#firstly i thought you were afraid of the rain

[brenna]

the vibe for june 18th is doing it for myself. changed out my own battery (even though it was both raining and a heatwave), brushed and clipped the cats' claws, made dinner, did dishes, then wrote. amazing what you do when you take a day off work.

[penny-anna]

been reading a lot of Owl House fanfic lately & have some Hunter Thoughts (long post + cw for discussion of child abuse):

run into the take a couple of times now that the other Coven heads (in particular well-meaning characters like Darius & Raine) should have done more to help Hunter. and while i do agree that uhh almost every adult in the show let Hunter down i have 2 responses to that

FIRSTLY: i could be wrong (i watched s2 in a pretty choppy manner) but i don't think there's any indication that Hunter's abuse is happening anywhere other than behind closed doors. it's very possible that the outward image of Hunter & Belos's relationship is 'this is the emperor's special favourite nephew who he dotes upon'.

it's like. self-evidently the case that Hunter is being neglected emotionally but probably no-one had any reason to think he was in physical danger. remember that most people were under the impression that Belos was a benevolent ruler & the minority who'd figured out what his game could have reasonably assumed that for all his faults he wouldn't hurt Hunter.

Darius expresses concern about his social life but seems to read uhh nothing whatsoever into this interaction:

which suggests to me that he hasn't seen any prior indication of physical abuse & just assumes Hunter is being very dramatic!

(side note i just noticed Flapjack covering his eyes with his wings gdlkjfhglfjh omg Flapjack)

& all of this is very plausible! let's face it not all abusive parents IRL give off obvious red flags to anyone external to the situation.

SECONDLY: to be blunt, the position Belos put Hunter in was such that i don't know if anyone could have helped even if they wanted to.

Hunter being elevated to the position of Head of the Emperor's Coven is clearly an unusual move & one that was made in direct response to Lilith defecting. It's a clear signal that Belos doesn't trust his remaining Coven Heads and wants to keep a closer eye on them. they have good reason to believe that the Golden Guard could u know. report any of them to Belos as a Traitor at any time.

whether Belos would actually automatically believe him is another matter but like, as stated above, they don't know how Belos treats Hunter behind closed doors. for all they know one word from Hunter could get them idk petrified.

their behaviour towards him isn't nice but his presence is both threatening and also kind of insulting. he's wrapped up in the internal politics of the court in a way that makes it difficult to anyone to respond to him with anything other hostility. which is uhh not a position Belos should ever have put his 16 year old ''''nephew'''' into.

for all Darius knows if he starts being nice to the Golden Guard & relaxes in his presence he's gonna end up saying something that'll get back to Belos. he doesn't let down his guard around Hunter until seeing u know. multiple clear signals that he's actually willing to lie to Belos.

like. Hunter is dangerous! bcos we as the audience are so familiar w this Hunter:

easy to forget that most people in the Boiling Isles only know this guy:

he's a very real threat to everyone around him by virtue of being the emperor's Right Hand! just look at how Odalia reacts to him showing up:

people are actively afraid of the Golden Guard & him being 16 doesn't make him any less of a deadly threat. he's functionally untouchable. trying to suggest that hey, maybe the head of the police force shouldn't be a 16 year old boy is liable to get you thrown in the conformatorium.

like. even if someone did put together that Hunter was in danger from Belos what are they gonna do about it? u can't exactly call social services on the God Emperor.

[tiefthieves]

Let Me Silence the Storm [Karlach x Tav (Sikah)]

hello all :) I've decided to stop being a little bitch baby and post some of the things I've been writing for my Tav, Sikah, and Karlach. This is a little drabble surrounding Sikah's fear of thunderstorms. In my mind, this takes place around the early quests of Act 3. Here's a picture of them because they're cuties! My blorbos ♡

From the balcony of the inn, Sikah sat and watched as dark gray clouds, heavy with rain, slowly crept their way up the horizon and toward the city. She could hear the low rumble of thunder as they drew nearer and could smell the raindrops in the breeze. Her stomach ached. 

Thunderstorms weren’t an abnormality along the Sword Coast. The proximity to the raging sea and the area’s pseudo-island climate brewed a perfect storm. When it rained in Baldur’s Gate it rained hard. Light showers were a rarity, only spitting in spring; for the remaining seasons, there was little snow, no showers, and no sprinkles, only drenching downpours. 

When Sikah was young she loved the rain— loved splashing in puddles, counting the seconds between thunder claps, watching lightning race across the sky. Her mother would tell her it was the gods and goddesses practicing their archery, each hot flash of pure energy an ethereal arrow. 

Lightning was just that, pure energy in a blistering flash. She reached up and carefully brushed her fingertips across her permanently disfigured skin as the memories resurfaced. Sikah could still feel the sweltering pain on her face and see the blinding bolt of light emitting from a whip which cracked like thunder. 

She gasped as something, no, someone, tapped her shoulder. 

“Shit baby, I didn't mean to scare you.” Karlach took a step back, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Sikah lied as she stood up and brushed dust from her pants. “Need something?” 

“I was just checking in on ya, you’d been out here on the balcony for a while,” the taller tiefling leaned her back against the railing as she took a deep breath of coastal storm air. “Smells like rain.”

“Mmhm,” she hummed another passive lie, eyes still fixated on the darkening horizon. 

“For a rogue you’re a shit liar sometimes,” the barbarian observed, “What’s on your mind?” 

“It’s nothing,” Sikah winced as the skies opened up, darkening the cobblestone with heavy drops of precipitation, “let’s go inside.” 

Karlach wasn’t buying it. Something was up with Sikah and she was damn determined to figure out what. She pondered for a moment, cogs turning in her head while she reviewed the past hour. The evening had been rather normal, she thought. The party had stumbled into the tavern bruised and bloody from a day’s worth of adventuring. Firstly, herself and Sikah promptly made their way up to the inn to wash up before having dinner with the group, after which they retired to their shared room. From then on, Sikah had been out on the balcony watching the storm clouds. Even now, laying in bed with the balcony doors shut, the smaller tiefling kept an eagle eye on the window. 

“Did’jya see something suspicious out there? I can go pester Astarion to take care of it, he’s probably hungry.” Karlach attempted to draw her lover’s attention away from the window and onto her. 

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine, really,” Sikah gave her a reassuring half-smile. 

The taller woman raised a brow, “Darling, I love you, but you’re really bad at lying to me— which I appreciate, don’t get me wrong, but you can talk to me.” 

Sikah was silent, eyes fixated on Karlach’s fingertips as the larger woman moved to pull her into her chest. “I’m afraid of thunderstorms, of lightning, all of it,” her voice came out in a whisper. “It’s stupid. I can face goblins, devils, shapeshifters, cultists, and shadow cursed lands all without an ounce of fear, but a thunderstorm? I feel pathetic.”

“Hey now, I don’t date pathetic people, if I wanted to do that I’d go find Volo or some shit,” Karlach joked in an attempt to lower her lover’s guard. “Everyone has things they’re afraid of, baby. Usually for a good reason too.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Sikah rolled her eyes as a tiny smile dared to escape her lips. She tensed as a clasp of thunder shook the building, pressing herself into Karlach’s warm embrace. “Shit.”

“Hey, you’re alright, I’ve got you,” the barbarian cupped the woman’s cheek and ran her thumb over its textured flesh. She wanted to ask Sikah to tell the story of her scars, to uncover the mysteries that hid behind tarnished skin and bask in her bravery. Yet, Karlach’s mind was absent as she continued to pet Sikah’s cheek, softly humming as her eyes shamelessly wandered across the map of her speckled skin. “You’re beautiful, you know.” She eyed Sikah’s lips, her thumb teasing to inch closer. The smaller tiefling reached up to guide Karlach’s hand away, placing it on her chest before she draped her arms around the hellion’s neck. 

As rain continued to cascade down the inn’s window, the tieflings kept warm under the lush duvet of their bed. The next hours were spent in a lovers’ embrace; hands wandering across skin, muttered adorations, and airy breaths. With their clothes strewn across the floor, Karlach was able to fully appreciate her partner’s body in the blossoming candlelight. Sikah lay on her chest, back exposed to the air, arms hugged underneath one of the plush, feather pillows the inn provided. Her hair was down and out of its usual ponytail, cascading just barely past her shoulders. It had to be a horrible mess of tangles by now, for it hadn’t seen a brush in gods knows how long, yet her lover’s fingers effortlessly combed through it. Karlach reached out and traced her fingers over Sikah’s complexion, connecting the freckles in constellations across the map of her skin. Amongst the freckles were several scars, ranging from small cuts victim of anxious picking; to deep, discolored scar tissue from tougher quarrels. 

“You know, I’ve always liked a woman with a bit of story to her.” Karlach hummed as her nails trailed over scars, smiling as Sikah peeked an eye open and looked at her. 

The smaller tiefling raised a brow, “and by that you mean?” 

“Your body tells a story that no other can tell. Each scar, every dimple, freckle, and divett is completely unique to you. I could stare at you for hours and still manage to find something new.” Her infernal engine flickered as she shifted to prop herself on her elbow and rest her chin in the palm of her hand. “As you live you get more scars, maybe some more tattoos, all which give more stories to tell, I think it’s nice. I’ve never really cared for the flawless skin of elves, too smooth, reminds me of a naked cat.”

“I’m going to tell Astarion you called him a naked cat,” Sikah chuckled, too comfortable to budge from her current position. 

“Good, tell him, I think it’d be hilarious!” Karlach laughed. “He can stay being a pretty boy, I like my rogues tougher ‘round the edges.” 

The rogue bit her lip and pondered on her next words, tracing the raised skin on the back of Karlach’s strong hand when it rested over hers. “I haven’t told you how I got the scar on my face, have I?” Sikah shyly looked up at the stronger woman. 

“Nope,” Karlach shook her head. “If it makes you feel better, I thought it was a birthmark or something at first; but a battle scar is much more sexy.” 

She rolled her eyes, “Hush and listen, it's story time.” She moved to rest on her back, inviting the larger woman to lie beside her. Karlach’s head came to rest on the smaller woman’s chest, listening to the heartbeat she yearned for. “I told you about my time in Avernus,” Sikah began, “my two-year stint in prison, but never how I got out and what I did once I had…”

[selkielore]

four hours on a sunday afternoon in may +

all the time in my head

text id under the cut:

id: [ text of a poem that reads:

four hours on a sunday afternoon in may 

+ all the time in my head

i was working on a horse farm, reconnecting with my childhood 

i had never seen horses so beautiful, grey appaloosa and red bay with the sly sinous bodies 

of water horses from celtic mythology - so beautiful i was afraid they would eat me

laughing in the sun

it was on my time off, rainy day in the train station, english countryside 

and you walked up to me- the first time i’d seen you in months, years, the second time i’d seen you

at all.

you put a magazine in my hand with artwork from the uffizi and told me to pack my things, 

we were going to rome 

(even though the uffizi is in florence.) 

then you disappeared again. 

2.)

of course i started working out how to ditch the water horses, 

how to get to rome, how to spend just another second with you.

you left so quickly last time

  i thought this is my second chance. 

it was still  raining out and i called you for the first time. 

you picked up. if i had known it could be that easy, that you would just pick up,

 i would have called you the first time. i would have called you all the time.

 it shouldn’t be surprising, you’re old fashioned in some ways.

i said okay if we’re going to rome we should really buy the plane tickets, look at the air bnb’s 

and you sighed and said 

you weren’t really that serious about it, you just wanted to see the museums. 

i said okay but i was disappointed 

you played me a love song over the phone 

i asked is that coming from my phone? and you got sheepish and turned it off. 

i wish you had let it keep playing. it was something about love and i wanted to think that love was for me. then you had to go, hung up the phone, 

and i was still thinking about rome. 

i was still thinking about how if i had just called you, you would’ve talked to me. 

3.)

then i woke up and my heart broke firstly because you didn’t call me and tell me to run away to rome with you,

 and secondly because i’d been dreaming of you at all.

 when i wake up with my shirt off skin & sheets sticky with my clean summer sweat i am sick with longing and 

sick of myself for longing 

i guess i just wanted to live in a world where

i wanted you and you wanted me 

for longer than four hours on a sunday afternoon in may. ]

end id

[faerimi]

UNEXPECTED.

♱ ‧₊˚. sypnosis: a certain spy and assassin find themselves in an enclosed and tight quarter.

♱ ‧₊˚. content: fluff, loid x yor, 1.2k words.

♪ — dream girl, crisaunt. striptease, carwash. dark red, steve lacy.

— the sound of raining bullets caused twilight into a distress, looking for locations where he can shield himself before one lead can pierce into him. he finds himself trapped inside a closed quarter, living up to it’s state as it felt cramped and tight. not to mention, despite the darkness of the space he could feel another presence inside it with him.

not a single thought goes to his mind before immediately pointing his gun to its neck, to his surprise he also sensed a seemingly sharp and pointed weapon pressed against his neck. “what’re you doing here?” he heard a soft voice, almost as if it came from a woman. to his suspicion, it also sounded eminently familiar.

“might i ask you the same thing, what are you doing in here?” loid repeats the question, but this led him to more trouble feeling the sharp object threatening his skin. causing him to gasp, hearing the lady in front of him snicker. “for a bad guy, you seem afraid to die .. but you’ve shown nothing nor mercy, do you deserve your life?” she spoke with every hint of relentless to the underlining of its words. loid is now contemplating on ways to escape this stressful predicament he finds himself in, adding to the fact the person he’s with is aggravatingly prideful. he had no time for this kind of tricks, he thought.

one movement of his another added pressure to the cold metal slowly piercing onto him, he sighed and admitted his defeat. he wanted to leave, but if he isn’t even allowed to move a single muscle, how can he? most certainly, he also wanted to live. thinking about the precious fruit of this mission and coming home to his daughter and … wife.

“listen i—” stopping his sentence, his fingers was able to touch a string, almost as if it’s a switch. fortunately it was, able to now fully catch a glimpse of the individual in front of him. firstly, indeed and confirmed, it was a woman, who he finds resembled someone quite awfully. second, their positions were too close that he now can’t seem to move by himself, afraid to touch anything he isn’t meant to.

faces inches away from one another, his arm above her head for support and bodies practically touching. every breath he would let out, it would touch the lady’s neck. cherry red eyes fixed intently to examine the blonde’s features, every point she looked at bore resemblance to her husband’s face.

the spy did exactly the same thing, sharp eyes inspecting the raven’s face. he never forgets faces, his mind is capable of that. the raven mirrored every single trademarks of his wife’s profile. finally realizing … this is her.

yor on the other hand, caught up to the same idea as well. well-aware that this man is indeed the man she’s promised to. pupils dilating to the realization, a gasp left her lips. “loid?” she questioned, now confirming and answering the man’s doubts.

“yor is that you?” returning the questions once more, she felt the need to hide her face causing her to answer the man’s thoughts more profoundly. “what’re you doing here?!” he asked deeply concern for the woman’s presence in such a risky place.

“i— i’m doing my job!” she finally admitted, meeting the blonde’s eyes. looking for sense of disappointment or any dismay whatsoever, submitting to the fact he would probably disregard her after this encounter. “what are you exactly?” asking further in an attempt to entirely know the woman. “an assassin … i kill people.” sighing as she answered, even though she was hesitant to. but this is how it’s meant to end, isn’t it?

a fake family couldn’t possibly be a real one, in the end of the day, they’re just strangers in each other’s properties. they’re far from being one, that’s certain.

“i see,” a taken-aback loid replies, despite the surprising revelation, he’s glad he had known yor’s true identity. “loid, you must know i only took the offer so i could protect this secret of mine, to be excluded from all the conspiracies and suspiciousness i’ve brought upon myself. it’s been fun nonetheless, anya’s a great girl and you’re an impeccable father. i’m truly grateful to have associated myself with the likes of both of you.” she spoke with her heart, all of it at least, she knew because her eyes begone to sting as a teardrop threatens to fall.

“i.. i understand if you would replace me, you might find this job dangerous and could possibly harm anya. i don’t mind, if it’s for you and anya’s comfort i’d gladly oblige to the idea of it.” yor continues, trying her best to not make a sound or expose her vulnerability, even though loid himself had already witnessed it many many times.

the man drops his gun, putting it back to where it was resided, away from her face. his now ungloved hand wiped the tear falling from the raven’s eyes, thumb fondly caressing her now flushed and plumped cheeks.

“you have nothing to worry, now learning you’re an assassin gave me more reassurance how great of a mother you are to anya. you’re strong, quite literally, but now i know you’d be able to protect her. you’re perfect yor … you always have been. truth be told, i had doubted you, but knowing this ..? you’re more than fitting to be with anya and my wife.” hearing loid express his thoughts made yor’s heart swell.

calloused hand never leaving her face, cupping the side of her face, he went closer until only an inch was left before their lips could clash with one another. “thank you … my beautiful, beautiful wife.”

finally closing the gap between them, their lips touched embracing the warmth both of them offered. to their minds, it felt as if the space become tighter and quieter— how their breaths became hard to gather and how their heartbeats are the only sound to be heard. it finally happened, both of them thought.

the blonde’s firms hand travelled to her neck to pull her closer, leaving yor’s hand to plant onto his chest. they become unaware of their surroundings as it felt invisible so is time and how it became unreal under their soft lips. having to resist everything and now finally collapsing and submitting, it’s only obviously fair to have craved more.

their lips crashing with one another moving to an eager movement of flow. an embodiment of how the ocean waves crashed onto the shores. tasting both’s tongues sweetness, delighting to it’s warmth and serenity. the resistance of urges now out the window, it was their ‘finally’.

parting to now pull for air, a silver string connected their lips, but quite happy with what it resulted. cheeks tinted with a dusty pink and lips reddened, they stare into each other’s face. satisfied smiles beginning to plaster to their lips. “it seems like we’ve forgotten what we’re here for,” loid reminded, a smirk forming.

“i suppose we have, let’s finish so we can go home to anya.” yor gave that endearing smile, the one loid always had a hard time to get over his mind.

opening the quarter’s door, finally having to leave the tight space made them sigh in relief. then a question popped to yor’s mind, “loid? you? what are you exactly?” she asked, still sticking close to the man.

“a spy, twilight.” the answer he gave made her smile, rightfully so. “shall we?” the blonde offers his ungloved hand for her to take, which she gladly did.

let’s just say, they came home with a happy anya greeting them.

⊹ — this is me feeding my loid x yor crumbs. i just finished the manga & loved them sm ! and this isn’t the best im sorry :/ ( + the way i added random songs from my playlist ... anw i think the songs just fit the vibe i wanted to give. )

© faerimi. no copying, modifying, translating and reposting of my works. 2022

[aminiatureworld]

Melusine

Characters: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,221

Warnings: Brief depiction of pseudo-drowning

Premise: In which the reader’s somewhat inexplicable fear of water prompts questioning

Author’s Note: This prompt reminded me of the book (and series) The Tail of Emily Windsnap, which, if you haven’t read at least the first book, you totally should read as it’s just really a wonderful read. The descriptions of the ocean are especially atmospheric. Anyways, as for the prompt, I had a lot of fun. I tried to write a mermaid story in middle school and while it didn’t go that well I have a lot of nostalgia for the mermaid genre. Though this was more about the discovery than actually being a mermaid.

Also the title is a pseudo-historical reference.

Albedo

The first time it had happened Albedo had brushed off the whole incident as completely explainable. After all, it wasn’t as if you hadn’t explained what had happened.

You two had been sitting on one of the craggy hills of the Whispering Woods, you sprawled on the grass, Albedo attempting to paint a landscape of Mondstadt, one of the more ambitious paintings in his current portfolio. Especially since he had traded his more opaque oils for the gentler tones of watercolors. At one point he must have made some sort of noise of frustration, for you lifted yourself out of the shade and made your way over to the canvas.

“That looks absolutely lovely Albedo!” Your smile had always had a calming affect on the alchemist, and this time was no different. Albedo could feel the tension slowly leeching away from his shoulders.

“Do you think so? I’m afraid that I still can’t handle all the odd shadows the buildings cast.”

“The buildings look perfect to me! Though if you feel that way, maybe you could lighten the side facing the sun a little more instead of darkening the area over here? So the shade doesn’t become too muddy.”

“You have a wonderful eye, you know,” Albedo replied, smiling at the way your mind had immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had drawn as well. Reaching for the bowl of water next to him Albedo went to water his brush a little more before trying again.

Unfortunately that’s when things appeared to have taken a turn for the wrong. Instead of reaching over the bowl Albedo’s elbow collided with the glass. Though the grass was soft and close enough to prevent any damage, that didn’t stop all the muddied water from spilling out over the brim and right over you. You let out a sort of squeak, and for a moment Albedo though it was just the initial shock, but then the expression on your face came into view and Albedo could immediately sense you were seconds away from panic.

“Is something wrong?”

“I, I don’t like water very much,” you let out a strained laugh. “I just, I don’t know. I really, really don’t like water.”

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo immediately replied.

Taking off his coat he did his best to dry you off, wiping off your arms and attempting a valiant effort with your now sopping clothes. Though you assured him that it would be alright the alchemist could sense those were only platitudes, and it wasn’t until you seemed significantly calmer that Albedo turned to pick up the bowl and refill it in Cider Lake. And though a part of his mind wished to delve deeper into what had happened he pulled himself back, figuring it wouldn’t help you if he was suddenly enquiring over something you were afraid of.

Now perhaps that should have been the long and the short of it, but the revelation had begun to make Albedo see water everywhere and, more importantly, see how much it appeared to affect you every time you appeared to come in close contact with it.

Thankfully you didn’t seem to have trouble with water in glasses, at least as long as someone was actively drinking it. If not however you would glance at the glass every so often, as if it were your mortal enemy, waiting to catch you off guard to it might tip its contents all over your clothes. Other things, like obsessively drying your wands after washing them and draping layers of towels over your shoulders when you washed your hair, also became apparent. Suddenly Albedo couldn’t stop noticing your discomfort, and the more he noticed the more he wished he could do something about it.

“Exposure therapy?”

“Yes.”

You were sitting on Albedo’s desk, leaning slightly over your partner, a slightly bemused look on your face. It had been about three weeks since the incident, and finally Albedo thought he might have found some sort of solution to your problem. Now he eagerly pressed forward, figuring you’d understand once he’d explained everything fully.

“I know that it might seem counterproductive to subject you to what gets a frightened reaction out of you, but if you subject a person to something they’re afraid of in very small doses over a long period of time, usually they begin to feel a little less afraid of the thing in question. It’s sort of like how you can sometimes make allergies less serious by slowly exposing the patient to more and more of the allergen.”

“I understand where your line of thought is coming from Albedo, but I’m really not sure if this is the best idea for me.”

“I know that it might seem daunting at first. I would not bring up the topic if you didn’t seem so miserable sometimes. I worry that you might become so unhappy by your fear that it will become debilitating eventually. That is why I decided to bring up the option.”

“I really appreciate you going out of your way to think about me Albedo. I really do. I think what you’re trying to do is very kind and noble of you. But in all honesty I don’t think that’s going to work. You see, the way my fear works, I just don’t think that exposure is going to make it go away.”

“Are you sure?” Albedo pressed on, still hoping that you might see the benefit in what he was suggesting. “It won’t start with something drastic I promise. And at the end of the day, I think that it will help a lot.”

“I understand that, I really do, but like I said my fear doesn’t work that way.” You paused, as if sensing the sinking of your partner’s heart, before smiling slightly. “If it makes you feel any better I promise to give it some more thought. Alright?”

“Thank you,” Albedo replied, though in his mind he knew that you thinking about it probably wouldn’t change anything.

Thus the cycle continued, with Albedo growing more and more uneasy. He didn’t bring it up with you again, sensing it would be walking over some invisible line, but still his mind whirled in trying to understand what you meant. If your fear wasn’t simply irrational, then surely something must have happened once. Though the alchemist didn’t pry, surely if you wanted him to know you would tell him in your own time, he had to admit that sometimes his brain went off on various daydreams, as if trying to decide for itself what might have happened.

As it turned out, Albedo didn’t have to speculate for long. Nor did the truth come out the way that he had expected.

You two were on the very small dock at Cider Lake, checking the rafts were tied down properly before the beginning of the stormy season that wreaked havoc through Mondstadt once every year. Though normally you probably would have never done such a thing the Guild was spread thin, preparing for storms, though not nearly as fierce as Dvalin’s winds, that would blow shingles off roofs and destabilize the occasional out of place rock on the wall. As of such the task of shielding the boats used to carry supplies from the City to the larger Mondstadt region had fallen to you. Albedo had tagged along, knowing how uncomfortable the experience might make you feel, and unwilling to leave you alone in a state of anxiety.

“These remaining boats are the ones we need to tie down. They’re too big to be stored in the sheds inside the City.”

“I see,” Albedo replied, already moving to nail the tarp down on one of them as you secured the roping. Already the air seemed alive with the fresh smell of impending rain.

“It’s too bad really, we can’t guarantee these boats’ safety the way we can the others. Thankfully these ones are mostly insured by the Knights. Though really maybe we should build a larger shed,” you mused to yourself, keeping up the tell-tale stream of conversation that Albedo knew you used to distract yourself.

“Perhaps you can make a query via the Guild?”

“Perhaps,” you mused. “Or I might be able to ask Amber.”

Albedo replied that would be a good idea, turning to put another temporary nail onto the top of the longboat. All seemed alright for a moment, then there was a shriek and a terrific splashing sound. Whirling around Albedo had just enough time to find your head in the water before you seemed to seize up and your head dipped below the still crystal-clear waves.

Immediately Albedo stripped himself of his coat and dove in. Though no amazing swimmer himself the alchemist was hardly the worst at staying afloat, and even if he only knew a select few amount of swim strokes that paled in comparison to the idea of you drowning. Making his way over to you he fought the panic rising up inside of him, the part of his brain that said it would be much more difficult to rescue someone terrified of water.

However almost as soon as Albedo approached you he noticed that something was distinctly off. Firstly you didn’t seem like you were drowning, in fact you appeared quite graceful in the water, swishing softly back and forth. Secondly the reason for said grace quickly became apparent to Albedo. For in the spot where your legs should have been, indeed in the spot where your legs had been mere moment ago was something long and slightly shimmery and distinctly fish-like.

Letting his mouth fall open Albedo immediately hoisted himself up above the water, choking on the gasp of breath he had found himself taking. What was that, what in all of Teyvat was that? You were half fish. How were you half fish? Did such a thing even exist, for Albedo had certainly never heard of it! Though the alchemist later admitted that in the moment such fantasy creatures as merfolk had completely fallen out of his head, there was something distinctly different than reading about something in a book and seeing it in real life.

Dragging himself onto the shores of Cider Lake, Albedo waited for you to emerge, still breathing heavily from what had just passed. His brain seemed to shut off them, for he found himself with no questions to ask. You were a mermaid, you were simply a mermaid. There was nothing more to do or say about it.

Eventually you joined him on the beach. Albedo watched in an odd sort of fascination as your legs emerged from the scaley fin which your lower body was now made up of. For a moment individual spots of iridescent seemed to remain, but soon your limbs were back to normal, ignoring the fact that you were soaking wet.

“So now you know why I said exposure therapy wouldn’t work out,” you said, letting a grim sort of laugh escape your lips.

“You… you are a… a…”

“A merfolk, yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. “Not sure why I get stuck with the weird power that is more annoying than good but, you know, oops?”

Albedo could sense your vulnerability, but try as he might he couldn’t get the words to come out of his throat. For a moment he sat there, gasping like a fish, but finally the expression of muted misery on your face wormed its way into his brain and finally Albedo felt as if he had regained some ability to talk.

“I think it’s fascinating.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, really. And not just because this is something I’ve never experienced or seen before. Though it was really surprising, it was also wonderful. As an alchemist you study all the wonders and anomalies of nature, and in doing so you see all these differences aren’t just something to be written down, but they also beautiful. And so I think you’re really beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you replied, though you still seemed uncomfortable. “I just, yeah…”

Reaching over to find your hand in his Albedo squeezed your palm softly. For a moment you did nothing, then, slowly, you leaned your head on Albedo’s shoulder. Letting you stay there Albedo found himself wishing that he could convey all the emotions he felt in that moment to you.

“I know that it can be difficult to talk about things that you’ve kept secret, especially when you feel like they make you stand out in a bad way. But I promise, there is nothing wrong with that. And I hope if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way that I can apologize.”

“Thanks Albedo,” you murmured. “You don’t have to say sorry, but thanks anyways.”

“Always.”

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too.”

Albedo planted a soft kiss on your forehead. As the boats sat, woefully forgotten, the two of you basked in each other’s presence. For Albedo a mystery had been solved, and explanation given that, while not necessarily scientific, was certainly satisfactory. Yet at that moment he couldn’t care less about it. All he could think about was how lonely it must have been, and how, if he could help it, you would never feel isolated in your discomfort or in your secret ever again.

[teawaffles]

It Happened One Night: Chapter 4

Sure enough, the ground in front of the shed had not dried out just yet — it had been trampled into a right mess, probably by all the people who had rushed to the crime scene. In this state, it was impossible to distinguish a single person’s footprints. On top of that, their own footprints had already been left behind, their shoes smeared with mud.

For now, Sherlock gave up on examining the ground, and entered the shed.

One might’ve thought the interior would be covered in heaps of reference materials and discarded artworks, but the shed itself was tidy. There were several candles and a candlestick on the floor near the entrance. As Daldry had testified, there was an easel with a half-finished painting on it, and another easel that was empty. Other than that, the interior was bare. Another door stood in a corner of the room.

Unfortunately, the floor of the shed was also covered in muddy footprints, although it was to a smaller extent than the ground outside.

“It’s the same here too, huh. If no one else had come in, then any footprints would probably belong to the culprit — dammit, why’d they have to walk around as they pleased?”

“Sorry; if I’d been quicker to stop them from entering the crime scene…”

“Don’t worry about it, John. You did your best. Anyhow, what we should be looking at is this.”

Sherlock walked further into the room, stopping before the other door. It seemed like no one else had ventured this far in — there were no muddy footprints. Even so, John could see that there was a bit of dirt stuck to the floorboard before the door.

When they turned the doorknob, the door opened without a hitch. It led to the back of the shed: in any case, there wasn’t any reason for it to lead to another room.

From behind Sherlock, John spoke up.

“So it’s the back door. Then this shed has two entrances: one in front, and another at the back.”

Sherlock looked around outside the door.

“What’s more, this entrance is in a blind spot when seen from the inn. Also…… here, John, look.”

Sherlock took a step outside to make way for him.

There was also a patch of exposed ground behind the shed, and on the opposite side of it was a well-maintained cobblestone path. But what was surprising was that, leading from the path to the shed, was a single set of distinct footprints.

“Sherlock. These were clearly made after the ground turned soft from the rain. So this shows that during the party, someone broke into the shed from outside — it’s an important piece of evidence, isn’t it?”

John went on excitedly, but in contrast, Sherlock remained silent as he pondered over something.

John cocked his head in confusion.

“……What’s wrong? Unless, someone intentionally went around to the back once the theft was discovered?”

Sherlock dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

“That’s not it. John, can you see what’s strange about these footprints?”

“Huh?”

Hearing that, John scrutinised the footprints that continued up to the stone path. Then, he realised what Sherlock was referring to.

“These tracks…… They lead into the shed, but there are no tracks leading out.”

Sherlock chewed his lip slightly, as if ruminating over John’s analysis.

The footprints went in a single direction, towards the shed. If one were to consider this straightforwardly, the intruder probably entered the shed via the back door, but didn’t leave via the same route.

“Maybe the thief entered from the back, stole the painting, then left through the front door?”

“A break-in wouldn’t necessarily correspond with the art theft, but…… even so, if the thief entered from the back door to stay out of sight, it doesn’t make sense for them to leave from the front, since they would be visible from the inn.”

“Maybe something happened, and they couldn’t leave from the back?”

“That’s one possibility…… hmm?”

Sherlock suddenly paused and crouched down, staring intently at the ground.

“What happened? Did you find something new?”

“Yeah, here.”

Sherlock pointed at the wet earth as he replied. Although it was faint, there was a set of footprints that indicated a round trip from the stone path to the shed and back.

“This is definitely another set of prints, and it indicates someone has entered and left. But it seems to have been washed out by the rain.”

John voiced his interpretation, and Sherlock agreed.

“Quite right: these were made before the party started.”

The painting had been stolen during the celebration at the inn, and it had been raining at the time. Therefore, these footprints, which appeared to have been left before the rain started, were not made by the thief when they stole the painting.

Possibly, that artist had used the back entrance on some other business. That was what John reckoned, but Sherlock sank deep into thought as he looked at the ground and the inside of the shed in turn.

Apart from the problem of identifying the suspect, there was also the mystery of the footprints at the back door. However, they still didn’t have enough information to solve the case.

After giving the shed a once-over, and confirming that there was no other useful evidence, the two men had resolved to head back to the inn, when they realised that Daldry had walked over to the shed as well.

“Mr Holmes, Dr Watson: the police have arrived.”

“I see,” replied Sherlock. “So, what have they been doing?”

“They started interviewing the people who remained in the building. Also, it seems they’re visiting the guests who had returned home, and are conducting voluntary house searches.”

When he heard that, Sherlock made a somewhat troubled expression.

“That saves us some trouble, but…… house searches, huh. I hope the police here don’t jump to conclusions.”

“It’ll surely be alright. And if push comes to shove, you could always just leave.”

John had placed his full trust in Sherlock, and the detective smiled wryly at that as they returned to the inn with Daldry.

Inside, several police officers had already split up to question the party guests.

Sherlock took a seat at the counter, and tried to casually eavesdrop on a nearby conversation, but its contents were no different from what they had heard earlier.

Then, after he’d finished giving the police his statement, Rheos jogged over to the two men.

“H-How was it, Mr Detective? Have you found the location of the painting?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“I’m afraid not — we haven’t found any decisive clues. It seems it’ll take a while longer.”

The young artist hung his head with a jolt.

Suddenly, something they saw earlier surfaced in Sherlock’s mind: the candles at his feet.

“Hey, can I ask you something? That shed — how do you illuminate it?”

Rheos looked up as he replied.

“When I’m there at night, I use candles.”

“I see. But candlelight alone wouldn’t be able to light up the whole room, now would it?”

As the detective predicted, the young man narrowed his eyes.

“……That’s true. But it’s enough for me to paint by.”

“That makes sense. Then of course, when Daldry entered the shed back then, it must’ve been lit with candles as well. And when you’d walked halfway to the shed, you realised that the painting was missing.”

“Pretty much, that’s what happened.”

“Right? But, if that was the case, then……”

The detective became absorbed into his own thoughts. The abrupt end to their conversation left Rheos understandably confused, and John gave him an awkward bow in apology. After which, clearly unsatisfied, Rheos walked away.

“Oi, Sherlock. What were you doing, abandoning the victim like that?”

“Mmm, ah, sorry. Something was bugging me…… I just can’t work out the mystery of those footprints.”

“The ‘one-way’ footprints, huh. About that, I have a few theories.”

“Hmm, let’s hear it then.”

Sherlock shot him an inviting smile, and John lowered his voice.

“Firstly, the culprit left those footprints as they entered the shed. Then after they stole the painting, they walked backwards, stepping into their original footprints to leave the scene.”

“Nope. First off, there’s no reason to do that. Moreover, if they walked backwards over their tracks, the way their weight shifted would've be different from if they walked forwards normally. As far as I could tell, those footprints were made by someone walking from the path to the shed, in that direction.”

Sherlock immediately shot down his idea, but John was undaunted.

“If so, then maybe they used a rope or something when they left the shed, so they wouldn’t leave any tracks.”

“That’s not it either. If the culprit had a way to leave the shed without leaving any footprints, then they would’ve used the same method when they entered it. Why would they purposely leave footprints only when they went in?”

Yet again, Sherlock had immediately countered his argument, and now John’s expression clouded over.

“Well then, the culprit entered the shed and stole the painting. Then when they were about to open the door and leave, Mr Daldry appeared at the front entrance, so they temporarily hid in a corner of the shed. You said earlier that the candlelight couldn’t have lit up the whole room, right? And after Mr Daldry left, they tried to flee from the front entrance…… but because other people might come through the front door, they must have left via the back. Sorry, just forget this one.”

Realising the flaw in his reasoning halfway through, John retracted what he’d said, and began to anguish.

“Aargh, is this a dead end?”

“Don’t do that, John. Your ideas were pretty good.”

“But, didn’t I reach a deadlock in my argument?”

“True; why did they only leave footprints when entering the shed……?”

They agonised over the culprit’s intent, unable to get to the bottom of the case as of yet. Then, after a while, a police officer entered the inn.

“Excuse me, I have an important report……”

He spoke to a middle-aged man who looked to be his superior. Sherlock and John stood up from their seats, and casually moved closer.

“In one of the guests’ homes, we’ve discovered what appears to be the stolen painting.”

[i-love-hobbies]

The biggest criticism Lilith's redemption arc gets and Eda's biggest strength

(ft. me getting completely side tracked and wanting a Hooty redemption arc)

Ok, so firstly I wanna talk about real life and then say how it was done in the owl house.

I hate the words "Everyone should get what they deserve." Cause firstly this never happens, secondly, the words are very vague and it opens a window of miscommunication and thirdly, cause in Lilith's case they are focused at, she needs to be hurt in order to change.

There are even people that have said that they are looking forward to watching Lilith suffer (I don't know if I've said it on the internet but I was one of them.)

Revenge has been proven to not make people feel better. And a lot of therapists usually say you need to forgive people. That doesn't mean fix the relationship, it means try to stop wishing they get hurt. Cause the feeling is only hurting you.

Also it's a normal human feeling to be angry, so no I'm not calling people monsters for this. And forgiveness is a hard process that takes a lot of work, but it usually isn't helped by hurting others.

The words people usually use to defend this sentence are:

"Consequences change people's minds or at the very least make them scared of doing it again."

Ok so how about we use this sentence instead, it's short enough and the main mission now is keeping ourselves safe Instead of it being hurting someone, you're still wishing it but it's not the main goal, it's a secondary one.

Well, cause it immediately shows two issues both statements have.

Firstly a friendship with someone that wants to hurt you but is scared of doing so is not a healthy one, cause they'll just try to be sneaky. You can only do it with people that aren't close to you like how the authorities do it towards criminals.

Secondly punishments rarely change people's minds. They've never worked on me, especially when you attack my identity, cause this way you make it even worse. And expecting that you can change someone usually means you're about to fail.

"But we can't get rid of punishments, people will hurt us."

I'm not saying we should. I'm saying our main goal should be our safety and hurting them may happen but it shouldn't be important.

Or better yet:

"Building healthy boundaries to the point where you're not getting hurt anymore, but not going overboard."

Examples:

- You have a friend you see Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday. But on Wednesdays, after work, they usually are very ignorant of your feelings and sometimes joke at your expense. So you stop going out at Wednesdays.

They might never ask why you did it and that's ok, cause you're not getting hurt anymore.

But usually they do ask why? You explain to them the issue with respect, don't call them names.

Some people will change after this and you can get rid of the boundary later on.

Other people may acknowledge this and say it's a good idea, cause they are overwhelmed, but never change.

Other other people may start hurting you even more. You build the boundaries even more, sometimes to the point you cut them out of your life, even if they weren't hurting you intentionally.

Which is completely ok if you can't maintain contact without being hurt.

- Eda's handling of Gwendolyn's cures is another good one. She never called her names or anything. She just made sure that Gwen can't hurt her anymore. Cause it wasn't only the cures. Eda's feelings were always getting ignored. She literally couldn't talk with her about anything other than the curse. Her emotions were getting neglected.

- Eda's handling of Tibbles is also an interesting example.

At first after the scamming she just left him. She couldn't see how he could hurt her.

And in episode 14 she killed him. Cause he showed that he would do anything to murder her dump kids and knew their address. Almost same story with Adegast.

Yes murder in this extreme cases can be a healthy boundary.

Lilith's relationships with the owl fam

King:

King didn't know Lilith was living with them and knows about her neglect.

Luz:

Luz would only stand up for others never for herself which is very unhealthy. I don't know if she forgave Lilith, but I can see her not mentioning it if she hasn't and playing along as a teacher.

"The real mystery is how she can be both so smart and yet so wrong at the same time. Academics, am I right?"

The closest one to her she has roasted like this, is her mentor, who firstly makes people feel safe.

"EDA, You're embarrassing me Infront of my crew." - Raine, after thirty years of not seeing her.

Secondly, she was being a jerk, she was teaching Luz about cards while she was begging for magic lessons and was not getting it for weeks.

"Cards, the paper rectangles that old people think are fun."

Heck, she might even be scared of Lilith. She almost got killed.

So far I don't have a reason to think she likes her. She hasn't really talked with her or about her much.

Eda:

Eda has already shown that she can handle conflicts in relationships. Like in episode 9, where she got Luz into Hexside and everything I already said.

I made an entire post about Eda being too emotional and I still stand by it, but serious situations that have to do with relationships, she usually is very rational and good at handling them. Probably because of the curse making her afraid of her anger and countless people attacking her.

At the beginning of the series Eda probably was expecting that the worst case scenario would be for Lilith to catch her and if Lilith isn't given the time to realise what she did, she'd be killed and best case scenario Lilith changes.

Episode 5, where Lilith burned down her wanted posters, episode 8 where Lilith was gonna get her straight in the coven instead of arresting her, episode 11, where Lilith said she wanted for Eda to join on her own and episode 17, where they played grudgby.

Proved to her even more that Lilith cares a lot for her and maybe she will change.

Then episode 18 happened and King wanting hugs and Luz's "Let me die!" Suddenly the worst case scenario became not her dieing but her dieing and the trauma the kids will experience. The fact that they won't have her in their lifes.

Lilith says "Then why were you so easy to curse?!?" This does not sound like "I accidentally did this and I'm sorry." No, Eda thought Lilith did this on purpose. And now her kids might get killed by her own sister cause she was too naive to trust her.

From now on I don't think she was trying to kill her cause Lilith isn't dangerous without raw power like Adegast and Tibbles, but to disable her is a possibility.

To add to this Eda wasn't rational almost throughout the entire finale. She probably didn't pick up on the line "If you would just let me explain." Just like she didn't question why Lilith was thrown in a cage.

Then she learns that Lilith commited treason together with her kids and started feeling like she doesn't know the full story, but Lilith is still a caring person. So she jumps Infront of the beam to save both Lilith and King.

Afterwards Lilith shares the curse and has nowhere to go if she gets kicked out so there is no reason to believe that she would hurt them physically.

I know in a post I said I don't think she fully processed the situation with Lilith. But now I think I was only half right.

She didn't fully process how much she was hurt but she understood Lilith's situation. Forgave her as soon as possible, not immediately. But that doesn't mean she rebuilded the relationship as soon as she forgave her.

First of, the forgiveness part happened after episode 1. The entire episode she was guilt tripping her, which I don't think was helping the situation. It makes Lilith more emotional which then makes it harder for her to face reality.

I'm not calling Eda a bad person for this but I do think it was a mistake.

What wasn't a mistake but a good thing is Eda wasn't the one to listen to her problems, it was Hooty. Cause her emotional health matters too and standing in one room with her sister is challenging.

And now I'm wondering does Eda know about how Lilith was treated by both the coven and their parents.

Eda calling Lilith a tool, seems to me more of them competing with each other rather than the recent events. Also Lilith forcing her rules without saying why they are there.

I'm glad the episode ended with them switching roles, where Lilith is now more powerful. Though I'm pretty sure the roles are getting switched again.

So what about the rebuilding of the relationship or should I say trust.

Well they didn't show us much, but I think the trust isn't fully back.

Cause she has only been proving that she can be physically trusted like when she saved King's life.

Eda never opens up, which is unhealthy. But in this case it's a healthy boundary, cause King did it and he got Lilith projecting onto him.

Lilith isn't good at being mentally supportive and still has bad habits.

Lulu and Hootsifer

Hooty helping Lilith was something, she really needed and didn't take for granted, cause the only one to ever even consider this is Eda.

They are buddies that look out for each other. I wouldn't say they talk a lot about feelings as they have no idea how to do that, but there are examples where they do.

Like "What kind of a witch am I?" and Hooty's letter.

Her letter for Hooty, was supportive, but ignored the issue of Hooty always being in people's personal space.

Which led to Hooty drugging Eda, kidnapping three children and almost killing said kids when his plans didn't work the way he wanted. He also ate the letter for King.

I want a Hooty redemption arc, now!

[jextraordinaire]

Rehashing the Festival

Aka I reviewed the footage /rp

I've been rewatching all of Technoblade's old dream smp streams to write timestamps of them for my other blog (link here blatant self promo is blatant), and I just finished the festival stream. I've gathered a nice pile of evidence to discuss in the eternal "How justified is c!Technoblade" argument. How canon some statements are so a little up in the air but I'll do my best. Most of this is evidence that c! Technoblade legitimately feared for his life at the festival although there's some quotes that could be used against him as well.

The argument that Techno could have escaped when pressured to kill Tubbo is a common one. Tommy brings up that Technoblade"can literally fly" twice as 'proof' that Technoblade wasn't in danger. Techno responds by saying he can't fly without rain and that there were people waiting to gun him down. The truth is that outside of the lore, escaping people in minecraft when fully geared is super manageable. Technoblade's reaction is essentially saying that Tommy is metagaming and c! Technoblade didn't see hope for escape.

Secondarily, Tommy would have been almost equally as mad if Techno ran. He would have still called Techno a traitor for abandoning Tubbo to be killed. As Techno says in a later stream, "Tubbo...was dead the moment he stepped in that box Tommy. Do you really think there was no one else in that entire country that could kill an unarmed caged man?" Saying Techno could escape is like asking him to do crystal pvp, sure it's within the capabilities of Techno as a minecraft player but the story sometimes requires characters to not do things they are capable of. Just like how Techno the streamer was perfectly capable of letting the butcher army kill Carl but c!Techno cared too much. Fighting against limits set for the characters by the writers feels really pointless to me.

Tubbo would not have lived if Techno fleed or if Techno tried to help Tubbo escape. It wasn't even within the capabilities of the real streamers since Tubbo was unarmed, armorless, and surrounded. Any move by Techno would result in Tubbo's death, Tommy's anger, and a division within Pogtopia. The only possible alternative (as Technoblade mentions on doomsday) is Wilbur and Tommy jumping in. They are obviously capable of it since Tommy pearls in after Tubbo dies.

Without action from Wilbur and Tommy Tubbo dies. For Technoblade, every move has no real benefit. However, he has a whole inventory of gear he could lose. Whether cc!Technoblade could escape or not, it can't be denied that c!Technoblade is afraid of the crowd at the festival. He mentions in at least 2 asides that he can't "JFK" for chat because everyone will jump him and he will die. He says several more times before and after that he was legit afraid of the crowd and thought they were capable of killing him.

A quick detour to discuss the rocket launcher. A common point us Technoblade apologists have made is that Techno didn't know the true capabilities of the rocket launcher and thus didn't know he could kill everyone. Some evidence includes is his blatant shock in killing JSchlatt and the crowd. Even after that initial shock wears off (as well as in the next stream) he calls it a weapons test. These details indicate that Techno didn't know the weapon's true capability hence "test" not demonstration. However, he does mention twice in the stream the stats of the weapon. He says it can shred through enemies and that it can deal a max of 9 hearts. There are two counters to these statements (that I brought up just to argue with myself why am I like this). Firstly, these earlier moments are less in character than the time after the festival. Technoblade the streamer is aware of the stats even if he's never tested the rocket launcher, but it's debatable how much c!Techno knows. Second, academic knowledge doesn't equal field knowledge. Cc! Technoblade is legitimately shocked by the amount of people he killed. He's in awe. If cc!Techno was told how great the weapon was and still underestimated it than of course c!Techno would too as he knew even less. The confidence to take on a nation needs more than a theoretically good weapon.

In conclusion the festival was so rad and I'm nostalgic for when I caught it live. Technoblade was so happy about the viewer count and it was very pog

[atiny-ahgase]

A message to my Moots

Hey all, I originally wasn’t gonna do this cause I honestly didn't even know where to begin (I still don't tbh) but I said that I’ll still give it a try cause I wanted to tell you all my feelings before the new year rolls around (for me at least lol). So let’s get too it.

Firstly thank you to every single person that follows me, or has read any of my fics or liked any of my edits or even just interacted with me in any form. Thank you for the immense love and support that I’ve received on this site, honestly I didn't expect to make any friends here and the fact that I was able to meet and befriend so many amazing people. So I just wanna say thank you so much for being a part of my life. I’ve always put up walls and I’m really bad at getting close to others but Tumblr was the first site that I’ve really felt comfortable enough to be the real me. So thank you for that.

Now on to the Mentions

I had no idea how to start this so I decided to start at the beginning.

@mingishoe -Luna, you were the reason that I joined Tumblr in the first place, your fics brought me here and your interactions with other blogs opened up so many doors for me and helped me to interact and befriend so many amazing people. You were the first person that I ever sent an ask to, you made me feel so comfortable and welcome so thank you for that. Thank you for being you, a literal moon; bright and beautiful always lighting up the way. I honestly don't think that I would ever be able to explain how much I love, admire and look up to you, I honestly can’t find the words. Honestly, just thank you for being there for your little anon (Idk if you know which anon I am though lol)

@vocalyunho -Ames!!!!! The 2nd person that I followed! an absolute angel. You are such a calm soul and I just love your vibe and energy so much. I think that I’ve said this a million times but you just make me feel so safe and secure, you have such a calm and capable aura that is just so soothing to me. Thank you for coming into my life and being the amazing person that you are.

@jonghoshoe -ZAD!!! Baby Brother! My Teddy Bear! My Sunflower!! Where do I even begin?!? You were basically my first friend on Tumblr (and I am even more grateful to Luna cause I found you through her). IDK what it was about you but you had such an amazing out look on life while still being chaotic in the best way possible. I would wake up every morning and look out for your posts cause you would always make me smile. Without even knowing it you became a big part of my life and I am so grateful for that. You were my motivation when I was feeling down, you encouraged me to see the good things in the word, you hyped me up to write fics; honestly you are part of why I am the Gabby that I am today and I cant thank you enough for that, I love and admire you so much.

Next on my list is my little bunny @lustjoong -PK PK PK, my knee loving queen!!!! IDEK what to say cause I feel as though I confess my love to you at least twice a week on discord lol. I love talking with you, you're incredibly level headed and give amazing advice (which I always need cause I’m a mess lol). I’ve said this before but I’ll say it again that I admire you so much and would of never imagined that I would of ever gotten the chance to talk to you (much less be able to call you my friend) cause in my mind I always saw you as this amazing and untouchable writer (but then I realized that I’m taller than you so... lol I’m kidding). I’m happy that you found out that I was messaging you on anon and thank you for reaching out to me. I look forward to more chaotic conversations and knee pics in the new year.

@atiny-piratequeen -FIE I FREAKING LOVE YOU SO MUCH THAT I MIGHT EXPLODE!! You fill me with so much life that I cant even begin to explain. I’ve said this a million times before but I love how you aren't afraid to speak you mind and say how you feel. You're such a strong figure to me here on the platform and I've always admired how natural and bold you are with your opinions. I find your personality to be extremely refreshing and welcoming, I was never afraid to interact with you (I combusted when you sent me an ask but that’s only natural..) so thank you for providing me (and a lot of other Atiny) with a safe and welcoming place that we can come to.

@twancingyunhoe -Allyssa!!! My mom!!!! My cookie baking, Yunho loving, cat mom!! where do I even begin?? Thank you for being an absolute angel! You shine so brightly here and you're always so supportive to literally everyone. I am and always will be there for you no matter what so I want you to remember that in the coming year. and remember that I love you in your highs and your lows and I am available to provide cuddles anytime they are needed or wanted cause you are precious to me ok luv.

@felixs-moonlight -my little duckling AJ!!! I’m wishing you the best in the new year cause that's what best bois deserve! You are so incredibly sweet and caring so don't you ever forget. Even if you do forget don't worry cause I will always be there to remind you.

@seoultraveller -Cat. Your presence makes me so happy!! IDEK what it is I just love seeing you on my dashboard, when I don't see you I wonder how you are. I hope that this new years is treating you well. Also, you are NOT boring and lets talk a lot more in the coming year okay luv

@yunhozone -Jey!! I miss you, I hope that you're well, its been raining lately so I hope that you're staying dry and safe. I love your boldness and sense of humor so please don't ever change. i started following you on a whim and I have never regretted following you ever since. You make me smile and laugh so much and I hope that I can do the same for you in the coming years. Stay safe okay luv

@pirate-hongjoong -Kayla, lets both talk more in the coming year ok luv. I pretty much told you everything that I wanted to on your post so I’ll try to keep this short. I think that you're really sweet and we should get to know each other more, I’ll try to reach out some more and be a little less shy. so lets continue to grow our friendship okay.

@taelepathysroom -You were the first friend that I made on Tumblr all on my own (meaning that I didn't see you interacting with a moot or anything, I found you all by myself) to this day I don't remember how I mustered up the bravery to message you. I remember wanting to message you on anon and realizing that you had anon off and I STILL went for it lol, apparently I was wilding. But that was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, I love talking with you and receiving all of your extremely important messages and I look forward to many more (my heart is not ready but it is fine).

@moongaera -Gaera you are such a great motivation to me and I’m so happy to be a part of your life. You are so sweet and incredibly talented. I love seeing you on my dashboard and talking with you cause you honestly make my heart want to explode.

@yungidreamer - Big sister!!!! Kelsi!!! My aesthetic queen who I am convince is tryna kill me on our discord chat you are so kind and helpful and give such great tips. You are such a calm soul and I love interacting with you (especially when things feel crazy) its like you just magically know the answer to everything.

@yunhoiseyecandy -Violet, we don't really talk much but I think that you're really cool and fun so lets talk lots in 2021 ok. Also IDK why I felt like this was the perfect place to post this but you're the only moot whos emoji pops up when I start to type their name in the hashtags and I always thought that its really cute. (You're also really cute). I think that we would be really good friends so I cant wait to talk with you more.

@hwaberrykiwi -CAM CAM CAM CAM CAM!!!!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!! You are so fun to talk to and so sweet and so calming and you make my heart feel like its bursting (in the best way possible). I hope that you're well and I look forward to sharing more moments here with you on Tumblr (and I am still keeping my promise of not eating Lemon Bars if they aren't from you so...)

@atinywrites -Angel!!! My precious, little angel who always attacks my poor little heart. I love your messages and how you just pop up randomly and shower me with love (then I read your posts and you're just straight up roasting people JBJDJFILJFISREHF) I love absolutely everything about you and I’m really happy that we met each other, I cant wait to see what 2021 has in store for us.

@choisans-dimples -Cass my dearest little Sugar Plum, apart from you being absolutely precious you are also extremely previous to me. I remember our first interactions and they still bring a smile to my face (we were like Tom and Jerry and honestly in a way we still are lol). But you mean so much to me and you never fail to make me laugh or smile no matter what is going on in my life. I wish for you to never lose that smile in 2021 and if it ever begins to falter just know that I’m here ok luv

@latte-fairytaekwoon -Latte, I’m not gonna lie; when Mei started adopting family members I felt like my brain was gonna explode but I gotta hand it to her cause she has great taste in family cause she chose you. If it wasn't for her then I probably would of never found you. if that happened then who would spoil me rotten?!? I am so happy to have met you I honestly thrive every time I see you on my dashboard, you are absolutely hilarious and I love to see your interactions. I cant wait to see what you do in 2021 and all of the other years to come. Thanks for being a great Tumblr Mom

@little-precious-baby -Mei, where do I begin?? You came out of no where for me, you just sort of appeared and then in the blink of an eye you became so dear to me. Id just find myself looking out for your posts and wondering how you are. IDK how to explain it but you've somehow managed to bring so many amazing individuals together in such a short time, you're absolutely amazing and I hope that one day you'll be able to see yourself the way that we already see you. Ik that things can be hard (and they will be because that’s life) but just know that this family that you helped to bring together is always here for you when you need someone to confide in and when it feels like its too much and you need a break we’ll be right here waiting for you until you come back. Just remember that your big sis loves you ok my little bean.

@ateez-little-star -JAS!!!!!! My babie sister IDK how to write this without crying cause you make me so happy that idek what to do. You are so bold and brave while still being shy and cute, I cant explain it. You are so wholesome to talk to and so fun and interesting and sweet and loveable! Like how could someone not love you!! Thank you for always checking up on me and showering me with love and just making me smile.

@yunhofingers -My sweet little bean who definitely never behaves badly!! I am sending you all of the positive vibes for the new year. Ik that things wont always be easy but just know that I’m always here and I believe in you. You are so sweet and kind and bold and I love that about you, don't ever change and thank you so much for making me smile; I hope that I can do the same for you in 2021 and beyond cause I hope that we can be friends for a really long time.

I also wanted to include the moots that I do interact with but I also want to talk to even more in the coming year. Thank you for being here for both me and other people in the kpop community. I love your blogs and you all are so incredibly kind (and ridiculously entertaining; I’m looking at you Caly and Vivi lol), I hope that we can become even better friends.

@hanatiny @sansbun @hongism @multidreams-and-desires @smallfrye @aixy-hpsa @galaxteez @jongpleasure @simphwa @inkigayeo @heeseungluvs

[horrorslashergirl]

Hello! Can you do the collector with an S/O who gets turned on by his mask?? Please and thank you ❤️❤️❤️

The Collector x Reader- Hidden Curiosities

It was the weekend and the beginning of autumn, Asa was in his study at his desk working on pinning a Parantica Sita, you, on the other hand, were on the couch in his living room, reading a book or more like trying to read, because other thoughts were running through your head, inappropriate so.

Being intimate wasn't anything new in this relationship with Asa, you have been so with him many times since you got together. At first, he was a bit reluctant, uncertain so, but he proved to be a great lover. You found it pretty funny how awkward you two were at first.

What really started to eat at your brain happened from last night, when Asa got back from the hotel where his collection resided, still clad in his Collector attire, even the mask.

It was probably the first time you had seen him with it because the other times you saw him just take it. You had to admit it really did him justice on his alternate ego; the mystery, the power it gave him, it was that certain deadly vibes, like a venomous spider that you can point out by certain colors or signatures.

You were looking blankly at the pages of the book, not reading because images of him wearing that mask as he takes you roughly filled your depraved mind.

Cursing internally you told yourself he would never do it. Asa was a very specific man, keeping his two lives apart, not mixing them.

As a normal citizen, Asa was socially awkward, quiet, reserved, and calculate with every action he took. In the bedroom he was dominant, but nothing to the point of obscene; yes, he was vanilla, but you would never tell him that, because you knew that will only ignite a discussion full of arguments, solid so, that will take 3 hours.

As the Collector? You didn't know exactly how he was as his killer personality. You only caught faint glimpses of him when he came back home. He never said anything, but his body language spoke loud and clear. He seemed to be more confident, straight to the point, and dangerous. Maybe that was his hidden side, the side that you cannot simply show at work, on the streets in broad daylight or at the store.

You were just simply curious. When you first learned of who Asa truly is, you told him that you would accept him as a whole, with good and bad parts.

Before your brain could operate more, you heard footsteps approach you, your eyes leaving the book's pages and meeting obsidian eyes that pierced your every being even after so many times.

"Hey there." you greeted him, trying to maintain your voice steady, but you knew you failed to do so.

He nodded your way and went to the kitchen, making you sigh in relief.

"Tea?" he called from the kitchen and you said yes, putting your book away and looking out the window, noticing how the sky turned grey. It will most likely rain.

After 15 minutes, Asa came back with two cups of tea, handing you one. With a smile, you took a sip and hummed at the warm feeling it gave you.

"Are you ready to talk now?" Asa broke the silence, sipping on the leaf juice.

Crap! He found out. You gulped down and avoided his eyes, wondering how he knew that something was wrong. For a guy who is a lefty at social activities, he sure knew how to read body language. Oh, the perks of having a genius boyfriend.

"What makes you say that?" you tried to come around, act like there was nothing wrong, oh, but a very bad actress you were.

"Firstly, if you were indeed reading, your eyes would have moved along the words, but they stayed focused like you were reading the same word over and over again. Also, you have a habit of tapping your foot whenever you're nervous." he explained and you groaned.

The smartness he exhumed was illegal, but he got you.

"Fine, fine. I was just thinking." you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"About?"

Great, how do you tell your lover that you want his alternate killer personality to fuck you senseless while wearing a mask?

"It's embarrassing and there is also no point in explaining." you mused out, finally looking at Asa, who had a curious look in his eyes.

It's true what they say, that the eyes are the mirror of the soul because his expression was as emotionless as ever.

"It must be something since you're making such a fuss about it." he told you, his tone getting a little firmer, making you feel your cheeks heat up.

Swallowing down, you gripped your heart and told him, your voice uncertain and reluctant as you progressed in explaining, at first seeing his brows furrow in confusion, then that kind of face when you cannot believe what you actually hear, and at the end, he looked down at you with a poker face.

You were anxious about what he was gonna do because he made good efforts of not showing any of it at the end.

"Now, was it that hard?" he asked, getting up and walking back to his study, closing the door and leaving you a blushing and dumbfounded mess.

What just happened?

-------------------------

Asa was trying to work on his research in the study, but his mind was intoxicated with your words, not understanding why and how you could develop such kink for something that was supposed to make someone scared, anxious, and frightened.

He always appreciated his mask, because it hides his true identity and he could be however he liked it because when he was the Collector he was the one who called the shots and none would ever dare try to stand upon him.

He always made sure to punish disobedient pets and make them an example for the future ones. Yes, he was the king of his collection, he remembers the looks on his victims when they first see him, wide eyes, mouth open ready for a scream to echo, body shaking and ready to sprint.

These are signs of fear, not lust.

Asa sighed as he realized all his research wouldn't be done with this newfound curiosity of yours because it was getting to him too. Wondering, how would you react if you saw his alter ego.

In all this time together, Asa never once showed you his Collector persona, mostly because it wasn't needed, you never questioned his motives or trying to dig deeper into what he was doing. As long as he came home alive and with no serious injuries you were fine. You only saw his mask in his hand, never once on his face.

He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking at the clock. You were probably ready to go to sleep, not waiting for him, because he spent full-on nights in his study.

Licking his lips, black eyes moved to a drawer, opening it and seeing the familiar foam-like mask.

Yes, an experiment needed to be done.

----------------------------------------------

You just finished brushing your teeth and yawned, ready to get under the warm blanket and get a good night of sleep. Asa was probably going to be staying in his study all night, knowing that the schedule at the university was full of projects and mountains of paperwork that the senior ones were going to take home and finish.

Oh the sacrifice for Entomology!

Crawling onto the bed, you snuggled your face into the soft pillow, and just then the door opened, but you didn't bother to open your eyes, knowing it was Asa.

Maybe he was as tired as you.

You turned around ready to ask him if he was done with work, but you were left speechless and frozen when your eyes were locked on the black carapace like a mask, obsidian eyes glinting into the darkness behind the foam mask.

"Asa?" you asked, getting up from the bed, only to find yourself pinned on the soft mattress, a gasp leaving your lips as a gloved hand wrapped lightly around your throat, not choking you, but enough pressure to know that he could over-power you quit easily.

"Silence, pet."

Oh? That was new. You were used to Asa been in charge in bed, but this was something much more than what you two normally do, it was exciting, but also dangerous, that kind of danger that leads a moth to a flame.

His other hand that wasn't occupied with your throat moved up your leg, until he reached the hem of your nightgown, gloved fingers running under the silken material, cupping your naked hip underneath.

Breathing hyping up, you couldn't take your eyes away from your masked lover, his plush lips parted as he examined you like you were a new species of butterfly.

"Asa?" you tried again, voice quiet, afraid you might trigger him into hurting you, although you doubted it, still, you weren't going to put your hand into the lion's mouth.

"No." he simply answered, voice raspy like he wasn't used to speaking with the mask on.

"Not tonight. There is no Asa, tonight." he whispered, the thumb on your neck rubbing circles on the skin, making you gulp, your hands fisting the bedsheets nervously.

"C-Collector?" you tested the name out, wetting your dry lips.

Plush lips pulled into a predatory smirk, he squeezed your neck, a choked moan leaving your mouth.

"Correct, butterfly."

"Tonight you're mine to destroy." he darkly whispered into your ear and you couldn't help, but to whimper.

After all, this is what you

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 24 - Pillowtalk

Summary: In times of darkness, fear and worry, you can’t help but dread the future, and be scared for the ones you love. On a sleepy morning, you share your anxious thoughts with George.

Warning: None

Word count: 1.9K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

It had been raining outside — four days in a row, and the windows of your room were covered in vapour to a level that it was impossible to look out at the street, watching the heavy rain fall. You could hear it, though; it was tapping loudly on the windowsill, waking you up from your light dream.

You loved the smell of rain for numerous reasons. Firstly, it had a fresh scent, it always made you feel alive when you were outdoors but cozy and nice when indoors. Secondly, it reminded you of places you had never been at. Thirdly, it reminded you of George. Rain, with fireworks and a forest-like cologne. Those were the things you could die for.

You had been living with George and Fred for a whole month now, helping out with the store during the day, hanging out at night, and you couldn’t deny that it was one of the happiest times of your life. It was like Hogwarts, except the enormous amount of homework and the curfew.

When you first had seen the store, you were blown away. George had been watching you closely, a wide grin on his face, telling you every single detail about every floor in the building. When you had stopped next to a big bowl of pink potions in pretty glasses, you had raised an eyebrow.

“Is this what I think it is?” you had said.

“Well, love,” George had said, grinning and taking a bottle, smelling it. “Tell me, what does it smell like?”

You had shaken your head with a scolding smile on your lips.

“You know very well what does it smell like.”

Then you had wrapped your arms around George’s neck.

“I am so proud of you,” you had said in complete honesty. “Really, George. This is everything. You are amazing. I am so proud.”

And you really had been. Oh, yes… You had been really happy with the twins.

But thoughts had been floating around your mind and you had been too afraid to grasp them.

The rain was falling more heavily as you snuggled deeper into your pillow. The nice clean sheets made you want to continue the dream you just had, though you didn’t really remember it at this point.

Yes, it had been raining for four days now. Yes, you loved the smell of the rain. But this rain… It was different. It started to weigh on you. Everything seemed to be darker these days… The shops, the people, even the air. You knew what it was. You knew but you were too afraid to think about it. You just wished to sleep.

A hand was caressing your cheek, gently running a thumb on your skin. You let out a sleepy sigh, clinging to your fading dream, but deep down you knew you had to wake up. It was time.

“Morning, sweetheart,” said George just as he had said every morning in the last month. You heard pillows and covers rustling, then felt a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Don’t go back to sleep, love.”

You opened your eyes lazily; had it been another voice asking you to wake up, you wouldn’t have done it. You needed a second to focus, then your glance met with a beautiful pair of brown eyes. Your favorite sight to wake up to.

“Five minutes?” you said in a sleepy voice. George smiled.

“Three.”

You nodded and moved closer, burying your face in his chest. You took a deep breath; taking him in was like giving your heart a signal that it can start the daily work; that everything’s okay, he’s here and you can keep going.

George was gently stroking your back, then pressed a small peck on your lips. You smiled into the kiss; you both were in desperate need of a toothbrush, it still seemed a secondary thought behind all the things you wanted to do.

“Twenty minutes?” you asked hopefully and George chuckled.

“Needy, are we?”

“You know we are,” you kissed his neck softly, making him take a small, sudden breath of air. His hands wandered into your hair, playing with your locks.

“Maybe tonight?” he said, whispering into your ears. “When Fred’s leaving to meet that girl?”

“Sure,” you smirked against his skin. “Sounds good to me.”

You stared out the window into the rain. The small smile slowly faded from your lips and you felt the pain coming back into your chest.

“What are you thinking about?” George asked softly. You shook your head.

“Nothing.”

“Mm,” he said, still stroking your hair. “And how interesting this ‘nothing’ could be that you don’t even want to tell me about it?”

“It’s… not important.”

“Oh, it’s ‘not important’ now? I’ve always wanted a few ‘not important nothings’ to myself,” he joked but when you didn’t smile he looked at you with concern.

“Y/N, I know something’s troubling you. You’ve been so quiet for days now. Tell me so I can help.”

“It’s…” you started hazily. “It’s the rain.”

“The rain?” he asked, startled. “I thought you liked the rain.”

“I do. It’s… not normal rain, you see.”

“What do you mean?”

You sighed and moved a bit further to be able to look into his eyes.

“I’ve just… been wondering. About how nice everything is. Us… the store… everything. Life in general.”

“It is nice, isn’t it?” he said with the fondest smile.

“Yes, but… on the contrary… People’ve been disappearing… dying. Ollivander’s missing. A lot of people have been murdered. Muggles as well. My parents. And this rain… Dementors are everywhere and I can’t help but wonder how long is it, till something terrible happens to us?”

You said the last part very quickly, almost as though you were afraid the words will fail you if you let them linger in your mind too long.

“Witty —”

“I’m scared!” you blurted out. “For you, for Fred, for me, for everyone in your family. Things are getting out of hand, Death Eaters are everywhere… I’m… I’m so scared, George!”

You rubbed your face with your palm, trying to hold it together. You barely could.

“Witty, I’m scared, too, do not think I’m not,” he said, and for the first time in the past month he did seem scared. “Of course, I am, how couldn’t I be? But nothing happened so far… We’re careful, and we take care of each ot —”

“Ollivander was taken one block away from here. Don’t tell me that nothing has happened because —”

“I am not saying that we are totally safe, but the Order is with us —.”

“That Vance woman was in the Order, too. But I read the Daily Prophet, she was murdered, and I —”

“Y/N, try to — Hey!”

You sat up and hid your face in your palms. You felt extremely anxious, and the sound of this stupid disgusting rain did not help.

“I don’t know what to do, George. I’m living through every day waiting that someone comes into the store and starts to… Or that I just look outside the window and see dementors or Death Eaters gathering… And in a short time I go back to school and we’ll barely see each other and I’m frightened that something will happen while I’m not here and… and… and I don’t wanna lose you, I think… I think that would seriously kill me.”

You felt George’s soft touch on your shoulder. You shivered, face still buried in your palms. His hand moved to your waist, hugging you from behind. He rested his chin on your shoulder, whispering into you ear.

“Witty… You are the strongest, smartest, most capable person I know. If you happened to loose me —”

“Shut up!” you shook your head, tears filling up your eyes. “Shut it…”

“— then you would be just fine.”

“No… Don’t say that —”

“But I know that you’re not going to loose me. Because I am just as great as any other wizard out there,” he kissed your temple. You chuckled nervously. “Fred and I are doing everything that’s required. We have alarm charms all around the street. We can apparate if something goes wrong. We are prepared… With the DA last year, we know how to stay alert. And you know, too, love. You’re just too anxious to see it.”

“I k-know.”

“Yes,” he whispered, holding you close. “‘Course, you do. And I am telling you that we’re all right. If we do everything how we’re supposed to, than everything will stay all right.”

You nodded; not entirely convinced but feeling a bit better. You raised your head a bit, facing those kind brown eyes that gave you so much to worry for. Your lip trembled before you leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss on George’s cheek. You ran your thumb on the side of his face, feeling stubble under your touch.

“You need to shave,” you said with a voice that made it sound like you had the flu.

“I was thinking about growing a beard, actually,” he said, smoothing his cheek. “First one in the family. What d’you think?”

“I think I don’t like it.”

“Really? It’d be quite nice, if you ask me.”

“Well, I think it’d be a horrific experience for me,” you said, rolling your eyes with a smile.

“We’ll see,” said George with a cheeky smile and a kiss. “Once you see it, you won’t be able to handle how handsome your boyfriend is.”

You smiled weakly and got out of bed. Somehow you felt drawn to the window. You walked over slowly, staring down at Diagon Alley from above. The street was nothing like how it used to be; the chattering and wandering people were gone, instead the street was empty and the shops  were deserted. Once or twice a small group of people hurried into the buildings or towards the Leaky Cauldron, all looking nervous and scared. In the distance you saw the corner of Ollivander’s empty shop.

The floor creaked behind you and two arms hugged your stomach from behind. A warm chest was leaning against your back, and soft lips were brushing against your temple as George whispered.

“It’ll drive you crazy if you dwell on it too much.”

“Perhaps it already has.”

“Mm,” he murmured, hugging you closer. “I know it’s horrible. But we cannot live our lives in fear.”

“I can’t eat,” you whispered back. “I have funny dreams.”

“I know, love. You wake me up sometimes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How about we let mum have us for lunch next week?” he said suddenly. You smiled weakly.

“She’d be delighted. After asking you two for weeks.”

“Yeah. And it’d be nice to get away, just for a couple of hours. Would you like to?”

You absent-mindedly intertwined your fingers with his and nodded.

“I think it’d be nice to visit.”

“All right. I’ll let Fred know, then.”

He pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, then pulled you around so that you were facing him. He took both your cheeks into his hands, examining your face in deep concentration.

“We’re gonna be okay.”

You didn’t answer. He leaned closer, his face serious.

“Say it after me. We’re gonna be okay.”

“We’re… gonna be okay.”

It sounded weak and nervous. George leaned even closer, your noses almost touching.

“Again.”

“We’re gonna be okay,” you said more bravely and George nodded.

“Exactly,” he said, kissing you reassuringly on the lips. “We’re gonna be okay.”

[mizuritamanami]

What Goes Unseen

Linked Universe Time Warriors and Legend angst to sort of fluff?

They all have secrets. That much is a given, and sort of hard to miss, given the way Four clams up when asked about his moods, how often Wild has to just... stop and leave and come back to himself when they pass ruins sometimes, or the way Twilight vanishes without a trace to go off doing Hylia only knew what. 

And that wasn't even touching on the walking enigmas Time and Legend could be, so sure. They all have their secrets. Even bubbly Wind and soft spoken Sky. Secrets, secrets everywhere, in plain view or otherwise. 

But something about Wild’s Hyrule has been eating away at Warriors for weeks. Enough that Legend has even noticed his change in mood, his disinterest in most of the things he normally jumped at. 

Enough that the veteran adventurer surprises him by pulling him aside to talk in the guise of a patrol, enough that he wears Warriors down with enough pointless questions that the knight just explodes to ask him what the hell it is he wants.

"Somethings been on your mind for almost a month. You're starting to scare the old man," Legend says bluntly, "I didn't think you could top that "launch tree into bokoblin camp and rain fire from above" heart attack you gave him, but here we are. What gives?" 

For a moment, Warriors just stares at him, because firstly, how dare he insinuate that that plan hadn't worked perfectly outside of the landing, and secondly, since when did you pay that much attention to me?

He huffs. 

"I'm fine."

"Uh. No." 

Worth a try, anyway, Warriors thinks, turning away from the scrutinizing eyes of the young man across from him. 

Legend notes the way his fingers dig into the blue cloth around his neck, and sighs, gesturing to a fallen log. 

"Sit," he says, "tell me whats bothering you. If its got you like this, it warrants a serious talk, without pretense."

"Didn't know you knew such fancy words."

"Don't make me take it back and kick you in the shins."

Warriors has to laugh at that at least a little, so he sits, as instructed, and watches Legend plop unceremoniously into the mix of leaflitter, pine nettles, and flower petals on the forest floor. 

He's still fidgeting with the scarf, and the words come slowly at first, then frantic and almost angry. 

"My mother used to tell me, you know.... that there are stories, in the absences. In what we don't see. And- the more I look around, the more I see you- all of you- in Wild's Hyrule. Goddess, you're all everywhere.... but-.... out of the nine of us, there are only eight call backs. Even Wild's got his own legends already. So I can't help but wonder--..."

"Where you are."

"Where I went! What happened? Did- did I fail, somehow? Did I do something wrong? There's nothing left that says I ever even existed!"

"You existed to us. To Wild, to me, and Time, and Twi and the others. Between all of us, there's no denying that you were here."

Legend realizes belatedly that he's only just barely fended off a fit of sobs from the knight, and counts himself lucky and also gives himself a brownie point or three for the save, just before he recognizes the familiar thwacking and tramping of bronze armor against offending tree branches and leather boots on forest floor somewhere behind him.

He feels the heat come through his voice before he can stop the words from coming out of his mouth. 

"Besides, you didn't completely fuck a timeline, then leave another to Ganon for seven whole years, now did you? Too busy cleaning up other people's messes."

Time froze as his foot settled on the line of the clearing they were in, and the pregnant silence in the moment it took him to school his voice into something normal made Warrior's skin crawl it was so uncomfortable. 

"..... T-There you boys are.... Twilight was--.... he was getting worried. I'll tell him you just .... stopped for a break."

He turned on his heel in a perfect about face that made Warriors knight-side a little jealous, but the rest of him looked to Legend, who was avoiding the direction Time had gone entirely. Realization dawned a moment after.

"......... that was cruel, Legend..... I didn't want you to make me feel better if you were just going to tear him down. Or tell his secrets."

"...... if I'm honest Wars? That last jab was more for my sake than yours."

"What?"

"Whose timeline do you think his failure ruined?"

The sharp intake of breath on Warriors part told Legend he'd picked up on all the appropriate cues. 

".... that's one of my secrets, for spilling his to you, I guess. I don't know if I'm ever gonna be able to forgive him. But hey, since when has Hylia ever cared what we thought? Probably hasn't since Sky...... the point is, you aren't a failure for having to pick up after everyone else, and then not getting thanked for it. You're like that with all of us, too. Constantly doing things hoping someone will at the least notice. I noticed. All of us have. You're a goddamn hero, same as the rest of us, and the only reason your scarf isn't locked up in a chest out here somewhere is probably because you wouldn't part with that thing if it cost you your freaking soul or something. Duh."

Its quiet for a moment, and Warriors takes the time to look down at the blue around his neck a moment before smiling.  

"..... you should apologize to Old Father Time.... but you're right.  I guess its still all in the things you don't see at first glance- I never would have thought you a confidant. You might find out some interesting things about him if you sat like you did with me."

"Id rather eat one of Wild's disgusting potions made out of butterflies and lizalfos."

"Don't jinx yourself, Vet." 

"Shut up."

~~~~~

Legend was going to murder Warriors.

Don't jinx yourself my ass, you set this up, you sorry-- he cut his own thoughts off to hiss under his breath.

Not only was Legend laid up with Time looking out for him as first watch, but he'd had to drain four of those nasty freaking potions. 

"I hate. Lightning. So much."

Normally, that would have earned him a chuckle, or at least a sympathetic hum.

But Time just turned his head towards a darker section of the underbrush that Legend knew for sure he absolutely could not see anything in. 

Was it the being ignored or the uncertainty and hurt in Time's expression that made his stomach twist? 

"I said--" 

"I heard you, Legend. I'm sorry, I didn't think you wanted to speak to me." 

"...... oh..." 

The simple acceptance of Legend's earlier ire pulled all of the heat right out from under him, and he deflated some into his bedroll. 

"........ I am sorry.... I know it doesn't mean much to you, but... I am. Even the sword didn't think I was good enough, and judging by your reaction, it was probably right."

Legend winced. 

"What kind of bullshit cop-out is that? The sword doesn't make you a damn hero, it just points and grabs like a stupid claw game."

"Success, does, then. And that is a baton I clearly didn't pass to you, that I missed out on passing down peace..... it eats at me, some nights when I can't sleep, that I still managed to grasp at straws and hold so tight to so much good that I got to keep it. And I doomed you. I have everything and you were left wanting." 

Legend stared at his back, the way he bent around the biggoron sword leaning into his right shoulder to be drawn if need be by his left hand. 

"Im afraid I'm going to lose it all one day because I failed you so badly."

"I'm not that pitiful."

"Legend-"

"Look, I'm fine--"

"What was her name, Legend?" 

The air left Legends lungs in a sudden, sharp breath. 

"..... That's what I thought..."

"...... you were ten, if that..... yes, it sucks, and time travel is a pain, but you were fucking ten. Hylia sent a ten year old, let his tree mentor die right in front of him, and then continued to traumatize- REPEATEDLY traumatize- a child. Yes, I'm angry. Bitter and jaded, even. But don't you dare get so self important that you start thinking the blame fits on your shoulders. You're an old fucking man, not a god."

"Interesting choice of words...."

"No. No, because you're just gonna start unloading more trauma. If this is about that creepy mask, then no. That doesn't count either!"

"You're awfully concerned about this particular issue.... alright, I'll let it drop--"

"No, you ten year old little brat in a mentally fifty year olds achy jointed body, you're gonna go the fuck to sleep and stop moping. Its my turn to take watch and I'll be damned if I have to sit up watching you get all weepy into your pillow and trying to snitch Wild's slate to call your wife at two in the goddamn morning. Go to bed!"

Time stared at him in surprise, (the ten year old in him in question seriously debating biting the finger wagging in front of his nose) before Legends phrasing hit him. 

"Oh, I’m going to absolutely kill Warriors for telling you about how I was when we met."

"Brat! Bed! Bounce to it, bunny hat kid!"

"You are the last person--"

"Bed!"

"Alright! Alright! Fine! You're lucky I don't fit those masks anymore," Time muttered, picking himself up off the stump to go peel off his armor and crawl into his bedroll. He was silent as Legend pulled himself into the space he'd emptied, then sighed and smiled. 

"..... thank you, Vet." 

"Yeah yeah yeah. Go to sleep before you wake up Twilight. He has ears like a fucking wolfhou---....... oh my goddess you're kidding me."

"Shhh."

"Goddess I hate you sometimes." 

Warriors, apparently woken by the hissing through Legends teeth, chuckled to himself. 

Its all in the things you don't see, I guess, he thinks.

Secrets secrets, everywhere, but.... together, we're all still here for each other. I can live with that. 

"Good night bratty bunny and feral bunny."

Two furious choruses of "HEY!" were the perfect lullaby for Warriors to drop right back off to sleep. 

Yeah...

He could definitely live with that.

[ariparri]

Flowers

Pairing: Diego x Veruca (With a hint of Tulip x Carson)

Written by cursedautumn on Instagram

A/N: This was written from a story for art type of trade we made on IG. English isn’t cursedautumn's first language, so she apologizes if there are any mistakes.

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Day 1

It was the fall of 1988. This fall, in contrast to several previous ones, was full of sweet aroma of rotting leaves and the hot honey sun covering playgrounds, classrooms, and the forest near Hogwarts; fresh gold autumn leaf carpet lay on the stone slabs of the courtyard and soft field grass; saturated with moisture, the trees are seriously bent and the crystal was glittering with rain drops, remaining after another warm rain. The sky was clear and blue, with a milky foam of clouds, and it was tempting to run out of the heavy walls of the castle and lie under it, roll on the grass, feel the sweet water drops on your tongue, and run to the lake, which shone like pure crystal, and a couple of students even swam there once — although they had to report to Professor McGonagall and serve detention for quite a long time afterwards.

Veruca McQuaid went into the courtyard and sat by the fountain, near the place where everyone usually play Gobstones. After sitting in the semi-darkness of the Slytherin common room for almost twenty-four hours, she just needed a little bit of fresh air. She had expected to skip lunch and spend the rest of the day here alone with her homework and a bottle of cold pumpkin fizz, but her plans for privacy were not going to come true, because ten minutes after Veruca settled down next to the fountain, a voice came from above her head, "Hello, Veruca."

"Oh, Merlin!" thought Veruca with exasperation, and looking up, she recognized the intruder as Diego Caplan, a fellow Hufflepuff, a well-known ladies' man and a very good duelist. He always had a contented swarthy face, a strange yellow scarf, and beautiful dark eyes. He was holding a small bouquet of red roses and smiling. "Caplan? Veruca asked indifferently. "Well, hello."

"I hope I'm not interrupting you," Diego said with a charming smile. Veruca was tempted to say that he was interrupting, but she just smiled tightly and shook her head. To be honest, she was never hypocritical and enjoyed interacting with people, but right now Caplan chose a very inappropriate moment to talk to her... or whatever he wanted to do. "Did you want something?"

"Yes." Diego peremptorily handed her the aforementioned bouquet of roses and flashed his snow-white teeth. His smile was attractive and confident. "This is for you. I thought that such a beauty just needs a bouquet of flowers."

Veruca accepted the bouquet, but she wasn't sure why Diego had done it in the first place. She had never been insecure, but didn't consider herself strikingly beautiful either: a pretty face framed by dark hair, light green eyes, neat pink lips, and a well-formed figure - that's all, so Diego probably didn't want to grab her attention because of her incredible beauty, even though he said so.

She was also Coby McQuaid's sister, and a lot of guys shunned her just because they were afraid that the "crazy brother" would appear out of nowhere and wring their necks for his little sister. In general, she sceptically smiled at the bouquet, and said:

"Thank you. Now leave me alone, please, I'm a little busy."

Diego left after blowing her a final kiss, and Veruca gave the bouquet to Penny the same day — she simply couldn't believe that Caplan could really be interested in her. Most likely, he wanted new sensations, that's all. But if he thinks he's found a goal for one day, he's very, very wrong, Veruca thought with a grin as she watched Penny lovingly arrange a bouquet of roses in front of the statue of the headless knight.

Day 2

It rained that day, and the flying lesson with madam Hooch was canceled. Veruca, who had not slept well last night, was not too upset: she had no desire to cut through the thick, glass-like walls of rain on a broomstick. She spent the entire first half of the day running between classes, listening to Snape's unflattering comments about her personality, her brother, and so on, sitting in madam Rakepick's perfume-and-wood-scented classroom, and spending time with Penny and Chiara. Penny once said, "By the way, you shouldn't have refused the roses, they were so beautiful!"

"Yeah," Veruca grinned and looked at the Ravenclaw girls as they passed. One of them, a girl with dark eyes and fluffy brown hair, mentioned Diego Caplan in the conversation, and several of her friends immediately began to whisper and giggle with curiosity. It seemed that only Veruca disliked him, for even Merula spoke quite favorably of him, and if Merula approved of a person, then it was a waste of time — everyone adored him without exception, and there was nothing to be done about it.

On this day, Veruca couldn't shake the eerie yet strangely pleasant feeling that someone was watching her. Someone's already familiar dark eyes, clear and sly. It seemed to her that someone was staring at her back in class, studying her face at lunch, spying on her during recess... This, however, did not inspire her with any fear, firstly, because Veruca had managed to get used to being watched during her five years at Hogwarts, and secondly, it was a kind of harmless surveillance - as if she was an interesting performance, and she was being watched by a curious spectator. And for some reason, it never occurred to her that it might be HIM...

"Ahem-ahem."

Veruca shivered and looked up from her potions homework. In the faint greenish light of the Slytherin drawing room Merula Snyde's pale face looked like a cloud of smoky mist with two purple lightning-like eyes. She was holding a small bouquet of purple orchids wrapped in shimmering translucent pale yellow paper.

It exuded a sweet fragrance that overlaid the smell of underground dampness and pine needles (there were scented candles in the living room), and it looked lovely. A cream-colored paper was perched between the purple blossoms.

"What is it?" Veruca was taken aback. She had seen a lot in her life, but... for Merula to give her flowers?.. However, fortunately, the rival muttered, "Somebody asked me to give this to you," she plopped the bouquet on the table, the soles of her gaudy leather boots clattering indignantly, then went into their shared bedroom and slammed the door.

Veruca had no idea, freaked out if a classmate saw because it was torn away from the important contemplation of their own greatness or because Merula handed the bouquet to her and no one thought to do that; but understand she did not and pulled out a fragrant bouquet of cream paper box, which was briefly written:

"It is not good to give the gifts away, Veruca. But I'll try again, since you didn't take me seriously. -D.C.".

It wasn't hard to guess that D.C. was Diego Caplan. Well, then, he really wanted to get her attention for a while. At first Veruca felt flattered by the attention, then offended, because she didn't like intrusive people, and then she just decided to let the boy indulge. After all, she couldn't possibly forbid Diego from sending her flowers, so Veruca just got up, went to the trash can, and threw the unfortunate bouquet in there. The sweet scent gave her a headache. Let Caplan send her his stupid flowers as much as he wants. Let him... It's just a little cruel joke, isn't it?

Day 3

Sunflowers. Bright yellow, like Hufflepuff robes, as if woven from sunlight, they caught Veruca's eye as soon as she opened them. At first she didn't understand why the dark green Slytherin dorm room seemed to have a window that let in a flood of thick sun, but then she looked up and saw the pretty heads of flowers perched on her nightstand. The sunflowers didn't fit in with the luxurious and dark atmosphere of the room, and as she passed by, Ismelda grumbled that she should have gotten them, and immediately would throw them away.

Veruca, oddly enough, felt more alive and somehow light when she saw these flowers. They were so simple, of the usual yellow color, not scarlet roses or purple orchids, but she liked them very much, until she found it in the pile of golden flowers the same small creamy square, on which was written the same handwriting as yesterday:

"Attempt number three. I hope you like it and don't throw them away or give them to someone else. -D. C.".

Veruca furiously crumpled the paper and threw it away. Caplan could be as nice and generous as he liked, but his impudence and desire to use her for his own incomprehensible purposes irritated her terribly, so she hastily changed her clothes and washed up, took the sunflowers and went straight out of the living room with them, catching the surprised and mocking looks of her classmates and others. 'I'll kill you, Caplan,' Veruca thought as she left the common room.

To be honest, she liked the flowers very much, but Diego Caplan was known as a fan of ending relationships as quickly as starting them, and she wanted something more serious than being the one-night stand of a cheeky Hufflepuff.

She found Diego right after breakfast, playing Gobstones with some other Hufflepuff whose name Veruca didn't know and didn't want to know. When Caplan saw her, he broke into a satisfied smile, as if not noticing the girl's grim expression, "Sorry, Reg, there's a lady here who wants to talk to me."

"Hmmm," Reg muttered, absorbed in the game. He glanced at Veruca, who was holding a golden bouquet of sunflowers, and continued to hunch over the game. Diego got to his feet, very pleased, and sauntered over to Veruca. For some reason, she was uncomfortable with the way his gaze slid over the top button of her shirt, and she muttered, "I see you're not going to leave me alone." Diego flashed his white teeth. "Actually, it's unpleasant when your gifts are thrown away or misused."

"You'll get over it," Veruca said. Anger mixed with guilt (?!), and she just watched Diego's dark hair flutter in the light autumn wind. He was beautiful. Very handsome, no matter what... "Caplan, I'm not interested in a one-night stand. And I'm not one of those people who will throw themselves at you. So keep your flowers and give them to someone else."

"Should I keep them or give them to you?" Diego grinned. Veruca gave an exasperated sigh. "Calm down, baby. Maybe I just want to go out with you. And spend more than just one night."

Veruca gasped with indignation. Who does he think he is? "First of all," she hissed, " I'm not a baby, I'm a McQuaid, or at least just Veruca. And secondly, you want to spend not only one night, but also one day? No, thanks. I'd rather be alone than lie under someone else and then get muddied, okay?"

Diego smiled. In a strange, affectionate way, there was something mysterious and hungry in his dark brown eyes, as if she was a piece of candy that he couldn't wait to unwrap.

"I see," he said softly. "See you later, Veruca."

In the evening, after she slapped Caplan, left him and complained about him to Chiara, before going to bed, Veruca remembered that she had never returned the sunflowers, and they were shining in the dark Slytherin bedroom. Well, that's fine. They are beautiful...

Day 4

On this day, the sky suddenly frowned, clouded with a silver haze; a cold wind blew, carrying with it a pile of dead leaves, no longer burning with gold. A bloodless pallor settled over Hogwarts like a semi-transparent mist, as if someone invisible had suddenly drained the last of autumn's juices and warmth, and Veruca, wrapped in her robes, came to Herbology class. Professor Sprout, warm and plump, was as friendly as ever and talked about how to turn the most common weeds into the most common tulips, Tulip immediately noticed that she liked it, and frowned at Carson — they had a fight a couple of days ago. Rowan walked calmly past Ben, who she'd almost gotten into a fight with the day before, and Veruca noted grimly that she wasn't the only one with boy problems.

"So, get ready!" professor Sprout clapped her hands. "Today's spell does not apply to magic plants, but it helps a lot if you want to give your friend or partner a bouquet of beautiful tulips!"

"Carson only needs one beautiful Tulip," Rowan said, and she and Veruca giggled. Tulip pursed her lips grimly, "Well, yes. That's why he said yesterday that he was sick of my eternal thirst for adventure." Veruca knew perfectly well that this was said in a much milder form than the one Tulip had given her, but it was useless to argue: Carson and Tulip will make up tomorrow or the day after, which means it doesn't make sense to take their conflict seriously.

So she decided to take up the lesson and diligently wrote down everything that Professor Sprout said, and by the end of the lesson she had mastered the spell perfectly. As they were about to leave, a familiar voice called out to Veruca. A voice that stretches like hot chocolate. For some reason, she was a little pleased to hear him, although at one time she was irritated.

"How are you?" Diego sauntered over to her and touched his hand to his silky dark hair. "Did you learn your lesson with the-tulip weeds?" Veruca smiled dryly, ignoring the surprised looks from Penny and Rowan. All they probably wanted to do was tell everyone about their little affair with Diego. "And you?"

"I'm glad you asked," Caplan smiled charmingly (if Veruca had been any other student, she would have been nothing but a pink puddle) and, waving his wand as if he was going to show everyone his beautiful hands with flexible fingers, pointed to the weeds — and the unsightly, flabby plants instantly transformed into a wonderful bouquet of yellow and pink tulips with elastic buds and a pleasant aroma. Fortunately, no one was paying attention to them except Rowan and Penny, who were standing behind her, but that was enough: Veruca could feel their eyes boring into her back. Diego took the tulips and handed them to her. "Here. A bunch of tulips will add to your dark dungeons, won't they?"

She stood looking at him for a few seconds, wanting to laugh. How stupid, persistent, and sweet he is, this Diego Caplan! What a fool! Is she supposed to be flattered by such intrusive attention? Veruca didn't like it when someone invaded her personal space, and when she looked into Diego's dark chocolate eyes, she smiled, took the bouquet and said sweetly, "Thank you." She turned and shouted: "Hey, Tulip!"

"What are you doing?" Diego's smile faded instantly. Tulip watched Carson leave, then slowly walked over to Veruca and asked sadly, "What is it?"

"It's from Carson," Veruca said, and passed the flowers to Tulip. She was stunned, looking at the fresh bouquet as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, and so was Diego, and Veruca, smiling triumphantly, took her bag and left the greenhouse, feeling that she had put Diego Caplan in his place. But for some reason, the sweet feeling of victory was mixed with something bitter, like... regret?

Day 5

Veruca didn't know what was happening to her. Honestly, she just didn't understand. Diego Caplan had stopped annoying her. When she woke up in the morning, she felt a gnawing sense of guilt for giving his flowers to Tulip, for ignoring his attentions so actively, which were actually not so bad — it was better than if he was spreading his hands or making obscene compliments.

Diego was cute. He gave her flowers. And she just took it and, without even trying to be polite, rejected it. So Veruca thought the next day as she tossed and turned in the pearly gray, rattling light of morning; the bedroom was dark and quiet, except for Liz, who was snoring peacefully in her bed; Veruca suffered from the urge to go and apologize to Diego. Sunflowers added the melancholy, spreading a bunch of pure gold to the gloom of the Slytherin bedroom — Caplan's gift. Diego Caplan.

So in the morning, slipping out of the soft embrace of the bed, Veruca dressed quickly and went to breakfast before anyone else, hoping to see Diego on the threshold of the Great hall and apologize. Yes, her pride will howl...

Fortunately, Diego showed up at his table, and as soon as he finished and went to the door, Veruca left the half-eaten sausages and ran after him. Diego walked with his usual slightly swaying gait, so unhurried and confident that Veruca began to feel less confident, but she ran up and touched him on the shoulder. He turned around. He looked perfectly normal, not at all sad, and Veruca wondered if Diego wasn't upset at all. It's kind of a shame. "Veruca McQuaid," he smiled a little. "Hello."

"Hi," she stammered. Diego chuckled. "Look, I want to apologize for giving your flowers to Tulip yesterday." she found herself painfully short of words. "But Carson and Tulip made up."

Diego laughed. He had a beautiful laugh, low and clear. "How kind you are," he said. "Well, I will forgive you on one condition: you'll accept the next bouquet of flowers from me."

Veruca looked at him blankly. Does he have metal nerves or what? "Um," she said. "If you accept, I'll forgive you," Diego said, running a hand through his silky chocolate hair. Veruca noticed that they were beautifully, cleanly shining. "Do you agree?"

Veruca sighed. It's not so bad to get flowers. But she was supposed to be apologizing to him, making up for her "sins" in some way, not getting a gift, right? But Diego seemed serious, and she decided that if this was a way to let him know that she, Veruca McQuaid, was apologizing to him, let it be so: awkward, but not humiliating. It would have been far worse if he had asked her to leave him alone, or simply ignored her...

"All right," she said. "Okay, I agree." she looked into Diego's dark, shiny, soft eyes, framed by black lashes. And, for some reason, her heart fluttered with joy.

That evening, a first-year student wearing large round glasses approached Veruca. The girl was sitting on the couch reading a book when a first-year, Elora Dunn, came up to her and told her that she had received a gift. The gift was a bouquet of Calla lilies — white and pale pink, neat, velvety and delicate to the touch. Veruca took the bouquet from Elora and just stared at it for a few seconds, not noticing that the first-year had gone to her dorm and it didn't really matter.

The bouquet of Calla lilies had a delicate and soft aroma, like some ice cream. Veruca lifted the bouquet to her face, and the fragile petals brushed her cheeks. I guess sometimes you need to be able to apologize. The thought made her smile, and when she went to bed, Veruca felt extremely happy, as if a star had been lit somewhere inside her that would never go out...

Day 6

Veruca expected this farce of flowers to end after she accepted a bouquet of Calla lilies from Diego. Now, perhaps, he is tired, and he will no longer approach her with another bouquet of flowers, beautiful, bright, sweet-smelling... It would seem that Veruca should have been relieved — at last he was behind, she should be happy!

But when Diego didn't speak to her the next day, didn't even look back or come up with a bunch of flowers, she felt abandoned and sad, even though, of course, Diego didn't owe her anything. After a few days of pampering, that's enough. But why did Veruca feel that she really wanted to talk to Diego, to hear his voice again, to look into his dark, hot chocolate eyes again...

"Stop it!"

Veruca snapped, brushing her hair in front of the mirror this morning. Today, she had let her thick brown hair down, and it fell in a dark wave over her shoulders and framed her pale pink face beautifully. A bouquet of calla lilies, delicate and pleasing to the eye, stood on her bedside table and gave off a delicate fragrance.

Merula, passing by, grumbled that "McQuaid has already got everyone going mad with her flowers," but Veruca ignored this, preoccupied with her own thoughts, and put an emerald pendant around her neck to set off her eyes. Perhaps Diego might have been interested in her because of her looks, even though she hoped he liked her for more than just her pretty face...

"Stop it now. It's probably over. He's tired of you, and you're tired of him. And it is over."

But now she didn't want it to end so much. It was Saturday, and Veruca had decided to stop by the Hospital wing to help madam Pomfrey — sometimes on weekends she tended to patients and helped the elderly matron with some medical matters. Madam Pomfrey was not in the wing today, so Veruca began sorting through the used bottles of medicinal potions, selecting those that needed to be washed and those that needed to be treated first with a special antiseptic — the potions in them had to be poured into an exceptionally clean container.

Working here was very boring and time-consuming, but Veruca felt that sorting out bottles, bandaging wounds, and so on would help her miraculously put her confused thoughts in order. There was something right and clear about it. Suddenly the doors opened and Veruca turned to greet madam Pomfrey, but when she saw who it was, she froze, startled.

Diego Caplan stood in the doorway of the Hospital wing with a bouquet of pink flowers with crimson cores and yellow petals — Alstroemeria. He was smiling, and it seemed to warm Veruca. She just stared at Diego for a few seconds, unable to say anything, and he stepped up to her, "I didn't specify how many bouquets you should accept in order for me to forgive you."

Veruca opened her mouth awkwardly, "Oh... I... thank you," was all she said. Diego gave her a deep, mesmerizing smile.She picked up the flowers and then felt her nose itch and sneezed. "Bless you."

"Thank you... ah!" Veruca sneezed again. Her nose itched, her throat seemed to narrow slightly, and it was harder to breathe. Diego looked at her blankly. Veruca wiped her nose and looked at Alstroemeria. Then she slapped her forehead and started laughing.

"What is it?" Diego looked startled. "Hey, Veruca? What happened?" he took her by the shoulder. Veruca sneezed again, already trying to hide her slight pleasance at the touch of someone else's warm fingers, and said, "I'm allergic to these flowers..."

Diego looked so dumbfounded that she was sneezing and laughing for a long time, and then stopped sneezing and continued to laugh until dinner. But there were still tulips and sunflowers in her room, and the alstroemeria had to be given to Chiara, who was happy to put them in her dorm, so there were enough flowers for everyone, there was no doubt about that...

Day 7

Veruca slept well that night. She dreamed of Diego, smiling, wearing a light gray frock coat and holding a bouquet of roses. They seemed to be dancing under a vast starry sky, and from somewhere an unfamiliar melody was flowing, light and pleasant; it ran like a stream between stones, harmonious, subtle; then Diego suddenly literally disappeared, the melody stopped, everything was plunged into darkness for a few seconds, and Veruca woke up.

There was a strange, happy peace in her soul, and at the same time an anticipation of something very, very good; outside the window, the morning haze turned the ground and horizon ruby and tangerine, and the dim bedroom was bathed in warm light. Her roommates were snoring peacefully in their beds, behind the drawn curtains, and Veruca was left to her own thoughts and beautiful dream...

Everything went fine in the morning: the weather was fine again, and Veruca liked her own reflection in the mirror very much today — her hair were shining, her eyes were shining, her face was fresh and rested; it was a warm Sunday outside the window, and she wasn't even annoyed by the ever-dissatisfied Merula and the untidy Ismelda. Veruca cleaned her room peacefully, had a breakfast of scrambled eggs, played a game of gobstones with Tulip and Carson, who made up and looked at each other with loving eyes again, and passed her Charms homework.

But the best part, what she had been subconsciously waiting for all this time, happened after lunch. She and Diego ran into each other near the forest. It was empty: the students were gathered closer to the castle. The first thing Veruca saw was a familiar blue denim jacket, and then a bunch of blood — red carnations and familiar soft dark brown eyes. At first, she couldn't believe her eyes: another bouquet?

Diego stopped when he saw her. Grinned. "This is the last one," he said, turning over a bunch of carnations wrapped in milky white shimmering paper. "I hope you're not allergic to carnations."

"No," Veruca said, and then automatically repeated to herself, "the last one." Just a few days ago, she wanted it so much, and now...

"Along with this bouquet," Diego announced softly, smiling, "I want to ask you out, Veruca McQuaid. What do you say?"

Veruca froze. Ask her out? On a date? Diego Caplan? Her?

"I will understand if you refuse," Diego was calm. "But accept the bouquet. This is the last one."

And he handed her the flowers. Veruca picked up the delicate scarlet flowers wrapped in paper and stared at them for a few seconds. They were so beautiful. Fragrant. And from him...

The sun shone even brighter. The foliage is flushed with pure gold. Hogwarts castle suddenly became not clumsy and heavy, but majestic and beautiful. Veruca looked at Diego, feeling her heart flutter sweetly, happily, and sing, and Diego seemed to her the most beautiful young man on earth, and a bouquet of carnations was the most beautiful gift, the most elegant and appropriate...

"Well, so what?" Diego held out his hand. "How about a walk in the woods, an evening at Hogsmeade, Madame Puddifoot's cafe, and the company of a handsome man like me, hmm?"

Veruca couldn't help but laugh. "I agree, handsome man," she said softly, and put her hand in his. They walked towards the forest, through the golden trees, looking at each other and assessing each other anew...

And that was just the beginning of their story.

And the reason for everything...

Were flowers.

[jungle321jungle]

How I Long For Things To Be Restored

When Logan begins going to the old house on the end of Wendon Way, he doesn’t expect to meet the little boy who also frequents there. Nor does he expect to learn the forgotten secrets of the home. 

Taglist: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @hogwarts-my-love

Ao3 - Masterlist

~~~~

How I Long For Things To Be Restored

The old house on the end of Wendon Way had stood for what felt like eons. Not one in the sleepy town could recall when it had been lived in last- or someone had ever lived there at all. But regardless of the details, it had become an urban legend among all ages. For children it was a place to avoid due to rumors, teenagers were responsible for spreading the rumors to keep kids away from their spot, and some adults didn’t agree with the idea of trespassing and understandably worried about what could be going on, and finally were the adults who had been those teenagers and fueled such worries among their peers. 

There were unofficial customs and rules to the house on the end of Wendon Way, so when Logan had seen the young boy sitting on the back stairs to the home, he had been more than surprised. Kids shied away from the large looming home, they didn’t sit on the deck stairs attempting to pet birds. 

“You shouldn’t try to touch them,” Logan commented as he approached. “They could have a disease even if they don’t bite or something.”

The boy’s eyes didn’t meet his, in fact he didn't seem like he was listening at all. It wasn’t until he had moved closer causing the birds to fly away that the boy’s dark eyes met his. “Hello, would you mind moving slightly so I can walk by?”

The boy gave him a confused expression as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his patchwork jacket, but after a pause he stood up and moved out the way. 

“It’s going to rain soon,” Logan informed the boy as he walked past him outside into the backyard. “You should head home.”

“Then why are you here?” The boy replied. 

“I need to do something.”

“Like what?”

Logan didn’t reply as he made his way down the stairs ensuring he skipped the one he knew was deemed sketchy by the neighborhood. He walked into the backyard silently wondering not for the first time who maintained the grass back here, before he turned to look at the home. 

“What are you doing?” The boy asked him. Logan hadn’t heard him approach but he had come closer, but he still kept to a relatively safe distance. 

“I need to take some pictures,” Logan answered, turning and walking further away. 

“Why?”

“For a project.”

Logan walked a bit further and then he turned and nodded satisfied with his choice. When he did, he pulled out his phone to snap a few pictures. Satisfied he began to move to other spots in the backyard and take pictures in each spot. 

“That’s a lot of pictures,” the boy commented. 

Logan gave a slight nod, “I want to ensure I have enough. 

“But what are you gonna do with pictures?” 

“You ask a lot of questions don’t you?”

The boy’s head lowered as he looked at his feet and shuffled them, but he didn’t reply. 

“It’s not a bad quality,” Logan assured him as he felt a raindrop hit his skin. “But you also should not talk to strangers as much as you are.”

The boy looked up and gave Logan a look of thought before he spoke, “What's your name then?”

Logan raised an eyebrow amused, “My name is Logan. And yours?”

The little boy gave him a smile, “I’m not going to talk to strangers.”

~~~~

When Logan returned about a week later, the boy was also back. 

He had been sitting on the deck stairs once more, kicking his legs lazily as he stared up at the sky. Upon seeing him Logan had two thoughts. Firstly, he wondered why the kid had returned, and secondly he wondered why the boy’s clothes hadn’t changed. Previously Logan had tried not to focus on the boy’s clothing given he didn’t want to judge, but seeing him here twice in the same outfit was a bit strange. 

The clothes were too big for him, most likely hand me downs. And they appeared worn, his pants had a few holes in them in places other than the knee, as did his shirt, it seemed all patches had been placed on his jacket rather than other clothes. 

“Hi Logan,” the kid said, moving from his spot to let Logan by. “Are you taking more pictures?”

Logan shook his head as he descended the stairs. “Not quite. What are you doing here again?”

The question went unanswered, but Logan wouldn’t force him. Instead he found a seat in the grass and pulled out his sketchbook from his bag. He turned to the page he had started on at home to give it a frown, it was... decent. But then against he hadn’t been looking at the home itself so hopefully he could get a better sense of it now. 

“You never told me what you’re doing,” The boy stated. 

Logan gave a slight sigh as he reached in his bag for his pencils. “I'm updating the house. What it would look like if it wasn't the way it is now.”

“Why?”

“Last semester in school I had to do the same for a building on campus, but the whole time I was thinking about what this place would look like restored. And I have time this summer so I thought I would try. Last time I was here I took pictures of the front and the back. I’m going to work on those. And then next will come the sides, and then I’ll move indoors.”

“Are you going to do each room?”

“I suppose. So now you know why I’m coming here. Why are you?”

The boy gave him a shrug, “Why not?”

Logan silently wondered why he even bothered asking. 

~~~~

“You’ve been coming more often,” the boy noted. “You used to just come once a week but these past few times it’s been more.”

Logan didn’t respond until he had finished setting himself up in the old kitchen. “I’ve been more eager to work on this. And I don’t have a job anymore, so I have more time.”

“Were you fired?”

“No. What are you going to do this afternoon? Are you going to watch me or do something else?”

“I can do both,” the child replied, drawing a slight smile from Logan. 

“I suppose you can.” With nothing more to be said Logan began to play soft music on his phone and began to get to work on redesigning the kitchen. The boy didn’t bother him as usual, and as always he sat far enough away but he’d watch intently. Logan didn’t realize how intently he had been watching until at least an hour had passed and the boy spoke again. 

“What happened to your arm?”

Logan paused in his sketching and looked up to the dark eyes of the boy in confusion. 

“There’s a big bruise.”

As understanding set in, Logan pulled rolled his sleeves down, he must have pushed them up due to the heat without realizing it, but the kid was awaiting an answer he didn’t want to give. “Does it matter?”

“It looks like it hurts.”

“It does.”

“What happened?” 

Logan gave a light sigh, “That’s not a polite question to ask.”

“Was it a fight? Hmm no, you don’t look like you’d win fights.”

“Also not a polite thing to say.”

The boy gave a slight pout but he didn’t question further. 

~~~~

“Can I see the finished drawings? You never showed me.”

Logan looked up in surprise. He hadn’t seen the boy when entering the house, and he had just assumed that for once the boy was home. But it seemed he just hadn’t arrived yet. “In  a moment,” Logan told him. “I’m putting the finishing touches on the kitchen, you can see it after.”

“Which room will you do next?”

“I want to do the living room, but that one may take some work given its size, so maybe the dining room next. That one should be simple.”

“Are you gonna do the bathrooms too?”

“I think so. It would be wrong to redo everything else but them... Alright. Kitchen is done, would you like to see?”

The boy nodded eagerly, but his steps were so slow and cautious as he approached Logan. Logan laid out his sketchbook going to his first drawing and waited until the boy was close enough. He still stayed out of arm's reach, but he was close enough to see as Logan went through the pages. Each one had pictures of the original house taped to it, and then came Logan’s designs done in different colored pencils and pens with a million notes in his neat scrawl beside the many details. 

“How do you know how to do that?”

“I’m studying architecture,” Logan explained. “And last semester I took a class which focused both on restoration and redesign.”

“The walls are plain. And there’s no kitchen things,” the boy commented. 

“There is not,” Logan agreed. “Stoves, paint, cabinets, and all of that can be bought and changed, this can't be.”

“Yes it can. You’re doing it right now.”

Logan couldn’t exactly argue with that. “You think I need to put it in then?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m afraid interior design isn’t where my skills lie... oh I have an idea. Why don’t you pick them out?”

“Me?”

“You’re always here while I draw and you take an interest. Next time I’ll bring some magazines and scissors and you can cut out the ones you like. How about that?”

The boy’s dark eyes scanned Logan’s face as if attempting to look for any hints of deceit, but finally he nodded. “Okay.”

~~~~

“Logan look at this one!”

Logan looked up from his drawing to see that the boy was holding up a magazine and pointing to its dining room set. 

“It would be perfect!” He decided. 

Logan gave a slight chuckle, “I haven’t even finished the dining room yet.”

“Well make the walls match this.”

“I’ll consider it. I thought you were picking out the kitchen though?”

“But I saw and I liked this one. I’m almost done with the kitchen. Promise!”

Logan resisted the urge to smile as he continued in his task. He hadn’t expected the boy to get so excited over clipping things out of magazines, but it was oddly nice to see him so happy. 

“Done!” 

Logan set his sketchbook aside and he moved to see the boy had spread out some clippings. “So I see. You want to do the next part now?”

“What’s the next part?”

Logan didn’t reply at first, rather he reached into his backpack and drew out the plastic sheets he had brought. They were nothing special, simply what his designs would slide into, but even so the boy watched him eagerly. Logan slid in his kitchen design to it and pulled out some clear tape. “Now you can tape them wherever you want on to it. Just be sure to do it on the plastic.”

“So the drawing isn’t messed up?”

“Exactly. And then when you’re done with that...” Logan pulled a thin pointed sharpie from his bag. “Then you sign your name so everyone knows it’s yours.”

“Got it!”

With the boy set up again Logan continued his work on the dining room but it wasn’t too long before a “Tada!” rang out. The boy was holding it proudly and the moment he had Logan’s attention he began to point out different things and why he had picked them, it was adorable in its own way, but what stuck out of the Logan most was when the boy pointed out his handwriting on the bottom. 

“And I finished it like you said. By signing my name, I even did it in cursive!”

“You’re trying to upstage me I see,” Logan learned a bit closer to decipher the messy letters. “Virgil. That’s a nice name.”

The boy nodded in agreement, “It’s nice to officially meet you Logan! Now can I put plants in the backyard?”

“Of course.”

~~~~

“Is it time to start upstairs?”

“I think so,” Logan nodded, picking up his things. “Any suggestions on which room to start with?”

“The office.”

“Then that’s where I’ll start. And you’ll pick out the living room for me in the meantime?”

“Uhuh.”

With that decided, Logan took to the stairs listening to the sound of them creak with each step. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t unnerving. Like most others he had no reason to go upstairs in the old house, for one most people kept the main level and the party trashed area it had become. But according to the myths of his town, there were many stories on why one shouldn’t go up the stairs of the old house on the end of Wendon Way. Some claimed it’s where monsters lived, and others were convinced all who went up there were cursed. Logan personally didn’t believe in such fantasy, but he found himself more on edge than usual. As he reached the top stair and looked down the empty hall he took a deep breath, to calm and remind himself the differences between fact and fiction. 

“It’s the first door on the left,” Virgil chirped from behind him. 

Logan nodded and followed the instructions and opened the door to what had once been an office. Unlike downstairs, the old furniture remained. The room was small with tall bookshelves covering two of the walls. Directly in front of him sat an old dust covered desk and a chair, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to go over to sit at it. Rather he snapped a few pictures to use when he went home and sat in the middle of the floor to draw.  

“You’re not gonna sit in the chair?” 

Logan shook his head, “This spot is fine.”

Virgil didn’t reply, and rather he sat in the doorway and spread out the magazines he had been carrying and began to work. It was strange in a way, Virgil’s ability to stay on task for so long. Logan had always thought kids had short attention spans and yet he and Virgil could sit and work for hours. And even when Virgil had finished picking out what he liked he would find other ways to quietly occupy himself in the meantime. 

“What are you gonna do when you finish?” Virgil asked suddenly.

“I’ll do another room.”

“No like, when you finish the house.”

“I’m not sure. But I’ve got some time before then, I just wonder if I can finish before I go back to school.”

“Do you go to school far away?”

“It’s a few hours away.”

“That’s far away.”

“Then I suppose so.”

Virgil didn’t reply but rather he began to pull at the strings from one of the holes in those same pants he always wore. Logan didn’t push, the boy would speak when he was ready. 

~~~~

“Hi Logan.”

The sudden voice caused Logan to jolt in surprise. His pulse shot up as he looked up from what he had been doing to see Virgil standing in the office doorway. He took a deep breath, “You startled me.”

Virgil gave a shrug as he moved to the stack of magazines Logan had left to the side, “Did you bring new ones?”

Logan took another deep breath, “I did. You need to make more sound when you walk.”

Virgil ignored him, but something about his own words stuck with Logan. Since first meeting Virgil he had known that the boy walked quietly. And it certainly wasn’t the first time Virgil had accidentally snuck up on him, but with the loud creaks the stairs gave even under the slightest amount of weight, he would assume that Virgil would have made a sound coming up the stairs. Had he been that engrossed in his designs that he hadn’t even heard? Or maybe Virgil had been in a different room on this level already. It wasn’t as if Logan had any idea what Virgil did in the house when he wasn’t there after all. What did he do? And why did he come at all?

They were questions Logan had been wondering since first laying eyes on the boy, and yet it seemed as more time passed he was getting more curious rather than less. 

“Logan? Which do you think is a better couch?”

Logan refocused on the present and Virgil pointing out two brown couches in a magazine. “They look the same.”

Virgil responded with a frown, “No they’re not, you’re not helpful.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’ll do the sofa last,” Virgil decided, flipping to another page. 

“You could be quite the interior designer when you grow up.”

Virgil shook his head, “That’s not what I wanna do.”

“Oh? Then what do you want to do?”

Virgil didn't reply at first and when he did it was quiet enough that Logan nearly missed it. “Leave.”

“What do you mean by-”

“Logan?” A voice called from another room. Logan’s eyebrows knit in confusion as he stood. “Logan?” The voice called again. 

With that Logan exited the office and headed to the stairs to find his younger brother’s face looking up at him. Patton gave him a relieved smile. “There you are kiddo! This place gives me the creeps.”

“What are you doing here?” Logan replied descending the creaking stairs. 

“Dad wants you so mom called, but you didn’t answer and since I knew you were here I came.”

“My phone was off,” Logan lied. 

“What if something was wrong and we needed to call you?” Patton chided. “And if you got in trouble it would take too long for it to turn on to call for help.”

“Is he that mad?”

“I don’t think so.”

So he was. Logan gave a slight sigh, “Let me grab my stuff.”

He hurried up the stairs silently wondering how to apologize to Virgil, but when he returned to the office the boy was already gone. 

~~~~

“Who was that last time?” Virgil asked as Logan entered the house.

“My brother,” Logan answered. “I finished the office at home. Why don’t we move to the master bedroom?”

“Is he older or younger?” Virgil asked later when they had been sitting in silence. 

“He’s two years younger than me.”

“He sounded like he was treating you like the younger brother.”

“He does that.”

“Are you two close?”

No. “It’s complicated...”

“I have an older brother,” Virgil offered after a pause. “I haven’t seen him in a long time though.”

“Oh, is he old enough to move away?”

“Kinda.”

“Why don’t you like your brother?”

Logan stopped in his sketch and set his pencil to the side. “I didn’t say I don’t like him. I said it’s complicated.”

“Do you like him then?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you get along?”

“We get along,” Logan amended. “Patton gets along with everyone. I said we weren’t close... What about your brother? Do you two get along when you see him?”

“No.”

~~~~

“The final room of the house,” Logan stated, pushing open the door. He glanced down to the boy beside him and Virgil gave a slight nod with an almost solemn expression. 

It was a bedroom.

There were two beds in it. On the left by the door was a twin sized bed, but on the right was a smaller bed meant for a child. Between the two was a large dresser on which sat a broken mirror. Like the others on this floor the furniture was covered underneath a layer of dust, but one thing which was different about this room was the presence of flowers. 

They were dead and shriveled, some even decomposing, but that would mean someone had been in here not too long ago to put them in here. But why and when? Hadn’t this house been abandoned for ages? It didn’t make sense, but even so the flowers laid on the child’s bed beside a teddy bear. Their presence didn’t seem to bother Virgil any, as the boy walked past him into the room to go sit on the bed and pick up the old toy. 

Logan took a deep breath trying not to focus on answers he didn’t have. He only had a week left at home, and one room to go. That should be his focus. 

He had just gotten himself situated on the floor when his phone rang bearing Patton’s name. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Lo!” Came Patton’s cheery tone. “Are you not coming home? We’re about to go see Grandma.”

“I told you this morning I’m not coming.”

“But she’s our Grandma,” Patton complained. “I know she wants to see you!”

“No she wants-” Logan forced himself to take a deep breath. “I’ll see you when you guys get back tomorrow.”

“Okay love you L!”

“You too.” When he hung up Logan found Virgil’s quizzical gaze on him. “My brother,” he explained. “He was asking if I was going with them to see our grandmother.”

“You’re not?” Virgil asked, setting the bear back in its place. 

“I’m not. I don’t really like going over there.”

“Why not?”

Logan grabbed his pencil and set to work instead of entertaining this conversation, but Virgil was still watching him. “Because,” he said finally. 

“Because why?”

Logan bit his tongue to keep from replying something he’d later regret. Virgil was a curious kid. He had known that for months now. “Just because.”

“You don’t like them do you?”

“They don’t like me!” Logan shouted in return. “Okay? My family doesn’t like me. So why should I go spend time with them?”

Virgil’s response came without any hesitation, “Because you have them.”

Logan’s sudden anger and frustration vanished at the words and he took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the paper in his lap rather than into those dark eyes. “When we were kids we were at my grandparents’. And they have a pool... Patton wasn’t a good swimmer, I was. So I was supposed to watch him. But... but I didn’t. And Patton almost drowned. He died in that ambulance too, the EMTs actually brought him back...” he trailed off and shut his eyes trying to stop from falling deeper into his memories. “I nearly got my brother killed.”

“And you still blame yourself?” Virgil guessed. “Your family still does too?”

Logan opened his eyes to stare at the kid in confusion, wondering how someone Virgil’s age could even comprehend what he was saying, but it was all he could do to wipe away the few tears threatening to fall. “Patton is the only one who doesn’t blame me.”

“At least it was an accident,” Virgil said quietly. 

“What do you-”

”You always ask why I come here. It’s not that I come here, it's that I never left.” Virgil said slowly, getting up and coming closer. It wasn’t until he was directly in front of Logan that he spoke again. “Not since the day I died.”

Anything Logan could have said was cut off as Virgil poked his forehead- no Virgil had tried but Logan felt nothing but cool air. 

“That’s- That’s- That’s not...”

Virgil gave him a slight smile as he took another step forward only to walk through Logan. 

“I died a long time ago,” Virgil told him, walking around him and going to sit on that small bed. “I’m not good enough at time to say how long.”

Logan couldn’t get words to leave his mouth. He wanted to say something- anything but any half formed thoughts died on his tongue. 

“Take a deep breath.”

Logan did as he was told and even so it took him three tries just to choke out the word “how.”

“My brother,” Virgil answered, picking up a few dried petals and letting them fall from his fingers. “He pushed me down the stairs. He told everyone I fell.”

“Why?”

Virgil gave a slight shrug, “Without me Mommy wouldn't have to stay with Daddy. So when I died they left. But she used to come back to leave me flowers. And since she died he does it now. He comes on my birthday and... and on the day he killed me.”

“Virgil, I-”

“You should get close with your brother at least,” Virgil interrupted. “I don’t know about the rest of your family. But your brother seems nice.” 

“He is,” Logan replied quietly. 

The boy- the ghos- Virgil gave a satisfied nod. “You know, you’re the only one who’s ever seen me. I don’t know why, do you?”

Logan shook his head quickly, “N-no.”

Virgil gave a shrug as if it didn’t matter as he moved back over to Logan and picked up a magazine. “I’m gonna pick out the bathroom.”

Logan didn’t know how to reply, so he didn’t. He grabbed his sketchbook and instead began to draw. 

~~~~~

“Virgil?” Logan called cautiously upon entering the room. But Virgil didn’t reply or come out from wherever it was he went. He didn’t come out at all when Logan was drawing, or when he left. Nor did he come out the day after that. Or the day after that. 

Logan entered the room and looked around hopeful, but just as before he was completely alone. He gave a soft sigh as he set the flowers he had brought on the bed. “I head back to school tomorrow,” he told the nothingness. “I...I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t even know if you can hear me but, I’m making an effort with Patton already. My parents don’t seem happy about it but I am... so um. I guess I’ll go. I’ll come back though. I need to finish designing this room after all. So... I’ll talk to you then.”

The old house on the end of Wendon Way had stood for what felt like eons. Not one in the sleepy town could recall when it had been lived in last- or someone had ever lived there at all. But regardless of the details, it had become an urban legend among all ages. For children it was a place to avoid due to rumors, teenagers were responsible for spreading the rumors to keep kids away from their spot, and some adults didn’t agree with the idea of trespassing and understandably worried about what could be going on, and finally were the adults who had been those teenagers and fueled such worries among their peers. And for others it was a place to be far from the other worries of life. And yet there were unofficial rules to the house on the end of Wendon Way, one of which was not to go to the second floor due to the ghost which lived there.

But as he had learned, it wasn’t exactly a rumor. 

“This is you isn't it?” He demanded entering the second bedroom. 

The only occupant of the room looked up with a neutral expression. But not getting a response he gave a huff and began to read off the old news article he had found from his phone. “‘Local college student killed in violent car crash after supposedly leaving the Wendon House’. That’s you right?”

Logan’s attention fell back to the ever present sketchbook in his lap, “You're always so loud, Roman. I like peace when I draw.”

“But I’m right aren't I? You died like fifteen years ago outside this place? Am I right?”

“You are.”

“I knew it!” Roman cheered. “So, what are you drawing today?” When Logan didn’t reply Roman moved closer before he frowned seeing the face drawn in the book. “You always draw that same kid. Why?”

“Because I don’t want to forget his face.”

Romag gave an interested hum as he moved to sit across from Logan, “What’s his name?”

“His name was Virgil. And he was here before me.”

“And then what happened?”

“I got close to him.”

“And then?”

Logan stopped drawing for a moment and he looked up, those deep and sunken in eyes meeting Roman’s, “I took his place.”

[aminiatureworld]

Storms

Ship: RFA + Minor Trio and GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,431 words total; about 700 per person

Premise: A rewrite of an old request I wrote back in 2017 (link here).

Author’s Note: These are less headcanons and more fics outlines lmao but hope you like this rewrite. I do considering I can barely stand reading the original, my writing has thankfully improved, and I hope it will continue to do so. I haven’t written in 2nd person in literal years (3rd person ftw) so I hope it doesn’t come off too strange. 

Two notes. Firstly I’ve done my best to make the reader gender neutral. If you catch any gendered terms feel free to tell me so I can fix it. Secondly, I haven’t played Another Story yet, rip my broke ass, so if V and Saeran are a bit out of character, that’s definitely why. I’m working on it haha. In regards to V I simply know almost nothing about his route, and in regards to Saeran I’ve decided to ignore what I know about his route, mostly because this was hitting 4,000 words at that point and an in depth HC involving canonical thing would probably be about that length. Sorry this is so long and thus the final HCs a bit rushed. Thanks for putting up with me! Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link in reblog

Zen

Having a fear of thunderstorms was one of the most obnoxious fears on the planet sometimes. Especially when one is surround by 60 mph gusts of wind and the house one lives in feels like 80% glass.

This was the predicament you were left in when a series of storms passed through the first week you and Zen were officially dating. Oh joy.

Despite how in love you were with Zen, revealing one’s fears, especially when they seem vaguely irrational, is a difficult thing to do, so you teetered towards Option B

That being: Don’t tell anyone, keep calm, if you need to take a break go to the bathroom or say you forgot something in the bedroom. Okay? Okay.

However this flawless plan of attack lasted only about five minutes, and the first clap of thunder had you ready to bolt under the bed.

Zen, bless him, was utterly oblivious, listening to the backtrack of a song he was working on and occasionally making such benign comments as “that’s a lot of rain” or “wow that was loud”

Yeah. That was loud. Help me.

Eventually it got a bit… much, and you had to make your excuses about getting a book from the television/living room. Since it was in the “basement” part of the complex you’d figured that it’d be easier to hide out there. Just turn off all the lights, try to find earplugs, then count down the time until the storms were over.

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t adhering to this plan very well, how typical of it, as the storms were supposed to last until the early hours of the morning. And it wouldn’t exactly be unobtrusive to not eat.

So after ten minutes in the dark you went out to help Zen prepare dinner. At least no one needed to go to the grocery store. And today’s menu included Japchae, so always a treat! It was going to be okay, nothing was going to happen. It’s fine.

At least that’s what you told yourself until a particular bright flash of lightning streaked the sky and you promptly jumped and dropped the sweet potato noodles on the ground.

At this point Zen switched from oblivious to overly concerned. Say what you will about him but he was truly a sweetheart when he noticed something was wrong. As he helped you pick up the spilled noodles, assuring you that there was enough still in the package to use, he asked what was wrong

You explained that when you were little your grandparents had a house in a village in the countryside and one summer day lightning struck a powerline, causing it as well as two houses close to yours to burn down.

Zen responded with such concern. “Oh MC I’m so sorry to hear that! Was anyone hurt? No wonder you’re uncomfortable around storms now.”

“It was such a long time ago, and it’s so unlikely to happen again my lifetime… I don’t know why I’m still so afraid, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. You don’t have to hide your fears around me sweetheart. There’s no shame in it.”

Unfortunately words usually cannot make fears go away, but safe to say you were touched. Picking up the rest of the noodles and disposing them you and Zen shared a sweet series of hugs, and maybe you wouldn’t continued down that route if the water hadn’t begun to boil and dinner was once more brought back into stark focus.

Afterwards you guys ate in front of the tv, turning on a random crappy show and making fun of the announcer.

You could still hear the thunder every once in a while, but Zen made sure you felt safe and happy, cuddling you, doing something to draw your attention to him at the beginning of each clap of thunder, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, even about the most mundane of things.

Your fear still wasn’t gone, and you still weren’t excited for the rest of the week, but at least you had someone with you who truly cared and was actively trying to make you feel better. You knew Zen would always be there for you, and that knowledge would carry you through the most anxious of times, to the other side.

You truly loved him so much.

Yoosung

Sometimes you wished that you could disappear into something as easily as Yoosung did, both with his games and with his studying.

Yoosung was in his first year of veterinarian medical school and, having just passed the first series of exams, had invited you over to the apartment he was leasing, for an evening of games, television, and overall hanging out. It would’ve been more of a date, but the weather was impressively stormy and, much to your relief, it was decided that staying inside was the better option.

Yoosung was loading up a game on the tv and you were checking to see what remained in the fridge, when a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; suddenly you became aware of just how very high up apartment buildings tended to be, and, much like usual, the logical part of your brain repeating Googled information about lightning rods was replaced by a static of anxiety floating around in your brain.

Returning to the TV room you nervously picked up the controller, hoping that Yoosung wouldn’t notice. Not that you didn’t trust him to understand, indeed you’d hardly met anyone as understanding as Yoosung, but it was more that years of being told “it’s just rain” had kinda gotten to your system.

The first half an hour or so was alright, the quiet mental notes you were taking told you that the storm was still far enough away, although there was no doubt it was getting closer; something reinforced by your, hopefully, discreet checking of the weather app.

When the storm arrived, oh boy did it arrive.

The winds felt unbearable, screaming terribly, rattling the windowpanes with fast, stinging rain, so much so the outside looked less like the outside and more like the middle of a whirlpool. A whirlpool that occasionally set itself on fire, the lightning dispersed by the odd shadows of the rain.

At this point all pretense fell out the window.

“MC?” Yoosung looked over as you’d dropped the remote and drawn your legs up to your chest, burying your face in your knees, all thoughts blocked out. “MC.” Yoosung said a little louder, putting his own remote down on the coffee table and scooting over to where you were sitting on the couch. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, something vaguely uncomfortable considering the position you both were sitting in, but still a welcome presence, a bit of comfort making its way past your wall of fear.

“Not a huge fan of thunderstorms I see.” He said when the storm had calmed down a bit. You let out a shaky sort of laugh. Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?

“I have an idea!” Yoosung ran out of the room, leaving you to curl yourself up again, until he came back, a pair of headphones in hand.

“These are the best noise cancelling headphones I own, and they cost a fortune so they’d better work.” He placed them over your ears, and immediately you noticed how muffled the sound became. Evidently it must’ve shown on your face, because Yoosung smiled even wider, nodding gently before picking up his remote again.

As the storm continued so did the gaming. At some point you guys ended up thrown about the couch, cuddling each other, and occasionally knocking elbows when the gaming got intense. When things were finally over you two lay there a little longer, although you’d taken the headphones off.

“Thank you.” You whispered, content.

“For what?” Yoosung smiled. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

“Not all boyfriends.” You countered “You’re special. The best boyfriend one could ask for.”

And you meant it.

Jaehee

I imagine both you and Jaehee not being huge fans of thunderstorms. They frightened you, and to Jaehee the volume gave her a headache, not to mention the fact you were both living in a cheap apartment on the ground floor while the coffee shop’s purchase was still new; and the whole structure had this obnoxious habit of vibrating with both the lightning and thunder, leaving everything a bit discombobulated and very unpleasant.

The coffee shop wasn’t much better really, open as it was, the whole front being 85% glass and only 15% brick.

So when you both checked your phones and saw that storms were on their way it was all about planning.

Since you couldn’t afford to close the shop for the week you instead put a large display in the windows, putting up cardboard trees, birds, and whatever else would block most of the view.

You went through the store, making sure everything unnecessary was unplugged.

Really it was probably a bit overkill, or at least Jumin and Seven certainly thought it was, but hey better safe than sorry.

The apartment was given the same treatment, blinds and shutters were closed, toasters and charging cords were unplugged, and Aspirin and earplugs were stocked up.

The week of the storms was really incredibly unpleasant, with you two sneaking in hugs and kisses whenever the line of customers was small, squeezing each other’s hands when a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed, or when the thunder seemed to become unbearable.

No dawdling home this week, much to the chagrin of both of you, who’d taking to park exploring and other such mundane things that both you and Jaehee had missed out on, her due to work and you due to being shut up in Rika’s apartment for eleven days.

Nevertheless neither of you were particularly keen to venture out in the middle of a storm, so instead you two headed home, a night’s worth of musicals and cuddling ahead of you.

Dinner was spent in front of the tv, although usually you two usually made a point to eat at the dining table it was in the most windowed room in the house and thus not meant to be.

Zen’s beautiful tenor might not have been enough to completely drown out the storms, but it was certainly a help, not to mention the large doses of cuddles you were giving one another.

But really the best part about it was just being able to talk freely about your fears, you both having the reference that those who don’t suffer with what’s widely considered an irrational fear in modern times don’t understand.

And that was really what kept it together for you two. You’ll always be there for one another, you’ll always understand one another.

Eventually the clock struck the hour and you both realized that not only would there be work tomorrow, but musicals can’t much be enjoyed when you’re only paying half attention.

You got ready for bed, both making a final sweep for plugged in appliances that might burn out if there should be an energy surge.

Right before you two drifted off to sleep you gave Jaehee a small kiss. “What was that for?” She whispered. Everything was so beautifully comfortable, so cozy and intimate, and your happiness in that moment overpowered all fear.

“I just love you, I love you so much.” You replied. Jaehee blushed, but returned the kiss.

“I love you too. Forever.”

Jumin

It’s not that you hid it from him because you were embarrassed, well at least that wasn’t the main reason. It was more Jumin’s habit of blowing everything out of proportion, to the point of hindrance. That was really what you were afraid of, you just needed calm, need comfort, not yoga or whatever was to be the cure. And not that Jumin couldn’t or wouldn’t give you comfort, but the likelihood of him giving you calm was maybe a bit more debatable.

So you tried to keep it hidden, mentioned nothing of it on your way out the door in the morning, avoiding the topic in the messenger, even when Seven started to go on and on about windspeed – did the bastard know something?

Things seemed to be going… okay? I mean they weren’t great, you were constantly pushing down the urge to hide in a closet or something, but hey Jumin wasn’t aware yet. Success?

The trip home was certainly unpleasant, and the text that your husband was working late again certainly didn’t seem promising, but hey there’d be Elizabeth, and the bedroom had amazing blackout curtains. So, yeah, it’d be fineeee.

At least it would be if the damn penthouse didn’t have windows for walls. Something that certainly wasn’t normal or part of the regular plan.

Nor was it really possible to take a nap with the thunder so loud and your thoughts running high, really it’d probably be better on the lower floors if you weren’t so sure of people being there.

At this point the plan became less of “don’t let Jumin know, play it cool” to “survive whatever the cost”, which yes perhaps was also an overreaction on your part, but you knew damn well that all rationality had long fled, and you weren’t about to go chasing after it, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Rationality was also what had you go into a google wormhole about terrifying lightning related accident. Need one say more?

So you picked up a perhaps a bit disgruntled Elizabeth the 3rd, and buried yourself under the covers, stroking her fur at regulated intervals, trying desperately to pay attention to the video you’d loaded on your phone, to less than perfect success.

You wouldn’t say that you were dozing when Jumin came home, it was more like you were so deep in your fears that you really didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

“MC?” Jumin was instantly alert when you didn’t run to greet him at the door, something that had really become tradition between the two of you. Him being also a bit of a worrier – and a bit being perhaps a gracious way of saying it, lovely though it can be – his first thoughts were that you’d hit your head and passed out somewhere, but the fact that Elizabeth had also not come to greet him clued him in that you two were most likely holed up somewhere, perhaps napping, as had happened a few times before.

His surprise then when you turned out to be in bed, distinctly not unconscious or asleep, holding onto Elizabeth like a vice, was really immense.

“Darling, is something wrong?” You knew he meant something rather more akin to “Something is definitely wrong and I’m very worried and hope you tell me, if not I might become a horrendous paranoiac and never stop bugging you but I also want to be polite about it.”

You folded quite quickly, deciding that it really wasn’t worth it, you were in such a state, and the anxiety was still in complete control of your brain, excuses weren’t about to be made.

In a moment Jumin had enveloped you in a hug, which you were glad to accept, discreetly kicking his phone away hoping that he’d not notice it and get it in his head to send for a meditative trainer or some such thing, since that wasn’t what you were looking for, at least not at the moment.

Thankfully though he seemed more focused on your wellbeing, asking you to talk through your anxiety, gently drawing circles on your back in an attempt to get rid of excess tension. It felt good to be able to release your stream of consciousness, even if it was a bit embarrassing. Every time you started feeling a bit overwhelming you’d insert an apology here and there but Jumin would simply shake his head and assure you it was fine

“After all, you were so patient and understanding when I went through a crisis of consciousness, when all my emotions were suddenly flooding my mind. You listened to me then, the least I can do is listen to you now.”

After you’d exhausted your thoughts and you two had laid there a bit, cuddled together, basking in each other’s presence, you two went to the kitchen, where Jumin insisted he’d make dinner himself.

You weren’t happy to be in the windowed room again, but one flick of a discreet switch and they were suddenly shuttered closed.

“You can do that?!”

“Of course?”

“Ugh, the idle rich.” You shook your head and Jumin feigned horror. This act went on throughout dinnertime, another thing to help soothe your nerves, as well as Elizabeth, who was being awfully nice, curled up in your lap.

Every clap of thunder and Jumin would hold your hand or give you a kiss or hug, again trying to distract you.

Afterwards it was watching trashy soap operas – really you couldn’t understand why Jumin adored these shows so much, he really did secretly have a flare for the dramatics – and more cuddling.

As the night got later and you got sleepier you realized that, though the anxiety wasn’t completely gone, you really were quite content.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mind this every time it stormed.”

Jumin chuckled at that. “Why not? Anything to make you comfortable and happy.”

“You’re going to spoil me terribly you know.”

“Again, why not? Comfort isn’t spoiling someone, and if it was I’d spoil you rotten. You deserve the universe, I’m just giving what I can.”

And really the comfort he gave you was worth five universes at that moment, but wasn’t he always worth that much?

Saeyoung

Saeyoung’s reaction to your fear would probably initially be teasing.

Not because he thought it was funny, more his brain still found sincerity a hard thing to grapple with, and he found his knee jerking reaction be to try and make fun, enough fun for you to forget about everything.

You knew this of course, had long ago learned his patterns, his mannerisms and habits, and initially you tried to play along with it, after all the only reason he knew you were afraid of thunderstorms was because he’d caught you running into the closet on the CCTV in Rika’s apartment. If it weren’t for that you would’ve been perfectly happy with him never finding out. Surely you could humor him a bit.

Well anxiety has a funny way of sharpening one’s nerves, and by the sixth joke you were ready to pull your hair out, both from Saeyoung and from the storm.

“Hey Saeyoung? I really do appreciate what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I… I don’t think this is going to be the way to sort it out.”

“Oh… I see.” Saeyoung faltered. Saeran, who was also not a fan and was thus gaming, probably with the volume at unhealthy rates, still managed to snort out a “I could’ve told you that.” Saeyoung shook his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry MC… I, uhm. Yeah…” For a moment you both sat on his horrifically battered couch, the tension rising. Saeyoung screwed his face up in thought, before launching himself towards you, wrapping you up in a huge hug.

“I.. Saeyoung-?”

“Cuddles are a miracle cure.” He said, kissing you on the forehead. “They’ll chase away the storms, just you wait, and in the meantime, how about you teach me how to make something other than sandwiches.”

“I know you know how to cook.” You pointed out, at least happier with this approach, but Saeyoung shook his head.

“I forgot. I can now only make ham sandwiches, and that is truly a sad fate. Won’t you help me? Oh cook in shining armor.”

You rolled your eyes at that “Isn’t being the hero more of your route?” But agreed to make something with him.

Saeyoung really put everything into the “I forgot act”, and you soon found yourself distracted by his antics, peeling onions with a vegetable peeler, “accidentally” getting flour in your hair, tackling you with hugs and kisses the minute thunder or lightning even attempted an interruption. You found yourself either laughing or breathless from his attention, and when your anxiety was too difficult to ignore you allowed Seven to wrap you in a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, his arms acting as a barrier for the sound.

Dinner took a horrendously long time to cook, something Saeran was sure to point out, but it really did help. As you two were cleaning up dishes Saeyoung paused for a moment.

“Being a hero really isn’t my thing you know.”

“Huh?” You’d sorta forgotten the earlier conversation amidst all the antics.

“You saved me MC, from myself, my own destruction. The least I could is chase away a few thunderstorms. I’d do anything to make you happy. So, I hope that you can be happy.

“What a silly thing to say.” You said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m already so very happy, so incredibly glad to have you in my life. Indeed, if this isn’t happiness then there is no such thing.”

He really was your hero, your knight in peculiar armor. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

V/Jihyun Kim

V hated thunderstorms. Although he’d agreed to get his vision fixed, the date of the surgery was still some months off, and in the meantime every storm sent him in disarray, the sudden loudness of the thunder a disconcerting reminder of his own vulnerability, the fact that if even one thing in his life shifted he was likely to run right into it.

Being someone who had such a visceral hate, he was quick to become aware of your anxiety as well. It was something he just picked up on, before you had the chance to even think about hiding it from him.

“I see I’m not the only one who hates when it storms.”

You weren’t really surprised by his fear, he’d made it quite clear how he disliked to be reminded of the vulnerability that came from being blind, his eyes were already an ever present reminder of his past, a reminder of the feelings that had rotted inside him, which were so difficult to reconcile with.

So during the storms he ended up focusing most of his nervous energy on you, preferring that to morbid thoughts about the path his life had taken.

Coincidentally you tended to have the same reaction, and thus stormy days, though far from pleasant, became a semi-pleasant ritual, full of affection and comfort.

You pointed out the lightning and counted the miles out loud for him, something that helped him ground himself in the world, feel a little more in control of the situation, and in return he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling you how your fears weren’t silly, how much it mattered to him that you were happy, and all the things you’d do together when the storms passed.

Sometimes you two turned on a podcast, or a video whose audio V had heard multiple times before, another exercise in familiarity that helped comfort you two. He also didn’t mind whether you kept the lights on or turned them off, only wishing to keep at least one window open, to keep track of the storm’s progress.

He also was in the habit of singing or humming at random intervals, his voice kept you in the moment, rather than in an endless loop of “what ifs”.

By the end of the storm you two were often exhausted, which is why they so often ended with you two tangled together, already half asleep.

One such time you were about to sleep, only barely awake to nod when V said the storm had passed.

“Jihyun,” you mumbled, hearing a hum in return. “I love you.”

V smiled, hearing that from you always felt like a moment of rejuvenation, of sudden clarity.

Kissing your forehead he hugged you a little tighter.

“I love you too.”

Saeran

Saeran loved storms. Loved the sheer, raw, uninhibited power they exuded, the proof of how natural ruled above all.

You knew that. You also knew that storms were, in fact, the bane of your existence, and that you’re rather die than sit up and watch them with him.

But you also didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to be a source of unhappiness in his life, so when Saeran eagerly looked out the window and called out “MC! It’s thundering!” You reluctantly dragged yourself over to watch with him.

At first it was alright if you focused on him more than on the outside, the awe and glee he took in watching the rain was endearing, the happiness marked so clearly and without inhibition. It was something that almost took your breath away in how beautiful it was, the joy of somehow who’d had so little of it.

Then the first clap of thunder arrived and you’d nearly sprained your wrist, slipping on the counter and banging your arm.

Saeran’s attention was immediately turned away from the thunderstorm and he looked at you curiously.

“Are you alright MC?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, I’m fine.” You didn’t want him to know. It made him so happy, how could you ever take away from that, holding you bruised elbow you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment, saying you needed make sure nothing was serious.

Of course that excuses could only last for so long, but the bathroom seemed such a comfort compared to the windowed rooms, and you lost track of all sense of time or space, curled up in a ball, leaning against the cold wall, the linoleum tiling keeping you grounded.

Eventually however it came to an end, and there was a short knock before Saeran turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Something wrong?” He asked, immediately realizing the answer to that question after looking at your position. Kneeling down to face you he cupped your cheek. “Thunderstorms?”

You nodded, despite yourself. You really didn’t want to take this from him. But he didn’t seem to have felt like anything was taken, instead kissing you on the forehead and opening his arms for you to envelope yourself in them, something you did gratefully.

He held you, rocking you slightly, whispering random bits of words, random pieces of song, anything to keep your anxiety lower. Nudging the door shut once more you two stayed there for a while, and you finally felt yourself calm down.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” His tone was that of genuine confusion.

“For taking away watching thunderstorms from you. I don’t want to take anything away from you of course, I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh MC…” Saeran peppered your face with kisses. “You haven’t taken anything away from me. I can still watch the thunderstorms, can still love them. Your fear isn’t something to be ashamed of, we all fear things in our lives, all have things we’d rather throw aside. I’m always here for you, always. It’s something I chose, and would choose over and over again. And that choice doesn’t mean I cannot chose to love thunderstorms, or watch them. It just means I have to make sure you’re comfortable as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable, not if I could do something about it. So don’t talk like that anymore, okay?”

You nodded, feeling reassured and slightly sheepish. He really was too good for words.

You two stayed in the bathroom until it became too uncomfortable, when you moved to the bed. It was a lovely evening, the storms having mellowed into a gentle rain.

Wrapped in Saeran’s arms you suddenly felt such a rush of emotions overcome you, contentment, bashfulness, love. Especially love.

You loved Saeran so much. And you always would.

Vanderwood

You’d really rather not tell Vanderwood.

You two were the cynics of the group, sarcastic, unfazed, or rather you hid your general emotions to the larger group in a swath of wit and humor. You really didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid of what was essentially a fear that had outlived its purpose.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Vanderwood with your true feelings, indeed sometimes you felt as if Vanderwood was the only person you could trust with your true feelings, a sentiment they had reciprocated multiple times.

It was moreso you already knew how much people saw your fear as overreacting. Didn’t need your partner to join the bandwagon of slight bafflement and bemusement, even if they couldn’t help themselves.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, storm on full display, trying not to dig your head into the side of the lazyboy as Vanderwood sat typing away on their computer.

Unfortunately the storm grew more and more violent, and you quickly grew more and more uncomfortable, your plans of nonchalance having really taken a critical hit.

Before you could think of a proper excuse to go into the bedroom closet and have a bit of a scream a huge clap of thunder shook the complex and the book you’d held in your hands plummeted to the ground.

Vanderwood immediately got up and shut the blinds. “I forgot you don’t like storms.” They said, closing the last of the blinds before turning around to your startled face.

“You know I don’t like thunderstorms?!”

“Was I not supposed to?” They looked vaguely confused, and not a bit amused.

“No.” You buried your hands in your palms.

“No I was or no I wasn’t?”

“You weren’t.” You groaned. “It’s embaraassing.”

“Why should it be embarrassing? Look, MC.” They walked over to you, taking your hands in theirs. “There are a lot of embarrassing things people are in life. Of which I’m at least half of them. I cannot say a lot of things with great confidence, but I can say this. You aren’t the least bit embarrassing for having an incredibly common and practical fear.”

“A fear that should’ve died out with the invention of bricks.” You muttered.

“Perhaps. But we both know that’s not how it works.” They replied. “So don’t feel the need to hide something like that. Okay?”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, before giving you a hug, something which you gladly reciprocated.

It was a quiet evening, one of easy cooking and laughing at miscellaneous videos, of making fun of spy shows and swapping stories.

In the end you probably shouldn’t’ve been so surprised.

Vanderwood was an amazing partner, caring, funny, observant, loving.

Perhaps it was okay to have such a fear around them. And if it was okay with Vanderwood than everyone else would have to suck it up, because really two people’s opinions mattered to you on the fact, yours and theirs. And in this instance you’d found yourselves completely in accord.