#greens can really suit gale

[areyouwho-ithinkyouare]

i do really really recommend that if you’re going back in to replay bg3, switch up the colours for your party members. mess about with the different dye options, give them each a different theme/style than they had in your previous runs. It’s a really good way to help differentiate them in your mind. The gale i killed isn’t the same as the gale im romancing. because their clothes aren’t the same colour.

[trashbag-baby666]

The Curt and Ken Wedding Pt.2 (NSFW)

What’s Waited Till Tomorrow Starts Tonight au (MOTA hs au)

MOTA Masterlist! - read pt. 1 here!

C/W: NSFW under the cut, edging, fingering, anal penetration, double penetration, the whole nine yards this is really smutty. Minors DNI.

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•First off, Curt planned with Gale and John that at a certain time, they would head back to the hotel first. They were on duty of decorating Curt and Ken's suit.

•John's tipsy and he's tossing rose petals all over the bed humming the classic here comes the bride. Gale knows what he's thinking, he knows that he's wishing it was their night again.

•They set the bottle of champagne and the two glasses on the silver tray on the bed side table. Gale left a small note with a have fun you guys <3 on it.

•When they arrived at the hotel both had alcohol coursing through their veins. They had their hands all over each other in the ride from the vineyard to the hotel. In the back of their Uber sucking each others faces off. Curts hand a little too high up Kens thigh, although he knew his boy was tucking. Not that it would be lasting much longer, Curt's mission was to get him hard and falling apart by barely touching him.

•Curt feels a little bit of guilt building inside of him when he realizes he can't pick Ken up and carry him through the threshold of the hotel room.

The two had came to a stop outside the white hotel door with the gold plated 347 on it, Curts hands resting on Kens hips still.

"What's wrong, Curtie?" Kens breathless and his lips are puffy and swollen from a decent half hour long make out session...followed by an aggressive make out in the hotel elevator.

"I...I can't..." He tripped over his words the liquor in him loosening him up a little too much. He gazed down at his legs for a moment then back up at Ken.

"Don't worry about it," Ken rested his forehead against Curts. His fingers delicately plucking the plastic key card from him taking his other hand in his, "We can step through together, because we’re married for real now."

"Last two years was just roleplaying?"

"Hush." Ken opened the door the two taking the steps together into the hotel room. Quickly the traditional side wore from them, in an instant Curt had him pressed against the wall.

•Curt also had a new custom lingerie set on the bed waiting for Ken. They'd fantasized about this night many times before, even when they were still just kids in high school.

•Curt’s sat on the bed with his tie already undone and his shirt slightly ajar. The buttons had long been undone by Ken in the elevator. When his sweet boy came out of the bathroom in the lingerie set with the matching white, lace stockings he instantly was drooling over him. He had his veil back on and Curt was convinced he had died and gone to heaven.

•They got loosened up drinking some of the champagne together, lips on the other. The taste of the champagne on their lips. At some point Curts blazer and button down end up on the floor. Reduced down to his wife beater with Ken straddling his lap, his hands exploring all the way up his wife beater.

•When John and Gale arrive for their turn, Ken's laid out on the bed and Curt's laying next to him on his elbow. He's looking down into Kenny's ocean, green eyes, he's been teasing at Ken's cock and his chest through the lingerie. Their arrival is not causing any hesitation, he just let Ken cry to them. Curt's palming at him through his soaked lace panties, his thighs twitching with every touch of friction. He flicks his pretty green eyes up at Gale first and just lets out this pitiful whimper. He holds out his hand for Gale, his elbow dropped like he was already too tired out.

•Gale and John both had obviously already been on each other. Their hair tousled, Johns button up halfway buttoned and crooked. Gale put on a sympathetic toothy grin and he know's he can't not kiss him. He cradles Ken's jaw in one hand his other going down to press against his hips. Satisfied when he sobbed into the kiss, his thighs shaking. Earning an impressed smile from Curt, he got himself another stroke over his bulge from him.

"What should we do first, John?"

•Ken pushed his hips up into Gales hand digging his head into the pillow. A stifled pitiful whine from Ken pushed into the white, silk pillow. Sliding into the king sized bed, John began to palm at his bulge.

"Maybe, we can set him free?" John hooked his finger into the band of Ken's lace panties and snapping them against his slender hip. Ken's body shook in another pitiful cry, his lip quivering, he tried bucking his hips up into John's hand. But he just pushed his hips back down leaving him rocking forward for any friction from tucking.

•John takes advantage and makes him orgasm just from helping him out of his tuck job. He's panting, his semen all over his bare stomach all the way up to his bellybutton. Gale wants his turn, and licks a strip from Kens groin to his naval licking, up the seed off of his belly. Flicking his tongue against Ken's still pierced belly button jewel. Basically taking a body shot off of him of his own cum. The stimulation was so much already for Ken, his breathing irregular and airy his whole body twitching in pure euphoria.

•Curt and Gale switch places, Ken now resting against Gale. Curt made a show of pulling Ken’s underwear off. Finding any spot to stop and make the boy squirm from the friction. It’s when he goes to throw Ken’s leg over his shoulder and dive deep into him, he noticed the red, heart, jeweled butt plug.

“Fuck, Kenny, you’re gonna kill me.”

•Curt basically folds this boy in half to show Gale and John their little treat.

•Through Ken’s rosy, tear stained cheeks he pushes on a lippy smirk. He wanted to have a turn with teasing Curt tonight, he knew that was the perfect way.

•After, Curt pulled it from Ken with a little pop, he nips at Ken’s butt teasingly. Leaving little teeth marks and bruises on his ass, thighs, and hips. He’s diving into him, lapping him open. He’s got him spread thin, until Ken’s just about to orgasm and he pulls himself from the boy. His hands still on his hips holding him down from squirming.

•They let him calm down a bit and get worked up again, his pretty, little cock throbbing against his stomach. But now it’s John’s turn and he’s got his dick in his mouth. Cheeks hollowed out, he bops his head up and down Ken’s shaft. Same pattern of edging him and then rejecting his orgasmic pleas.

•But now he’s, really in for it, Gales got him pegged. He’s holding him still on his cock, his fingers rolling Ken’s nipples. His little pants are so broken and irregular, he might as well only be heard by a dog. He then begins rocking his hips so s l o w l y. He is going to draw out this orgasm from Ken, he’s waited so patiently, what's another few minutes?

“You’ve been such a good boy for us tonight, Kenny. Think maybe you deserve a little treat?”

Ken let out a pitiful little hmph at the words, nothing could’ve prepared him for the then feelings of John’s fingers going in pressed against Gales cock. His back arching and his curls pressing into Gales chest.

•John’s got his fingers pumping into him and nipping at his earlobe and neck. Ken’s barely holding on any longer. His dicks throbbing and only getting so much friction. He flicks his teary eyes up at Curt. He’s sat at the end of the bed with his dick in his hand and a primal stare locked on him.

“Why don’t we let the pretty little slut have an orgasm? Least we can do for him.”

•Gale takes his chain of command and picks up his pace, his hands on Ken’s hips. Holding him down on his cock and feeling the boy shake. John sticks a third finger into Ken, really stretching him out. John, the menace he is takes his free hand and pushes down on Ken’s stomach. He lets out this gorgeous, gorgeous wale from deep inside his sternum. His load shooting all over himself getting all over the remaining lingerie on him.

•It’s what came next that had Ken nearly screaming for the whole hotel to hear. With meticulousness, Curt comes behind Ken and slides his cock in against Gales. All three of the men groaning in pure euphoria as they got settled into Ken. Curt sharing a mischievous little smirk with Gale.

“Okay, baby.” Curt hums out putting his strong hands on Ken’s hips to offer him some guidance.

•Ken realizes what's coming on next, his big green eyes glazed over in tears. Letting out a cry fall from his lips, his head tilted to see Curt better. He knows that if he wants it he's going to have to work for it.

"You can do it, Kenny."

•He doesn't know what took over him from John's words, but he wrapped his arms around Gales neck. He had to muster all the power leftover in him and began to rock himself on their dick's. He couldn't even begin to think about how stretched out he was. No matter how much Pilates or yoga he did could not prepare him for how sore he was going to be tomorrow.

•Curt and John are both relishing in Ken's whimpers and cries. The added pressure of each others cocks practically mashed into each other making it just all that better for the both. Even worse, anytime, any of them look at John they're about to peak.

•He's sitting with the heel of his foot pressed against his balls, dick in hand pumping himself. His eyes completely locked in on the sight infront of him. Ken's hands smashed down into Gale's shoulders, his acrylics digging into his skin, leaving red scratches like a cat got him. Curt's got his head tossed back all pretty, leaving access to his neck just for John. Although, Gale cannot get his eyes off of the way Gale keeps licking his lips.

•By the time Ken's about to reach orgasm, he has hot tears streaming down his face, red hot burning in his core, he feels so impossibly stretched yet it feels so amazing. The combination of both of them hitting his spot over and over was enough for him to spill his load.

“Oh, look at you.” Curt cooed pumping out the aftershocks from Ken. His whole body practically shaking against him and Gale.

•He can’t stop the cries falling out of him. He felt so good and yet so overstimulated. He began to flick his pelvis forward nearly uncontrollably. His nails dig into Gales shoulders causing the blonde to release his load next. Gale growled and bucked his hips up into Ken sending the boy falling forward onto his chest. His hands catching him against Gales toned pecks. By the time Curt cums inside him, he’s reduced to literally just silent tears. His eyes are so glazed over and he has this small, euphoric toothy grin on his face.

•Even though, the boy is a pure mess of himself he still insists on giving Curt at least something, in return. Whilst he lays on the bed being held by Curt while Gale carefully wipes him down and helps him undress out of his lingerie top and stockings. John’s holding his hand in his and he just feels so special and loved.

•He ends up giving Curt a sloppy blowjob, laid out infront of him. No particular pattern, just saliva and pre cum mixed and leaking down his chin.

•Gale and John lay on either side of Curt and play with his nipples. The pair cheesing at each other everytime Curt would snort or groan or make any kind of noise.

•Ken has plenty of gag reflex practice with Curt’s cock so he has no problem swallowing it whole. It makes Ken feel possessive of him when he can hear Curt’s moans and praises and his hands tugging at his curls.

•After, Ken is completely wiped. Mans is so tired and his eyes just keep shutting without him noticing. He ends up falling asleep in one of the silk hotel robes in the bed. Quietly, but surely, Curt rides John, both fighting to keep themselves quiet. Gale helps Curt get cleaned up and they get him tucked in with Ken. The two of them saying their quiet goodbyes and returning back to their own hotel room.

•Let me just say, the following day is a day where Ken borrows Curt’s wheelchair when they get home…

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Brought to you by the dirty brains of military la la land @mangokittokatsu

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Taglist: @austeenbootler @executethyself35 @coastiewife465 @slowsweetlove

[ghostlyshoes]

FFXIV WRITE - #4 Reticent

Reticent 

[Vath Halfmoon - Vath Red Mage]

The name, their very first name, had not been decided by them. In fact, it was something more of an insult. As luminous and beautiful the Vath thought the image of a half moon, hanging in the blackness was (they had only seen the night a few times) their nonmind friends had thrust it upon them to mean “mood-swinger” and “lunatic”.  A connection to their more mutable nature (to put it nicely.) 

Whatever. They couldn’t be nameless forever. The longer you’d stay the nameless one, the more distant you’d grow from all the people. You’d lose a bit of yourself, and you’d risk going back to the onemind, and Halfmoon would much prefer being considered ‘moody’ than returning to being a cog in the overmind. Halfmoon wouldn’t even know what to pick for themselves anyway; there was so much glory and wonder in really, truly awakening into the world for the first time, it was all still so overwhelming to the new Vath. 

Where would they even start with who they wanted to be? The grass was ever so fine and delicate. The winds blowing and hefty. The lighting which brewed in the clouds shared both warmth and danger. The fires that burnt bright in the distance, and burned within the sun. There were so many things, too many things to be. They would have been stuck thinking forever (or until they got sucked back into the onemind) had the fellow nominds not swayed their suggestions, then Halfmoon would truly not have anything to call themselves.

-

They grew into this, into this Halfmoon of a Vath. And they supposed that this sense of temprementality was their purpose. They were the tumultuous one of the Loth Ast Vath. 

 If only I had been more reticent. If only for a day or two. They might have let me grow into someone else. 

It had been a full moon of Halfmoon’s own freedom from the nomind when the most unusual of hunters showed up to the guild. No denizen of the frozen lands of Ishgard, nor a rugged citizen of a place like Tailfeather in Dravania. He wore an entire suit of red, including a pleasantly feathered red hat, with a coat that reached down onto the floor. Unusual garbs for fighting. Even those hunters that chose to adorn themselves chose to outfit themselves had picked something sleek and robust, this looked to be much more style over substance. Not that Halfmoon’s own sense of style had really developed all that much yet. He carried but one weapon, a flimsy looking steel rapier. 

He had come to the guild of Loth Ast Vath planinly seeking adventure with little further discussion. 

“Well we have herbs to gather and bugs to drive away from our greens,” one of the guild masters spoke out. 

The red-ladend man shook his head. Unimpressed. Thinking the little rapier was too good for anything in their tiny put-together town. 

“Excuse me,” Vath Halfmoon spoke up, shaky, “You really think you’re better than us, with that?” 

Vath Halfmoon poked the little weapon, causing it to fall and clink against a jewel that had also been hanging onto the hunter’s belt, also expectedly red. 

“This?” he twisted his head, his ears beneath the hat (must have been a Miqo’te), “Well, I can show you if you like.” 

Instead of simply picking up his prized weapon and showing it off for himself, the hunter tossed the set to Halfmoon instead, who clicked in surprise. 

“Try it, Vath, the red stone fits atop the blade, then call to the black and white aether of all around you.”

White like the gales, black like the storms? It seemed as if all of Loth Ast Vath has come to stare at Halfmoon. As if the idea they were doing something useful for once (or foolish) was worthy of a prying audience. Green as the grass? Red as the suns? 

So focus Vath Halfmoon did. They focused on the wonders of the world they had encounters. Their own decision on what to be, who to be, and who they could be. Aether clashed inside their mind. White and Black to make red. Astral and Umbral to make something new. To make someone new. 

And…

“Oh gods,” the guild leader clicked in rapid motion, “the fire, the guild the, the woods, Halfmoon what have you done!!” 

Everyone scattered. Clicking in panick and rampage. The kind-hearted hunter nodded, and then fled the scene, least he be caught up in the blaze partly of his own making. 

On the inside, Vath Halfmoon smiled but shared it with no soul. 

(This one ends a little short cause the deadline was close. I hope the ending still works well!)

[lanaevyssmoved]

Do you have any other bg3 ocs other than afhiri? If yes then is it okay to tell us about them ? If no then why (again if its okay to talk about this) ?

hihihi yes i do!!!!!!!!!! i've been asked a question like this before and i haven't improved with talking about them since so i clearly haven't learnt a thing in that time but since things have changed since then i will update :D

my character page currently only hosts bg3 ocs, and you can find it here! i've only really worked on afhiri's page however so it's basically just basic information.. however i've also hit this point where i feel like i probably can't actually play bg3 as anyone but afhiri? it would feel.. wrong. so.. bare that in mind

last time i did this i included pictures but i won't this time because one of my main ocs literally can't have a picture unless i.. worked with an artist to finalise it's design. and i don't see that happening and that oc is too important to feel like the loser no picture in a sea of pictures LKSDJFDSFDSF

uhhh undercut so i'm not too annoying !!!!!!!!! warning i wrote A LOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so afhiri wasn't my first playthrough! in fact the oc of my first playthrough is on my blog!!! all the way back on release! however this was back when i wasn't reeallyyyy that talkative on tumblr so there's only a tiny bit.

that oc is default name tav, because my nonbinary ass fucking loves that name ngl. tav is a half wood-elf strong body oath of the ancients paladin. they use they/he pronouns and are transmasc. his background is folk hero and he is lawful good, and is the typical hero paladin - all about justice and honour and order. tav pushed gale away from the crown as hard as possible and is quite a domineering force to reckon with. my favourite part of tav is how they do not fit the oath of the ancients at all - let's look at oath of the ancients closely for a moment.

The Oath of the Ancients is as old as the race of elves and the rituals of the druids. Sometimes called fey knights, green knights, or horned knights, paladins who swear this oath cast their lot with the side of the light in the cosmic struggle against darkness because they love the beautiful and life-giving things of the world, not necessarily because they believe in principles of honor, courage, and justice. They adorn their armor and clothing with images of growing things-leaves, antlers, or flowers-to reflect their commitment to preserving life and light in the world. Kindle the Light. Through your acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, kindle the light of hope in the world, beating back despair. Shelter the Light. Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world, stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. Where life flourishes, stand against the forces that would render it barren. Preserve Your Own Light. Delight in song and laughter, in beauty and art. If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can't preserve it in the world. Be the Light. Be a glorious beacon for all who live in despair. Let the light of your joy and courage shine forth in all your deeds.

tav isn't about mercy, kindness or forgiveness. tab truly believes in the principles of honour, courage and justice. tav isn't singing and dancing and laughing, enjoying the arts. but that doesn't matter. tav finds toril to be beautiful, worth preserving and worth protecting. worth dying for. tav has a spiritual moment with the myconids that had them on their knees in tears at how overwhelming the underdark is and the beauty of the life there - never seen before by his eyes. while tav doesn't fit what the ancients oath is - tav believes in it wholeheartedly, adorning themselves in rich greens the best they can to represent their oath. the hypocricy of tav is the charm point - he would be much better suited for many of the other oaths. but that would be surface level devotion. tav is alive to protect this world, that's all that matters. due to the conflicts in tav, he breaks his oath 6 times - and reclaims it each time. he is doing his best. ^_^

tav is very close with halsin and jaheira, and has a headbutting romantic relationship with gale. he likes minsc, wyll and karlach. lae'zel and he have a relationship based on sparring and mutual respect in skill of combat. he's neutral with shadowheart and antagonistic to astarion - who is killed in act 1. minthara is also dead. tav struggles with the emperor because they can't decide if they believe illithids to be abhorrent to the world, or another beautiful thing they don't understand - but ultimately sides with orpheus.

tav also exists in au form in afhiri's universe as an npc!

~~~

my next protagonist is asura. asura is my evil playthrough! who i've promised myself i will do eventually. eventually..... asura is not the dark urge and is just a tav. my idea of asura was to create a character full of hubris and hunger for power. my tadpole eating half-illithid turned illithid. she uses she/her exclusively, except after transformation to illithid she also uses it/its. asura is a coffelock (sorcerer aberrant mind + warlock great old one). her background is noble and is evil aligned - i'm not sure exactly where currently.. most likely neutral evil, shifting to lawful evil later on. this is the 'gale take the crown' and 'ascend astarion' and 'sharran shadowheart' etc character.

i currently have her set to romance minthara, i really like the idea of doing the 'thrall army invade menzoberranzan' ending with them both, where they take over the underdark and rule it together, with hunger for more always simmering.

asura is not a good person, but isn't like a murder hobbo. she thinks she is better than everyone, that she is the most deserving of power, but also enjoys the corruption of others and treats people as playthings to be used, enjoyed, thrown away. turning the other companions more evil aligned and fucking with their morals is pleasurable for her. she enjoys making people squirm and kneel.

her relationship with minthara is tricky because asura would never submit, but in time they both find each other to be equal and worthy of respect. does not mean it's at all healthy and there's not some fuckery going on. minthara is slow dosing poison to asura while asura is casting spells on her like she's a guinea pig without consent. toxic gfs!

asura isn't close with anyone but minthara, but is on 'good' terms with sharran shadowheart and lae'zel. she is antagonist with gale and astarion. wyll, karlach, halsin, jaheira and minsc are dead. asura is the lover of the emperor, and sides with him, but i would be remiss to call them true allies. you can also assume pretty much everyone killable is dead here.. or tormented in some way. some people are left alive for the fun of ruining their lives or twisting them into something worse.

~~~

and now we have my durge! my durge has been more heavily featured on my blog because i tried to play her - until her save bugged out and durge exclusive cutscenes wouldn't play and would just skip? so i quit :D

my durge is rue. named intentionally as rue is in the word durge, rue this day, etc etc. rue is also later known as rue the impaler, lovingly. rue uses she/her exclusively. she is a half drow, and her starter class is sorcerer. as her story progresses, she specs into barbarian. both wild magic! her alignment is true neutral, and consistently shifts in multiple directions, highlighting the conflict within her.

when i made rue she was entirely based on those fucked up kitten memes. where it's just like, a kitten. and the text is MURDER MAIM VIOLENCE etc for no reason... yeah. think of rue as a kitten with spiked out fur looking all disheveled. when designing her looks i thought about those like emo girls who wear massively oversized jumpers and ripped up tights and thick fucking boots and they are super tiny.

rue is primarily a resist urge, but that isn't always the case. she has enough moral compasses surrounding her to keep her mostly on a better track, with intent to preserve her soul and secure herself a good afterlife, instead of whatever she assumes will come of her if she follows what her father desires. rue firmly believes she will live a short life and with the help of those around her, tries her hardest.

i have been having thoughts of shoving rue into afhiri's canon instead of having her as her own protagonist - but i'm not sold on that yet.

rue isn't particularly close with anyone except her love interest, wyll. she is on good to decent terms with karlach, gale, shadowheart, halsin, jaheira and minsc, all of them playing their part in assisting rue when she needs it - moral compass and redemption wise. she is neutral with lae'zel. astarion and minthara are both dead. she is antagonist with the emperor, siding with orpheus.

~~~

all ocs from here on are NOT protagonists!

since i started with tav on the protagonists, i'll start with.. tav here! but not the same tav! and they have the same name with intent! bare with me.

tav is tav's twin sibling. the actual given named tav is my paladin, their twin sibling, tav, simply took their name.. with intent to fuck with them. i have never given tav an actual name because it's not important - it's dead as far as they are concerned. just two tav's, man. to keep it easy, when referring to my protagonist paladin tav i'll just say paladin tav.

tav is a half-wood elf (obviously) college of whispers bard and inquisitive rogue multiclass. they exclusively use they/them pronouns. their alignment is neutrally aligned, shifting between true neutral and chaotic neutral.

tav is both a member of the zhentarim and the guild - playing both sides, loyal to neither. constantly risking their own neck, finding pleasure in the danger of it, the collection of information and gold, always lying and staying two steps ahead. tav has both a romantic relationship with rugan and nine-fingers, the former for petty information as they works the zhent ladder, and the later proof of conquest as they've already climbed the ladder and made their way to the top - granting them some protection when people whisper of their duel allegiance. if push came to shove, they'd leave it all and go to another part of toril and start again.

you can see how a character like this can do damage to paladin tav's reputation, the name being referred to as a thief and a snake who works in the black markets and threatening innocent folks. this is why his twin stole his name - not only is it funny to ruin their siblings reputation, but it also means that sometimes the name can be referred to as the noble deeds of a paladin, using it to their advantage.

tav is both a part of paladin tavs universe and afhiri's!

~~~

i'll talk about druthaea next, or rather just dru. dru was originally a protagonist whos story didn't work in context of the games endings so much so that i'd have to rewrite much of the game to make it work that i just.. gave up, because i wasn't passionate enough to go through that effort and make sure it makes sense.

dru's original story was going to be a story of pushing the powerful of the story to surpass their opressors or gods. gale becomes the new god of magic, shadowheart surpasses shar and takes her place as the god of loss, lae'zel rules the githyanki people, ascendant astarion, etc. however you can see how much work i would have to put in to make some of that work right.. yeah. okay. moving on to what she is now LOL

dru is a high elf who truly, with her entire soul, believes she is an eladrin, as in noble (fey) eladrin. she uses she/her pronouns. she is a wild magic sorcerer - blessed to her when she stumbled upon the fey realm one time, the source of her delusions.

dru lives the life one would akin to a crazy wizard, locked within her tower pouring over tomes and messing with deadly experiments, however she doesn't spec into wizard - she isn't stable enough to actually study and improve with learnt magic - she just.. fucks around and finds out.

she does unfortunately suffer quite a great deal in her disillusionment, having dreams or rather nightmares that reveal her truth - that she is just a common eladrin, a high elf, and not greater. dru exists, for me, as a trans allegory heavy on dysphoria, as well as suffering from hallucinations and other less pleasant things that would require a trigger warning on this post. she is quite dear to me for these reasons.

while existing in afhiri's universe now, she and afhiri never meet - she is just a piece of that world.

~~~

next is candor, who is very well developed and has been developing alongside afhiri for some time now.

candor is a solar, a type of angel. highest in rank, most powerful of all the angels. in 5e lore, there are only a few solar at a time, i believe currently there are 24 known. zariel was a solar before she fell. candor is exiled before the events of the game, though the choice was his own. having been in service of lathander for millennia, the events of one moment in history led him to seek exile - to find himself and his purpose.

candor has been heavily intertwined with existing realms lore for my own purposes, so if you're really into the realms lore you might not like what i do with candor? or whatever so. many stop here cuz you probs won't like the oc after either LOL

for gameplay reasons (candor is a hireling in game for afhiri), he is a cleric of lathander, light subclass, and a redemption paladin (devotion in game). in actual canon, candor doesn't have a class, and is just a 'monster', large celestial. he uses he/it pronouns, and is lawful good.

the lore that candor ties into is the lore of the blood of lathander, which is his weapon. it was candor who acted as the avatar of lathander and and smote the fallen chosen of mystra, sammaster. it was his blood that was spilled, and his mace that was left in the care of the priests. during the course of the story, candor is reunited with his mace.

on toril, during its exile, candor takes the form of a tiefling - having seen a small tiefling child playing, taking the form to approach her and introduce himself to the world of toril, pretending to be an average person there, not an angel of high regard. he keeps watch of this tiefling child, noting something different about them, and finding a need within himself to protect and guide her, giving himself purpose during his self imposed exile from the upper planes. this tiefling child is blessed with wild magic by the time he meets them - and uses his power to stop that wild magic from causing any harm or damage to themselves or those around them from a distance.

when this tiefling child is a child no more, setting out on their own to adventure, candor approaches again with a proper introduction - having studied the people of baldur's gate and surrounding land, calling himself candor, having chose the name for himself as a virtue name akin to that of other tiefling it has met, hoping the tiefling understood it's meaning.. but they didn't, much to candors dismay.

if you haven't already guessed, the child no more is afhiri! candor acts as a full companion over the course of the game, and is the only reason afhiri is able to survive her wild magic (while not understanding it's coming from her and not realising how dangerous it can be) and survive the wilds and her adventures for the year she travels before the events of the game. much of candors early development came from "wait a minute how the fuck is afhiri alive" because uh.. the clown wouldn't be. she just wouldn't!

over the course of the game, candor has an interesting dynamic with gale, who candor distrusts inherently due to his position of a wizard, ex-chosen of mystra, and ex-lover of mystra. at the end of the game, candor feels content with his work on toril, and returns to the upper planes, agreeing to work in service of lathander again, his mace in hand. during my 3 years later fic, when afhiri is unfortunately killed, it is candor who greets her soul in limbo, and begins escorting her to lathander, who candor has worked hard with to make him accept afhiri despite her lack of faith in.. well anything, but is ripped from candor when gale resurrects her. that doesn't do much for their sour relationship lol.

candor and afhiri have a romantic relationship, but it isn't anything you would expect. candor is as close to a god as afhiri gets to personally experience - solar are incredible beings, powerful enough to choose if they even serve a god, completely capable of acting of their own free will... but at no point does afhiri really understand that. not even when candor reveals his status at the monestary, or shows his true form before leaving at the end of the game.. or when candor is literally escorting afhiri to her afterlife. so from afhiri's point of view, candor is a hot tiefling with a thing about authority and order and justice but, yknow its hot. so. but to candor, afhiri is his charge, self appointed, and its purpose on toril has become mentoring her, keeping watch of her, caring for her. candor is an angel who falls for the being its supposed to be impartially guiding to faith, and keep alive.. because she needs help with that. it isn't a health dynamic (like i am won't to do with my afhiri teehees) but it isn't toxic, it's just imbalanced... on one side.. because afhiri isn't aware it's imbalanced.. again i remind it isn't because it's kept from her - it's because she's thick as shit. sorry afhiri.

since candor is a companion for afhiri - i'll share some of his interpersonal relationships. obviously he is antagonistic with gale, but the pair came to a mutual agreement to at least try not to hate each other in front of afhiri, who obviously doesn't enjoy them fighting (except for the fact it's kinda hot. sigh). candor mostly stays to themselves, but has had pleasant conversations with lae'zel, halsin and jaheira, and surprisingly thought-provoking ones with minsc. candor is antagonistic to astarion and shadowheart (for the most part) and friendly with wyll and karlach. candor does not approve of the emperor, or afhiri's growing infatuation with it.

if you ever want an oc to talk about to get me going crazy that isn't afhiri............. your best best is candor.

~~~

lastly we have cirok, also part of afhiri's universe, and becomes a major player in her story in my 3 years later fic.

cirok is a rivener, which is an unearthed arcana homebrew race. riveners are kaortis, or rather the failed or incomplete transformation of person to kaorti. for those unaware, kaorti are made similarly to that for a mindflayer, consider a rivener to be conceptionally similar to a half-illithid in bg3, which is half an incomplete transformation. cirok uses it/they/he pronouns.

its class is phantom rogue, the description is important for you to understand cirok as a character.

Many rogues walk a fine line between life and death, risking their own lives and taking the lives of others. While adventuring on that line, some rogues discover a mystical connection to death itself. These rogues take knowledge from the dead and become immersed in negative energy, eventually becoming like ghosts. Thieves' guilds value them as highly effective information gatherers and spies. Many shadar-kai of the Shadowfell are masters of these macabre techniques, and some are willing to teach this path. In places like Thay in the Forgotten Realms and Karrnath in Eberron, where many necromancers practice their craft, a Phantom can become a wizard's confidant and right hand. In temples of gods of death, the Phantom might work as an agent to track down those who try to cheat death and to recover knowledge that might otherwise be lost to the grave. How did you discover this grim power? Did you sleep in a graveyard and awaken to your new abilities? Or did you cultivate them in a temple or thieves' guild dedicated to a deity of death?

cirok, over the course of my story, acts as gale's right hand. going out and gathering information, finding lost and hidden things, whatever is required of it. they are gale's shadow.

gale uses his magic to keep ciroks condition under check, placing mental barriers in its mind to help retain its humanity and sense of self, keeping a place for them to maintain their resin without interruption or risk, occassionally assisting in the task.

the relationship between cirok and gale is strained and difficult, they fight and argue, they make love with teeth and claws, acting as an outlet of frustration for one another in many ways. but cirok is loyal, doing everything asked of them with no complains.

however afhiri is often there to sweeten the deal, despite not actually needing to - she just enjoys it. the pair never fight, though cirok does find afhiri to be quite exhausting to be around, occassionally reaching points of irritation and annoyance, though rarely expressed due to it understanding afhiri isn't seeking to bring those feelings out, but the exact opposite.

afhiri generally doesn't mediate the fights between gale and cirok, instead choosing instead to stay out of it. they don't understand half of what they're talking about - what causes the bickering. you're likely to see afhiri sitting on gale's desk kicking her legs while the two reach boiling point. the only time afhiri would speak up is if things turned violent, or are about to by reading their body language. afhiri is an expert at talking to people, after all - if anyone is going to stop these two killing each other, it's her.

without cirok, gale's plans of immortality, and eventual godhood with afhiri wouldn't make much progress, potentially it wouldn't find any success without it.

much of cirok is still under works and it requires more development! but i am super interested in cirok as a character, and the ot3 dynamic of afhiri/cirok/gale!!!

~~~

ok that's it. i stop here. LSDKFJ SI HOPE THIS IS DETAILED ENOUGH FOR U ANON!!!!!! I DID MY BEST

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hi! I’d like to request a matchup with a character from Baldur’s Gate 3 if that’s okay! <3

my pronouns are she/her and I’m asexual biromantic. I’m an ESFJ and a Gemini. I have green eyes and brown hair, I have a mullet with blue strands. I dress with vintage/fairy grunge clothes. I wear lots of rings and love to exchange them with others.

I’m the mom friend of the group, always there for everyone and my friends say that I’m really good at comforting people. I’m also calm and responsible, I usually am the one that takes care of other people. I’m very optimistic, I always try to see the good in everything and I often put other’s needs before my own. I love making others laugh to lighten the situation I’m not afraid to stand up for myself but sometimes it’s hard for me to say no to things. I also dislike when someone is too serious and really can’t take a joke as I tend to use humor as my coping mechanism. All my friends tell me I’m very smart, I get very good grades and I do well in school. I also try to help my friends with study and school as much as possible. I’m also very ambitious, I always try to achieve my goals.

My love languages are, receiving, physical touch and words of affirmation and giving, quality time and words of affirmation.

I absolutely love listening to music, it helps me relax and I really like reading. I also love watching horror movies even though it’s impossible to scare me. I also play Dungeons and Dragons with my friends anytime I can. also, I absolutely love musicals and I’m definitely a theatre kid.

have a great day :)

A/N: Ooh, okay! Because you submitted a second asking clarifying you had no gender preference, I’ve just gone ahead and picked the person I think is best suited for you. So for you @sapphirest0nes , I’m thinking your best romantic matchup would be… Gale!

☸ Gale would be a great fit for you! I see Gale as someone who’s demisexual/graysexual and biromantic. This makes him much more likely to understand your sexuality and to be very accepting of it. I also categorize him as an ENTP, which makes him very compatible with your ESFJ. You’re both extroverted and fairly people-oriented. There are notable differences, however… Where you tend to be more organized and sort of traditional in your thinking/processing, he is more creative/unconventional. It may strike you as odd at first, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, as it will show you a wider perspective. His NT also means he’s more ‘in his head’ than other types, but as you mentioned, your friends tell you you’re very smart, and you do well in school. These qualities of intelligence will further attract him to you, as someone with NT believes the element of intellectual connection is just as important as the romantic one. As a Gemini, you may find you see with two lenses- one that is more adventurous and outgoing, and one that’s more reserved. This is a plus to Gale as he sort of walks that line of over-achieving and contemplative. 

He really likes your style, the sort of vintage/fairy thing. He was drawn to a goddess previously, so the sort of fairytale, fantastical component of your fashion is something he’s very much attracted to. He also admires the edge of your more grunge looks, mainly because he doesn't have one lol. It makes people think twice about messing with you and it's nice to feel sort of protected in a relationship. And he likes your fascination with rings. Granted he may ask to absorb the magic out of them, while the issue of the orb in his chest is still a thing, but he also likes how they look on your fingers. And he likes how he feels more sophisticated and cultured when he wears the ones you share with him. 

Gale doesn’t require a babysitter- he has Tera for that. But he does enjoy how you watch out for him. Besides his tressym, very few people have had his best interest at heart. Gods know Mystra certainly didn’t. He thinks it's so sweet of you to care about his comfort and to want to take care of him to a degree. He thinks you’re so wonderful, he often has doubts about deserving you. But when you remind him how much you love him by going out of your way to make him feel better, he knows your love is real. He does wish, however, that you’d let him try and take care of you more often. He knows you’re very responsible, but he wants to do for you what you do for him. Let him pamper you one day. Let him give you an evening or afternoon that’s all about you. He wants you to feel as loved and appreciated as he does. When you light up when he gives you something, or after he says one of his many puns, it makes him think he might just be worthy of your affection. 

He loves to make you laugh. Well, he tries very hard to make you laugh. He’s not the greatest comic, but he does enjoy a good pun or play on words. He knows he isn’t the smoothest talker, but that’s okay. He just really wants to see your beautiful smile when you tilt your head back and laugh at his attempts- all in good fun, of course. 

He’s a huge admirer of how determined you are, being quite the determined student himself. The two of you can spend hours just pouring over your respective texts, nestled quite close, studying together in silence. It may not look like a fun date to others, but it’s special to the two of you. 

He loves listening to music with you. And he’ll gladly accompany you to any orchestra or recital. It makes his day when you light up, talking about all the different aspects of theater and live performance that you know yourself. He feels like he’s been given a backstage pass or some sort of super secret insider knowledge thanks to you. 

He’s not the hugest fan of horror, or scaring oneself intentionally. But he will do his best to endure it for you. Just don’t take it personally if he runs out of the room after a jump scare only to send back an astral projected version of himself. He wants to enjoy it with you, truly. But scary things are just not for him. Maybe try reading him more mystery-type stories with elements of horror, he’d probably be more interested in those. 

Overall he thinks you’re wonderful. You’re kind and smart and have a level head on your shoulders. You appreciate his wit and you laugh at his jokes. You’re the best thing to ever happen to him. Gale knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he’s the luckiest man to be able to have you. 

...

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[artcalledpourbrush]

I’ve Oily Blended A Poe With hops & hopes My sobriety has solely been basted by our Society I’ve oily blended In another hand I can be tell the conditions of smog From thee industrial Flapper depression I’ve oiled and com-blended All through the wombs And to A I smarten people how to brake Prior to governing speed in cars Like a mother in 40- 50’s Her name was Olivia she succumbed and bended The President gave me property of In a shoelaces after I paid for a shipping and handling here on Tumblr They were white with pink writing I received an A, you’re swell, once Un committed not commingling How much silicone to blend for such Are you using spray drop or pour Let’s start there! I can step by to close enough any of my Pourings That all eye one too Or the colon when reversed looks Cooler smoking That green yellow hint of purple upon black With Dragon pour one It was cup and pour The silicone was sprayed in cup before adding thee amounts of unstated colours Now I side walled the whole round bin in campaigns of cups since Silicone Augmentation began in Hollywood Is still an oily montage blend Check the scars That’s from A - V During depression did you really want to vote? When working in the factory? Pant suited for office then glamorous disco gale High enough for tops in 2000’s Subjugated down by 2024 From oils, to gathers, to the burners As We stand here The Woman of World could say differently! WOW Like a drill tagging a pocket of fossil I’m an oily blend A Tree is Wood for the World That fruit is precious Now I’m blending Just to go on! That’s a synthetic Man made By you know (WordsbyMM | | MMybsdroW) I am a junior, a second So initially

[orleans-jester]

Halloween 2022

Frank: Eric Draven.

Frank mostly goes along with what Delta wants. If it’s up to him, he’d just spend the night either in the castle or walking around and watching the drunks, seeing what sort of freaks show up on Halloween.

Figaro: Magic Mike (One of those plush muscle costumes with a ‘Hi my name is MIKE’ sticker, a Michael Myers mask with Mike Tyson’s tattoo drawn on it, A Mickey Mouse sorcerer’s hat, really tight green leggings and Air Jordans

Gepetto: Adam Ant from Prince Charming Diana - Boy George inspired

On the actual Halloween night, there’s the Funkytown special. The dolls get all dressed up in their costumes, they have the house decorated, and they hand out candy to the kids. Many of them ask what Figaro is supposed to be. They explain it thoroughly. They either leave confused or amused. Willem is more than welcome to take part in this tradition again.

Wiggins: Inigo Montoya

Sitting outside of the office at the trailer park with a jack’o’lantern shaped bucket, handing out candy to the kids in the park. He has backups in case the Beagles rob him.

Rory: Dorothy Gale (for the tips)

Rory will be working through many bars throughout the city, popping in and out. Hardly noticed by anyone except for those who are observant. He does his job well enough to blend in.

Thomas:  Sriracha since he’s pretty hot.

Of course, whatever Valerie might have planned. But given the fact that she is still heavily pregnant and it’s unlikely that they’ll go out clubbing or anything of the sort, he’s more than happy to lounge on the couch and eat the Halloween candy that he picked up that day, posing for a couple of pictures.

Aphrodite: Poison Ivy Bubbles - Post-Apocalyptic Look

They’ll both be wandering Halloweentown for the natural festivities of the town. Not together, just the staff of the school enjoying the holiday.

Jock: Dandy old Gent.

He decides to walk around the city and take advantage of the drunks, get some sips, deal some drugs, end up taking the ‘Deceased’ truck back to the police station and waking up uncomfortably naked in a body bag.

Petey: Taco Iain: Guy Fieri

This pair is going trick or treating in the safer neighborhoods. Iain got invited to a couple of the university parties but ditched them for this. They’ll head out in the early evening, stopping in at Funkytown of course and saying hi to their friends there, hanging out for a little bit and Petey interacts with the dolls, wanting to brush their hair out. But then keep on going so they could be home before dark and watch the scariest movie that Petey can handle - Scooby Doo on Zombie Island.

Ace: Inflatable Alien Abduction Suit Bambi - Jennifer Check Valentin - Vampire Nicolai - Dinosaur

Obviously, Halloween is a big deal for Halloweentown students. Ace will be with Libi, doing whatever Wonderland stuff they can bring to the town. Bambi will be attending her first costume party. Valentin and Nicolai will still be poking around the aftermath of the Devil’s Night Carnival.

GoGo: Suki - Fast and the Furious

If Scout doesn’t feel like many any plans, then she’d just head out and do her usual puttering around on her bike, testing it on the road, maybe stop into a few garages to see if her mechanic friends were handing out any goodies for the season. She’d walk away with a cup-holder for the handlebars, some pin-up girl stickers and a sound suppressor for her muffler.

Livvy: Lola Bunny

If Willem is handing out treats at Funkytown, she’d stop in and say hi. Give him a little treat of a makeout session. And then she was going out with her cousin and his friends for the night to the human parties, just because she wasn’t going to the big Halloween bashes with the girls anymore.

Elsa - Holly Golightly, iconic black dress with pearls. Sally - Molly Ringwald from The Breakfast Club

The two older women will both be handing out candy. Not together, of course, in their respective homes, but neither of them lived exciting social lives. Sally would just want to stay in with her fiance and Elsa planned on curling up with The Turn of the Screw once the sun goes down.

Maddy - Mama Bear

Maddy’s getting a little too big to be waddling around town but she wants to get dressed up anyways. Even if it’s just to find a place to park their rears and hand out full sized candy bars and talk to the kids, that would be a perfect way to spend Halloween.

Clopin - David Bowie, red overalls look.

Why would Clopin ever skimp on Halloween? Just because they were caught in their Peruvian home and the council was still trying to see everything that they were doing, doesn’t mean they won’t celebrate. It’ll hardly be the worst Halloween ever either. He’d dress up flashy, and act the part all through the day. Videocall Valerie and give her a little ‘Rebel Rebel serenade’. They might not have much candy but Kuzco is more than enough to sate his sweet tooth.

Ellie - Skate-boarding Sheet Ghost

Ellie will mostly be doing bakery stuff, tired after the events of the carnival. It’s a busy time of year. Everybody wants treats for their parties so she was called in to help with deliveries but that wasn’t too bad. She made time and a half. More money to sink into the crib. Maybe some new mattresses one day. What a goal. If her crew is busy, then she’d probably just go around town and people watch beneath the lazy sheet she cut up.

Gabby - Mummy

Gabby dressed up for the Haunted Ranch, something that happens each year at Woody’s. Maybe a little more hardcore than some of the others who wear masks, but she gets into it. And then she spends the night protecting the place. Sitting on the roof, feet dangling off the side, katanas strapped against her bandages, smoking. Now’s the time when the veil is thinnest and she’s sent a lot of fuckers down to Hell. Each Halloween, she awaits to see if she gets any visitors.

Also best bet that Pierre is gonna take advantage and wander, see what’s going on with people. Mostly stick around Seven since he’s the only one that doesn’t make him feel totally unwanted.

[teawinx]

The big ones

The big little babes

Ladynoire and Mister Bug! Or as I’ve renamed them Blue-Bell and Golden-Bug! I was originally gonna keep the original names, but I realised they no longer suited their new designs.

I hate canon Ladynoire’s design. I‘m sorry but I do. I think it’s because I’m tired of Marinette’s outfits all being the same skin tight catsuit with different haircuts. Where the variety? Chat Noir’s suit is really good because it’s segmented. Ladynoir honestly could be renamed Lady Gray, since they had to make her suit grey so she wouldn’t become an amorphis black void. It’s so boring. And why the green accents? Green just doesn’t suit her. Go with blue like her eyes, canon!

So she’s the most changed. I actually love her braid, but it doesn’t work in 3D. So she’s getting some Anime inspired drill buns for cat ears. My idea is for Chat Noir and Blue Bell to both be black cats, but Chat Noir is a short haired slinky cat while Blue Bell is a fluffy cat. So she has ruffles and a thicker tail cape. If they both have to be Black Cats, I still want them to be a variety of black cats.

Golden Bug. No it’s not a Tikki and Pollen unification. It’s just Tikki. I quite like canon Mister Bug, even if it’s just Chat Noir recoloured. It’s not that bad. And I didn’t want to make a couple of tiny changes. I wanted to go big. And I remembered that yellow Ladybugs exist, I had to do it. Plus in the rewrite they briefly exchange Miraculous around the time the love square is reverse. And guess what yellow Ladybug’s represent? A NEW LOVE. It’s perfect.

I got some help for Golden Bug! @gale-gentlepenguin​ gave some helpful critiques for his hair (it was originally gonna be a royal blue). And @hades-999​ for the weapon suggestion. They reminded me of some concept art for Ladybug where she creates a staff from the yo-yo. Since my Chat Noir requires a cane to walk, it fits him perfectly. And he’s yet again charmed that his weapon acknowledges and accommodates for him. But imma be real I don’t think he’d bother walking when he can fly. Just sayin’. He’s going to be so disappointed when he gets his ring back. And again I wonder if Tikki turns yellow to match her holder? I think so. And Plagg’s eyes would turn blue to match Blue Bell.

[bill-y]

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part one: Over there, buddy

Part two:You’re here right now. :)

Part three: Click here, pepperoni salami.

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

I separated with Gale and Katniss for a while, telling them I needed air. I sighed, leaping from branch to branch in the thicket of trees. Bread, not just bread, baker's bread. If I'm lucky I could get just enough squirrels for the baker, he had a taste for it but his wife was much of a witch, so he only buys it when she's not around.

I remembered how she found me stealing some burnt bread from the trashcan. I looked at her with wide eyes, frozen, I thought I was going to die, stealing was punishable for death, after all. But she just let me go, screaming about her frustration of Seams picking through her trash.

I got bread that day either way.

I landed on a sturdy branch, spotting a squirrel on the tree adjacent to me; it was quite huge, I'm sure he'd love this. Let's just hope the witch isn't home by the time I give this to him.

I crouched down, still as a statue as I watched the squirrel run up and down the tree. I pulled out the thin, glistening dagger, unwrapping its course, leather bindings, which became a makeshift thin rope. I felt my eyes unconsciously widen,  watching the squirrel's movements.

My arm aimed, then with a simple flick, the dagger whistled through the air. The small creature was then pinned to the bark of the tree through its eyes. The dagger's blade was thin enough to not damage anything when aimed right.

I pulled on the rope, the blade coming back, dragging the animal carcass with it. A small smile tugged on my face, I can get bread.

Kunal was surely panicking, he was the type to worry about the smallest of things. He once stepped on a cat's tail, Buttercup, Primrose's cat and he bawled, nobody could calm him down. Until he was offered food, that is.

I chuckled at the memory, slowly pulling the blade off the head of the squirrel. I held it in my hands victoriously, a grin on my face. I whistled a small 3 tone song, the chirping mocking birds falling silent before they imitated the tone.

After meeting up, we went back home, passing by the Hob. It was sort of a black market, where coals are transported directly to trains. I disliked it here, the amount of coal dust always bothered me, so when I come here I tend to cover my nose.

We managed to trade six of the fish for good bread, the other two for some salt. The lady who sells soup, the one that always glares at me because I've insulted her soup on multiple occasions, Greasy Sae: took half the greens we gathered, along with the dead dog meat that she calls "beef".

That's why I hate her soups, though it's not like I have much of an option, we can't afford luxury here. Unlike those obnoxious, entitled, privileged people in the Capitol. My jaw clenched at the mere thought of those scums.

We finish our business on the market, so we went to the mayor's house, who was particularly fond of strawberries. We knocked on the back door, his daughter, Madge opening it for us.

She's in Katniss and I's year sits beside us at almost every event because we don't really have groups of friends. For being the mayor's daughter you'd expect her to be an entitled brat or maybe a snob, but she was alright, she kept to herself.

I like that, I hate noisy people, They'll scare away the game, that and I've never really liked loud noises. I still remember the explosions in the mines, it was traumatizing, even though my father didn't meet death there. I really wished he had.

Madge didn't wear her usual attire, instead, she wore an expensive white dress, her blonde hair up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes. I felt my face scrunch up, that day was supposed to be a form of celebration. It's more of a way for the capitol to show who's in control.

We were being punished for the crimes of the people who failed, disguised as some form of celebration. It's disgusting.

"Pretty dress," Gale complimented. Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it's genuine or if he was just being ironic. It was a pretty dress, but it was a waste.

She smiled, "Well, if I'm going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

I clenched my jaw, "But you won't be going to the Capitol," I said coolly, my voice monotone. My eyes landed on a small, circular pin on her dress. Real gold. The testament to the fact that she probably won't be chosen. "You probably have five entries, compared to us, that's a blessing."

"That's not her fault," Katniss said. Madge looked slightly hurt, probably because I've never really spoken my thoughts to her, I try my best to be polite when she engages a conversation with me.

"I know," I responded plainly. Madge smiled towards me, though it was clear it wasn't exactly genuine. She then handed the money for the berries. She looked towards Katniss "Good luck, Katniss"

"You too," She responded.

We walked toward the Seam, I can't help but feel angry. Her? Going to the Capitol? What a joke. When you're twelve your name gets put in the pile once, thirteen twice then so on. Up until your eighteen, where your name is entered seven times.

But the thing is, the rich have an advantage. You can enter your name willingly in the pile when you're starving in exchange for some tesserae. I had been doing this since I was twelve, having entered my name 3 times, for my mother, brother and myself.  Every year following suite, it has always been like this.

Now at the age of 16, I've entered my name twenty times, same with Katniss. Gale was in even greater danger, with a number of forty-two.

And she'll be the tribute this year? It can happen but it's deadly slim. I knew Gale felt the same way, listening to him rant about tesserae in the woods with Katniss was enough confirmation, along with the fact that I join in on the rants. Always end it with a promise to destroy the Capitol, somehow.

But what good does that do us?

Gale, Katniss and I divide our spoils, though it wasn't really the evenest distribution.  Gale got more, understandably since he has more mouths to feed.

"See you guys in the square," Katniss said, Gale nodded, "Wear something pretty," he joked.

I decided to stop by the bakery, by then the witch should be home but I took my chances. There was Mr Mellark, sitting outside, watching the pigs. He saw me from the corner of his eye, he grinned. "Greyback!' he called.

"Mr Mellark, still up for some squirrel?" I ask, holding the fat one up. He nodded, "You're lucky my wife isn't here, yet. Hold on, I'll get the bread for Kunal," he said, rushing inside.

I walked to the backdoor of the bakery so that he wouldn't trouble himself that much. I waited awkwardly outside, looking at a small bird fluttering about. I whistled, holding my finger out.

The bird landed on my finger, making me smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw a boy, blonde, stocky. Could probably kill me, if I'm being honest. Even though I was fast, I wasn't strong.

Soon enough, the bird flew away with the arrival of the baker, with a loaf of sweet, savoury bread, hot from the oven. "Here you go, Greyback."

I nodded, handing him the squirrel. "Oh!" he hummed, "Have you met my son, Peeta?" he asked, a smile on his face, "You're in the same year, yes?"

I didn't know what to say. Sure, I know him but I don't know that well him that well. My eyes travelled to the boy, who simply waved and briskly walked away. "I don't think so," I answered.

"I better be going, Mr Mellark. Nal needs his favourite bread after all," I said, flashing a small smile before I left. A small pit of dread boiled in my stomach, something bad is going to happen.

But then again, it's Reaping day, nothing good ever happens.

Word count: 1.3k

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@nin3s

:)))

[javistg]

A Second Chance CH 3.

It’s been almost two years since I posted Chapter 2 but Chapter 3 is finally ready!

I want to dedicate this chapter to @mega-aulover, @567inpanem, @katnissdoesnotfollowback, @hutchhitched, @justajjfan, @thegirlfromoverthepond, @booksrockmyface, @albinokittens300, @animekpopxx, @alliswell21, @alwayseverlark, @nightlock-1989, @katnissmeowverdeen, @mandelion82, @norbertsmom, @rosegardeninwinter, @everybirdfellsilent, @thelettersfromnoone, @mrspeetamellark, @taylerwrites, @ameliaodair, @everlark-always, @emilia206 and everyone else who joined this year’s @everlarkficexchange. 

Thank you all for bringing inspiration back into my inbox, for reminding me of how fun it is to create something and to share it with this wonderful fandom.

Also, @theeverlarkingmoose this chapter is for you. Your words of encouragement made me want to go back and re-read what I had written. Everything started falling in place after that ❤️ 

Based on prompt 110: A time travel AU: Katniss from Mockingjay, (any part of the book, it's up to you), winds up back the day before her sister's first reaping. What does she do now that she knows what's coming? Now that she knows how Peeta feels about her, and she knows how desperately she needs him, and what they could share? What on earth could she, or should she, even do/change? And what is she should lose it all again? [submitted by @wingletblackbird For EFE 2019]

To read from the beginning, you can go to AO3 or FF.net

CHAPTER 3.

The tribute train speeds along, silently hovering over the tracks on its way to the Capitol.

Alone in her compartment, Katniss cries. The hope and joy from the previous day are gone. Sorrow and defeat fill her heart as she sits on the bed.

Clutching a bag full of frosted cookies against her chest, she tries to come to terms with the fact that the unthinkable has happened again.

Covering her eyes from the glaring summer sun, an effervescent Effie Trinket walked onto the stage and pulled Prim's name out of a giant glass bowl.

For the second time in her life, Katniss stepped forward and volunteered to take her sister's place.

The crowd parted to let her through. Prim cried. Gale carried her away.

A silent District 12 saluted their tribute. Haymitch interrupted the proceedings with his drunken antics, and a rattled Effie called out Peeta's name.

After finishing the Treaty of Treason, the mayor prompted the tributes to shake hands.

Sorrow, pain, and an unexpected dash of hope danced in Peeta's eyes as he looked straight at her and gently squeezed her hand. Comforted by the gesture she no longer confused with a nervous spasm, Katniss squeezed back.

The goodbyes at the Justice Building were just as bad as she remembered them.

Katniss had thought it would be easier. She had imagined that knowing she had a real shot at coming back would help her be more convincing, more generous.

She wanted to be kinder to her mother --who had already proven she was strong enough to keep on going while Katniss was away-- and to leave her sister with a sense of certainty, with a bit of hope to cling to.

But, as soon as Prim started crying, Katniss's fears took over, and her resolutions melted as quickly as a blanket of snow.

In the end, history repeated itself, and Katniss used up most of her time going over all the practical stuff Prim and her mother needed to know. Right before the Peacekeepers barged in, the three Everdeen women hugged and promised, once again, that they would try their best.

Once her family left, Mr. Mellark delivered his cookies. The baker was just as quiet this time around, but Katniss didn't mind. Instead of fretting over his intentions, she was grateful for his generosity and kindness.

The door opened again, and Madge came in like a whirlwind, holding out the mockingjay pin and talking about district tokens.

"I'll bring it back," Katniss promised as her friend leaned in to fix the bird to her dress.

Madge kissed her friend's cheek. "I'm counting on that."

Madge had barely left the room when Gale walked in.

His eyes were dark and stormy, but when he opened his arms, she walked straight into them.

Their breakfast that morning hadn't been as pleasant as the one she remembered. Instead of joking around and talking about escaping into the woods, Gale had been surly and quiet.  

To Katniss's relief, he hadn't mentioned Peeta or her stroll around the Meadow the previous afternoon. It didn't matter. His contribution to the meal, a day-old tesserae grain roll that could have only come from the Hob, spoke louder than any words ever could.

Gale Hawthorne hadn't been in the mood to stop by the bakery that morning.  

"Listen," he said, stepping away from their embrace to look at her face. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's your best chance."

Katniss smiled. There he was, her friend, her partner, the man who was willing to put his own feelings aside, like he'd done in Thirteen, to help and support her.

No matter what, Gale had her back. Even if he wasn't thrilled with her right now, he would keep her family safe.

"You know how to kill," Gale insisted as they discussed strategies.

"Not people," she muttered.

"How different can it be, really?" A grim remark uttered in a moment of despair. She had never liked it but, after surviving two arenas, it made her furious.

"It's incredibly different!" Katniss yelled. Anger and dread danced in her veins as she remembered where she was headed to. "I'd be killing a person, Gale! A person! I'd be erasing their thoughts, their dreams, their—,"

"Listen," Gale grabbed her by the shoulders, "Catnip, you can't think that way. Not in the arena. You need to remember, only one comes out, right?"

Only one. The words were oddly familiar. Numb, Katniss nodded.

"Say it,” he pressed.

"They have to have a victor," Katniss whispered. Looking up into Gale's silver eyes, she repeated, "Only one comes out."

"That's it, and you can be the one. You can be the one who comes home, back to Prim, back to your mother. Because that's all that matters, right? They are all that matters."

"Right."

Pulling her back into his arms, Gale lowered his head to her ear and whispered, "You can do this, Katniss. Just… promise me, you won't let anyone distract you."

Anyone. He meant Peeta, of course. But Peeta wasn’t a distraction, he was her mission.

Clinging to his embrace to soak up his warmth, she promised, “I won’t.”  

A Peacekeeper walked in.

Always the nonconformist, Gale asked for more time. He was granted none.

"Don't let them starve!" Katniss cried out, panicked, as her friend was escorted out of the room.

"I won't!" Gale vowed. "You know I won't!"

XXXXX




By the time Effie comes to collect her for supper, Katniss's tears have dried up.




Resigned to her fate, Katniss follows her escort through the narrow, rocking corridor into the dining room where Peeta sits, waiting for them.




At the sight of him, Katniss's breath hitches. This is the Peeta she knows best. Capitol clothes, winning smile, and a touch of… heartbreak in his eyes.




That wasn't there earlier, Katniss thinks. What happened? As Peeta's eyes flit away, she suddenly remembers. His mother.




Yes, Mrs. Mellark just told her youngest son that he's not good enough to come back from the arena.  




She wants to run to his side, to wrap her arms around him, press a kiss on his forehead, and soothe his pain away.




She wishes with all her heart that she could tell him that the Witch and her bitterness don't matter, but she can't. Instead, she bites her lip, takes the empty chair by his side, and waits for Effie to start giving instructions.




The supper comes in courses. The starter, a thick carrot soup, is followed by a green salad.




Katniss is reaching for the platter with the lamb chops and mashed potatoes when Peeta leans into her side and casually says, "So… when you said you'd be at the back…"




Surprised, Katniss glances back at him. The teasing glint in his eyes brings a smile to her lips. "I guess I meant the front," she says, stabbing a lamb chop with her fork and dropping it on her plate. With a coy shrug, she adds, "I confuse them sometimes."




Peeta's retort is interrupted by Effie's shrill voice. "Oh! Are you two friends?"




Katniss freezes, but Peeta quickly comes to her rescue. "Not really," he says, ladling a dollop of mashed potatoes on his plate, "we go to school together, that's all."




Effie takes this news with a polite nod. Just as they're about to finish the main course, she speaks again. "At least, you two have decent manners," she says. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."




Katniss narrows her eyes. Over the last couple of years, she's come to appreciate Effie, but her comment still disgusts her. So, once again, she makes a point of eating the rest of her meal with her fingers and wiping her hands on the tablecloth when she's done.




Bewildered, Effie straightens up in her chair, pursing her pink lips in shocked disapproval.




Good, Katniss thinks with a satisfied smirk. Things are just as they should be.

XXXXX




Katniss's first day in the Capitol is almost an exact replica of her previous one.




Her prep team scrubs and strips every inch of her body, removing all her hair and leaving her like a plucked bird, ready for roasting.




Later, when Cinna walks into the room, Katniss rolls her hands into tight fists and, somehow, manages to stop herself from lunging into his arms.




XXXXX




The carriage ride around the City Circle is a huge success.  




While Portia is busy extinguishing the last of the artificial flames, Katniss reluctantly lets go of Peeta's hand.




"Thanks for keeping hold of me," says Peeta massaging his hand, "I was getting a little shaky there."  




"It didn't show," Katniss tells him. "I'm sure no one noticed."




"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you," he replies, looking boldly into her eyes, "You should wear flames more often. They suit you."




Then, he does it again. He flashes her that smile, the one she knows he saves just for her, genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness.




Warmth rushes through her, and she bites her lip to keep from smiling too widely. She used to feel so vulnerable whenever this happened --like Peeta was in control, and she couldn't trust herself around him-- but she knows better now. Peeta's not trying to manipulate her, he's just paying her a compliment, and he's damned good at it!




No warning bells go off. No thoughts of hidden agendas, or strategies, or games cross Katniss's mind. Only joy and affection propel her as she stands on tiptoe and kisses his cheek, right on his bruise.




XXXXX




When Katniss notices the red-headed Avox at the dinner table later that night, she doesn't even flinch.




With watchful eyes, she follows the girl's movements and tries not to think about Darius —or the way he looked at her the last time they saw each other in that same room.




Taking a bite of her cake, Katniss glances back at Peeta and wonders —just for an instant— if he ever saw what Effie called the "matching set" while Snow kept him captive.




The thought is too painful to even consider, so she stops poking at it and goes back to the conversation around the table.




Later, as she lies in bed looking at images of a slow trickling stream projected on her wall, she silently berates herself for her silence. Her original reaction hadn't really hurt anyone, but it had led to Peeta covering for her and showing her the rooftop garden.




She longs to go there now. It's the only place where she can breathe, and she's sure Peeta's there already, looking down unto the Capitol skyline. But how can she join him when no one in this timeline has shown her the way?




The answer is so simple it makes her laugh. The terrace isn't exactly hidden, and Peeta knows she's an illegal hunter who sneaks under an electrified fence every day. He won't question her if she says she just stumbled upon it while exploring the apartment.




Katniss steps into the cool, windy evening air. Twelve floors down, the Capitol twinkles like a vast field of fireflies. It's a familiar sight by now, but it still fills her with wonder.




Peeta's already there, standing by the railing at the edge of the roof. His eyes widen when he sees her approach.




"How did you find this place?" Katniss asks, trying her best to sound surprised.




"Cinna showed me," Peeta says. "You?"




"I did some exploring."




Katniss reaches his side, and they both turn to look out onto the skyline.

"You can practically see the whole city," Peeta says.




They stand there for a few minutes, enjoying the show of flickering lights, listening to the wind chimes behind them and the noises from the city below.




They're standing so close together that she can feel the warmth radiating off of him. A little closer and I would smell his scent, she thinks, hoping she could wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his shirt.




"A penny for your thoughts," Peeta asks.




Startled out of her reverie, Katniss laughs, "A penny? Is that the going rate in town?"




Peeta shrugs. "I guess. It's just something my grandmother used to say."




She's heard this before, back on their victory tour, but she still asks, "Which grandmother?"




"Grandma Mellark. She had tons of sayings, one for every occasion. She died when I was ten, but I still remember some of them." After a short pause, he asks, "How about you? Do you remember your grandparents?"




"No. I never met them."




Peeta turns towards her. The earnest curiosity dancing in his eyes tugs at her heart. "Never?"




Katniss shakes her head. "I know my mother's parents ran the apothecary up until a few years ago, but we never went there. I might have seen them on the street, but…"




"And on your father's side?"




"They both died before I was born. I don't know much about them, just that they knew a lot about plants and that my grandmother loved music. My dad used to say that she could remember any song after only hearing it once and that she had a beautiful voice."




Peeta's hushed words are almost lost in the din of the wind chimes, but they reach her all the same. "Just like yours."




She's about to contradict him but, when she looks up, her mind goes blank. Peeta's looking back at her with a tenderness and warmth that still haunts her dreams.

“I don’t sing,” she hears herself say.




"But you used to,” Peeta says, “back when we were little.”




It's almost like being back in the cave. Her skin tingles, her heart soars.

Flustered, Katniss asks, "You remember that?"




Peeta looks away. His cheeks turn beet red as he softly admits, "I do."  

Her heart's hammering madly against her rib cage now.

For an instant, she thinks he's going to tell her the story again, the one about their first day of school and the teacher asking her to sing; but he does no such thing.

Keeping his eyes on the horizon, Peeta straightens up and pushes himself away from her and the railing.




Disappointed, Katniss turns away.

Deep down, she's also relieved. As much as she wants to regain the closeness she once shared with Peeta, she knows they're not ready yet.




Unlike her, Peeta doesn't know what their future holds. He likes her well enough, but they're training for the Games. He still needs to keep his distance from his district partner.




Satisfied that she's done plenty for one night, Katniss stretches her arms over her head and fakes a yawn. "We should get some rest," she says.




"Yeah. Tomorrow's going to be a big, big, big day!"




Katniss laughs. Peeta's impersonation of their escort has always been pitch-perfect.




They climb the stairs together. When they reach the corridor that leads up to their rooms, Peeta whispers, "Good night, Katniss."




The words wrap around her heart, soothing her like no morphling ever did. She's still savoring them when she whispers back, "Good night, Peeta."




XXXXX




It's a little before ten when Katniss and Peeta step out of the elevator and into the Training Center. The other tributes are already there gathered in a circle around Atala, the head trainer.




As soon as the tall woman starts to talk, Katniss tunes her out. She's heard the little speech twice already. She doesn't need to listen to it again.




Beside her, Peeta lets out a small sigh.




He's frustrated, Katniss thinks. She considers reaching out to squeeze his hand but stops herself, knowing that Peeta probably won’t welcome the gesture right now.

She can’t blame him, not after the morning they've had.




The discussion over their individual skills at breakfast had been slightly less contentious this time around, but not by much.




After mentioning Katniss’s abilities, Peeta had still brought up his mother's hurtful parting words.




Katniss had been less cagey. She had managed to keep the bread incident out of the conversation, but Peeta's comment about the effect she had on people had —once again— raised her hackles. Not because she had felt insulted, lile the first time, but because she’d been reminded of everything she’d lost.




As she saw the old Peeta willing to give his life for her, she couldn’t help but think of the other version of him; the version she had left behind in District 13. That Peeta hated her. He had gone through hell and back to be with her and now he wanted her dead.




Who knows? She bitterly told herself after Haymitch dismissed them. Maybe this magical effect of mine doesn't last very long. Maybe, one day, the whole country will wake up and hate me too.




XXXXX




While Atala reads down the list of the skill stations, Katniss can't keep her eyes from flitting around the room.




Marvel. Clove. Cato. Fox-face. Thresh. Rue.




Her chest tightens. These are the faces that haunt her dreams. The voices that echo in her nightmares.




Katniss bites her lip to keep from screaming. Her palms are clammy, her heart is racing, but she doesn't move an inch.




This is the hardest thing she's had to do so far, and she needs to get it right. She can't let the others see her distress.




Slowly averting her eyes, she reminds herself, My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me, but I came back.




Katniss breathes. In. Out. In. Out.




Her heart rate is almost back to normal when she finishes. I came back to make Snow pay.




She's still lost in her thoughts when Peeta nudges her arm and makes her jump.




His expression is sober. "Where would you like to start?"




Katniss looks around at the Career Tributes who are already showing off, clearly trying to intimidate the field. Then at the others, the underfed, the incompetent, shakily having their first lessons with a knife or an ax.




"Suppose we tie some knots," she says.




"Right you are," says Peeta.




XXXXX




They spend their morning trying out different skills.




Now that she knows what type of arena awaits her, Katniss realizes that the stations are full of clues. The kinds of ropes they use at the knot-tying class. The mud, clay, and berry juices available in the camouflage section. They all seem so obvious now that she knows they'll be going to a forest.




When they reach the medicinal plants' section, Katniss stops short. The last time she was here, she practically skipped it, but she's on a different mission now, so she walks in and makes sure Peeta follows.




A big screen shows pictures of plants with a brief description underneath.




Katniss flips through the crisp images until she finds what she's looking for: the leaves Rue used to treat her.




"These are great!" she enthusiastically tells Peeta. "They fight off infection, bring down swelling, and numb the pain. They're handy when you've been stung by insects or bees. You have to chew them up into a pulp and spit them on top of your wound."




Peeta wrinkles his nose. "Spit them?"




"Yeah," Katniss confirms, "Otherwise, you won't release their properties. My mother would use other methods, but…" Lowering her voice, she adds, "Sometimes you don't have a lot of options when you're out in the woods."




Apparently satisfied with her answer, Peeta nods. After glancing around to make sure no one is listening, he whispers, "Have you been stung many times?"




"Only twice," Katniss admits, "I immediately pulled the stingers out and put the leaves on top. It wasn't so bad."




Peeta's eyes are locked on the screen as he says, "Maybe I should stuff my pockets with these if I ever find any in the arena. You know? Just in case."




"It won't hurt," Katniss agrees, holding on to the hope that he will do just that.




XXXXX




On the second night of her training, Katniss decides to go back to the rooftop.




Peeta is already there. He's sitting on a bench by the flower beds with a sketchpad propped up against his bent knee. The little bundle of pencils she gave him back in District Twelve rests by his side.




She can tell he's distracted, so she clears her throat to make her presence known.




"Hey!" Peeta calls out. He looks tired, but his smile is sweet and welcoming.




"Mind if I join you?" she asks.




Peeta pats the empty seat next to him, and Katniss walks over.  




A small sigh escapes her as she sits down. Her daytime routine hasn't been as tiring this time around, but she's still beat.




"Nice pad," she says.




"It's Portia's," Peeta runs his fingers along the edge of the paper in a reverent caress. "She said I could borrow it."




Anticipating her next question, Peeta tilts the pad in her direction.




Katniss gasps. The angle of the image is one she cannot place, but there's no doubt in her mind, Peeta has painted her woods.




Reaching for the corner of the pad so as not to smudge his drawing, she asks, "Where is this?"




"It's the view from my house."




Katniss narrows her eyes, the bakery is in the center of town, but Peeta hasn't included any buildings in his picture. "Your house?"




"There's an attic that we use for storage. I like to go up there sometimes. It's higher than most buildings in the district, so you get to see all the way out into the woods."




Katniss stares at the drawing and tells herself not to cry, but it's not easy. Not when Prim and District Twelve are so far away, not when Peeta is opening up to her in ways he never did before.




"Do you like it?" Peeta asks.




The nervous tremor in his voice tugs at her heart; she reaches for his arm and gives him a reassuring squeeze. "Of course I do! Peeta, it's extraordinary! Prim's right. You're very talented."




Peeta shakes his head and accepts the compliment with a quiet, "Thank you."




Letting go of him, Katniss settles in her seat, resting her back against the wall and stretching her legs. Nodding to his pad, she says, "Go on. Don't let me interrupt."




Peeta starts drawing again.




Katniss watches, mesmerized, as his hand dances over the paper, making the blank page bloom with delicate strokes of color.




They stay like that for a while, side by side on the bench, wrapped in peaceful silence, enjoying each other's presence and silently wishing for more time.




XXXXX




As soon as the anthem is over, Katniss makes a beeline out of the Training Center lobby and onto the elevator bank. Moving swiftly, she veers into a car that does not contain Peeta.




The crowd slows the entourages of stylists and mentors and chaperones. Soon, Katniss finds herself alone with only other tributes for company. No one speaks.




The elevator stops to deposit four tributes before she's alone. One quick breath is all she has time for before the doors open on the twelfth floor.




Peeta has only just stepped from his car when she slams her palms into his chest and pushes him towards the wall.




Peeta loses his balance, but the wall breaks his fall. A few inches away from him, an ugly urn filled with fake flowers stands on its pedestal, untouched.  




With Peeta safely out of harm's way, Katniss grabs the urn and smashes it on the floor, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces.




Good, she thinks as she takes a step back, I've always hated the damned thing.




"What was that for?" Peeta says, aghast.




"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" Katniss yells at him.




Before Peeta can say anything, the elevators open, and the whole crew is there, Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia.




"What's going on?" says Effie, a note of hysteria in her voice as she notices the broken urn and Peeta slumped form against the wall. "Did you trip?”




"No," says Peeta pushing himself off the wall to straighten up, "Katniss broke it after she shoved me."




Haymitch turns on Katniss. "Shoved him?"




"This was your idea, wasn't it?" Katniss answers, "Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?"




"It was my idea," Peeta cuts in. "Haymitch just helped me with it."




The hurt in his eyes guts her, but she can't back down now. This is how she reacted the first time around, and as hard as it is, she knows she has to stick with it.




"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" she yells.




"You are a fool," Haymitch says in disgust. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."




"He made me look weak!" Katniss says.




"He made you look desirable! And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!" says Haymitch.




"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" she says.




Haymitch grabs her shoulders and pins her against the wall. "Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived…"




As Haymitch prattles on about sponsors, Katniss tunes out. She doesn't need to be convinced of anything. She already knows their strategy is the right one.  




As soon as Cinna steps into the conversation, Katniss softens. "I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid," she grumbles.




"No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," says Portia.




"She's just worried about her boyfriend," says Peeta gruffly, eyes locked on the shattered urn.




Katniss fixes him with a deadly glare. "I don't have a boyfriend."




"Whatever," says Peeta. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?"




As the words sink in, an old familiar darkness envelops her. This, right here, is what has caused so much pain between them.




Even after all this time and everything they've been through, she has never been able to tell Peeta how she feels about him. Just as she's never told Gale that he's nothing more than a dear friend.




This silence, this reticence, has hurt Peeta over and over again. It's the reason why he pushed her away after their first Game and why President Snow was able to twist his mind and convince him that she was a mutt programmed to kill him.




I need to do better, she thinks. This time around, I need to do more.




Feeling all eyes on her, Katniss turns to Cinna and asks, "After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?"




"I did," says Portia. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush."




The others chime in, agreeing.




"You're golden, sweetheart," Haymitch adds. "You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block."




Worried that she's going to burst out in tears, she forces herself to acknowledge Peeta. "I'm sorry I shoved you."




"Doesn't matter," he shrugs. "The urn got it worse."




Portia and Cinna's goodnatured laughter diffuses the remaining tension.




"Come on, let's eat," says Haymitch directing everyone towards the delicious smells wafting in from the dining room.




XXXXX




The roof is not lit at night, but as soon as her bare feet reach its tiled surface, she sees his silhouette, black against the lights that shine endlessly in the Capitol.




There's quite a commotion going on down in the streets, music and singing and car horns. Katniss knows she could slip away now without Peeta noticing her; he wouldn't hear her over the din, but that's not what she wants.




Her feet move soundlessly across the tiles. She's only a yard behind him when she says, "You should be getting some sleep."




Peeta starts but doesn't turn, just gives his head a slight shake. "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all."




She comes up beside him and leans over the edge of the rail. The wide streets are full of dancing people. Squinting to get a better look at them, she asks, "Are they in costumes?"




"Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here." Turning to her, he asks, "Couldn't sleep, either?"




"Couldn't turn my mind off," she says.




"Thinking about your family?"




"Not exactly," she admits a bit guiltily. After going through two arenas, she's not as worried about Prim and her mother as she once was. She knows they can cope without her. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course."




Facing him, she says, "I really am sorry about before."




"It doesn't matter, Katniss," Peeta says.




"I was just upset that you would share something private like that…"




Peeta nods. "I know."




"And, also… I just don't get it. I mean, why would you give me an advantage like that? You're going to need sponsors too, you know?"




Peeta shakes his head. "It won't make a difference. I've never been a contender in these Games. Not really."




Katniss reaches for his hand. "Peeta, that's no way to be thinking."




"Why not? It's true." With the gentlest of touches, Peeta runs his fingers over the back of Katniss's hand. "My best hope is to not disgrace myself and . . ." he hesitates.




With a small squeeze, she silently encourages him to continue.




"I don't know how to say it exactly," Peeta finally says. "Only . . . I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?"




Katniss swallows thickly.




Once upon a time, she stood there and told him that she didn't understand and —most importantly— that she didn't care. But she's a different person now. She knows exactly what he means and why it matters.




Although she knows what he's getting at, she still needs him to complete his thought. Shyly, she asks, "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?"




"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games," says Peeta.




Her chest tightens at his words. Being back in that moment with him reminds her of everything that’s gone wrong in her life.

Before her mind can wander back into the dark recesses of her pain, she says, "The thing is, Peeta, you're not. None of us are. That's how the Games work."




"OK, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," he insists. "Don't you see?"




Katniss nods. She sees, she knows, she understands. What's more, she still can't believe she was ever so blind.




She inches closer to him so he can hear her over the ruckus of the city and the wind chimes.




In her mind, she repeats the little speech she's prepared for this moment. Every year they throw us in an arena and tell us to kill each other, and we do it. But there's a part, deep inside of us, that they don't own, a part that refuses to be pushed around and that will stand up and say, "enough, this is a line I won't cross."




But, once she opens her mouth, the words that slip from her lips are quite different, "I don't have a boyfriend."




Peeta blinks. Once. Twice. "What?"




Katniss bursts out laughing. "I'm sorry, I just…" Bewildered, she covers her face to hide her embarrassment and silently reprimand herself for losing her focus.




With a shake of her head, she straightens up. Her earnest eyes meet Peeta's. "I get what you're saying. They are forcing us to fight for our lives, but they don't get to decide how we go about it, right? We do. At the end of the day, it's up to us. We choose who to attack and who to help, when to face danger and when to hide. "




Peeta nods. "Right." Looking out into the sprawling city, he adds, "I just hope I can make the right choices, you know?"




Katniss sighs. “Yeah, me too.”




Leaning against the railing, Peeta tilts his head to look at her. The playful glint in his eyes is something she hasn't seen in a very long time. "So, you don't have a boyfriend."




Katniss shakes her head, chuckling at the absurdity of the topic.




"What about the guy who took your sister away at the reaping?"




"That's Gale."




"Uh-huh," Peeta's head bobs up and down as he nods. "And Gale is…"




Katniss looks up at him. He's so open, so pure, right now that all her thoughts about plans and strategies melt away. "He's just a friend," she says.




Peeta's smile forms slowly, warm and genuine, a little flirty even. It makes her whole body tingle. "Just a friend, huh? Does he know that?"




Katniss's jaw goes slack. Back in the day, she would have answered with a resounding "yes, of course, he does" but, that answer doesn't really fit the situation. She knows that now. So, instead of throwing her righteous indignation at him, she asks, "What do you mean?"




Peeta shrugs. "I don't know. It's just… I thought you had something with him."




Genuinely intrigued, she asks, "Why?"




"Um," Peeta fills his lungs with crisp Capitol air. As he pushes it out, he says, "You seem to spend a lot of time together. Whenever I see you around town, you're either with him or with Prim. I used to think he was your cousin or something. You favor each other. But then... there was the look."




Katniss frowns. "The look?"




"Yeah." Peeta's shy smile makes another appearance. "He kept glaring at me the other day when we met up by the Meadow." The shocked expression on her face makes him chuckle. "I'm surprised you didn't notice."




"Well," Katniss reaches for the end of her messy braid and begins twisting it around her finger. "I wasn't focusing on him."




Peeta's lips part, but no words come out.




Blushing, Katniss turns to face the city again. "Gale and I hunt together. Our families are close. That's it."




Peeta's gentle touch on her elbow gets her attention. Kind, soft eyes gaze straight into hers when he says, "You know, Katniss, what I said earlier—,"




Impulsively, she leans forward and kisses him, stopping his words.




It takes Peeta half a second to react. In one fluid move, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him.




His lips meld with hers in a slow, sweet dance.  




After months of pain and sorrow, Katniss finally feels joy. Closing her eyes, she forgets the world and kisses him with abandon.




Peeta's free hand makes its way to the back of her head, where he buries his fingers in her hair to keep her there, rooted in his arms, anchored to him.




Elated, Katniss hums her approval.




This kiss is like the cave and the beach all rolled into one. It's like every happy moment they've ever shared together, every smile, every touch. It's like coming home after a long day, like finding her soul.




That familiar stirring inside her chest, warm and curious, comes back to life. It fills her entire being with want and need, pushing her to explore more. Blindly, she follows.




Holding on to his broad shoulders, Katniss pulls him even closer, pressing herself against his chest until she can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, beating against her own.

Smiling, Peeta begins raining kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.




Her skin tingles. Her pulse races. Her heart soars.




I'll keep you safe, she promises, holding on to him like she did back at the beach, back when they were surrounded by mutts and enemies and lies.

With one long sigh, Peeta finally pulls away, pressing his forehead to hers while they both catch their breaths.

In that brief moment of glorious harmony only one thought goes through her mind. Peeta. Every heartbeat is like a reminder. He's back, he's here, he's mine.

Glancing up, she finds his eyes, dark and dazed, and she knows. Whatever this is, Peeta feels it too. He always has.  




"Katniss—,"




"No," she interrupts again, placing her fingers on his lips to quiet him. She hates what she's about to do, but she doesn't have a choice.




She takes a step away from him and immediately feels lost. "You have a plan for tomorrow, right?"




Peeta's face falls at the sudden reminder of why they're there. He nods.




Reaching forward, Katniss brushes the hair back from his forehead in one last tender caress. "That's what you need to focus on, OK? Just think about—,"




"Staying alive?" Peeta finishes, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.  




Katniss cups his cheek. "Exactly." Her heart skips a beat when he leans into her touch, but she still insists, "This doesn't change anything that happens tomorrow, Peeta. It can't."




"I know," he says, covering her hand with his and pressing a kiss to her palm. "It just changes everything that's happened until today."




Katniss bites her lip and nods. Peeta's right. Even for her, things are dramatically different now. There's so much more at stake. She knows where they stand, and she's no longer running away from him and the things he makes her feel.




Rising to the tips of her toes, she kisses him one last time. "See you tomorrow," she says.




Then, she walks away.

[lethesomething]

The Ghost and the Witch, part 2

This is a continuation of The Ghost and the Witch (which you can read here), a small Ghost of Tsushima fic that I wrote to Deal With Things, but that needed extra fluff. So have that, I guess. There is also technically (?) smut, in the victorian sense where anything that happens is badly hidden in subtext and obvious symbolic imagery.

“You’re new.”

Jin startles at the voice that seems to come out of the air itself. It has been six days since his uncle brought him to Castle Shimura, and it’s the first time he’s ventured this far out into the garden by himself. The grounds are vast and meticulously kept, but this area feels different, a low corner near the outer wall, mostly obscured by a large cherry tree. The small plot of land is utterly covered in white and pink petals, but it looks like someone is also growing a kitchen garden here.

“Are you the Boy?”

The voice calls out again and this time he spots its owner: a young girl up in the tree. She looks about his age, with two braids coming down her shoulders and dressed in a hakama of some quality. She looks out of place, in as much as anyone looks wrong stuck in a tree. 

“What are you doing there?” he asks.

The girl looks down at where she’s perched on a wide branch. “Sitting,” she says.

“Well. Yes, I can see that,” he concedes.

“The view is nice, you should try it sometimes,” she says with a half mocking smile. Then she starts clambering down. “They say lord Shimura has taken in a ward,” she goes on, as Jin takes a few steps forward, unsure of whether he should try to catch her. The girl ignores his panic and hops down in three calculated movements. “So that’s you, yeah?” she says when she drops to the ground.

“Yes,” Jin says, composing himself. “I am Jin.. Lord Sakai.”

The girl does another one of her half-smiles and then finally treats him to a proper bow. “Pleased to meet you, Jin Sakai. I’m ___. My father is the head of the guard.” She points to the nearby tower. “He can see halfway across the island from there.”

“Well it is an important strategic location,” Jin says, parroting his homework from the past few weeks. “Whoever controls the castle, controls the island.”

You tilt your head at him. “Sure,” you say. “It sounds like you’ll fit right in.”

He drifts into your house in the woods like leaves on an autumn wind, a quick slide of the door and suddenly he’s there, a presence that darkens the shadows cast by a late evening. 

“Jin?” You look up from your work. “Are you alright?”

He says nothing, and that is answer enough. There’s something wrong with his posture, a slump, a wobble, and you rush up to meet him and pull him into the light of the fire. 

“Show me.”

“It’s not as bad as it could be,” he mumbles, while you quickly remove his helmet and place it on the ground, antlers glistening a rusty red. 

“What happened?”

“Mongols,” he says, his voice hoarse, “Perhaps a few more than I had anticipated.”

“Were you followed?”

“They’re dead.”

“Alright.” You loosen the straps of his gloves and take them off, before setting to work on his pauldron. The leather is wet, the bands caked in something slick that combines with the shaking of your fingers and makes them difficult to dislodge. 

His hands, rough, scarred but surprisingly stable, fold over yours. “Let me.”

“Right,” you say and you hurry to fill a bowl with warm water by the fire. You open a box by the fire and rifle through it, fingers scurrying over boxes and pouches and pots until you find the clearing salts, which you dump in the bowl. When you turn back, Jin has taken off his pauldrons and untied his armor.

You point to a mat by the fire. “Sit.”

“It’s really not that bad, “ he says when you help him out of his chestpiece. 

“If you have come here for my help, it’s bad enough.”

He does not argue. He sits quietly while you wipe away the blood and assess his wounds. The gash on his arm is shallow if jagged. But there’s a cut in his side that looks deep. The edges of it are laced with a grey, ashy dust that smells of poison and rot.

You clean it off as best as you can. “We’ll have to hope it is not infected,” you say. 

He hums, a low sound that is more of a tremor than a response. You glance up to see his eyes are not looking at you, but through you, glass beads staring into nothingness. You put a palm to his forehead. Fever.

“Stay awake a little longer, Jin,” you find yourself saying, “I need you to hold this.” You smear ointment on his skin and place a piece of silk over it. Then you move his hand there. “Try to push down while I bandage this up.”

He nods absently and you set to work, moving as quickly as you can, trying to ignore the dangerous sway in his form, a mighty tree falling in slow motion. By the time you have bandaged his abdomen and his arm, he has mostly collapsed, barely staying on his knees, his head leaning against your shoulder to remain upright. His eyelids have fallen shut, although you can see his eyes twitch underneath. Perspiration beads on his forehead. “This will have to do,” you whisper.

With effort, you lay him down on the mat and cover him in blankets. His breath is ragged, shallow. You clear away your previous work and prepare a fresh bowl of water and a cloth, which you set by his side.

Outside, the wind howls an angry, desperate roar. You stoke the fire and brew a pot of tea. It will be a long night. 

-----

Jin closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of early autumn. The salt in the air mixes with the earthy scent of leaves and wood fires. After his time away at training camp, it feels comforting to return to his uncle’s castle. He stalks the grounds like a cat, reacquainting himself with its many nooks and crannies, taking stock of the small changes in plants and people. The sound of running feet wakes him from his investigation and he turns, smiling to see you racing towards him. 

You’re improperly fast, bounding down the path like a wild foal that has just discovered the joy of speed. “Jin!”

You abruptly stop just short of him, then take a breath and bow. “Welcome back, milord,” you say, and Jin has to bite back a laugh at the sudden politeness. 

“Thank you,” he manages instead. “What made you so excited?”

You look up with a sparkle in your eye. “The camellia’s started blooming! Come see?”

You turn around and dash off again, your figure a fluttering, billowing sheet tugged off the clothesline by a strong gale, free to whirl and spiral down the path. 

 Jin shakes his head briefly and follows, measuring his pace while he watches you dance up the steps, until you stop and wait for him. 

“You’re slow,” you say when he catches up.

“I’m Deliberate,” he argues.

“Why?”

“A samurai does not rush into things.”

You nod thoughtfully and slow down to match his step. “Did you learn that at camp?”

“I have been learning that for a while,” he says.

“Mmm,” you say, letting your fingers glide through the grass framing the path as you walk beside him. 

“What else did you learn?”

He thinks on it a while, and then something resembling a smirk forms on his lips. “I’ve been learning about women,” he says. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Ryuzo says I should be careful with them. That some of them are out for my titles and money.”

You do not look convinced. “Who’s Ryuzo?” you ask. 

“My friend.”

“Well he sounds like an idiot,” you say, shrugging.

“He’s not,” Jin starts saying, but when he looks toward you, your face is darkened. “Besides,” he says “I’m sure he didn’t mean, uh, you.”

“What I’m ‘women’,” you say in a mock guffaw. 

“Depends on the definition,” he huffs. 

“Oi!”

Jin chuckles and sets off running toward the cherry tree, now chased by a girl calling him mean. 

When he reaches your small garden, the sight stops him in his tracks. The bushes, once a dull green, have sprouted dozens of small, perfectly formed pink and red flowers. They dot the garden like jewels glistening in the sun.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you say, coming up behind him.

“They are,” he nods.

He reaches out to touch one, fingers brushing over the small, soft petals. 

“My mother used to love these,” you say, wistfully running your hands over the leaves. “She’d wear them in her hair. She was so pretty.”

“I can imagine that,” Jin says quietly.

“Huh?”

He turns his attention back to the flowers. 

“Why don’t you try one?” he says.

“I sincerely doubt it would suit me, Jin.”

He shakes his head and chooses a perfect red bloom, carefully picking it off the branch. “Here.” 

He hands it to you but you just hold it in your palm, staring at it, and then at him.

“What?” he says. “Just try it. It will be like honoring your mother.”

“Right,” you mutter, and slide it into your braid. 

“There,” he says. “That looks very nice. I bet your mother’s spirit looks down on you with pride.”

You gently touch the bloom, a soft smile on your face as you look around the garden, resplendent in sunlight. “Maybe,” you say.

----

Jin’s body feels heavy, as if he’s dropping to the bottom of a bog, weighed down with stones and pricked with a thousand knives. His skin burns and his veins are filled with lead. 

He’s vaguely aware of movement next to him, of cool cloth soothing his forehead before his spirit sinks down into the muck again.

When he next wakes up, it is to the sound of wind rustling outside. He opens his eyes slowly, and tries to focus on the rafters high above him, laden with drying herbs. The smell of burnt wood hangs in the air and he becomes aware of a dying fire glowing to his side. He turns his head, and the movement feels like hammers pounding on an anvil. 

On the ground next to him is a bowl, a pile of bloodied bandages and, a little further on, you, curled up against a stool. Your hair is tousled, your skirts gathered around you and your face buried in your arms in a way that looks uncomfortable. 

The light of a winter’s morning seeps through a high window, casting long, stark shadows that stretch stalks into trees and bottles into towering columns. In the midst of it all your sleeping form stands out as an island of light, a sprinkle of silver dust in a sea of shadows. 

Jin closes his eyes again and lays back. He’s weary, and the pain sears through his veins, but he no longer feels like he’s drowning. The sack of boulders that sat on his chest has lifted. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Again.”

---

Jin hurries down the steps to the cherry tree and finds you exactly where he expected, sitting amongst the fallen camellia’s. “Hey,” he says when he enters the space. 

You do not move, don’t even shiver against the cold of a winter’s evening. “Hey,” you say. 

The voice only barely sounds like you. A sound that he remembers being clear and melodious as birdsong is now nothing more than a scraping whisper, a tarnished bell filled with ash and sand.

He approaches carefully. “I came to find you,” he says. “People are worried.”

You shrug. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds. “About your father.”

When he hears no response or protest, he takes his scabbard and slowly lays it before him, kneeling on the ground next to you. The two of you sit there, surrounded by the overly sweet, sickly smell of faded flowers. 

“He died a warrior's death,” Jin says. “He was protecting this place. Protecting you.”

You say nothing, but he can hear you breathe. A series of choppy inhales, followed by long drawn out sighs. 

“I understand,” he says. “How hard it can be. How difficult it is to face that loss. If there’s anything i can do-”

You shake your head. “Just sit with me for a bit?”

Jin nods and folds his hands into his lap. He closes his eyes and focuses on the quiet, on the shadows of the trees looming before him like stone monuments, on the cold sea wind carrying crystals of salt and ice to fill the sky above you.

----

“There’s a good horse.” Jin moves his arm to pat Kage’s mane but stops halfway, wincing at the stabbing pain in his side. “Looks like you’ll be resting here for a bit longer,” he says.

The horse nuzzles his shoulder, whinnying softly. Raindrops drizzle through the trees, cascading on an elaborate journey from branch to branch, only to fall to the moss beneath his feet with a dull, muffled plop. 

Moisture fills the air in this small clearing, droplets so thick he can taste them on his tongue. It deepens the shadows and further obscures this place, the house already veiled by layers of green and black like a widow mourning the passing of the summer sun. 

Jin carefully unties the bridle and takes it off. The horse immediately shakes out its head. “Feels nice, huh?” Jin says, and he moves to take off the saddle as well. “I’ll brush you down tomorrow, so enjoy the rain on your back while it lasts.”

His movements are slow and deliberate. The horse stomps its hoof. 

“Alright, alright,” Jin says when he finally loosens the saddle. “Off you go.” The horse takes a few steps, and the saddle slides off, dropping to the rain scattered ground. “This needs cleaning anyway,” Jin sighs.

He watches as Kage wanders over to a basket of straw he put down and starts munching. Then he takes a deep breath and bends over to pick up the saddle, grimacing at the feeling of being sliced open once more. He straightens and blows out a breath. Kage eyes him from a distance. “Don’t you start,” Jin says.

When he enters the house, the scent that greets him is earthy, the herbs and wood he’s gotten used to now laced with something deep and gamey that makes his mouth water. He sniffs. “Hare?”

“It was in one of my traps,” you say, stirring a pot bubbling over the fire. “I figured you could use the strength.”

With that, you get up and take the saddle and bridle from him. “How are you feeling?”

“About the same as the last time you asked,” he says. “I’m… fine.” He walks over to the fire to sit down, and tries his very best not to flinch. He fails.

You give him a weary look. 

“But I could probably use the strength,” he adds. 

You nod and prop up the horse tack to dry. “How is he,” you ask. 

“Stubborn.”

Another weary look. 

“You don’t have to worry about Kage,” Jin says. “He’s not wounded, and he’s fine wandering around the forest for a bit.”

With a nod, you return to your cooking.You throw some chopped burdock root in the pot, and millet to thicken it. The feeling of being watched makes you look up. 

Jin sits, watching you make stew with a soft grin on his face. 

“What?” you say.  

“Nothing,” he chuckles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“But?” you ask, returning to your work. 

“There was a time when I would wonder what it could be like,” he says. “If you were to make something like this for me. Lord Shimura’s cook said you were quite talented, though I don’t think she approved of the random plants you’d bring in.”

You laugh. “One of the teas I brewed for her did end up giving everyone strange dreams,” you say. 

He blinks at you.

“It was an accident,” you add.

“Of course,” he says. “Either way, I used to imagine scenarios like this, embarrassing as that may be.”

“Were you half-dead in those daydreams, Jin?”

“No,” he says. “I was quite healthy, and content, and we were living in Omi.”

You nod, as if you can see the images yourself. “That would have been nice.”

He watches in silence for a while, matching the pictures from his teenage dreams to the vision in front of him. The girl, the woman, the fire and the smell of game. The knicks on your hand and the frayed edges on your garment. “I’m sorry,” he says.

You smile and shake your head. “Life rarely goes how we imagine it as children.” Then you sit back. “Do you regret it?” you ask softly. “Looking back on everything now?”

You’re not the first to ask, and the answer is no different now. “The actions I chose,” he says, voice only slightly hoarse this time. “I would do them all again.”

You nod. “That’s alright then.” And with that you pick up a small bowl and scoop it full of stew, before handing it over. “It’s not the most glorious meal you’ve ever had, but it will do.”

The two of you eat in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of crackling fire and the occasional huff outside, from Kage plodding around in the clearing in front of the house.

“This is good,” he says. 

You nod. “Of course it is.”

“I should have known you’d be confident,” he snorts. “You never did hold back to try and seem more proper.”

“I held back plenty,” you say, and put down your chopsticks. “But also, you barely ate in days. This stew would have to be pretty bad for you not to enjoy it.” You put the bowl to your lips and tip it back, savouring the spiced sauce. 

“Still, it is pretty good,” Jin nods, munching happily. 

“I’m glad I got to taste your cooking after all. It’s close to how I imagined.”

You smile softly. “Good,” you say.

----

The salted air stings your face as you survey the world from the guard tower. You can see halfway across the island from here. Your eyes follow the coastline north to the snowy covered flanks of the mountains, and south all the way to the swamps, with Kaneda Castle rising above them.

Below your feet, waterfalls pour down into the sea, an endless gurgling that was always so familiar to you, but now feels distant and annoying. 

“There you are.” Tetsuo, who used to be one of your father’s men, comes climbing up the ladder. He’s a friendly sort. Broad shouldered and scruffy. “I was sent to find you. The cart is ready.”

“Alright.”

The man watches you for a moment, while you take in the views one last time. He fidgets when your eyes come to rest on the main tower of the castle, its highest floors home to the lord and his nephew. “Do you, uh, need a moment?” he says carefully. 

The tower feels oddly imposing in the light of early morning, its height looming over the grounds and the people below, a stone monument against a lead sky. 

There’s no fires there at this time. There’s barely any movement. Just still halls and the shuffling of servant feet as they try to remain invisible and unheard, mice in their own home. 

You shake your head and turn to Tetsuo. “I’m fine,” you say. “Let’s go.”

---

The muffled tones of a flute come floating out of your house when you return from the forest with a belt of wood and some mushrooms you found. 

The melody is soft and a little nostalgic, a sound both melodious and weary at the same time. 

Jin concentrates on his breathing, a steady, stable pace to produce the right notes, but then you drift into the house like a fluttering bird, carrying the winter wind on its wings. He can smell the promise of snow on the air as you flit by in a whirl of fabric and drop a few logs next to the fire.

“Oof,” you say, and you rub your hands in the soft glow of the hearth. 

Jin puts down his flute. “Are you cold?”

“It’s freezing out,” you reply, shrugging off your coat and shawl.

“I made tea,” he says. “Why don’t you sit for a minute.” He leans forward and pours two cups from a small pot. The wound in his side stabs in protest, but it no longer makes him flinch.

You hang up your coat and kneel beside him, taking the cup in both hands and breathing in the fragrant steam. 

Your eyes flutter closed and Jin watches as your face, flushed from the cold, relaxes into a smile. He carefully takes the blanket that’s draped over his shoulders and extends it to cover yours. 

Then he leaves his hand there, a gentle weight at your back. He can feel you tense for a moment, before you relax again and take a sip. 

“I made room for Kage in the shed,” you say. “Put some animal skins on him too. He should be alright for tonight.”

“Thank you,” Jin whispers.

“You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you.” You hold the cup to your chest, staring at the fire. 

“My wound is better,” he says. “And I still need to liberate this island.”

“And then?” The words hang in the air like a puff of smoke, drifting ever upwards but refusing to dissipate.

Jin quietly sips his tea, the warmth of it welcoming but edged with a hint of bitterness from the burnt leaves. “I don’t know,” he says. 

He moves his hand further to your side and finds that you lean into his warmth. “I care for you,” he finally says. “Always have. But you already knew that.”

You nod mutely.

“I don’t know what could have happened, or what would…”

“We are very different people now,” you say, and your voice sounds oddly far, a faint whisper beneath the crackling of fire.

“True,” Jin says. “But we’re here now.”

You look up at him and your wide eyes hold a sky’s worth of stars. That same spark he saw so long ago, buried but ever burning beneath it all. He gently kisses your forehead. 

And when you don’t pull back, he kisses your temple, and the top of your cheek, right beneath your eye. “Do you want this?” he asks. 

You hesitate for a moment, eyes searching the lines in his face, the scars on his brow. Then you put down the cup and let your fingers smooth back his hair, trace the line of his jaw. “I do,” you say, and you lean in to touch his lips to yours.

Flames lick at the logs in the hearth, a slow, burning heat that consumes everything in its path. It spreads an orange glow that lights up the inside of the hut, growing shadows from teacups and lining the two bodies moving there in a copper gleam. 

The fire simmers slowly, steadily throughout a cold winter’s night. It sparks and sizzles, breathing warmth and life into the darkness. 

And it burns, and burns, through that night, until all that’s left in the cold light of morning is a faint glow drawn from spent wood, and soft breaths under layers of blankets.

[lanaevyssmoved]

helloooo Afhiri sounds SO lovely. can you tell me more about how they feel at the start of act 1 about her predicament with the tadpoles, her companions, etc etc if you want!!

it might be cruel to say that they're pretty damn simple . actually no its not ive decided theyre pretty damn simple. literally wakes up and has a panic attack because where is flute?? where flute?? WHERE. FLU TE? flute was no where to be seen (depression). a very sad clown exploring this ship literally with minimum interest because flute :( flute :( this is a child who has lost their autistic hyperfixation toy.

lae'zel is hot. the sword scene is hot. hiri has immediate gay panic and forgets flute for 2 whole seconds. asks lae'zel if seen flute. lae'zel doesn't even know what a flute is.. smh. sticks around because was told to. does whats told (for now........ ominous.) so to start lae'zel is literally party lead this clown is NOT a protagonist (for now...... no im not making that joke twice)

SHADOWHEART IS HOT... absolutely ignores lae'zel to free shadowheart. literally dumbass tries to pull the door off. lae'zel ends up being the one like "maybe u should look around if u INSIST on saving this HALF ELF." frees shadowheart :) oh my god you have an autistic hyperfixation too?? your rock is so cool!!!!!!!

the flute is not rescued. please F's in chat for the lost flute of afhiri's childhood. her father made her that flute and it's DEAD. AND THERE WASN'T EVEN TIME FOR A FUNERAL.

the first thing they do after hoarding all of the fish on the beach like a little goblin creature is find gale's portal. shiny. Oh My God is that an arm without a body? that is Soooo cool...... high fives. they free him of course!!! used bard Magicks to calm that shit down and free the silly man. she finds him SOOO silly. he is such a silly little guy. his lil expressions and hand movements are SO funny. she wants to get acting classes from him so she can be just as funny and then she'll rank up in Clown. she's sure of it. (he is a clown to her. a truly excellent clown. there's real talent..........)

after that she gets knife throat by astarion :( not very nice of you :( i would have given you money if u wanted :( oh not a robbery? OH WE'RE WORM BUDDIES? friendship acquired :) they genuinely don't have any more thoughts rly at the start because he is mean and she doesn't understand its mean and looks at him stupidly like a dog who cannot understand the new word u just said. tilts head :)

their friendship stat is SO high all of a sudden. this clown has had NO friends their entire damn life (weirdo coded) and suddenly they've got SOOO many best friends oh my god they're so excited for the campfire stories hehee :)

next is oh my godd its the hot. gi..gi... Girlfriend? :) no its gith u stupid clown. get pied. ANYWAY tells the tieflings some absolute BULLSHITERY. this clown is So good at lying (this is a positive. their moral code is kinda messy.) and frees lae'zel :) shadowheart doesn't trust lae'zel but how can you Not when she's Also Green? I'm Green? You're Green? Da Ba Dee

after that its oh my god is that A GOBLIN? never seen a goblin before. finds them extremely cute. they're also kind of green (positive). and A WARG? can i PET IT? No? It'll eat me? bite off my hand? chew up my suit? this is supreme sadness. wait- flute still gone. that's supreme sadness. ALSO WYLL IS FUN!!!! wyll gives her fairytale hero prince vibes and is absolutely fascinated and thinks as a bard should sing of his tale because hes so cool (please don't trust them. they will make him sound like a fool.)

hearing about the spooky scary teeth-ling from wyll is super!! exciting!!!! a devil?? fought in devil war?? fire?? death?? epic story . we must find out more (not to kill. to talk to. must have some REALLY COOL STORIES!!!) very easy to convince wyll not to kil- OH MY GOD HOT?? HOT? ?? literally hot. this is the most Supreme Gay Panic. afhiri never thought about girls (or boys) like this before. none of the Lads give the Panik.. but these girls are a little too much (fainting vibes) also karlach is so fun :) daydreams about karlach throwing her like a javelin into battle

the tadpole though :/ they don't know!! everyone keeps saying. bad! evil! bad! removal! death! kill! and they're like :/ idk guys.. worms are kinda cute. u ever seen a worm do a lil wiggle on some mud? its so cool.. i wish i was a worm..... everyone is concerned. do not trust them with decisions (they trust them with decisions. they are All stupid.) they name the worm. the worm is named little buddy. it's not creative. it's not a name. but this is Little Buddy and she talks to her little buddy sometimes. she even wrote it a song. (she doesn't consume more little buddies. that's weird.. this is HER little buddy and those are OTHER little buddies. there's only one little buddy for her....)

extra: GUARDIAN. oooohhhhh my god .. never seen someone soooooo CLOWN. (this is false. guardian looks nothing like a clown. theyre projecting HARD. guardian plays along because this is clearly going to work better than being Hot and Mysterious). trust them explicitly (reminder: not smart), treats like another Best Friend like the squad. gets sad they don't ever join them in camp for her performances. does private performances sometimes :)

DOUBLE EXTRA: the possession.. of Flute 2.

a daring tale of (gale takes some of the squads money and buys them a flute. cannot bare to see the sad puppy dog eyes any longer.) AN INCREDIBLE ADVENTURE OF PERIL AND DANGER... THERE WAS GNOLLS AND GOBLINS AND MAYBE A BEHOLDER!!!!! gale.. an incredibly brave adventurer.. this is going in his next song

[flightfoot]

Adrichat Hell - Day 30 - Wedding

AO3

@adrichatnovember2020

Marinette still wasn’t totally sure how this had happened.

Yes she’d been the wedding planner, but she was half-convinced she was dreaming the whole time she worked to set it up. 

At first glance, it looked like a normal party. Balloons, streamers, tables with food (catered by a combination of her parents and Alya’s mom of course), even a turntable for Nino and a stage.

She didn’t know what the stage was for exactly. The wedding ceremony she guessed? Adrien had been pretty vague about why he needed it.

At least his reasons for needing the Mouse and Fox Miraculous were pretty clear. Using three Miraculous at once wasn’t generally advised, but he’d practiced while she was there to help, and it didn’t seem likely to be outright dangerous. Unlike when she’d used several Miraculous at once, he was only wearing the ones he needed, which should limit the exhaustion.

While she’d helped arrange most of it, such as setting up the tables, catering, inviting friends, etc., there were a few things Adrien had insisted on tending to himself.

Looking around, she frowned. Adrien had insisted on inviting Luka personally; so where was he?

*strumming noises*

Ah, must be Luka! Different guitar than usual, but he did have… some… variety…

Her jaw dropped.

Luka strode onto the stage wearing a giant top hat, a monstrosity of a green suit, blue sunglasses, and… was that a red rose in his lapel? Well she knew what Adrien had contributed to the ensemble.

“How ba-a-a-ad can I be? I'm just doin' what comes naturally,” Lukaler belted out, playing the guitar while he sang.

“How ba-a-a-ad can I be? I'm just following my destiny.”

...Marinette felt like she should’ve seen this coming. She didn’t know HOW she was supposed to see it coming, but she should have.

As Lukaler continued the song that she was sure would be playing incessantly in her head for the next month, many of her friends who had initially just stopped and stared, shrugged and started dancing instead.

Lukaler finished singing his signature song, abruptly changing it to “Here Comes the Bride”. 

Chat Noir approached the stage, wearing a modified version of his suit, turning it into a leather dress. Could’ve used some more color to it, but Plagg did what he could.

Meanwhile, Adrien approached from the other side, wearing the fitted suit Marinette had modified. Though she’d had to REfit it once they both realized that in reality, he’d still be wearing his Chat Noir suit underneath it.

Figuring out how to pull this off was a little tricky. They could’ve just had one be an illusion of course, but then they’d go POOF super easily, plus they wouldn’t really still be Adrien. 

The Mouse Miraculous solved the duplication problem, but then Adrien wouldn’t exactly look like ADRIEN, would he?

Ultimately he ended up using all three Miraculous - the Mouse so he could be in two places at once, the Black Cat so he could be Chat Noir, and the Fox to disguise that he was transformed using the Mouse as both Adrien and Chat Noir. 

“Do you, Chat Noir, take Adrien to be your husband, through good times and bad, through sickness and through health, through whatever trials and tribulations may await you, ‘til death do you part?”

“I do,” Chat Noir said, eyes trained on… wait, was Adrien seriously blushing? Maybe it was just an illusion, but… at this point, she didn’t want to know.

“And do you, Adrien, take Chat Noir to be your husband, through good times and bad, through sickness and through health, through whatever trials and tribulations may await you, ‘til death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Then I pronounce you-” Lukaler strummed his guitar, “partners for life!”

Chat Noir gently lifted Adrien up in a bridal carry, bringing him closer, the sun playing on their hair so they almost appeared to be glowing with marital bliss, until they locked in a passionate kiss.

Marinette ducked her head, trying to deal with the VERY confused emotions going on inside of her.

Lukaler launching into a song to the tune of “Biggering” about the importance of self-love and breaking free from abusive influences was NOT helping.

But…

Looking at all her friends dancing and clapping, having fun, getting together for the first time since Hawkmoth’s defeat?

Maybe “confusing” was okay.

...she still wanted to know why Luka just happened to have a Onceler outfit available at the drop of a hat though.

“STOP!”

Marinette’s head swiveled to the voice, along with the rest of the crowd.

A boy stood at the side of the stage wearing one of those Viperion costumes that’d been gaining popularity lately, complete with…

...Ok after this was over she was going to find whoever was making these rubber masks and try to find a way to make them less nightmare-inducing. She didn’t even want to know what her own mask would look like.

(Yes she did)

(It’d be great for pranking her Kitty later)

“Lukaler, Lukaler, my dude Lukaler,” Ninoperion opined (no one else said “dude” as much as he did; she’d have to talk to him about breaking that habit while in disguise, or else Alya wouldn’t be the only one to figure out his secret identity). “I have loved you from afar for so long, have counted every day that goes by without your presence, longing only to set eyes on you once more. I- I dare not to ask, for I am simply a superhero, and you? You are an icon, rising from the ashes, never able to be killed (as much as some may have tried) but simply reincarnating in a new form, but- would you marry me?”

What.

What even.

Lukaler strutted over to Ninoperion, gently cupping his chin in his hands, tilting it upwards. “I have been watching you too,” he purred, “You underestimate yourself, for I have always loved you.” He strummed a few chords on his guitar. “Let us make sweet music together!”

NOPE.

Marinette spun around, walking back home.

“Hey, where are you going?” Chat Noir shouted at her.

“TO BED. WAKE ME UP WHEN THE WORLD MAKES SENSE AGAIN!”

“Do you think we overdid it?” Adrien wondered.

Ninoperion shrugged. “Alya’s taping this, she can catch Marinette up later. In the meantime, we have a second wedding to get underway!”

@gale-of-the-nomads invented the monstrosity known as Lukaler, and I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I dunno who started the whole “Luka is Nino” thing, but I had to include it as well!

[xhanisai]

Blanc Noise - Chapter One

AO3 / FFN

Summary: 

It first began with the feeling of being watched and the flicker of shadows.

Then along came missing items being returned in the most odd places.

Soon it was the glimpses of blue eyes in the darkness and a silhouette of white that haunted her.

Marinette thought she saved him, that she saved her Chat Noir from the dystopian timeline.

She was wrong...oh so wrong...

A/N: Wassup mah d00ds! I hope you're all doing well and everything! Anyways, on tumblr, I made a quick AU of 'What if Chat Blanc comes back but as a ghost?' and it got lots of positive attention hence I decided to start a full fledged story. After all, I am a fucking slut for Mariblanc~ Big thanks to my good friend @/gale-of-the-nomads for the title name (sometimes, he has a good idea or two despite the amount of terrible puns he spews lol). Nevertheless, enjoy! P.S: The story takes place after the episode: Ladybug. Therefore, Maître Fu is still around, the love square is still going strong and Ladybug is not the guardian. Additionally, I've tweaked the timeline. The duo have now started their final year in collège in September (the events of Ladybug happened just before the summer holidays). Do I make myself clear? Good. Have fun! Song listened to whilst writing: White Silence - TK from Ling tosite sigure

~(x)~ . . . "MmmMhmm! That smells amazing! What have brought this time, My Lady?" The feline hero leapt to his feet, faux ears and tails wiggling with delight and pupils dilating with elation. Ladybug laughed softly at her endearing partner, sitting down on their favourite beam of the Eiffel Tower and beckoning the boy to come closer, wiggling the Tupperware in her hand teasingly. Chat Noir didn't hesitate to scurry towards her, plopping down on the spot opposite the heroine as she placed the container in his greedy hands. If he wasn't such a gentleman, he would have immediately tore off the lid and scarfed the delectable goodies down his throat like the alley cat his Lady proclaimed him to be. "Guess." Ladybug humoured him. "And before you ask, the clue is that it's a savoury dish this time. Don't shake it up too much." She playfully took it away from him and then placed it on the spot between them, grinning as Chat's face scrunched up into a thinking expression. Lips pursed, eyes narrowed and arms folded. Absolutely adorable. "Hm...it can't be steamed garlic prawns. You brought that yesterday." Noir mused. "And it doesn't smell like duck pancakes either." He added, scrutinising the mystery within the container. "You mean the Běijīng kǎoyā? Not after that horrible heartburn it gave you last week." Ladybug cheekily flicked his forehead, earning an annoyed grunt from him. "Geez no need to flex on the Chinese, Mlle. I don't know a lick of Mandarin." He tried to swat away Ladybug's hands when she attempted to poke him for making fun of her, chuckling at her mock angry face. "Okay okay! I'll behave- the heartburn was worth it by the way~ I started to crave for more days after, hahaha-" "I know SOME Mandarin, stupid!" "Insults and crude words do not count, My Lady." "Just guess the food in the Tupperware already or else I won't share!" Her threat froze the black cat comically. Chat quickly blabbered out apologies, clearing his throat and then eyed the container again. The sound of his stomach rumbling broke the silence, embarrassing the hero whilst his partner barely kept in her snickers. "Vermicelli rolls?" "Nope." "Kung-Pao chicken?" "Nah." "...wontons?" "You're getting closer," "Agh...okay from when I shook it, it sounded quite hard and crispy so..." He carefully shook the container once more, ears pressed against the cool surface as he tried his best to identify the treasures. Finally, an idea struck him, evident in the way his faux ears and tail shot upwards. "Aha! Spring rolls! It's spring rolls, isn't it?" His face looked like one who won the lottery and Ladybug couldn't help but coo internally. He was such a dork. "That's right, Chaton. Now, if you guess the correct fillings, I'll let you have some." Ladybug added nonchalantly, eating up the way Chat spluttered and the frazzled gestures he made, eyes begging to let him have the treats already. "Oh come on! You're not that cruel, Bug." He pouted but didn't attempt to snatch away the container. He directed his beady glare at his Lady, arms folded. "...La-aaaaady-bu-uuuuug..." He whined. "Just kidding~ Here, Bon appétit ," Ladybug didn't waste time, tearing off the lid and beckoning Chat to take some of the spring rolls. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of the delicious looking treats. The pastry was golden and crisp, the size of each roll were consistent and big enough to finish in three bites and the enticing, spicy scent made the feline salivate. And, they were still piping hot. Hell yeah, Bon appétit indeed! Without hesitation, Chat took a bite, unaware of Ladybug's anticipating look. . "Holy shit...I'm in heaven..." The teen blurted out, eyeing his spring roll with a tearful look, as if it was too beautiful for him to eat. He shoved the whole pastry in his mouth, moaning in delight without a shame whilst his Lady's tinkling giggles was like music to his ears. What a way to spend the last evening of summer before school. A beautiful summer night, a beautiful lady and amazing food! 'Yes, this cat is content for life,' He purred to himself, smiling at his partner as she offered him another roll. "Thank dieu you enjoyed it. I wasn't too sure if you were going to be keen on the secret ingredient I mixed in with the vegetables." Ladybug twirled her roll, cheeks ever so slightly flushed with happiness. "Is it that exotic spicy scent that I've been smelling this whole time?" "Yes. Maman's friend who's from the south-east gave her these homegrown naga-chillies. They're really, really hot on their own but without the seeds, they're bearable to me and make the vegetable filling taste so good." She bit into her roll as if to emphasise her point. She was blind to the way Chat Noir watched her with a pleasant, fulfilled smile. The warmth that pulsed in his stomach provoked his heart to skip a few beats or so- a standard reaction that the love of his life always gave him. 'I wish you would be mine forever...' His unsaid words were left floating in the back of his head as he nibbled on his food. The duo spent the rest of the night laughing, joking, exchanging bizarre stories without giving away their civilian lives and before they knew it, it was midnight. "Uh-oh...I'm turning into a pumpkin! Save me!" Chat Noir wailed dramatically, curling up into a ball and leaning against Ladybug. Her hearty laughter grew in volume, the girl clutching her stomach as she gasped for a breath only for Chat to join her with his contagious laugh. Soon, they calmed down. With the calm came the thoughts. The crescent of the moon shone like a beacon. The temperature of the summer air started to cool and the beautiful city lights below shone like diamonds. The two were hesitant to leave, wanting to prolong their last summer night. The older of two wanted to spend as much time as he wanted with the girl he loved. The younger on the other hand? She wanted to keep him happy and close. After all, She would rather die than fail her partner again and let him be akumatised. Little did she know how potent her sadness was. The atmosphere turned tense in a flip of a switch, sending shivers down Chat's spine and he was quick to glance at his now, forlorn looking Lady. As if they didn't just have a laughing fit and a mini picnic. It was that damn empty, distant looking face again. The boy under the mask absolutely despised it. He would do anything to get rid of it. "You know I'm always here for you, Bug." He placed his hands on her forearms, beckoning her to look at him. Ladybug refused to meet eye contact so he tilted her chin up with a finger, delivering a soft, sad grimace. "It's been months now and yet you wouldn't tell me what happened. Did you think acting more sweet around me would distract me from your tears?" The girl hadn't noticed her eyes were watering till her Chaton pointed it out and wiped away a stray tear. She knew he was much more smarter and perceptive than most would give him credit for yet she couldn't help but pray that he would leave her be. 'He's always been too good for you. You know it. I know it. So why don't you just hurry up and throw the earrings away so that someone else who's actually worthy of utilising the power can properly look after him?' "I told you, nothing happened. Just silly, civilian stuff." Ladybug tried to shrug him off, quickly wiping her eyes and trying her best to not sniffle. "Let's just go home-" "When will you stop lying to me?" The boy hissed out, tail lashing against the beams in anger and feline ears pressed against his dishevelled locks. His acidic green eyes pierced through Ladybug's being. A deadly scowl that would surely cause the blood in Le Papillon's body to freeze and petrify him. Ladybug tried her best to not show how he surprised her, keeping a poker face and swallowed quietly. However, with the way his hands were clasped around her wrists, she feared he could feel her rapid pulse. Why was it always her that caused his rare anger to rise on an occasion or two? It was simply not fair. How righteous his anger was towards her. A sudden gust of wind swept through their hair, ending the summer season and introduced the newly born autumn with a howl. It felt like ice seeping through their suits. Yet, the polka dotted heroine didn't dare move a muscle, observing her partner with a cool, neutral expression. Chat Noir hated it. He absolutely hated it. It was one of the few faces she made when she was forced to keep a secret away from him even if it took a toll on her body and mind. He felt disgustingly useless. "I'm fine, Chat Noir." Ladybug wiggled her hands to free them of his grip, bringing them to her chest as she glanced towards the city below. "Can we please not do this tonight? Please? I want it to end on a good note." Her wish was met with a defeated sigh from her partner, not flinching for even a split second when his tail whipped against a stray beam. An echo of his anger prior. Just as it was quick to come, it was quick to leave, thankfully. "I'm not give up on you," His resolute tone induced a quiet gasp from Ladybug, the girl herself cut her gaze towards him with parted lips. "But for tonight, I'll let you be." He didn't smile but...he didn't frown either. Reaching for her hands one last time, Chat Noir brought them to his lips. His bold, fiery greens never left her soft, steady blues whilst his lips brushed against her knuckles in a traditional kiss. Taking advantage of her lack of hesitation, he kissed the backs of her hands too and then brought them to his chest so that she could feel his fierce, beating heart. It began to lash against his chest when a light rouge tinted her cheeks. "I'm always here for you, always. No matter what, you can count on me to protect you." Then, with a determined nod, he launched forward and pecked her head before letting go of her swiftly and vaulting away with an impeccable speed. Ladybug remained frozen in her position, cheeks flaming until his figure became smaller and smaller in the distance. By the time she could no longer see him, she sunk to her knees, grasping her chest as her throbbing heart felt like it was going to burst out and explode. Millions of emotions ran through her body, fighting against each other as the memory of him kissing her head replayed over and over again. Like the sweetest of poison. Addicting but deadly. Despite the warm, fluttering butterflies, despite the smooth, softness of his lips, despite the comforting, protective touch of his, Ladybug couldn't help but have the memories of the other timeline flare in her mind like a warning sign. An unwanted threat that has never failed to wreck her mind. Biting her lips, she tried to keep her tears at bay, body shaking and pushing against the sobs that threatened to spill out. She was so tempted to run back to him and tell him everything. To care for him like the way he deserves. To love him like the way he needs. Yet the haunting, crazed ice blue eyes of the past invaded the temporary soaring feelings like a virus, eating away all the positivism and hope she tried her upmost best to maintain. 'You have no right to be happy...' An ugly gloom hooded her eyes, killing all her emotions as she staggered back up to her feet, using a beam nearby for support. The harsh wind clawed through her hair, ridding her trademark ponytails of their ribbons and blowing them away to the other side of Paris. Ladybug simply didn't have the energy to get them back, using muscle memory to swing herself back home. Her ribbons long forgotten. It was a cold, bleak September now. ~(x)~ It was quiet. Too quiet. Standing up from her crouch after detransforming on her balcony, Marinette immediately spun around and glared at her surroundings whilst Tikki hovered close. Not a single sound was heard. Not even the wind. Suddenly, Marinette's heart began to pick up pace as beads of sweat started to form on her forehead. The only thing she could hear was her heartbeat as she felt something weird. Her entire neighbourhood was asleep, evident in the lights out and the pitch black environment. The only source of light in her vision were the few lamp posts on the streets as well as around the park. Yet, she couldn't ignore the feeling of being watched. Not wanting to show fear at a possible stalker, Marinette took large strides till she was at the edge of her balcony, clutching the railings and scanned the scene with more scrutiny. One of the lamp posts merely flickered as moths buzzed around it. The trees simply swayed along with the inaudible breeze. The streets and roads remained empty. Not a single soul out. Marinette exhaled softly, eyes never stopping its study of her surroundings. She took a step back, tension leaving her body bit by bit, leaving an aching throb in her chest. The adrenaline that fuelled her veins vaporised. "I don't think there's anyone around, Marinette." Tikki whispered, clutching the girl's loose strands as she also watched for anything suspicious. "Can we go back inside? I'm cold." "...okay." Marinette glared at the scene from her peripheral vision once more, almost swearing that she saw movement under one of the lamps only to brush it off as paranoia and made her way back to the trapdoor. Since she wasn't paying attention, the teen bumped into her table, almost tripping over her feet but thankfully caught herself. "Eek! Are you okay?" The little Goddess freaked out, flying in front of her charge and scanning her from head to toe for any injuries. She was waved off with a tired smile. "Don't worry, it's probably just a little...bruise...?" A slither of red caught Marinette's attention from the corner of her eye only for her to gawk. There, on the railing of her balcony was... ...One of her ribbons. Inhaling sharply and leaping towards the railings, clutching her treasured ribbon, Marinette spied around the neighbourhood desperately like a hawk. Tikki's presence on her shoulders did nothing to alleviate her stress as sweat from palpitation grew on her palms. Her mouth on the other hand ran dry and she refused to blink. She didn't dare to tremble. She was Ladybug. Nothing should scare her. ...with her partner's possible akumatisation aside that is. Regardless, Marinette fixated her stare at the specific lamp post. The area where she brushed off momentarily. The light flickered back and forth whilst moths carried on fluttering around it without a care in the world. She watched. And watched. And watched. . Still nothing. Without looking away, knuckles white from her grip on the ribbon and her free hand cradling her beloved kwami, Marinette walked backwards, gingerly going down her trapdoor and quickly closed it till it was locked shut. . The silence haunted her all night. ~(x)~ "Ma-ri-nette!!!" Instantly, said girl was glomped by her best friend in a hug that would surely asphyxiate a commoner. Thankfully, Marinette was not only Ladybug in disguise but also trained vigorously in many of the martial arts by her dear maman. "Alya! I missed you! How was Morocco with Nino and his family?" Marinette leaned against Alya as the taller of the teens hooked their elbows together, leading them inside the school. "Girllllll I have so many scoops to share, so many deets-" "The million texts and selfies you sent me daily weren't just it?" "They barely scratched the surface! But anyways, it was amazing! I couldn't believe my parents were willing to let me go even when Nora threw a fit haha! I got to relax so much, spent quality time with Nino and his extended family, took so many pictures and tried so many different food. Ah~ Best. Summer. Ever." "Oh the food...I can't believe you shamelessly ate all of that without sharing it with me," The raven-haired girl teased, pushing her hip against Alya's who pushed back without a beat. "You wouldn't be moping if you came along, Mari. Remember the tagine you tried at the local restaurant nearby and you thought that was divine? Lemme tell you, it is nothing compared to the authentic, fresh tagine made by Nino's tante. One taste and I was in heaven. Absolute heaven." "Alya you're making me jealous, I get it, I get it." Marinette playfully scoffed but then her energy soon wore off and fatigue took over her body. Alya was quick to catch the tired girl as soon as she began to sway, perfect brows sculpted in worry as she eyed her best friend. "Marinette...girl...you do not look okay. I'm telling you this 'cos I love you. Go back home and sleep." The brunette brushed Marinette's fringe gently, noting the tired, dark rings under her eyes and the unhealthy paleness of her skin. It was as if Marinette avoided the sun all her life. "I don't wanna..." The stubborn girl whined but didn't fight back when Alya led her to a nearby bench, sitting them both down. "I've been missing you all too much and couldn't wait to see you all again," She admitted, earning a coo from the curvy girl and another hug. Alya's sun-kissed honey skin was a stark contrast against Marinette's pale, porcelain skin. "Alright then but I'll be keeping an eye on you, girl. I can see the effort you put into your cute bun and soft make up. How you do your eyeliner freehand without a guide will always baffle me~" Just as Marinette was about to retort back, the duo were engulfed by a surprise hug from the back. Neither fought back as the familiar laughter and soft, masculine brown arms were registered. "Babe! And dudette! My best girls!" Nino popped his head forward, in between the girls and squished their cheeks against his. "Heyyyy~" He waggled his eyebrows stupidly, his shit eating grin widening when his girlfriend burst out laughing and Marinette following with a quiet giggle. "Nino, g'morning," Alya quickly pecked his lips. To further his dramatics, Nino pretended to swoon and flopped backwards between the girls with a dopey smile. "Finally, a good lundi morning," Nino sighed with exaggeration, his girl still trying her best to stifle her laughter whilst Marinette fondly rolled her eyes at him. "I can now brave through these useless lessons and deal with M. D'Argencourt's bullshit rambles during registration. Oh how amazing the power of lo-oooove truly is!" "Oh yeah, I almost forgot that we won't have Mme. Bustier this year. Was about to say that I was gonna miss her but not gonna lie, she lost all my respect when you got expelled." Alya huffed, pulling Marinette against her like a worried mother hen. "To think that I almost had to spend my last year here without my precious Marinette~" "But Babe! What about me?" "You wish you were as precious as sweetcheeks over here." Alya blew a raspberry at her boyfriend, cheeky grin widening at his dramatics. Marinette on the other hand simply smiled, savouring every moment. The fact that there was a possibility that she would have had to attend a different collège for her final year without her friends made her quiver and she didn't falter in snuggling closer to her best friend. She's been through so much this year. Surely she deserved some sort of happiness. Even if she failed her partner at one point... Right? 'No. You do not deserve anything but pain and suffering you selfish, self-righteous brat. Because of you, how long did your beloved partner go through that hell? How many nights did he spend wide awake after destroying the world? Face it, you don't deserve him or your friends or any sort of love-' The dark, twisted, ugly thoughts and whispers that preyed upon her mind was quick to diminish at the sound of pure sunshine. "You guys! Hey!" Marinette didn't get a chance to look up fully as she and the rest of the small group was tackled by their loving blonde friend in a comfy, sweet hug. Her heart malfunctioned on the spot as all she could smell was the fresh, crisp autumn air that lingered in his soft hair and coat. Her mind rebooted over and over again at the feel of his strong, sturdy arm wrapped around her. Her lips quaked at the feel of his brushing against her cheek despite the gleeful smile he wore. "A-A-Adrien?" The model pulled back slightly to face the stammering girl, lips quirking into a silly but sweet smile. Not thinking twice, he pressed his forehead against Marinette's tenderly, their fringes intermingling with each other and their cool breaths hitting each other's lips. Adrien's eyes sparkled like emeralds and the aspiring designer couldn't help but be mesmerised. "Missed me~?" His nose was touching hers now and his pearly whites gleamed mischievously. Poor Marinette couldn't help but blink, blush already blooming in her cheeks. Dammit. They may have gotten much, much closer yet there were still times that the boy rendered her speechless! What's with the green eyed blonde boys in her life and making her heart a complete wreck?! "B-Bro...can't breathe...I don't wanna die!" Nino's muffled pleas shattered the moment and Adrien immediately broke the hug, snickering at the way Nino gasped for air and clutched a deadpanned Alya. Though, he took a seat besides Marinette and kept an arm around her waist, leaning against her as they watched the couple bicker and banter. "Enjoyed your holidays, Adrien?" Marinette began, playing with the fraying threads of her purse and peeked at him below her lashes. Adrien hummed, sitting up and then directed his gorgeous greens at her. 'Be still, my heart.' Marinette couldn't help but beg. "It was alright. Didn't leave Paris though and had too many photo-shoots. What about you? Didn't you get to go to Shanghai for a week?" Adrien's question almost went unheard as Mari couldn't help but be hyper-aware of the warmth of his hand on her waist. The way his finger casually tapped against it. The innocent smile he had on his lips. This boy was going to be the death of her. 'But you don't deserve him. You don't deserve either of them. Be lucky that they even acknowledge your filthy existence.' The eerie whispers clawed through her brain, her body begging to run away and cry. Yet, she forced her fingers to move away from her purse and pull on the seams of her navy pea-coat, smile never faltering. "Yes, I did. I really enjoyed it there. I wish I got to stay for lo-longer..." She trailed off, swallowing down any babbles or word soup as Adrien squeezed her waist as a gesture of comfort. He was being really sweet today... "I don't blame ya- all the pictures you posted online looked so cool. The skyline at night, the food, heck even your relatives! If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought that cousin of yours was your brother." "You wouldn't be the first to mistaken us as siblings," She giggled. "When we were younger and they came over to Paris to visit, some people used get mixed up between me and him. It didn't help that I had my hair really short at the time and wore nothing but blue and red." "That would have been really cute to see. Hmm, it also makes sense with how easily you accepted that Félix and I were just cousins instead of that weird conspiracy theory that Kim concocted up." "Oh I wouldn't say I accepted it too easily. You and your cousin are like mirrors of each other. It's insane! I thought for a minute that you had an evil twin." Marinette winked merrily, her giggles simply grew while Adrien rolled his eyes at her. "Come on. Not you too." His fake pout didn't last long and he quietly chortled alongside her. Just a smile from his Princesse was enough to brighten up his day despite the small fight he had with Ladybug eight hours prior. Yes, Ladybug was the love of his life. Yes, he would go to the moon and back for her. However, he would be an absolute idiot and horrifically obtuse to deny that his feelings for Marinette weren't as strong. With rare wisdom from his lazy kwami, Adrien learned that having feelings for more than one person was not only natural but also healthy in a way. It showed that he wasn't forever stuck on one person and it eased the pain of his Lady's rejection to his advances. Ladybug and Marinette were his best friends first and foremost and he wouldn't dare to sabotage his precious friendships. It didn't mean he couldn't wish for Ladybug to fall for him one day. Same for Marinette. He's still a silly teen; he could keep dreaming and fantasising! Till then, he was going to go with the flow and see what the future entailed. As far as he was concerned, his future was leaning more towards Marinette and frankly, he did not mind one bit. Abruptly, the morning bell rang, indicating that it was time for the students to head to class for registration. Grunts and groans were heard from the swarm of students in the courtyard, Kim's distinct "It's time for hell, bitches!" being one of the more prominent voices in the crowd along with Alix's curses. "Thank fuck Mari-bee was the class president last year and made sure that we got our class to be the same for this year. I'd have eaten my own hands if I had to deal with that one annoying kid obsessed with magic again." Nino shot a friendly punch against Marinette's shoulder and then wrapped an arm around Alya's waist as she led them to their new classroom. "Did he just indirectly mention that he'd rather have Chloé and Lila over Jean as his classmate?" Marinette huffed with endearment, taking the hand that Adrien offered to help her up. The sudden rush to her head caused her to wobble on the spot. Luckily, Adrien steadied her without a word, hands clasping her forearms. "S-Sorry..." She attempted to step away but the boy's grip on her tightened, halting her. Marinette glanced back at Adrien with confusion, cocking her head to the side slightly and lips pursed. "...you're not feeling well, aren't you?" A nail in the coffin. Adrien scanned her body from head to foot, frown growing deeper. "You can barely stand." "I'm fine. I just...couldn't get any sleep. I was nervous for the first day of school and also didn't want to oversleep." Marinette answered quickly, looking away from him. She didn't expect his finger to hook under her chin, forcing eye contact. For the first time, Adrien glared at her. Glared. He leaned in closer, bending down so that he could reach her height. "Are you lying?" Neither of them budged. The mutterings and chatter from the students that were around grew fainter and fainter until all that was heard was the classroom doors slamming shut and the echos of the teachers doing the register. Marinette wanted to quickly deny the allegation. She wanted to push him aside and run to class. She wanted to forget how she momentarily confused Adrien with her partner. Though, even the Ladybug could run out of luck. "Adrien," She began. "We're going to be late." Her stoic, cool expression showed that she wasn't going to budge, pissing off her friend completely. The model tsked with irritation, quick to grab her hand whilst using his other one to adjust the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He moodily led her to their class, refusing to utter another word. For a split second, the defiance and stubbornness in Marinette's eyes were a hundred percent identical to Ladybug's. He almost blurted out his treasured nickname for her. The annoyance of said stubbornness and refusal to accept his help grew stronger instead, causing him to try and forget about it and brood later on. What's with his treasured girls and their stupid reluctance to let him help!? . He wasn't aware of the horror that was plastered on Marinette's face. The girl refused to tear her eyes away from the main door behind them as a lone, torn up, dirty ribbon flayed in the entrance. A familiar ribbon that was most definitely not there ten seconds ago. When M. Haprèle closed the door, Marinette could have sworn... ...that there was a pair of blue eyes watching her right back. . . . ~(x)~ A/N: That's the end of chapter one! It's more like a prologue ish, slow chapter since we're building up- so bear with me, aight? I hope you enjoyed reading it regardless. I stayed up till 5am to write it after all :0 If this chapter gets at least ten comments, I will update! Till then, see you next time~

[yumeka36]

The Frozen 2 prequel novel, “Dangerous Secrets: The Story of Iduna and Agnarr,” is scheduled to release on November 3rd. A preview excerpt was just released via this article from Insider.com. I pasted it below, with my thoughts following:

---

THE STORM IS GETTING WORSE.

Lightning slashes across an angry black sky, soon followed by the crash of thunder. Waves pound against the ship's hull as I grip the wooden rail with white knuckles. Fierce gusts of wind tug my hair free from its braid, and damp brown strands whip at my face. I don't dare let go to brush them away.

Instead, I keep my eyes on the sea. Looking for her.

In some ways, I've spent my entire life looking for her. And tonight, my journey may finally come to an end. Unfinished. Unfound.

Ahtohallan. Please! I need you!

Perhaps she never existed at all. Perhaps she was simply a myth. A silly song to lull children to sleep. To make them feel safe and secure in a world that's anything but. Perhaps I was a fool to think we could simply go and seek her out. Learn the mother's secrets.

I do know something about a mother's secrets.

Another wave sweeps in, bashing against the ship's hull, sending a spray of icy seawater splashing at my face. I stumble backward, momentarily blinded by the salt stinging my eyes. A strong pair of hands clamps down on my hips; a solid chest at my back keeps me upright.

I turn, already knowing whom I'll find standing tall behind me. The man who has been with me almost my entire life. The man who has made me laugh—and cry—more than anyone else in the world. My husband. The father of my daughters. My enemy. My friend.

My love.

Agnarr, king of Arendelle.

"Come, Iduna," he says, pulling me around to face him. He reaches out, clasping my hands in his. They are as warm and strong as mine are cold and trembling.

I look up, taking in the sharp line of his jaw. The fierceness in his leaf-green eyes. If he's frightened, he's not showing it. "We need to go below deck," he says, shouting to be heard over the furious wind. "Captain's orders. It's not safe up here. One rogue wave could knock you overboard."

I feel a sob rise to my throat. I want to lash out, protest the orders. I'm fine. I can take care of myself. I'm not some silly girl frightened by the elements.

But what I really want to say is, I can't leave. I haven't found her yet.

If I go below, I may never find her.

And if I don't . . .

Elsa. My sweet Elsa . . . My dear Anna . . .

Agnarr gives me a pointed look. I sigh, untangling my hands from his, and begin stumbling toward the stairs that lead to our cabin below, on legs unaccustomed to rough seas. I'm almost there when the ship suddenly pitches hard to the left and I lose my footing, grabbing on to the railing to save myself. I can feel a few of the crew watching me with concern, but I push forward, keeping my head held high. I am a queen, after all. There are certain expectations.

Once below, I push open our cabin door and move inside, letting it bang shut behind me. The captain has given us his cabin for the journey, which I insisted wasn't necessary, but I was overruled. It's the only cabin suited for a fine lady, he protested. Because that's how he sees me.

That's how they all see me now. A fine lady. A perfectly poised Arendellian queen.

But now, at last, Agnarr knows the truth.

I ease myself down on the bed, reaching to grab my knitting needles and my half-finished project. An inappropriate task under the circumstances, but perhaps the only thing that might steady my hands—my pounding heart. I can hear Agnarr push open the door, his strong, solid presence filling the room. But I don't look up. Instead, I start to knit as the ship rocks beneath my

feet. It's dark down below, too dark to really see the delicate yarn, but my hands are sure and true, the repetitive motions as natural and familiar to me as taking in air. Yelana would be proud.

Yelana. Is she still out there, in the Enchanted Forest, still locked in the mist?

Only Ahtohallan knows.

Suddenly, I want to throw my needles across the room. Or collapse on the bed in tears. But I do neither, keeping my attention on the unfinished shawl. Forcing myself to let each stitch lull me into something resembling comfort.

Agnarr pulls out a wooden stool from the captain's desk, sitting down across from me. He picks up a corner of the unfinished shawl, running his large fingers across the tiny stitches. I dare to sneak a peek at him, realizing his eyes have become soft and faraway.

"This is the same pattern," he says slowly. And I know what he means without asking. Because of course it is. I hadn't even realized it when I started, but of course it is.

The same pattern as the shawl my mother knitted me when I was a baby.

The shawl that saved his life.

"It's an old Northuldra pattern," I explain, surprised how easily the words leave my mouth now that the truth is known. "Belonging to my family." I pick up his hand and place it on each symbol in turn. "Earth, fire, water, wind." I pause on the wind symbol, thinking back to

Gale. "It was the Wind Spirit who helped me save your life that day in the forest."

He gives a low whistle. "A wind spirit! If only I'd known," he says, reaching up to brush his thumb gently across my cheek. Even after all these years, his touch still sparks a longing ache deep inside, and it's an imperative, not an option, to drop my needles to return the gesture. To run my fingers against the light stubble of his jaw. "It would have made my stories to the girls so much more interesting."

I smile at this. I can't help it. He has always found a way to help me find sunshine amidst the gloomiest of days. It's strange, though, to realize he knows everything now. After a lifetime overshadowed with secrets, it should feel freeing.

But in truth, it still scares me a little, and I find myself glancing at him when he doesn't know I'm looking. Trying to see, trying to know whether the truth has changed his feelings toward me. Does he resent me for keeping so much from him for so long? Or does he truly understand why I did it? If we survive this night, how will things change between us? Will the truth bring us closer together? Or tear us apart?

Only Ahtohallan knows. . . .

I reach out and take Agnarr's hands in mine, meeting his deep green eyes with my blue ones. I swallow down the lump in my throat that threatens to choke me, and force another smile.

"I will never forget that day," I start with a whisper, not sure he can even hear me over the tempest outside. "That horrible, wonderful day."

"Tell me," he whispers back, leaning in close. I can feel his breath on my lips. Our faces are inches away. "Tell me everything."

I swallow all the words that threaten to jump out of my throat in a hurried rush, throwing myself back on the bed, staring up at the wooden-beamed ceiling. After I breathe calmly, I say, "That might take all night."

He crawls onto the bed, lying down next to me. He reaches out and curls his hand into mine. "For you, I've got forever."

I swallow hard, tears welling in my eyes. I want to protest: we don't have forever. Or even all night. We may not have an hour, judging from the way the wooden beams of the ship are creaking and cracking. But at the same time, it doesn't matter. It's time. It's long past time. He deserves to know everything.

I swipe the tears away, rolling to my side and propping my head up with my elbow. "You have to tell your part, too," I say. "This story isn't only mine, you know."

His arm curls around my waist, his hand settling at the small of my back as he tugs me closer to him. He's so warm. How is it possible that he's still so warm? "I think I can manage that," he says with a small smile. "But you must start. It all began with you, after all."

"All right," I say, resting my head on his chest, his steady heartbeat against my ear. I close my eyes, trying to decide where to begin. So much has happened over the years. But there is that one day. One fateful day that changed the course of both our lives forever.

I open my eyes. "It all starts with the wind," I say. "My dear friend Gale."

As I speak, the words begin to course through me like the forbidding waters roiling outside. And like the waters, I will finally make myself heard.

Agnarr will listen.

He's always been the storyteller in our family. But not this time. Now it's my turn to tell the tale.

---

What stood out to me:

- It seems like Iduna revealed her past to Agnarr around the time they set sail for Ahtohallan, not the night of the accident with Elsa’s magic as Jennifer Lee, and I believe other sources, have implied. Of course, with “spin-off” content like this where the original creators aren’t involved, there’s bound to be inconsistencies. But Jen never stated that the time of Iduna’s reveal was definitely the night of the accident, only that she believes it’s that night though it could have been another night (I think this was part of the podcast interview she did several months ago). So yeah, the exact night it happened isn’t terribly relevant.

- This excerpt also reveals that Iduna revealed some of the truth to Agnarr early on, but then reveals everything in detail during their last moments before the ship goes down. So maybe she did reveal some of it the night of the accident but not all? We’ll see.

- Iduna knew Yelena. That makes sense considering Yelena’s age and the importance she seems to have in the Northuldra tribe.

- Iduna uses feminine pronouns for Ahtohallan, reinforcing the theory in my Frozen 2 book that Ahtohallan was viewed as a goddess of sorts in Northuldra culture

- Iduna also calls the wind spirit “Gale.” Obviously we all thought that was the name Olaf gave her but apparently Iduna did as well. Coincidence?

- The book is written in first-person perspective from Iduna’s point of view, unlike the previous adult-aimed Frozen books “A Frozen Heart” and “Forest of Shadows” which are written in second/third-person.

- Iduna was in the process of knitting another scarf while on the ship. I wonder why.

- The cover art for the book changed slightly from the original version, with the main image in the center being of Iduna and Agnarr when they’re younger instead of when they’re king and queen.

- I’m curious as to what kind of order the book will present the events of the timeline. Obviously this excerpt is from the end of Iduna and Agnarr’s lives, so will it start here and show everything else via flashbacks? Seems weird they’d choose the end of the book for this preview so my guess is that things will be revealed out of order.

[flowerbloom-arts]

A rather unneeded apology, don't you think?

Progress shots and thought process below the cut (warning, it gets heavy on pshycological analytical nonsense and spoilers for Exploits of Moominpappa/'s Memoirs, and it's really long):

Ah yes, Muddler angst, something that should be one too many yet you can't quite get enough of it-

So it all started with this little metaphor from this post I made a while back and I thought "Hmm... I should really make a follow-up for that!" so I did, and here it is.

This was originally gonna be a lineless painting but then when I started to do that I thought about how much of a drag it would be and scrapped that for my regular style but with cooler shading and coloring. I'm happy with it, it's been a while since I've done a full illustration and I'm proud that I managed to make this in like... (Checks timer on my drawing app) 2 hours and 25 minutes? Huh.

Anyway, this whole illustration is more or less just a metaphor going on in Muddler's head when he's cracked under stress, it's the "boat floating on your own personal ocean" metaphor like the post I linked above, it is indeed a constantly raging sea of stress and change and mental/lifestyle instability that's going on in Muddler's head and he's on a houseboat floating on it trying to balance and protect itself from the tides. It's always rocking back and forth but it's been doing that all the time for so long that it barely registers for him anymore, so he's living in this unnerving calm where the calm is not serenity perse but a lack of terror, yet, sometimes that raging sea manages to break through a window or two and flood the place as a good reminder that he isn't immune, he can and will drown for as long as things are like this.

The sea isn't a place of good memories for Muddler in either version of the book, like, the sea is so big that it's general emptiness on the horizon tickles his eyes. Before that he painted the boat red and got it all over himself and then painted his tin with the leftover paint, needless to say he had a rather traumatic night where the paint never dried and it got all over his food and bed and whiskers which drove him insane (or plume crazy I should say). He also had a rough time in his tin while packing for the riverboat and being swept away by the flood caused by Edward the Booble, he said his nerves (and his button collection) were all unsorted after the rest of the crew managed to get the tin on board. Then other stuff happens- an awful Hemulen Aunt boarding the ship (he literally wished death upon her, a rather extreme gesture especially for Muddler), the Hemulen Aunt being taken away by the Niblings (and the ensuing guilt he felt when he felt that it was his fault since he wished for her to be eaten), a rough and sticky night, being the first to realise the boat was setting off to sea unintentionally in the middle of the night, having to sit through a gale in which he got very sick- and that's just stuff that happened on the boat! He also had to suffer the likes of the revenge of the forgotten bones! The Ghost painted Muddler's tin and he cried about it, thinking it's a warning sign that he'll never marry! And he's the only one who was legitimately terrified of the Ghost, imagine being one of like, a 4 person friend group and being the only one scared of a real scary thing that directly affected you in one of the worst ways possible- vandalism of your own home. And don't even get me started on the fact that he lost his parents during spring cleaning and still believes they're alive.

With that being said, I believe we all understand that Muddler has been through alot, he had a revelation that adventures cause nothing but trouble for the poor guy in the middle of the book. And seeing how he cried at the idea of never getting married, we can presume he just wants a normal life after that. Thankfully, Fuzzy provided that through marriage and kids, even though they lost one of them by accident.

Now with this in mind, I have implemented a few elements from the book into the illustration. I've also followed some color-coding rules I've made up for myself;

Blue=Safety and comfort (Hodgkins is his uncle and is canonically blue-colored for the most part, not to mention that his Maxwell House Coffee tin is blue aswell, both are sources of safety for Muddler)

Green=Protection (Joxter is usually depicted in a green dress/hat, he stood up for Muddler atleast twice in the book and we can presume these weren't the only times he does it. Joxter is rather confident in his abilities despite being lazy and Muddler would rather admire that)

Yellow=Achievement/accomplishment (nothing much here, just uhh... Gold is yellow-ish and gold usually means you've accomplished something)

Red=Stress/general negativity (This is mostly coming from the red paint incident)

I've also added some small references and details. I've avoided using the ruler tool on my lineart to give it less solid feel to the backround and everything, showing how it's not supposed to be a full representation of reality, the pictures being faceless also adds to that. I drew an interpretation of the Muddler and Fuzzy wedding photo found in the moomin theme park, the gold medal on Hodgkins' portrait says "you helped" and it's supposed to be the medal that Hodgkins said Muddler deserved for helping him figure out the propeller (accidentally) in the Exploits version and I like to think he has that thought always in the back of his mind as one of the few times he's felt genuinely useful since he got so happy from it. Oh! And the picture almost completely hidden by the curtains is a portrait of his father and that's Joxter at the bottom looking like he's peeking over the curtain when really he's not. The curtains are green because they protect him from the red outside world, the suit and yellow dead flowers being darkly colored are supposed to represent a sense of meaninglessness or general distain, the red liquid is supposed to be red paint, not blood aaaaaaand the window is a slight shade of blue with a screen overlay.

"Apologies for being weak-minded" is supposed to be a rather insincere but tired quote from Muddler, he doesn't really want to apologise for cracking under pressure and having a literal breakdown but he feels like he has to because I think he just feels like a nuisance alot of the time and being so negatively emotional just makes things worse, so he has to come up with an apology rather than tell the person he's talking to the reason why he broke down, and belittling his own feelings by calling himself weak-minded. He knows himself to be "too" sensitive.

Anyway, that was too long a ramble. Just know that I'm not trying to take myself too seriously here, it's a silly amount of thought put into this but eh, I enjoyed it, and I thought you might want to read about it and if you made this far; thank you.