of his granny Kuchel now. “I don’t like the way she looked at me earlier.”

Caelum reluctantly looked away from his book. Once he saw the despondent expression on his brother’s face, he tucked a bookmark between the pages and placed the novel beside him. “Al, Grand-Maman has always been like that. Don’t take what happened earlier to heart, alright?” When Altair made no move from his spot on the long couch of the middle of the library, Caelum increased the volume of his voice. “Al.” It was only then that the older boy shifted his head to meet the firm gaze of his twin. “I know Grand-Maman will grow to acknowledge you and Dad as part of the family. It will happen eventually anyway. She’s just a little wary of guests, that’s why. So, don’t worry if she appeared too wintry earlier. That’s just the way she is when there are new people around.”

A small half-smile lifted Altair’s lips. He appreciated how alleviating Caelum’s words always were. “Thanks, Cae. You’re extremely awesome, did you know that?”

The younger boy laughed. “You just boosted my ego.” Caelum calmed down from laughing, flashing a smile on his older brother. “Any time, Al. You can always talk to me. I’ll always listen.”

Altair couldn’t thank his twin enough. He figured that words couldn’t encompass the swell of gratitude inside his chest, all of it directed at the fact that he finally found his family. It was even funny to think about because the two of them were at each other’s throats during the summer camp. Pulling pranks on one another and getting placed in the isolation cabin for roping in their camp director. If his pride and ego got the best of him during the summer camp, Altair wouldn’t have his complete family. Hell, he wouldn’t even know that Caelum is his twin brother and that their mom is across the ocean. As Altair laid on the long couch counting the butterflies on the ceiling, he had another crazy idea that made him sit up from his comfortable position. Without any words, Caelum only raised an eyebrow at this.

“Hey, is it possible that I’m going to be lost in this place?” Altair asked with an eager glint in his irises.

Caelum hummed. “If you have a poor sense of direction that is.”

The older twin slowly nodded with a smile. He stood up from the long couch and stretched his arms before putting his hands behind his head. “Do you mind if I explore this mansion for a while?”

“Go ahead,” Caelum murmured, eyes never leaving his book.

The grin spread on Altair’s face as he walked out of the library with a small spring in his step. He was too excited to get to know the house where you grew up in. He heard from Hange and Oluo that this place is pure magic even if loneliness exuded from the walls and paintings. He looked from left to right the moment he stepped out the doors of the library, choosing to lightly jog to the right where the stairs to the next floor resided.

“Just don’t go to the stairs. That’s where Grandpa and Grand-Maman’s office and rooms are!” When there was no response, Caelum looked up and blinked at the absence of his brother. He muttered, “I hope he doesn’t go to the next level, I heard that Grandpa just arrived and is doing work from home today.” Knowing how busy his grandfather was, disturbing him was the last thing anyone in this mansion should do. This was the reason why the east side of the second floor became off-limits to visitors. Then, Caelum shrugged. “Al is probably going to the west side of the manor anyway. Hmm, I could use some refreshments and croissants.”

Closing his book and tucking in under his arm, Caelum headed to the left of the library — the kitchens his destination.

“Whoa, is this Mom?” Altair breathed upon entering a supposed library on the second floor. The library was smaller compared to the one he was in with his brother yet this one spoke like homeliness to him. Inside the little library was a huge portrait of your family, with you only being seventeen when it was taken. “She looks so different here.”

Your hair was longer, your eyes slightly dull, your lips quirked in a small smile that didn't reach your eyes — you were somewhat lifeless.

Altair slowly looked away from your younger self and focused on roaming around the small library. There was a fireplace sitting underneath the portrait and a desk placed in the middle of the room, with double windows behind it to let the light in. It looked like an inventor’s workshop, only without the little innovations. There were papers strewn everywhere yet they looked well-kept. Tiny knick-knacks lined the desk made Altair smile. He walked over to examine each one. He picked up something that was made from popsicle sticks, with paint decorating the figure’s body. A small teddy bear however caught his eye. This one had a dress over it, something cut out from tulle and pasted together to create an illusion of an extravagant piece of clothing. The sound of someone entering the room made Altair drop the teddy bear, his back pressed against the edge of the desk.

The boy was more of a cautious kitten at this point. Altair stared wide-eyed at the man who was just as shocked as he was. He was quite dapper. If it weren’t for the strings of white weaving through his hair, Altair would’ve thought he was younger than his original age. The shock ebbed away from the man’s face, giving way to an amused smile.

“I see you have discovered my secret garden.”

Altair looked at anywhere except this man.

A laugh resounded from him. “The only person who knows when to enter this room is someone who’s very much your age, young man. And even if he knows when I’m available for his stories, he doesn’t visit me that often.” He placed the fancy cane stick he was holding on the side of one of the single chairs at the side of the room. He made himself comfortable on the plush chair, exhaling in satisfaction as he finally sat down after long hours of meetings. “You can sit, young man. That way you can tell me your story.”

The smile on the man’s face was anything but condescending. It nearly made Altair sit on the opposite chair.

Instead of following the man’s harmless invitation, the young boy scratched his undercut. “Uhm, I’m not supposed to be here?” To whom this question was directed, he never knew. Altair took small steps towards the opened door. He pointed at the hallway with a sheepish smile and nervous chuckle. “I think my Dad is looking for me somewhere … around this huge house. Nice house, by the way. It’s really great! Uh,” he looked at the doorway before grimacing at the raised eyebrow the man donned, “bye!”

“Wait.”

Oh, God.

Altair slowly looked behind his shoulder. The man is now leaning forward in interest. “Allow me to introduce myself.” He placed a hand on his chest, lowering his head in a slight bow. “My name is Orion [Last Name]. I’m sure you know my daughter.”

Oh, he does, seeing as the daughter of this man is his mom.

“And I think I have an idea on who you might be, little one.” A little twinkle of something Altair couldn’t pinpoint flashed in the man’s irises. “I hope you’re willing to let your grandfather get to know you. What’s your name?”

Ah, this is the cool person Caelum was talking about, the one who was making time for him while inside this mansion.

“Uh, Altair,” he recited dumbly, his train of thought thinning.

“A beautiful name, indeed.”

“... Nice to meet you?”

Another bellow of laughter came from your father. “And I, you, little Altair. Would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I’ll have someone deliver them here.” Your father opened his tablet and tapped his fingers on something. He flickered his gaze on the still standing boy. “What kind of food do you prefer?”

Altair rubbed his elbow. “Just some cookies.”

“Okay, a platter of chocolate chips and a teapot of a favorite tea of mine.”

The boy nodded his head, eyes roaming around the expanse of the room.

“My offer still stands, you know?”

“Oh,” Altair muttered, hastily sitting on the chair opposite from the man that claimed to be his grandfather. His hands were fidgeting on his lap, not knowing which topic he should put onto the table for a conversation to start. Talking to his gruncle Kenny seemed like a breeze, he simply had to rile up the older man to extract a heart to heart. The man sitting in front of him was not in the same circle as his gruncle Kenny. This man was more on the refined side of the spectrum. Even the way he was sitting shouted that he should be respected and not thrown a bunch of insults. This lasted until two butlers entered the room with the tea and cookies. Altair noticed the familiar scent of the tea.

At the sign of recognition in the boy’s face, Orion lightly laughed as he poured tea in both teacups. “One time,” Altair looked up when your father started relaying his story, “when a conference didn’t go exactly as we planned, this brand of tea managed to calm my nerves. I vividly remember how it was a mix of cinnamon and jasmine. Quite an unusual flavor to put together but surprisingly, it managed to soothe my palate.” The older man sipped on his teacup and hummed a low sound of delight. “I slept for more than four hours that night. You could say that this tea was a blessing sent from unknown entities — it worked like magic. Do you recognize this brand, little adventurer?”

Altair gulped down the familiar flavor of chamomile and raspberries down his throat. “I might be too biased for this, sir, but I think it’s from Dad’s company. I could be wrong though.”

A twinkle of amusement appeared in Orion’s irises. “Exactly. It’s from your father’s tea business. I knew the Ackerman name rang a bell when I first asked my butler about the brand. Levi makes the most exceptional tea out there.” Orion warmly smiled at the young boy. “I extend my wishes for his business’ flourishing. I hope to see it grow into an even bigger blossoming tree.” The echo of porcelain clicking against each other punctuated his remark. “Oh, and do call me grandpa! I’ll only permit you to call me sir if you’re one of my business partners.”

The weight on Altair’s shoulders lessened tremendously as he sighed, a smile replacing the blank mien he had earlier. “Okay … grandpa. I’ll be sure to tell Dad you appreciate his tea.”

Orion gave a hearty laugh, ruffling Altair’s hair affectionately. “That’s more like it, little adventurer.” Silence and then, “You know, I was curious about your father when [Name] told me stories of her university life.”

“Really?”

The older man nodded. “Apparently, your mother described him as a somewhat stoic person who puts people into place with his words.”

“That’s Dad, alright,” Altair murmured before taking a bite of his chocolate chip cookie.

“Yet she also told me he was heartwarming and kind, blunt but his words mean well to keep her in check. At first, I couldn’t imagine my daughter being with that kind of person. I never imagined [Name] dating someone at all.” Altair smiled at the man’s upset nature. It reminded him of Levi when the topic of Altair growing up entered the conversation. “When she told me about Levi, I knew that she was starting to slip through my fingers. But, what really made me want to fly to America was the news of you and Caelum being born. Your births were what made me realize that I missed something extraordinary in my daughter’s life. Truthfully speaking, I was ecstatic when she mentioned that she’s coming here with Levi and you.”

“I was excited, too!” Altair chimed in, his smile so bright that Orion immediately saw a younger version of you looking at him like that. “The stories Caelum told me while we were on a camping trip were all so fantastical that it made me even more curious about Mom’s childhood home. He mentioned that you two have secret meetings whenever he visits this place.” The boy tilted his head. “Meeting you right now is so much different than meeting Cruella—” Altair bit the inside of his cheek. The smile on his face turned into a tight one, lips pursed and eyes wide. Quietly, he whispered to himself, “Oops.”

The silence was so loud until Orion laughed once again. Altair had the knack for making this man double over in genuine amusement. The older man’s laugh ended with a hum before it started again when Altair shrunk against the back of the chair as if it could aid in turning him invisible. The latter’s face turned a prominent shade of red that spread towards the back of his neck. “Please don’t tell her I called her that,” Altair faintly supplicated.

Orion wiped the corners of his eyes with a slight chuckle. It has been a long time since he heard someone blatantly describe his wife like that.

“You can trust me on that, little adventurer. It’s quite entertaining how that name naturally sprung from you. I bet Caelum, the little dreamer that he is, thinks the same, too. He only never mentioned it out loud to anyone, much less to me or your mother.” He patted the top of his cane, eyes gaining that faraway look that was clouded with reminiscing. “I admit that Geneviève can be quite the villainess of a short fairy tale. She has that effect on other people, too, with the way she dresses and all. I bet others call her meaner names than Cruella. That name actually has a nice ring to it, if I have to say the truth.”

Altair visibly relaxed, the breath he prevented coming out in a sigh.

Conversations flowed from the two of them like a steady stream. The awkwardness Altair exhibited when he got caught by his grandfather vanished without a trace, in its place was an ever-growing curiosity as the older man told him a story of a star merchant in search of the brightest star in the universe. He never noticed how the older man described the star as the most silver pinpricks in the midnight tresses of the sky, almost like the pair of eyes he inherited from his father. Orion relayed how the star merchant was a traveler of his own, having not found the brightest star yet until the end of the tale. Altair was left confused because it was a different story than what Caelum told him during the camping trip. When he asked why this little story sounded different, Orion simply smiled and told him,

“The star merchant was just in the process of completing their journey. Now, little adventurer, what do you think will happen to the star merchant next?”

Levi was shaken, his hands constantly running through his hair, with his fingers trembling from the chat with the matron of your family. He was not a nervous man who shied away from any first conversation. Above all, he’s the opposite of that. However, in Levi’s case, his emotions were carefully schooled as a defense mechanism that prevented him from spilling too much on a single person. That reason was what held him back from interacting with you during university.

With a quivering sigh, he straightened himself and buried every bit of the aftermath deep inside his throat.

There was only one person to who he would gladly go at the moment.

His footsteps brought him to a window seat with your figure on the plush foam, hands scribbling on a sketchpad, and face scrunched in concentration. A natural smile made its way on his face. You’re just so beguiling to look at. Eyes gaining those soft corners, Levi maneuvered his way towards you. Upon reaching you, he placed one of his knees on the cushion and carefully wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He felt you slightly flinch at the contact but you eventually relaxed upon registering his familiar scent. Levi pressed a kiss on the crown of your head, his smile growing when you leaned back on his chest.

“Hey, love,” you greeted, looking up at Levi’s face. “How was your talk with Maman?”

Levi sighed, sitting down on the cushion behind you. He shifted a couple of times to find that perfectly comfortable position, but not before pulling you until you rest in between his legs — your back against his chest and his chin nestled on your shoulder. He hummed, brushing his lips on your skin before answering, “It was fine.”

You turned your head to give him a dubious look. “You’re not telling me something.” You sat up and faced a blank-faced Levi, your body angled to meet him eye to eye. Your hand gently cupped his cheek, with him unconsciously leaning at your touch. “Did she say anything upsetting to you?”

He tried staring at the flowers beyond the glass panes but you pushed his face so that he wouldn’t look away from you. Your furrowed eyebrows made him breathe a laugh, finding your expression endearing. Leaning forward, Levi kissed you on the cheek, never pulling away even after you felt the sensation of his plush lips pressing against your skin. He inhaled your scent, the comfort lacing the sillage running through his entire being. He tightened his grip around you, pulling you closer to him as if a mere disturbance would take you away from him. You were always his secret garden — around you, he felt magic at every little action of affection.

“Levi?”

“Hm?”

“What did she say to you?”

He merely buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His smile transformed into a grin, a silent laugh washing over him.

“Why are you laughing?”

He took out the velvet box from the pocket of his slacks. The small emblem of your family name’s initial brought the butterflies to life. Levi showed it to you and your rambling stopped. He didn’t even have to peek at your face to know that the box took your breath away. “This. This is what she gave me at the end of our talk.” He opened the velvet box and the ring was once again out in the open. “It will suit you even better than the ring I gave you twelve years ago.”

You stared wide-eyed at your family ring, hand covering your mouth while an overwhelming surge of happiness came in the form of gliding tears. “You have it.”

Levi kissed your jaw. “Yeah.”

A watery laugh emanated from you, the disbelief still present on your face. “I can’t believe it,” you murmured.

“It’s all thanks to the twins. So,” Levi trailed off, lifting his head from your shoulder before tilting your head to face him. With a spellbinding grin that made you see the stars, he uttered, “What do you say? Will you marry me again?”

The kiss you gave him amounted to a million yeses.

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