#hopefully the stuff being under a cut makes it bearable

[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 11

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

‘Why not?’ Nicaise said. He looked past Damen towards Laurent’s chamber. ‘What happened? Is he all right?’

context: nicaise was coming to warn laurent.

More silence. There was obviously something on Nicaise’s mind, and he wouldn’t leave until he said it. Eventually: ‘Don’t tell him I came.’

context: ow

‘You can tell the Prince that,’ said Damen, ‘after you tell him you let through the Regent’s pet.’ That got a flicker of reaction. Invoking Laurent’s bad mood was like a magical key, unlocking the most forbidding doors.

pretty sure that’s invoking the regent, not laurent

He had somehow expected to see the quilted covering, darkened by sweat or blood—some sign of what had happened—but there was nothing. He looked up at the place where Laurent had stood and watched him.There was no reason to have laced Laurent’s drink with that particular drug if the intent had been only to incapacitate. Rape, therefore, was to have preceded murder.

even in the place where laurent tortured him, damen has a moment of concern for him. but still he goes, which i think is the right call, given the information damen currently has. laurent hasn’t yet proven himself trustworthy to damen or a first-time reader. and independent from laurent, damen has his own character arc that requires an escape attempt for its development. 

In a court like this, Laurent could simply summon a pet to help relieve him of his difficulties.

damen you know he wouldn’t. stop lying to yourself and own the fact that you’re abandoning him while he’s vulnerable

He was thankful that the men on the palace rooves were gone, and the patrols were not yet out. The patrols were out. What rankled the most was that Laurent had been right.

more than being recaptured? yeah that tracks

‘Move and die,’ said the soldier in charge. Which was an apt summary.

Jord said, ‘The Prince is before the Council. Your orders are an hour old. Kill the slave, and you’ll be the next one with your head on the block.’

context: laurent knew that he (as in laurent) was right, and that damen would get caught. he has everything to gain from throwing damen under the bus, using this escape attempt as a means to recapture the court’s favor. but despite what damen thinks, laurent has a personal code of honor—and perhaps even more pressingly, a strong resistance to owing his brother’s killer any favors.

‘If he doesn’t lie with you, what was he doing in your private space so late at night?’

can’t two friends just vibe

‘Taken advantage of my innocence,’ said Laurent.

fuck, the context of this being implied by the regent…

‘Yesterday I brutalised him. Today I am swooning into his arms. I would prefer the charges against me to be consistent. Pick one.’ ‘I don’t need to pick one, nephew, you have a full range of vices, and inconsistency is the cap.’ ‘Yes, apparently I have fucked my enemy, conspired against my future interests, and colluded in my own murder. I can’t wait to see what feats I will perform next.’ It was only by looking at the councillors that you could see that this interview had been going on a long time. Older men, dragged out of their beds, they were all showing signs of weariness.

vere, land of yapping. and patriarchy! 

‘This defence of the slave bothers me. It isn’t like you. It speaks to an uncharacteristic attachment.’

context: regent does not want laurent to have allies. also, it will discredit laurent in the eyes of veritians if he is perceived as attached to their enemy

‘No one,’ said Laurent, ‘has more reason to oppose Akielos than I have. If Kastor’s gift slave had attacked me, it would be grounds for war. I would be overjoyed. I stand here for one reason only: the truth. You have heard it. I will not argue further. The slave is innocent or he is guilty. Decide.’

reverse card: laurent’s protection of damen proves damen’s innocence and laurent’s integrity, because laurent has every reason to hate him.

‘I,’ said Laurent.

genuinely blindsided. he knows the campaign is a death sentence

‘There. It is done. Come,’ said the Regent to Laurent, extending his right hand. On the smallest finger was his ring of office, gold, capped with a red stone: ruby, or garnet. Laurent came forward, and knelt before him gracefully, a single kneecap to the floor. ‘Kiss it,’ said the Regent, and Laurent lowered his head in obedience to kiss his uncle’s signet ring. His body language was calm and respectful; the fall of his golden hair hid his expression. His lips touched the hard red kernel of the gem without haste, then parted from it. He did not rise. The Regent gazed down at him. After a moment, Damen saw the Regent’s hand lift again to rest in Laurent’s hair and stroke it with slow, familiar affection. Laurent remained quite still, head bowed, as strands of fine gold were pushed back from his face by the Regent’s heavy, ringed fingers. ‘Laurent. Why must you always defy me? I hate it when we are at odds, yet you force me to chastise you. You seem determined to wreck everything in your path. Blessed with gifts, you squander them. Given opportunities, you waste them. I hate to see you grown up like this,’ said the Regent, ‘when you were such a lovely boy.’

horrific parallel to some of laurent and damen’s earliest interactions—“come here,” the kneeling, “kiss it.” they’re both captive princes.

also, that last line. fuck. chills. this is where i knew about the regent’s abuse, for sure, although i had suspected before. 

[yaspii]

tw for disordered eating stuff under the cut but I've been working with a dietician who specializes in individuals with ADHD and it has been truly life changing

I have had the hardest time stomaching food for the past year or so cause of my meds and sensory things from ADHD and it's only got worse from my doctor telling me to lose weight to the degree that I've lost over 30 pounds since April last year. I have tried so many things to make cooking and eating bearable but each time it's even more work. She initially guided me by trying to find foods I could always stomach that were easy to prepare. This worked for some time but eventually even the act of chewing seemed like a herculean task. At one point I just told myself to drink a glass of milk for breakfast because at least that was something.

When I told her this she immediately latched onto it and said we can work with that let's just make sure if you can't eat anything else that day you can drink 2L of this protein enriched milk and some specific vitamins. This pretty much flies in the face of any sort of nutrition advice I have found. That you need balance, that vitamins from food are better than supplements. But it only occurred to me once she put me on this diet that internalizing those things, while true for many people, did not help me, a person who in most cases can't get those nutrients any other way. I drink my milk, I try my best to eat a carb or two as well and some Chia seeds for fibre. And I feel much better than I did when I was barely eating anything, who knew! And yeah hopefully this isn't a forever thing. But I think I'll be set up for much more success on a balanced diet if I actually have energy and my mental faculties about me to go about it in a sensible way. Idk man novel brains require novel solutions and I've never felt safer with a medical professional in my life. She not only saw my unique needs and took them in without an ounce of judgment but she understood immediately that my losing weight was not a good thing despite being overweight.

[cowboy-anon]

▶️ Apple :D go make some applepie :)

(yes my humour is very broken xD)

I swear this was supposed to be fluffy and short, but it got angsty and long instead. It’s so long it deserves a title AND I’m tagging people! Today Apple bakes a pie and we learn a bit more about Benji. 🍏 I’m not 100% satisfied with it but it’s still pretty good.

I should probably also note that everything I’ve mentioned so far is basically canon, besides a few minor details. Like, yeah, Jimmy’s canon, y’all.

CW: Broken whumpee, clueless whumpee, crying, food, implied captivity, neglect, pet whump, referenced past loss of consciousness, referenced past punishment, referenced past whipping, Stockholm Syndrome, unhealthy habits, yelling

Tagging: @sideblogformindtrash, @unicornscotty, @milk-carton-whump, @happy-whumper, @whumperfulart (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list! <3 )

Apple Pie

Apple doesn’t think your humor is broken at all, although admittedly he doesn’t get the joke. At the suggestion, he smiles. An apple pie would be a great idea to win back Master Clay’s affections, especially after yesterday!

Of course, to get his ingredients, Apple needs Master Clay to go to the store, and to get his ingredients on Master Clay’s list, he has to visit Benji. Apple hasn’t even seen them since their unconscious body was carried out of the extra bedroom last night. Still, Apple knows that for the next week, whatever Benji asks for, they’ll get. That’s how it always goes.

So Apple moves to sit up, but the instant he does, his back flares with sore, stinging pain. Ow, ow, ow! He freezes, biting back a whimper as his shirt settles against the raw skin. The sting fades into constant but bearable discomfort.

This time when he moves, he goes slower, and the pain feels like less. Apple feels overwhelming relief when he makes his way down the hallway and the hurt is tolerable.

Benji doesn’t talk, eat, or sleep much after a punishment, and this time is no different. When Apple nudges open the door to Master Clay’s bedroom, they’re laying on their stomach in the dark with the shades drawn, illuminated only by the haunting light of the TV. Master Clay always moves it for them on days like this.

They’re looking at the TV, red-rimmed eyes staring but unseeing at the colorful reality show playing on screen. When Apple sees them, he kind of wants to go back into the living room and wait until Benji’s okay again. He hates seeing them like this, so sad and quiet and small.

Maybe this treat will help cheer them up, too!

Apple pushes the door all the way open and crawls into the room, careful to shut it quietly behind him. “Benji?” His own voice is hoarse from yesterday, too, so he clears his throat and tries again a little louder when Benji doesn’t move. “Benji?”

Benji shifts on the bed, just enough for Apple to know they heard him. Apple crawls closer and kneels in front of them on the floor. It takes a moment for their red eyes to meet Apple’s, but when they do, Apple smiles.

“I need some stuff from the store today.” Apple grabs the pen and notepad sitting on Benji’s nightstand and offers it to them. “For an apple pie for Master Clay.”

Benji shakes their head slowly. Not now, Apple. He can see it on their face. They’re hurting today. Apple feels bad for pressing, but he’s sure Master Clay and Benji will both appreciate it later!

“Please? It’s only a little.”

Benji looks angry and exhausted all at once, and Apple thinks if Benji says no this time, he might just drop it. But Benji just sighs, then squeezes their eyes shut.

Rarely ever does Benji take a punishment worse than Apple, but this was one of those times. If the deep, bracing breaths are any indication, Benji’s thinking the same thing.

Apple doesn’t know what they’re doing until they let out a long pained hiss.  Benji pushes themself up and moves around until they’re laying on their side and facing Apple. Benji takes the notepad, then motions with the pen. What do you want me to write?

Apple grins. Thank you, thank you, thank you! “Apples and brown sugar and cinnamon and a lemon. We need more flour, too. Oh, and ice cream!”

Benji writes everything down slowly, probably so they don't hurt themself more, and Apple watches mystified. Even though their hand shakes, their writing is still so pretty and swirly.

When they’re done, Benji peels the top sheet off the notepad, gingerly folds it up, and puts everything back on the nightstand. Then they settle back onto their stomach on top of the duvet.

From this angle, Apple can see the edges of angry red marks peeking out from the bandaging wrapped all around their back. Master Clay was kind to take care of Benji’s wounds like that. Maybe if Apple hadn’t tried to steal that apple, he would’ve gotten the same treatment.

When Apple looks back at Benji’s face, they’re staring at the TV again. He takes that as his cue to leave, being careful to shut the door quietly behind him.

***

When Master Clay returns with the ingredients, Apple is a little disappointed to find that he forgot the ice cream, but not ten minutes later, Master Clay passes through the kitchen grumbling about it. Apple’s pulling his ingredients together on the floor when Master Clay snatches his keys off the counter and leaves again.

Did Benji tell him that he’d forgotten it? Or maybe Master Clay noticed how disappointed Apple was and realized what he had forgotten! Regardless of the reason, Apple can’t believe Master Clay would drive all the way back to the store just to pick up some ice cream for him!

Apple feels a stab of loneliness every time Master Clay walks out the door, but it’s good that he’s gone. If he’s quick, he’ll have this pie done before he gets back. He can hardly imagine his surprise!

So Apple doesn’t waste any time. He mixes together all the dry ingredients for the dough and then cuts in the butter, careful not to overwork it before tossing it in the freezer. The apples are next. He cuts them nice and precise, and he makes sure the measurements are just right. Who knew that cooking show Benji watches would’ve come in handy like this?

Apple gets so into it that he starts to hum a little tune under his breath. He doesn’t remember what it’s called, but it’s soft and uplifting and he starts it over again as he lines the tin with the pie crust and layers in the apples.

Finally, Apple pulls together a streusel topping. It’s really easy, and it’s a touch of his own personal flavor since he’s not using the traditional lattice. By the time it’s in the oven, he’s forgotten all about his raw back, but he gets a harsh reminder when he leans up against the bottom cupboards while he waits. He winces and twists so that he’s leaning on his shoulder, not his back.

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until the oven beeps.

Apple wakes with a jolt, frantically trying to orient himself with his eyes. Right, he’s in the kitchen, on the floor. When he looks up, there’s a pint of vanilla ice cream sitting on the countertop, half-melted but still ice cream.

Apple smiles groggily to himself and eases onto his knees. It’s hard reaching into the oven from here, but he manages it. He uses a dish rag to pull the pie out from the heat and sets it on the floor in front of him.

The smell is heavenly. It takes all Apple has not to dig into the pie right then and there, because he made the pie for Master Clay and Benji, not himself. He barely ignores the way his stomach growls when he catches a whiff of buttery crust and spiced fruit.

Apple cuts a big slice for Master Clay and another for Benji, he scoops a spoonful of ice cream on top of each, and then he crawls over on his knees with the two plates and spoons in hand back to Master Clay’s room.

Apple gives the door a gentle knock before entering just in case Benji’s asleep.

“Master Clay? Benji? I brought you some pie.” Apple doesn’t know if he’s just surprised or fully disappointed that Master Clay isn’t in the room with Benji, but he supposes it’s a mix of both when he sees Benji propped up against the headboard of the bed. “Master Clay…?”

Benji shakes their head, eyes still glued to the TV. Not here.

Apple lets the flutter of disappointment go and instead crawls over to the bed, placing one slice of pie on the blanket and offering the other and a spoon to Benji. “I brought pie,” Apple says again.

Benji looks from the TV to the pie, and for the first time all day, a ghost of a smile passes over their lips. Apple can hardly believe it! He did that! Only as quick as it comes, it’s gone and replaced with a far more somber look.

“Benji, are… are you okay?”

Benji looks like they’re about to nod their head, but they must think better of it because they get impossibly quieter and more withdrawn.

They silently take the plate from Apple and break a piece off with their spoon. Apple’s excitement comes back full force. Hopefully Benji’ll feel better once they’ve eaten!

Benji is about to take the bite when their hand comes back down to the plate and they whisper, barely audible, “I want to go home…”

Apple doesn’t know what to say to that. How could Benji want that? With everything they have—pretty clothes and tender touches and everything they could possibly want—how could they ever want to leave Master Clay?

“You don’t mean that,” Apple murmurs. “That’s just the punishment talking. You have everything here. You can have anything.” At that, Apple feels a pang of something in his chest, but he keeps going. “This is your home, Benji. Master Clay—”

Benji hurls his plate of pie at the wall with a crash.

“THIS ISN’T HOME!”

It’s so loud and Benji’s voice sounds so raw and tearful, and Apple doesn’t know what to do besides bow his head in submission. So he does. Because Benji yelled at him. They’ve never done that before, no matter how exasperated or angry they’ve gotten with him.

The room goes quieter than it’s been all day. Of course the people on TV would choose now of all times to have a quiet moment.

When Apple dares to look back up again, there are tears streaming down Benji’s cheeks. Apple can’t think of anything to say, so all he says is, “Enjoy the pie…” Then he gets onto his hands and knees and crawls out of the room again.

Behind him, Benji’s silent tears turn to sobs, and they continue to whisper, “I just want to go home…”

Apple shuts the door.

[curechocolattymilk]

I am in a sorta rambling Skyrim mood again so if you want lists of my mods i have/want to keep for Skyrim Extended Cut’s release/want to get for a fresh save under S:EC uhh here you go??

MOD LIST IN GENERAL/AS A WHOLE (might be a long one)

Immersive Citizens - AI Overhaul

USSEP

Alternate Start

Cutting Room Floor

The Paarthurnax Dilemma

Khajiit Speak (disabled atm, only on for a Khajiit character I plan on remaking)

Wet & Cold SE

Static Mesh Improvement Mod (SMIM)

BarenziahQuestMarkers SSE

Immersive Patrols SE

Apocalypse

Ordinator

Horns Are Forever SE

Wildcat

Inigo

DigitigradeKhajiit_ArgonianRaptor

Falskaar (disabled & prob gonna be uninstalled. Wasn’t satisfied w the mod so i went back to a save before installing it that wasn’t too far back)

Run For Your Lives

Enhanced Lights & FX

True Storms SE (+Compatibility patch for W&C)

Civil War Aftermath

Hearthfire Multiple Adoptions & Custom Home Support SE

Derkeethus Dual

New Beginnings- AS Extension

No More Stupid Dog

D13 Faster Get Up SSE

Amazing Follower Tweaks SE

DWC Player Werewolf Replacer

Diverse Werewolves Collection

Dominions More Argonians

Immersive Good Boy

Skyrim Sewers

Convenient Horses

Fast Travel Ambushes & Consequences

Interesting NPCS/3DNPC (& with it, Cyb’s Overhaul) SE  Patches/Hotfixes

BAT- Bigger Argonian Tails SE

BS: Bruma SE (and patches)

Vigilant SE + Voiced English Addon SE

Cinematic Dragon Soul Absorption (disabled)

Shout - Immersive & Dynamic Overhaul

SkyUI SE + Flashing Savegames Fix

Destructible Display Cases

Dragon Stalking Fix

TK Dodge SE

Immersive Movement

Hun Lovaas & the mod authors other music replacer mods

Hoth

More Tavern Idles

Ultimate Combat SE

Library of Paarthurnax SSE

Dawnguard as vampire (didn’t want to lose part of my sould for the DG quest lol, turned right back into a werewolf)

Real Bosses (Light File)

Immersive World Encounters SE

Better Jumping SE

Kaidan 2

Race Menu

Miraak DB Follower + Dialogue Plus

Monster race crash fix (for the Play as a Dragon mod)

Lucien Flavius

Racial Body Morphs SE - Diverse body types & height

CWN - Civil War Neutrality SSE

Alt Conversation Camera

Guard Dialogue Overhaul SE

Deadly Dragons

Werewolf Feral Run

Bigger Tails for Werewolves

Predators - Werewolf & Vampire role playing tool (Lite version currently disable)

3DNPC Talkative Followers

Masque of Argonian Vile SSE

Talkative Dragons + Enigma Series

My Little Hatchling SSE + Adoptable Argonian Hatchling

Play As a Dragon

Growl - Werebeasts of Skyrim (I definitely recommend this for werewolf playthroughs! It doesn’t have Moonlight Tales’ features but its still balanced/fun & barely buggy in my experience)

Death is Highly Overrated redone 2020

SKSE64

MODS IM FOR SURE KEEPING/MAYBE KEEPING

To keep the bulletpoint list hopefully short: Patch/QoL mods that fix vanilla issues (i.e. USSEP, D13, SMIM, the like), follower mods (save for Miraak since S:EC seems to have something planned for him), mods done to tweak the Werewolf experience, combat & boss difficulty mods, Mods that overhaul NPCs dialogue/AI (guards, citizens in general), weather mods, music mods, & mods that make Argonians & Khajiit look a bit more fun are for sure staying! Any civil war mods I have might be trimmed off, debating on how S:EC approaches reworking the secondary story quest. That being said:

BarenziahQM - For the sole fact it makes that quest soo much better

Paarthunax Dilemma - a solid maybe? S:EC is also gonna do something bout this part of the Blades quest if I read their reddit post correctly, so I might just leave it disabled & see what happens first

Hearthfire Multiple Adoptions - yes pls let me make Tei a papa to every Skyrim also I need it to make Kaidan’s home available for the kiddos

Derkeethus - makes him a more decent follower but eeeh idk i rarely take him out often so it might be snipped itsa maybe

Destructible Display Cases- sometimes i’m too lazy to lockpick

No more Stupid Dog/Immersive Good Boy- Meeko is a good boy I should be able to tell him & also my kids + housecarls shouldn’t call him stupid >:(

More Argonians- I just like these funky reptiles (used to have More Khajiits too but it always would CTD at a certain inn w it installed. F)

Alternate Start- Makes things more spicy

CH- Sorta QoL for the skyrim horses, for sure staying

FTA&C- Again, makes things more spicy, but in the event of some group jumping you while traveling

Vigilant- Maybe?? It’s fun as hell but not really in character for Jeer-Tei. Perhaps re-enabled later as an end game thing alongside BS: Atmora whenever that comes out?

Shout- makes cooldowns more bearable so itsa keep

DSF- also a QoL mod

Immersive Movement + More Tavern Idles + Better Jumping + Immersive Encounters

AFT- big traveling groups are always fun/it makes it easier to horde keep all of Skyrim’s dogs

Race Menu + Racial BM SE- falls under “makes Argonians more fun” like some other argonian focused mods I guess? RBM plays around w everyones height and RM just lets you go buck wild (in a sfw way! unless...yknow you got nsf/w mods i guess) doesn’t hurt to specify tho lol

Alternate Convo Camera- Really fun!! Despite it pointing out how short my LDB is

Deadly Dragons- Makes fighting the Dovah much more fun w all the (honestly not as canon) diversity in looks & abilities! Can recommend, not too harsh on older devices either from what I know

Death is Highly Overrated

Play as a Dragon + Monster Race Fix- another hard maybe because well...you turn into a dragon which isn’t too immersive I guess?? Probably another “end game” mod for Tei

MODS IM EYEING/WANT TO GET (this post is so long so far I’m sorry)

Survival Mods!! (iNeed is one I’m looking at & maaaybe Frostfall?? idk i’ll have to see about that one i heard its not too fun for the Argonian gang) P much looking for something that’ll make exploring the wilds of Skyrim less of a bore

Camping + Hunting based mods! I’ve been eyeing Campfire & Hunterborn specifically, but open to any other suggestions. Same reasoning as survival mods, makes it more fun to travel! Plus, I’m going for an in character experience, it would fit Tei!

Khash & Auri follower mods. I’ve been eyeing these two for a bit, but from my experience w adding Kaidan & Lucien late game, I miss a lot of fun stuff D: So I’m planning on nabbing them for a fresh playthrough under S:EC (or at least, Khash! I uh...don’t know how to download mods manually/always mess it up & Auri doesn’t have the option to let Vortex do all the work unfortunately, but we’ll see!)

Maybe some nice armor mods?? Again nothing too heavy to handle but just to add some flavor(tm)

Saw a mod that made Animal AI a bit more realistic, might nab that

long shot but a mod that lets everyone refer to your LDB via they/them pronouns would be cool too but idk feel like it’d be a nightmare to attempt modder wise. Honestly i’d love the idea of having a mod or two that’ll let me confirm that Tei is trans themselves in game (3DNPC has a quest where you can say your character is, but that’s about it to my knowledge)! Buuut I’m unsure to search for any cause: 1) I don’t want to deal w transphobes ruining my searches & my day on Nexus & 2) Any curious google/bing searches keep bringing up Lovers lab & mmmm no thank you.

and uh...so far that’s the base of it? idk im still looking around & I might have to add/drop some things depending on like...how much my current computer can handle, Not grabbing any fancy graphics mods, that’s for sure lol

[allsassnoclass]

my only weakness (you know all my secrets)

I have had the great fortune to participate in @ashesonthefloor‘s Halloween fic event this year!  Honestly it was a blast and I’m super excited to see everyone else’s creations!

Event Masterlist

For this event, we all were assigned a pairing, then got to choose from a list of prompts.  My prompt was as follows: “You’ve told me three separate times now you have a vampire kink and I’m starting to wonder if you know I’m a vampire.” Or, pretty explanatory. One person is a vampire. The other has a vampire “kink”. (Can also be them saying they like the aesthetic, or trying to hint that they know and don’t mind. Literally do what you want with it) I strayed a little bit, but the prompt idea is still there!  Hope you enjoy!

Michael is having a hard time figuring out if the amount of vampire jokes and references is due to Ashton knowing his deepest, darkest secret, or if that's just his sense of humor.

Read on ao3

1.

The first time it happens, they’re heading to their first date.

Michael hasn’t really dated anyone since the 90s, because dating is complicated.  He doesn’t age.  He can’t eat regular food.  Going out in the sun is dicy at best and results in extremely painful sunburn at worst.  He shows up in most mirrors now, because they rarely have silver backing anymore, but pictures are a no-go because his eyes cause a lens flare.

The last person he went on an actual date with was Calum, because they’ve been friends for centuries and figured they might as well give it a go.  Michael wishes they could have worked, but it took some making out before they both agreed that, as much as they love each other, it’s all platonic.  The date itself was fun, but there were no romantic butterflies to be found.  Michael has seen Calum naked many times before, and while he can appreciate a handsome man, when it’s Calum it does nothing for him.

Ashton is very handsome.  He’s also funny, and passionate, and he’s got more than enough snark to speak Michael’s language.  He’s got tenacity and determination, and for some reason part of that determination got directed towards getting Michael on a date with him.

He didn’t have to work very hard.  Michael said yes at the first opportunity.

For the first date, Ashton asked if he could pick him up, so Michael waits nervously in his living room, listening to his grandfather clock ticking.  (He’s had it since 1733.  It was made specifically for him by the clockmaker, a parting gift because if Michael stayed in the area for too much longer, his lack of ageing would get suspicious.)

(This is such a bad idea.  Even if this date goes well, Michael can’t be in a relationship with a human for very long before his secret will slip.)

His phone vibrates with a message, and he nearly jumps out of his skin before he realizes that it’s just Calum, not Ashton about to cancel or spring a sudden change of plans.

Cal: have fun on your date ;) wow him with your Biting sense of humor

Michael: i hate you the puns got old centuries ago

Cal: you love them

Michael’s doorbell rings, startling him enough that he fumbles his phone and effectively cutting off any sort of argument he may have started to get into.  Michael stands from the couch, takes a deep breath, and answers the door.

Ashton looks really fucking good.  Michael has only really seen him in their work clothes, when Ashton is writing up articles about the local music scene and Michael is busy approving things to put on the website, but he dresses up very nicely.  His hair is artfully tousled in a way Michael knows must take a little bit of time, and Michael thinks there might be just a hint of glitter under his eyes that would make his heart palpitate if it still did stuff like that.  His shirt is short sleeved, showing off his arms nicely, and there are roses printed against the white fabric that match the ones in the bouquet in his hands.

Michael doesn’t know the last time someone gave him flowers.

“Hi,” Ashton says.  “You look amazing.”

Michael feels like he’s underdressed now.  He’s got on a black long sleeve, because the sun hasn’t fully set yet and he’s trying to cover as much skin as possible, and a pair of black jeans.  It’s a nicer shirt of his, something name brand that he can afford due to decades of saving here and there, but he’s well aware that his overall style leans more casual than dressy.

“Thanks,” he says.  “You look absolutely fantastic.”

Ashton glances down and smiles, pleased.  Michael likes that he can make him react like that.

“I got you flowers,” Ashton says.  “I hope you aren’t allergic.  It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I’d feel silly.”

“I’m not,” Michael smiles, taking them from him.  There are a few sprigs of lily of the valley tucked in amongst the roses and ferns, and he takes a deep inhale.  He loves the sweet scent of roses and how lively fresh flowers can appear to be even when they’re dying.  Maybe it’s self-centered, but he likes to think there are some similarities between him and the plants.  They’re not alive anymore, but they’re still going, and they can still bring people a little bit of joy for a few impermanent moments before moving on.

“I’ll put these in some water.  You can step in for a second, if you want.”

He had excessively cleaned the entry and living room earlier in the evening, paranoid in case something like this forced Ashton inside.  At least now he’s certain that there’s nothing incriminating lying about.

“Nice place,” Ashton says.

“Thanks,” Michael replies, already booking it for the kitchen to grab a vase.  Once he gets there he takes a moment to try to stop the slight shake to his hands and compose himself.

You are an ancient, immortal being who has lived through the fall of empires, he scolds himself.  You can handle one date with a cute boy who brought you flowers.

Ashton beams when Michael says he’s ready to go.

“I was thinking we could walk, if that’s okay,” he says while Michael locks the door behind them.  “It’s not far.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re actually going, yet?” Michael asks.  Ashton mimes zipping his lips.  The only information he gave Michael was that it’s going to be a pretty casual setting (and yet he showed up to Michael’s door looking like that) and that Michael won’t have to eat.  That’s something he specifically requested, making up a bunch of excuses about being gluten free and severely lactose intolerant and giving a list of other allergens a mile long.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Ashton laughs when he pouts.  “Come on.”

He grabs Michael’s hand to start leading him down the street, and Michael absolutely will not admit to himself how nice it feels, warm and alive against his.

They go through some basic small talk on the way there, touching on current work projects since they’re in different departments and learning a bit more about each other’s families.  Michael makes an excuse about his being in Australia and tells Ashton about Calum instead, and Ashton fills time by describing his mom and siblings.  It’s cute to see the way he lights up, seeming radiant in the light of the setting sun that Michael has to squint harshly against.

“Wow, you really don’t like the sun,” Ashton says eventually.

“What? Oh, not really, I guess.”

“I should’ve known, but I wasn’t sure if all of you are fully nocturnal or not.”

“What?” Michael asks, alarm bells ringing.  “Why would you--what makes you say that?”

Ashton shrugs nonchalantly.

“You know.  You’re just so pale and pasty,” he says, obvious tease in his voice.  “Definitely closer to a creature of the night than an early bird, I’d guess.”

He’s joking.  Ashton has not, somehow, discovered his secret ten minutes into their first date.

“Oh fuck you,” he laughs.  “Not all of us can have perfect natural tans.  I burn really easily.”

“Do you glow in the dark, too?  Turn fluorescent under blacklights?”

“Shut up,” Michael says, but he leans a little into Ashton as he says it to let him know that the banter isn’t unwelcome.

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

Michael doesn’t have a chance to ask what he means before Ashton is pulling him towards the doors of a large building.  He holds it open for him like a gentleman, and Michael misses the contact of their hands but appreciates having all of his senses free to process the new environment, which is full of a plethora of new sights, sounds, and smells.

“Roller skating?” Michael asks, looking around the large arena.  It’s dim, but his eyes adjust immediately to take in the wondrously tacky carpet outside the rink, highlighted in brief bursts by rotating colorful lights.  Loud music plays over the speakers, and in the arena people in small groups or pairs are making their way around the track.  He can smell fried food and various types of beverages coming from a bar in the corner, mingling with the scent of unfamiliar people.  He takes it all in for a moment, then dials back his senses to make it more bearable.

“It’ll be fun,” Ashton says.  “Willing to give it a go?”

“Definitely.”

They go get their skates, and Ashton pays for the shoe rental and the entrance fee.  Michael hasn’t been roller skating in probably around a decade, and he’s excited Ashton picked this as their date location.  So many date ideas these days have to do with food, the only thing Michael absolutely can’t participate in, but Ashton found something that will hopefully be fun while still allowing them to talk and get to know each other better.

“Ready?” Ashton asks.  Michael nods, and then they step out into the rink.

Ashton, it turns out, is worse at roller skating than Michael is.  That makes sense, because Michael did it a lot in the 70s and 90s and has gone a few times since to keep it fresh, and Ashton isn’t awful, but there are a few instances where he wobbles and his hand immediately reaches out to grab at Michael’s arm before he rebalances and apologizes.  Michael laughs at him good naturedly and does a few circles around him until Ashton huffs and Michael slips an arm through his.

“Come on,” Michael says.  “Once you’re used to this in about fifteen minutes, I’ll race you around the track.”

Michael wins the first race, but Ashton wins the second, although Michael is giggling too much for it to count, in his opinion.  They spend a lot of time making laps and talking, and Michael skates backwards to show off at every opportunity while Ashton dances to the songs that come on over the speakers to make him laugh.  It’s one of the best nights Michael has had in a long time, and by the time they leave they’re both walking slowly, stretching their time together as much as possible.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Ashton says when they finally reach Michael’s door.  His front light makes the glitter under Ashton’s eyes sparkle, and Michael technically doesn’t have to breathe, but his breath still catches.

“Me too,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So...do you want to do this again?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.  I’ll take you out, next time.”

“Okay,” Ashton smiles, ducking his head.  Michael catches a faint blush on his cheeks, blood rushing up to color them, and he loves that he sees Ashton like this.  At work, he’s always cool and level-headed, confident in what he says and strong in his opinions.  Michael has managed to turn him bashful, and that is possibly the best thing to come out of the date.

“I should let you get on with your night,” Ashton says eventually.  Michael tries to find some sort of excuse to get him to stay, but then Ashton leans forward and presses his lips to Michael’s cheek, soft and lingering.  When he takes a step back, Michael wants to pull him in again to memorize the scent of his skin and feel of his warmth.

“Good night,” Ashton says.

“Night,” Michael makes himself reply.  Ashton smiles again, then sets off down the street.  Michael watches him, smiling when he glances back and waves again, and continues to stand on his front stoop until Ashton is fully out of sight, even for him.

His phone buzzes as soon as he steps inside, and Michael pulls it out in case it’s something important or work related (or Ashton).

Cal: how was the date? or are you two still going…?

Michael: really fucking good

2.

On the third date, Michael gets to see the inside of Ashton’s apartment.

Michael took them stargazing for their second date.  There was a meteor shower he wanted to try to watch, anyway, and he found a good spot outside the city where it would be mostly visible.  Ashton likes being outdoors, and Michael doesn’t mind it at night, so he drove them out of the city, made the trek up a hill, and laid out a blanket for them to cuddle up in.  All in all, it was a great night.  Even the car ride to and from the location was amazing, because Michael told Ashton to make a playlist for it and they spent the entire time discussing favorite songs.  Ashton is such a snob about it sometimes, since he’s a music journalist and is always evaluating in his head, but there were a few surprises that he put on there simply because “good music doesn’t always have to be good music, Michael.”

Ashton kissed him on the cheek again when Michael walked him to his door.  Michael thinks that something so simple shouldn’t occupy so much space in his thoughts, but he’s been replaying it in his head over and over.  It’s a little distracting at work, especially when he gets one of Ashton’s articles to upload to the website.

They head to Ashton’s right after they both clock out.  Ashton doesn’t live far and typically walks (he really likes walking places, Michael has noticed), but Michael drives them so he’ll have his car handy at the end of the night.  It’s a relatively nice building, and Ashton holds the lobby door open for him, which counts enough as an invite to allow him to enter.  They take the elevator up to the fifth floor, then Ashton unlocks his door and steps in.

From what Michael can see, it’s a nice apartment.  The entry, kitchen, and living room flow easily together, and there’s a hallway off to the side that Michael assumes leads to the bathroom and bedrooms.

He can’t step over the threshold.  He hasn’t been invited in this time, not explicitly enough for him to freely enter despite knowing that Ashton wants him there.

“My roommate is out for the night.  I swear I cleaned before I left for work today,” Ashton says, puttering around the living room and picking up what looks like a stray sock, righting the pillows on the couch and straightening some books on the coffee table.  Michael leans against the doorframe and watches him.  Fluffing the pillows doesn’t really matter to Michael, but if it makes Ashton feel better it’s no hardship on him.

Ashton finishes, then glances around until he spots Michael still in the hall.

“Oh.  I didn’t really invite you in, did I.”

“It would’ve been the polite thing to do,” Michael teases.  “I’d hate to intrude, you know.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Ashton says, coming forward and taking both of Michael’s hands in his.  “Michael Clifford, I formally invite you into my home.  You are welcome here whenever you’d like.”

“A simple ‘hey, come in,’ would’ve been sufficient, but thanks,” he laughs, stepping forward.

“Absolutely not,” Ashton says.  “If you’re going to be vampiric about entering my home, I’m going to treat you with the proper respect, Count Clifford.”

Apparently the vampire jokes are going to be a thing.  Michael can work with that, instead of panicking over it.  If he turns it into a bit, maybe Ashton will brush things off longer.

“Thank you, mortal.  Now, I vant to suck your blood,” he says, exaggerating the awful stereotypical (absolutely false and insulting) accent.  It gets a laugh from Ashton, though, which is what he wanted.

“If you manage to beat me at chess, I’ll let you,” Ashton says.

Michael hasn’t let himself think about Ashton’s blood.  He can control himself very easily around humans, and bloodlust isn’t really a thing with him unless he hasn’t eaten in over a week.  He has a specific concoction that he picks up from the magic shop like clockwork, a mixture of animal blood, some herbs, a few drops of human blood (humanely donated), and whatever the fuck is the flavor for that batch, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely forgotten how amazing it tastes to drink pure, living blood.  It’s incredibly intimate, and Michael hasn’t been that close with a human in a very, very long time.

“Okay,” he chokes, once the silence has stretched on too long.  Ashton quirks an eyebrow at him, but moves to get the board games without comment.

Michael loves board games.  He loves all games, really, and he mostly deals with video games now to keep as up to date as possible (and because he doesn't have to invite friends over to play most of them).  What’s nice about games, though, is that they can change every time.  Michael has been playing chess since it was invented, but he’s never played against Ashton, and it’s going to be an entirely new experience.

Unfortunately, Ashton is extremely good at chess.

“What the fuck,” Michael says, king toppling after a five-move checkmate.

“Darn,” Ashton replies, faux innocent.  “I guess there’ll be no bloodsucking tonight.”

“Wait, I want a rematch.  I’m good at chess, I swear.”

Ashton wins twice more before they move on to another game.  They cycle through a few before landing on a card game from Ashton’s family, one that Michael hasn’t heard of or played before.  It has a lot of complicated rules, and Ashton walks him through it slowly.  If Michael feints misunderstanding more than necessary just to have Ashton’s focus on him, leaning close to look at his cards and explain the best moves, then that’s his business.

Michael doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Ashton’s stomach grumbles loud enough for him to hear.

“How is it already nine o’clock?” he asks.  “Shit, you haven’t eaten yet.  You could’ve had something.”

Ashton just shakes his head.

“I’m not going to eat in front of you if I don’t have anything to feed you, too,” he says.  Michael wishes it were possible for him to digest human food, because while Ashton does have a nice amount of blood he could tap into with permission, somehow Michael doesn’t think that’s on the table

“I have a weird meal schedule, anyway,” he says.  “I eat a really big lunch, then only something small late at night.  I really don’t mind.”

“I’ll remember that for future reference,” Ashton says.  “Although someday I hope you let me feed you.”

It is such a good thing that breathing is an option for Michael, rather than a requirement.  Ashton may not have any clue how what he’s saying sounds, but that doesn’t mean Michael isn’t affected.

“We’ll see,” he says, although there’s no chance that’ll ever happen.  “I should probably head home, anyway.”

Ashton checks the time.

“You can stay longer if you want.  My roommate will be back soon, but he wouldn’t mind.”

Michael wants to stay, but he’s not sure he’d ever leave if he did.

“I think I’ll go.  I’m not sure we’re at the “meeting the roommates” stage yet.”

Michael stands, and Ashton follows to walk him out.

“I had a good time.  Again,” Ashton says as they walk down the stairs.

“Me too, even if I think you were somehow cheating at chess.”

“Hey,” Ashton complains, then pauses.  “I was going to say that jealousy isn’t a good look on you, but everything is a good look on you.”

“Shut up,” Michael says.  “That’s not true at all.  I have made some bad fashion choices in the past.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ashton says.  Michael wishes he could show him the pictures from the 80s, as embarrassing as they are.  They reach the bottom landing entirely too soon, but Ashton walks him out to the parking deck until they’re standing next to his car.

“So,” Ashton says, squaring his shoulders.  “We’ve been on three dates so far, and I really like you, Michael.  Hanging out with you has been some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time.  I was wondering if you wanted to officially be my boyfriend.”

Fuck.  The smart thing would be to cut this off now, before either of them get too attached, because Michael already thinks it would absolutely shatter his non-existent heart if Ashton found out and thought he was a monster.

“Absolutely,” he says instead, because he’s an idiot who wants what he can’t have.  “These past few dates have been the most fun I’ve had in a long time, too.”

Ashton beams, like the sun breaking through clouds.  He has dimples, and Michael really wants to press his fingers into the divots.  He just wants to touch Ashton everywhere, really, to feel the soft skin and know that there’s blood bringing heat to it from his heart to every corner and crevice.

There’s something so absolutely tantalizing about how alive Ashton is.  Michael knows that he can’t be more like him, not even if he was actually alive still, but he’s content to have him near.  He’d be content to watch from a distance, honestly, but if Ashton wants him close then Michael is going to stay close.

He should not be this whipped after only the third date.

“Well,” he says once they’ve spent too much time grinning at each other silently.

“I should let you go,” Ashton says.  “I’ll text you.”

“I’d like that,” Michael says.  He goes to open his car door, but Ashton’s hand on his wrist stops him.  He leans forward and to kiss Michael on the cheek, just like the past two dates, but this time it lands a bit lower and closer to the middle.  The corner of his mouth hits Michael’s and lingers there for just a second longer than he can bear.

“For fucks sake,” he breathes, then slots their lips together properly.  Ashton smiles into the kiss before he can get it under control and properly kiss back.  Maybe it’s dramatic to say that this kiss feels like it’s filling some hole in Michael that he didn’t know was vacant, but Michael is a dramatic guy, and there’s something special about the way their noses bump and how instinctual it is to shift closer.  Michael doesn’t really want it to end, so he gives Ashton another peck before pulling away fully.  Ashton’s eyes take a moment to flutter open.

It’s definitely far too early to be in love, but Michael is very self-aware after being around for so long, and he knows he’s going to have to actively try not to fall head-over-heels for Ashton.

“Have a good night, Ashton,” Michael says.

“You too.  Drive safe.”

Michael keeps his composure as he pulls out of the parking space, aware of Ashton’s eyes on him.  He manages to keep it together all the way home, actually, but the moment his door shuts behind him he’s leaning against it, giddy with a crush and wondering what he’s just gotten himself into.

3.

Movie nights become a bit of a thing.  It’s a low-maintenance way to spend time together, and sometimes they’re both too tired after grueling work days or hard weeks to be around a lot of people.  Michael’s house has a pretty nice tv, and he has an extensive movie collection, including some horrible b-movies on VHS that Ashton finds endlessly amusing.  A lot of Michael’s favorite moments are spent snuggled up on the couch under Ashton’s arm or with his feet in his lap, watching the way the light from the screen plays off of his face more than the movie itself.

Ashton hasn’t seen the Twilight movies, which is almost a travesty.  Michael watched all of them in theaters with Calum, both of them weirdly captivated with how completely bonkers and inaccurate they are, and they’ve seen them often enough to quote them almost completely to each other at the drop of a hat.  Michael is tired today, and he wants something he doesn’t have to pay much attention to.

He sleeps significantly less than humans do, but that doesn’t mean that staying up for the past week and a half straight was a good idea.  He was also on his feet more than usual at work, and everything is hurting a little.  His body has better-than-average healing, but it’s also over a few centuries old.  Today, he’s feeling it.

Edward has just gotten the first sniff of Bella and looks like he’s about to puke when Ashton turns to him.  Michael is leaning against the corner of the couch, head lolling to the side and feet tucked up next to him.  He’s been looking at Ashton and letting his thoughts drift, and he should probably be more embarrassed than he is that he was caught at it.

“What’s up with you today?” Ashton asks.  “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

“Tired,” Michael says.  “My feet hurt.”

“I can help with one of those things,” he says.  “Give me your feet.”

“What?”

Ashton gestures until Michael uncurls, stretching his legs out until his feet land in Ashton’s lap.  He starts at Michael’s ankles, gently rubbing and then moving to the bottoms of his feet.  Michael jumps when he presses down on a particularly tight tendon, but it’s already feeling leagues better.

“I can’t believe you’re touching my feet,” he groans as Ashton presses a knuckle into the center, making his toes curl.  “That’s so gross.”

Ashton snorts.

“I don’t mind, but I’ll wash my hands after if it makes you feel better.  I just want to make you feel good.”

Michael’s face would be completely inflamed if he had the blood for it.

“Shut up.  This better not be a fetish for you.”

Ashton laughs this time, a full belly laugh that Michael would enjoy hearing more if it didn’t make him stop the massage.

“Would that be a deal breaker?” he giggles when he’s calmed down enough.  Michael takes a moment to evaluate if he’s actually joking or not, because he really likes Ashton and has loved being his boyfriend for the past couple of months, but feet might be where he draws the line.

“No, I don’t have a foot fetish,” Ashton says after a moment of Michael staring at him like a deer in the headlights.  Michael lets out a sigh of relief.  He can be adventurous about stuff like that, and he’s been around long enough to try basically everything, but someone being aroused by his feet will always be just a little too weird.

“Do you have any embarrassing fetishes or kinks?” Ashton asks conversationally.  “Just… for future reference, if that’s something you want.”

They haven’t done anything besides some lazy making out, which Michael is grateful for.  He likes that they’re taking their time with it.  He doesn’t want to rush this, but the thought has crossed his mind before.

He swallows.  Ashton’s alternating between glancing at the tv and paying attention to his massage, and Michael doesn’t know if he should be grateful that he’s not trapped under that gaze or upset that he doesn’t have Ashton’s full undivided attention.

“Nothing embarrassing,” Michael says.  “I’m open to a lot of things, but I really like being taken care of.  I’ve been told I can be demanding and needy.  Sometimes I like… being held down, I guess.  Nothing excessive, but…”

He’s an extra-strong, extra-resilient being.  Every time he feels like someone else has the control, it’s a special kind of rush.

Ashton glances at him from under his eyelashes, the blue-green light from the tv casting strange and otherworldly shadows over his face.  Michael swallows thickly again.

“I like taking care of my partner, so that works out,” Ashton says.  Michael nods.  Ashton turns back to the tv and tilts his head in consideration, putting his neck on full display.

“You know,” he says, “I never really was into biting, but now…” He trails off, then brings a finger up to his neck, tracing along the length of it subconsciously.  At least, Michael hopes that it’s subconscious.  The air is thick with tension, and if Ashton is doing this on purpose than he knows a lot more about Michael than he’s let on.

“It might be nice to be marked up a bit,” Ashton says.  He glances at Michael, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile.  “Maybe Bella had the right idea, going after a vampire.”

Michael snorts and the tension dissipates like a balloon popping.

“I hardly think anyone in this movie counts as a real vampire.”

“You don’t think real vampires sparkle in the sun?” Ashton asks.  “Darn.  What’s the point of vampires if you have to dump glitter on them for the sparkle effect?”

“You’re an idiot,” Michael laughs.

“I’m the idiot?  You’re the one who’s all the way over there when you have a perfectly good boyfriend right here who’s ready to cuddle you.”

Michael rolls his eyes and shifts to tuck himself against Ashton’s side.

“Happy?” he asks.

“Very,” Ashton says, taking a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over them.  It’s cozy.  Michael sighs in contentment.

“Do your feet feel a little better?” Ashton asks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“If you want to take a nap now, you can.”

Michael hums and seeks out Ashton’s other hand, tangling their fingers together sloppily.  He’s tired, but he probably won’t drift off.  He has all night for a power nap, and right now he doesn’t want to miss a second of his time with Ashton.

4.

The door bangs shut behind them, and Michael doesn’t have a moment to reorient himself before Ashton is on him again, lips incessantly seeking his and body caging him against the wall.  Michael’s own hands are already slipping under his shirt, desperate to feel the warm expanse of his back and pull him even closer.  He’s always run cold, even before he was turned, but right now he feels like he’s burning up from the inside out, flames igniting with every point of contact between them.  Ashton gets a hand in his hair and tugs, and Michael makes a noise he wasn’t expecting to come out of him.

Don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs, he repeats to himself.  It’s typically effortless to keep his fangs retracted and unnoticable, but he hasn’t done this with someone he truly likes in a very, very long time.  He can’t allow himself to get so mindlessly overwhelmed that they slip down.

Ashton detaches their lips to take a breath, and Michael takes the opportunity to trail kisses over his jawline and down the column of his throat.  Ashton hums into it, the sound reverberating through his vocal chords, and Michael nips at his throat to turn the hum into a groan, sucking at it again to ease the sting.

There’s a particular feeling of satisfaction at leaning back briefly to take in his progress, knowing that the blood is pooling just under the surface of Ashton’s skin.  When he returns to his ministrations with a slightly harsher bite, Ashton jolts, rocking into him.

“Fuck, Michael,” he breathes.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Michael asks between kisses, trailing over his collarbones now because Ashton never buttons his fucking shirts.

“Anything.  Everything.  I--” He’s cut off by another groan that dissolves into a breathless laugh.  “You’re so fucking distracting; get back up here.”

He tugs on Michael’s hair again, guiding their mouths together.  It’s easier than breathing to let Ashton take control, and Michael could stand here all night and let himself be kissed against the wall if there weren’t other things he wanted to be doing in the bedroom.  Still, he whines when Ashton pulls away.

“I know you don’t sleep, and I’ll keep up as much as I can,” Ashton pants.  “I can’t fucking wait to take you apart.”

“So do it,” Michael says, not able to care about how desperate he sounds.  “No one’s stopping you.”

“You’re such a mouthy little shit,” he says, leaning back in for a kiss that Michael feels all the way down to his toes.  They don’t part again until they’re in the bedroom and falling onto the mattress.

-/-

Afterwards, Michael watches, amused, as Ashton fights to keep his eyes open.  They never turned on the lights, but Michael can see just fine with his vampire eyesight and the early rays of sunshine beginning to paint the sky outside in pinks and oranges.

“Just go to sleep,” Michael laughs, tracing another mindless pattern onto Ashton’s ribs.  “We’re done.  I can’t handle anything else.”

“Weird to sleep when you’re not,” he mumbles, eyes already slipping closed again.  “Can feel you watching me.”

“I won’t watch you,” Michael says.  “I’ll probably fall asleep right after.”

Ashton snorts halfheartedly.  Michael rolls his eyes, then nudges Ashton onto his side and fits himself behind him.  Ashton sighs and relaxes again almost immediately, a heavy weight at his front while Michael slides one arm under the pillow and anchors them together with the other.  He gets a great view of Ashton’s sweaty and tangled hair, and that’s about it.

“There,” Michael murmurs.  “Now I can’t watch you.  Happy?”

Ashton hums.  He’ll be out in less than a minute.

Regardless of all of Ashton’s jokes about Michael never sleeping (he resents that he looks tired enough at all times for that to be an assumption), Ashton managed to tire him out.  He doesn’t need to sleep right now, but there’s no harm in it.  He lets the steady push and pull of Ashton’s breathing and the heartbeat he can barely feel under his palm lull him, and he drifts off soon after.

5.

“You want me to meet your family?” Michael asks, eyes wide in the face of this new information.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Ashton says nonchalantly, but the way he’s avoiding Michael’s eyes tells him this conversation is anything but casual.  He’s focused on throwing things into a blender, raspberries and peaches joining ice cubes and yogurt for a smoothie that Michael has watched him make dozens of times before.  Michael can drink smoothies if they’re blended enough, and honestly he’s got a bit of a blood hunger going on because the last batch of his concoction from the magic store tasted gross and he’s supposed to go in today to get the new one.  Still, a smoothie wouldn’t help with that, and he turned down Ashton’s offer in favor of a cup of coffee, wanting a warm mug in his hands.  He’s glad to have something to keep his arms from flailing at this new curveball, in any case.

Ashton turns on the blender, the angry sound filling the previously-serene morning.

He can’t meet Ashton’s mum and siblings.  He’s a vampire, and he’s already entirely too attached to Ashton as it is.  It’s easy to fantasize about revealing his secret and Ashton being okay with it when it’s just the two of them, but there’s no way he can get to know his family only to break their heart when he has to leave Ashton for his own good.

Michael can’t watch Ashton grow old without him.  He could do it for a few years, maybe a few decades, and he wants to spend as much time with him as possible, but eventually it would get too hard.  Michael’s good at running, and he’s good at being alone.  It’s harder to do both of those things with a family involved.

“That’s a big step,” Michael says once the blender stops.

“I’ve met Calum, and you said he’s closer than your family.”

“Against my will!”

Calum had insisted on meeting “the guy who’s got you wrapped around his finger,” and Michael had been powerless to stop it.  They get on like a house fire and Michael gets teased about five times more than he used to, but he secretly loves it.  Calum and Ashton are by far the two people he loves most in the world, and it’s nice to see them also enjoy each other.

“Michael,” Ashton says, pouring his smoothie into a glass and still refusing to look at him, something unfamiliar in his expression, “I’ve never gone this long without introducing them to someone I’m serious about.  They really want to meet you.”

“I--I want to meet them, too, but…”

Ashton sighs and finally faces him head-on.  Michael has never felt this small.

“Are you serious about us?”

“Of course,” he says, but it comes out more like a question, and he watches something shutter in Ashton’s eyes.  He turns back to the blender, starting to dismantle it so he can rinse it properly, always trying to keep the kitchen neat, and Michael knows that he has to say something to try to fix this, anything to stop the sad slope of Ashton’s shoulders and that hurt look in his eyes.

“Ash, I have to tell you something,” he says before he can think twice.  Ashton hums, and Michael steels himself for whatever reaction is about to occur, whether he has to bolt for the door or not.  “I--um, well, I…”

He hasn’t had to confess to someone in over forty years.  He doesn’t know how to do it anymore.  He swallows and tries again.

“I don’t really know how to say this, but… I mean, I--”

“Shit,” Ashton exclaims, something clattering in the sink.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks, and a second later the metallic tang of blood reaches his nose.

“Cut my thumb on the blender blades,” Ashton says, turning around and sticking the pad of his thumb in his mouth.  Michael stares at him, unable to move.

The thing is, Ashton’s blood smells really good.  He knew it would, because if he loves everything else about Ashton it makes sense that he would love him down to the blood in his veins and the DNA it carries, but this is the first time Ashton has split skin in his vicinity, and it’s more to handle than Michael thought it would be.  He’s hungry, and he’s upset, and Ashton is right there in front of him, bleeding.

He shakes himself from that train of thought.

“Are you alright?  How bad is it?” he asks.  Ashton takes his thumb out of his mouth to check, and that just makes the smell intensify.  Michael feels a bit of saliva pool in his mouth and swallows it back.

“It’s not too bad,” Ashton says.  “It mostly just hurts, but once the bleeding lessens I’ll put a bandaid on it and it should be fine.”

He goes to put it back in his mouth and glances up at Michael, freezing at whatever he sees there.  Michael doesn’t know what his face is doing, or why his posture feels so stiff, or what the fuck he’s supposed to do with Ashton just standing there with a bleeding thumb, and for a long moment they just stare at each other.  Michael forgets to breathe.

Slowly, like he’s coaxing a startled animal towards him, Ashton reaches out his hand towards Micheal.  A drop of blood drips off his thumb and onto the floor.  Michael couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

“You know,” Ashton says, low and calm, “you could help me stop the bleeding, if you wanted.”

Michael stares at him, not comprehending the words, when he feels two pinpricks on the inside of his bottom lip.

His fangs dropped.

“I have to go,” he says, scrambling out of his seat and hastily putting his coffee on the table.  He probably spills some, but he can’t look back to check, shoving on his shoes and sprinting out the door, Ashton’s questions echoing behind him.

Shit.  Shit shit shit shit shit.

He’s scrambling for his phone as he tries to unlock his car, tears starting to cloud his vision with the panic.  He presses Calum’s speed dial as soon as he gets the door open, tearing out of the parking space without putting on his seatbelt.

“Hello?” Calum finally answers.

“My fangs dropped,” he says, consonants coming out in that strange way they do when his mouth has more teeth than usual.

“What happened?” Calum asks immediately.  He knows how serious something like this can be, especially for someone like Michael, who tries so hard to avoid it.  He sniffles and blinks the tears out of his eyes so he can see the road better.  Calum’s house is close, and he just needs to get a few more blocks before he has backup.

“I was with Ashton and he cut himself on a blender.  I--we had a fight, or--I made him feel bad, in any case, and I haven’t eaten enough, and then he cut himself and I felt the fangs and ran out of there with no explanation.  He’s going to hate me.  I’ve ruined everything!”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Calum says, but it’s not like Ashton is his boyfriend.  Michael doesn’t know how to recover from something like this.

Calum tries to console him for the rest of the short car ride, stopping once Michael pulls into his driveway to turn an assessing gaze on him instead.  His expression tells Michael that he’s leaving much to be desired right now.

“Alright, Mikey.  Let’s get you out of the sun, yeah?  We’ll figure this out.”

He holds out his arms, and Michael falls right into them, letting Calum lead him into the house.  His fangs still prick at his lips, a sharp reminder of everything he ruined due to one second of lousy control.

+1

The bell to the magic shop digs as they enter, and Michael pulls down his sunglasses.  Calum got him to stop crying and gave him a bit of his own leftover concoction, because he hadn’t drunk all of it due to the taste, either.  It was enough for Michael to be able to get his fangs back under control, but it doesn’t stop how miserable he feels about the way he left, or the conversation they were having beforehand.

He can’t let himself be around Ashton if his fangs are going to drop like that.  He would never hurt him, he knows that, but there’s still the potential that he can’t ignore.  Ashton’s safety and comfort isn’t something he can risk.  Even if Ashton was somehow okay with him being a vampire, they wouldn’t work.

Michael has known this since the beginning.  He let himself fall in love, anyway.

There are three missed calls and over a dozen text messages that he still has to try to answer on his phone.  There’s no way to do that without breaking both of their hearts, but Calum told Ashton that Michael is physically okay and that he’d talk to him tomorrow.  For now, he needs to sort through his own feelings and calm down, and for that they need to pick up the weekly blood supply.

“Hi!” the witch at the counter says.  His name is Luke, and Calum’s been flirting with him ever since he started working there.  It would be cute if it didn’t make these excursions so tedious, and if Michael himself wasn’t currently mourning what is soon to be the end of an absolutely spectacular relationship.

“Our usual, please,” he says curtly.  Luke glances between him and Calum, who gives a beaming smile, then heads to the back storage room.

“Maybe it’ll taste less like shit this time,” he mutters.  Calum nudges him, but doesn’t get the chance to say anything before the bell over the door chimes again.  Michael knows who it is before he turns around, the scent and rhythm of his heartbeat as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Ashton freezes in the doorway.  He has changed into a sweatshirt, the one he wears when he’s having a bad day because it feels like a perpetual hug without having to be touched, and Michael is probably going to cry again.  Out of the three of them, Calum pulls himself together first.

“Hello, Ashton.  I didn’t know you frequented this shop.”

“Ashton!” Luke says, returning from the back with their order in a crate.  “Did you bring it?”

Michael finally notices the tupperware in his hands when he hands it to Luke, who opens a corner and sniffs.

“You know each other?” Michael asks.

“Oh, sorry!” Luke says.  “This is Ashton, my roommate.  I’d never eat lunch if he wasn’t there to bring it to me.”

“You’re the roommate?” Michael asks.  In all of their months of dating, he never managed to meet the roommate, even though Ashton has known Calum for weeks.  Weird schedules and Michael’s aversion to meeting and possibly getting attached to more people prevented it.  Luke looks between Michael, Calum, and Ashton, and then a lightbulb hits.

“You’re Ashton’s Michael!”

“How many other vampires named Michael do you know?” Ashton asks, and Michael reels back, Calum’s hand on his spine the only thing keeping him upright.

“You know?”  Ashton frowns.

“Michael, I’ve known since the first day I met you.”

“Wh--you never mentioned it!”

“I made some references, then figured it wasn’t something you were comfortable talking about.”

“Wait,” Luke says.  “You know Ashton is a minor deity, right?”

“What? ”

Michael turns desperately to Calum, because none of this makes sense, but Calum is having some sort of silent conversation with Luke.

“You two need to talk,” he says eventually.

“I need to show Calum something in the back, anyway,” Luke says, grabbing Calum’s sleeve and tugging him around the counter, shutting the door to the storeroom behind them.  It’s not the slickest move that Michael’s ever seen, but he’s having a crisis and can’t be bothered to laugh at Luke for it.

“So,” Ashton says.  “It seems there’s been a bit of miscommunication here.”

“You’re a deity?” Michael asks.  Ashton starts to blush, which is cute.  He clasps his hands together and nods once.

“Yeah, my entire family is.  The religion died down centuries ago, so it’s mostly our belief in each other that’s keeping us alive.  I’m basically just an immortal human now, but I’ve been around long enough to recognize other non-humans when I see them.”

“And you’ve known I was a vampire the entire time?” he asks.  Ashton nods.  “Oh.”

“I thought that you knew that I knew,” he says.

“I didn’t,” Michael says.  “I thought you would hate me when you found out.”

“I could never hate you,” Ashton says, taking a step forward and reaching for him before he aborts the movement.  Michael looks at his feet and wonders if what he says next will change that.

“My fangs dropped earlier, when you cut your thumb.”  His voice is steadier than anticipated, but he can’t help but brace himself for Ashton to back away or run screaming.  He doesn’t do either of those.

“Is that why you left so quickly?”

He nods, shame pooling in his stomach.

“I was offering, you know?  I wouldn’t have minded if you had a taste.”

“But I didn’t know that at the time,” Michael says, focusing on the shame so he doesn’t do something horrible like start thinking about what it would really be like to have some of Ashton’s blood.  “I just… lost control.  I can’t do that.  I won’t let myself.”

“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” Ashton says gently, stepping closer until he can put his hands on Michael’s arms, then sliding down to grasp his hands.  “Can you look at me?”  Michael tries, then shakes his head.  “That’s okay, and your fangs dropping earlier is okay, too.  You had a lot on your mind, were probably a little hungry, and I was waving my bloody finger under your nose, even if you didn’t recognize it as an invitation.  What’s important is that you didn’t try anything without asking.  You didn’t hurt me; you removed yourself from the situation.  I would say that that’s keeping things pretty under control, wouldn’t you?”

“But I could’ve hurt you, even if I didn’t.”

“Michael, you’re not a mindless beast,” Ashton says.  “The fact that you’re this upset about your body’s natural physical reaction shows that.  You’re not going to do anything to hurt someone else like that.  You have to trust yourself.”

Michael wrinkles his nose, then finally makes himself meet Ashton’s eyes.  There’s nothing but compassion there, no fear or disgust.

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Ashton repeats.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,�� Michael agrees.  “I can trust myself with that.”

A grin breaks out on Ashton’s face.

“Good,” he says.  “I trust you, too.”

“And, about meeting your family,” Michael starts.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ashton says.  “I was a little pushy.  We can talk about it and figure out something that works for both of us.”

“I was going to say that I’ll do it,” Michael says.  “Half of my worry had to do with me being a vampire and you and your family being unsuspecting humans, but that’s not an issue anymore.”

“What about the other half?”

“Just normal meeting-the-family jitters,” he says.  “They’re really important to you, and I don’t want them to hate me because I didn’t meet them earlier.”

“They won’t hate you,” Ashton says.  “You’re a delight.”

“I hope they share that thought.”

“They will.  I love you, so they will, too.”

Michael feels like he’s going to burst.  He also feels menally exhausted from this entire affair and the emotional whiplash it’s giving him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.  Ashton answers by leaning forward, and Michael sinks against him, melting into the feeling.

“So,” Calum says loudly, startling them both.  “Are you guys good now?”

“What do you think?” he snips.

“I don’t know, Luke,” Calum says, turning away from Michael and towards him.  “Do you think that they’re good now?”

“They did look rather cosy,” Luke says.  “In fact, I’d say that Ashton looked ready to pledge himself to Michael as his personal blood bank.  His little ketchup packet, if you will.”

Calum bursts out laughing.  Michael tries to be affronted, but Ashton starts laughing incredulously next to him.

“Ketchup packet?  Is that what I’m reduced to?”

“There are worse titles,” Calum says between bouts of laughter.  Luke looks ridiculously pleased at this development.

“Please never refer to him as my ketchup packet again,” Michael says.  “I’m begging you not to.”

“If the fangs fit,” Luke says, which makes Calum dissolve into laughter again.  It’s not even funny.  Honestly, they deserve each other.

“Come on,” Ashton says.  “Let’s go back to my place.  I want to hear all about your vampire antics from the olden days, now that I know you’re okay with talking about it.”

“Only if I get to hear stories about being a minor deity,” Michael says, grabbing his part of the blood order.  “Cal, you’re paying for this one!”

They’re out the door before Calum can protest, and Ashton puts an arm around his waist as they walk.  It’s uncomfortably sunny out, but Michael feels no rush to get back inside.  They’re both immortal, and they’ve got the rest of their lives.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 20

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit​.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: Well, time for Coco to show up.

***

“What does it mean, you have a date?”

“I find your incredulous tone more than a little insulting.”

Sofía’s own tone is light, but Ernesto knows her well enough to tell she is not entirely joking there, and wisely decides to drop the matter. “All right, fine. I guess I’ll have to find someone else who is up to spend an enjoyable evening.”

“Oh yes,” Sofía mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I am sure you have men and women lined up waiting for the chance to ride your dick.”

“Of course I--”

“Come on, it’s obvious you don’t,” Sofía cuts him off. Ernesto can vaguely hear her TV going in the background. “You must be on your last leg to call me now. Desperate, desperately horny, or both. I’m guessing both.”

All right, so that hit close home, but he has precisely no intention to admit as much aloud. To her least of all. “I just figured I’d be generous to you, is all.”

“Clearly,” is the deadpan reply.

“But since you have no taste, I will make someone else’s night.”

“Right. Good luck with that,” she chuckles, and pauses. “... Seriously, though, how are you?”

Ernesto bits his lower lip before glancing out of the window. It has rained most of the day, but now there is only a drizzle. On days like that, they’d-- no. No, he shouldn’t go there. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“... Better, either way. I’m doing much better.”

“That’s good to know. All right, maybe we can meet for lunch tomorrow. Over lunch break, the place across the street from my salon?”

“Sure. Can’t wait to hear all about your date,” Ernesto says, a slightly mocking tone on the last word, and ends the call. And then… he proceeds to call no one else. 

It’s not that he’s run out of phone numbers to call or women to contact on social media, but so far he’s had depressingly little success. As it turns out, disappearing on every fling for a full year without so much a message and then just reappearing with no explanation given - much less a convincing one - is not a winning strategy to get them back in bed with him. Who’d have known.

Well, one did say yes, so they met at her place - only for her to step out, smack him across the face, and then go back in without a word. Ernesto had no idea what he may have possibly done to deserve it, but he knew better than to ask: there might just be a long, exhaustive answer to that question and he didn’t want to hear it.

With a sigh, Ernesto leans back on his couch and checks Instagram. His followers count is going up and up, especially after he and Héctor appeared on TV, and maybe he could go looking for someone interesting among them… but each time he opens a profile, he can barely focus on it at all.

All right, this is not working. I need something else.

He downloads Tinder again - when did he uninstall it? - and logs in, determined to give it a go. An hour and an undefined number of left swipes later, he briefly muses whether he should try  again with Grindr. In the end, he throws his phone aside and leans back with a sigh. 

Back to his old life, he said.

No strings but those of my guitar, he said.

Easier said than done.

***

This is the first time, as far as she can remember, that Imelda does not celebrate Día de los Muertos in Santa Cecilia. 

It’s a simple matter of common sense, really: eight months into the pregnancy, getting on a plane to Oaxaca sounds like an all-around bad idea. 

“I mean, if she’s born on the plane, she might get free flights for life with the company,” Héctor joked when they first discussed their options. “I heard it happened before.”

A lifetime of free flights sounds like a good perk, Imelda has to admit, but not worth birthing her child thirty-five thousand feet up in the air, possibly without doctors and with only a curtain separating her from the rest of the passengers - who, she suspects, would be less than thrilled about the disruption to their flight. 

The alternatives, a long car drive or God forbid an even longer bus ride, were entirely out of question. In the end, the only practical solution was for her parents to come over, so that they could spend those days together in Mexico City. They set off that morning, and Héctor is preparing to go pick them up at the airport.

They’re running later than expected because the flight was delayed, which hopefully won’t be too much of a problem for Ernesto. He’s going to see his parents for Día de los Muertos - ironic, that the one year they’re not going to Santa Cecilia, he goes - and he’s asked to borrow their car, so that he can go with his dogs instead of leaving them with someone else. 

“Didn’t appreciate me being gone last time I tried,” he’s said, causing Héctor to chuckle. 

“Could leave them with us, they’re used to being with us.”

“... I think you’ve got your house full as it is, amigo.”

There was a brief silence, which had been broken before it could turn sad, and of course they had agreed to let him borrow the car as soon as they’d used it to pick up her parents.

“Do you need me to get you something while I wait for them, mi amor?”

“Yes, thank you. I left you a list on the table.”

It is a long list, mostly items with enough sugar in them to sustain a small army, but Héctor makes no comment; he picks it up, just barely manages to get his facial expression under control before his eyebrows can shoot all the way up to his hairline, and steps over to kiss her. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck.”

“The stuff you need isn’t that hard to find.”

“I was referring to driving my parents.”

A chuckle, another kiss on the bridge of her nose. “Your father’s fine,” he says, politely adding nothing about her mother before he leaves. Imelda glances out of the window to see him go… and Ernesto arrives. They stop to talk by the gate, Héctor probably apologizing for the delay in giving him the car, Ernesto shrugging in a way that is probably meant to convey it’s not a problem, he’s not especially eager to get going towards Santa Cecilia anyway.

And yet he’s going. That’s… odd, even taking into account the reconciliation with his parents which he still describes as a work in progress. Ernesto never cared all that much for the tradition, and as far as Imelda knows he never made an ofrenda of his own. He’d be more likely to go out partying, and pick up someone to spend the night with. How many times has she seen him from that same window, heading to the entrance with a man or a woman at his arm? More than she can count, although admittedly that has not happened… in a while.

Ever since things became serious between the three of us. And even after it ended, did either of us see him coming home with a date? Did he bring up a fling while talking to me or Héctor, brag about a conquest?

They haven’t and he didn’t. As far as Imelda is aware, Ernesto hasn’t been with anyone in the past few months.

So much for bouncing back, she thinks, and lets the curtain drop with a sigh while trying to ignore, with very little success, the part of her that has the audacity to be relieved at the notion.

***

“Hey! How are you doing?”

“Congrats on the album! Saw you on TV!”

“What about Héctor and Imelda? They’re not here, is their baby born yet?”

“Tell them I said hi!”

“Tell them to visit! Will they come to have her christened in the parish?”

“Hey, can I have an autograph so I can sell it?”

The walk to the cemetery and back - he promised Héctor to have a look at his parents’ grave for him, give it a clean-up, put on fresh flowers - was short, but it seemed to last so much longer with so many people recognizing him and stopping him for a chat. It’s not usually something he’d argue against, but there is a sting every time they ask about Héctor and Imelda and whether or not the baby is born yet.

He really hopes said sting can dull into something more bearable quickly, because it isn’t long until Coco is born and he’s expected to stand in as her godfather, which he’d really like to be able to do without feeling like something is squeezing his heart. 

It will pass. It must pass, he thought, and took care to walk back to his parents’ home through a different route with fewer people. Walking back in to be greeted by his dogs did help a little. His father did mutter that they are more like guinea pigs, but at least he appreciates the fact they cannot climb on the ofrenda to steal the offerings. Though not for lack of trying. 

The ofrenda at Ernesto’s family home is rather one-sided - which is to say, only her mother’s family is on it. Her parents, both dead by the time he was born, a couple of aunts, grandparents and so on. Plenty of García, a couple of Martinez, and not a single de la Cruz among them. 

Then again, it’s not a name that comes with a lot of history attached; it simply filled in a blank space on the birth certificate of a child surrendered at birth.

“You ever thought of looking for her?” Ernesto asks suddenly, while his mother is away to get more flowers and his father is watching the food on the stove. He’s drinking some kind of bland, alcohol free beer that Ernesto has found himself drinking as well out of solidarity. 

Estéban glances at him, a little confused, but comprehension dawns when his gaze moves to the doorway, onto the ofrenda in the next room over. He looks at the photos that are there, but mostly at those that are not. “... A couple of times. Never tried, though.”

“Why not?”

“She didn’t want me. I had better things to do than chasing someone who didn’t want me.”

Ernesto thinks back of the night he was kicked out and swore he was never, ever coming back. He thinks of what he desperately wishes he could have back, but cannot. He smiles bitterly. “I understand.”

“... I know you do.”

A brief silence, and once again it’s Ernesto to break it. “Might have had reasons. Might be that she wanted you, but-- couldn’t. Maybe things happened.”

We need to… to make some changes, Héctor said when breaking him the news. Even if we don’t like it.

Ernesto half-expects a scoff, dismissal, but what he gets is a thoughtful hum; he faintly wonders if his father discussed this while in therapy, but he knows better than to ask. He swore his mamá he would pretend not to know about the therapy part and, unlike her, he plans to keep his word. 

“Guess it’s possible. Makes no difference, though. Did well enough regardless.”

Except for the part where he was an alcoholic for a couple of decades during which he also kicked out his only son because he happened to like dick, Ernesto thinks, and the part where he had in general the emotional capacity of an uncooked tortilla and the temper of a rabid coyote. But he supposes that, aside for those neglectable details, he hasn’t done too bad.

“Could have done worse,” he concedes. 

Could have killed me, I guess.

“... Don’t patronize me. I know I haven’t been perfect--”

“Understatement.”

“-- but I am trying. And I don’t think digging in the past would help.” Estéban de la Cruz finishes  his can of non-alcoholic beer in a long swig. “I was an asshole. No point in trying to pin that on my mamá not wanting me.”

That wasn’t precisely where Ernesto was going, but to be entirely fair he is not sure what point he truly had in asking his father something so personal, so in the end he just nods and finishes his own beer. If his father is wondering why he even asked he makes no mention of it, and to be entirely honest it is a relief.

While he appreciates his efforts there are some conversations they are simply Not Having, and Ernesto’s personal business with his best friend and his wife is one of them.

“I’ll go take a photo of the ofrenda,” he finally says, causing Estéban to raise an eyebrow. 

“A photo? Why?”

“To put on Instagram.”

“Is it that website your mother hounded for photos of you?”

Ernesto hums, the notion of his mother going through his Instagram account and all the implications of it not really registering in his brain. There is an unread message flashing on the screen, distracting him - Héctor. 

Everything good over there? Your mamá feeding you?

Ah, right, he was supposed to get in touch after visiting his parents' grave. He was so busy trying to avoid people he knew on the way back, he entirely forgot to.

I’m putting up a kilo a day. All good, he writes back, and sends over a photo of the grave, all cleaned up, with flowers and all. Ricardo and Emilia smile from the photo on the headstone, and it’s hard to tell whose smile Héctor’s resembles most. 

Ernesto finds himself smiling faintly, too, as Héctor replies. Gracias. I owe you a favor.

You owe me nothing.

A drink, then.

I’ll take that, Ernesto writes, and puts the phone away without snapping any photos of the ofrenda, feeling just a little better.

***

If he had to describe that Día de los Muertos, Héctor supposes ‘bittersweet’ is the word for it.

It’s odd, not being in Santa Cecilia for it. Imelda is there with him, of course, as is her family, and there is an ofrenda in their living room - but not getting to visit his parents’ graves on the day is an odd sort of sting. He’d feel guilty, if they didn’t have excellent reasons not to travel that year.

Héctor is rather sure his mother would hit him over the head with a wooden spoon if he so much suggested putting his daughter at risk of being born on a plane or a bus in order to visit, and that helps. It also helps that Ernesto is there, looking after their grave in his stead. He is a good friend - the best friend he could have asked for, now more than ever before, and he’s glad he didn’t lose him. It’s good to have him back.  And yet… and yet.

Gracias. I owe you a favor.

You owe me nothing.

A drink, then.

I’ll take that.

Héctor smiles a little, and… doesn’t click the screen off just yet.

Only to drop the phone with a yelp when Imelda’s voice rings out right beside him. 

“All good back-- hey! Careful!” Her hands shoots out and somehow manages to catch his phone in mid-air, sparing him the utter pain of having to replace the screen or maybe the entire phone. She sighs. “Try to make this one last longer than three months,” she mutters, and glances at the screen. A moment of silence and then she gives a small, soft smile that Héctor suspects mirrors the one on his face only moments ago.

“Nice of him to take care of it.”

“Yes. We could have him over-- for dinner, or something. When he comes back.”

“Of course.” The smile on Imelda’s face fades a little, and she gives him back the phone. “Would be nice to have him over. We’ll tell Óscar and Felipe to be somewhere else for the evening. Cinema or something. Or maybe they can start getting some furniture in the room they’re renting,” she adds. 

Imelda is in equal parts amused and somewhat concerned by her brothers’ decision to move into a room in a house a few blocks away - their bid for freedom, as they call it, though they are still very close by in case any help is needed once Coco is born. Héctor likes having them around, but he cannot deny he looks forward to having the apartment all for Imelda and himself in the few weeks left before Coco’s arrival. 

And right now, it doesn’t escape him that she admitted she’d rather not have them there when Ernesto comes to visit. He glances at her, a mute question, and Imelda bites her lower lip. “... In case he needs to talk,” she says. Héctor nods. Of course - of course, it makes sense: if there are things yet unspoken, and God knows there are, they must be discussed without anyone else listening in. That need for secrecy is part of the reason why their arrangement couldn’t continue. 

Maybe the twins will understand, Héctor thinks, and he finds he actually believes they would. They’re young, open-minded in a way their parents - and most in Santa Cecilia - are not. Still, he doesn’t voice that thought: it would mean discussing the possibility that maybe, just maybe…

“I’ll tell him to bring a bucket of ice cream for you,” Héctor says instead, and Imelda laughs, smacking his arm lightly before she returns in the next room over where her parents and brothers are. Héctor clicks the phone’s screen on, and follows her - knowing full well that an honest conversation is just delayed, and wondering who will wind up cracking first.

***

In the end, they never do find out who among them may have cracked first. The dinner never happens, because something else does crack right before they sit at the dinner table. 

Break, more like.

And Imelda’s waters were not supposed to break for another two weeks at least, as Héctor repeats no less than seventeen times during the car ride to the hospital.

“We’re almost there, mi amor - stay calm, all right? Stay calm,” he is now saying to his remarkably calm wife, not at all calm himself. Ernesto chooses not to remark on that and keeps his eyes on the road instead. 

All right, so it’s time. This is happening. 

He’s had complicated feelings over the upcoming birth of Héctor and Imelda’s baby - his goddaughter, it’s easier if he thinks of her as his goddaughter - and he’s been bracing himself for her arrival as you do for an emergency landing: knowing that it’s coming no matter your feelings on the matter, that the plane must land and hopefully all will be well once it does. 

Now, however, everything is moving so fast he has no time to think, much less to feel anything other than urgency. One moment he’d been sitting at the dinner table, one moment Imelda had emerged from the next room over, pale but in full control, telling them it was time for her to go to the hospital. Héctor sprinted to retrieve the small suitcase she had prepared beforehand while Ernesto rushed to get the car, and he’s now in the process of weaving through traffic and ignoring the GPS’ suggestions in favor of a route that he knows will be somewhat less congested. 

There is a groan, a sharper breath, and he glances in the rear view mirror. “You all right there?”

Imelda looks back at him through the mirror, and for just a moment he can see how pale she is, how truly concerned for this monumental, frightening task ahead of her - deliver a new life into the world. And then she manages a smile.

“Just cursing over all that good food growing cold back home. The dogs and Pepita must be helping themselves to it. I won't be cleaning that mess,” she mutters, and Ernesto laughs, taking a turn. Even Héctor starts laughing - far more high-pitched than usual and somewhat frightened, but laughter it is. Imelda manages a chuckle before hissing again, a hand resting against her belly just as Ernesto takes another turn and gets right into the hospital’s parking lot, barely slowing down.

Imelda takes in a deep breath before opening the door. “I can walk to the entrance - they will be waiting for us, I called them before leaving,” she says, and steps outside. Héctor is immediately by her side, suitcase in hand, offering her his arm. He turns to look at Ernesto, eyes huge. 

It’s happening, those eyes say. I am about to be a father, they say. I’m terrified.

But when he speaks, Héctor says none of those things. “Thank you,” he tells Ernesto. His voice is calmer, but the grip on the suitcase remains so tight his knuckles are almost white. There is something stuck in Ernesto’s throat, and he forces himself to swallow it; the weight seems to settle in his chest. Ernesto clears his throat before speaking.

“Well, someone with a still functioning brain had to drive. Go in, I’ll-- I’ll park the car and get in the waiting room. Are you going to, uh, go in the delivery room, or…?”

“He’d better,” Imelda mutters, and there is more snickering. The rock-hard thing in Ernesto’s chest melts away a little. “Can you let my brothers know?" she adds. "They’ll tell our parents. I’m ready to bet they’ll be on the first plane back.”

“Of course,” Ernesto replies, and watches them walk to the entrance before he sighs and goes looking for a parking spot. It is only as he steps in the waiting room and reaches for his phone that he realizes there is a slight problem.

He has absolutely no idea what Imelda’s brothers’ phone numbers even are.

***

It is amazing, Imelda thinks, how much a newborn can look like a grouchy old man. 

“Mi amor, she’s beautiful.” Héctor’s voice is a little nasal as he still blinks away tears, cheek resting on top of her head and eyes fixed on the baby in her arms. 

In Imelda’s opinion she is most decidedly not beautiful - newborns just out of the birth canal, she finds, are some of the ugliest things one can imagine, skull still misshapen and features flattened - but she has no doubt whatsoever that Héctor absolutely means it. Must be the tears of joy, or love goggles, or both. Either way, it gets a tired smile out of her.

“Well worth the hassle,” she says, and oh, she means it. Labor was exhausting, if relatively short, and she wouldn’t wish the pain that had followed to her worst enemy - but for the tiny thing in her arms, blinking blearily up at them with the expression of someone who’s just had the worst day, Imelda knows she’d do it all over again. She strokes a tiny hand with her thumb just as Héctor speaks.

“Hola, Coco,” he says, so much tenderness in his voice it almost hurts. “I’m your papá. Actually, wait, more importantly-- this is your mamá. She made you.”

Like she’s a pair of shoes, Imelda thinks, and chuckles. She cannot recall being this happy with any of her creations up to now. “Your papá helped,” she says, kissing Coco’s forehead. “Don’t ask how until you’re older.”

“Wha-- oh! No no no, don’t ask at all!” Héctor exclaims, causing Coco’s eyes to shift back to him. She blinks, and Imelda can almost believe it’s out of surprise. “You’re just here, I’m not ready to think about giving you the Talk! Best if you ask your mamá about it, really. And about shoemaking. But if you want to learn how to make some good music-- what is it?” he asks, blinking, when Imelda bursts laughing. 

She cannot answer right away: she just laughs and laughs and laughs, causing Coco to start wailing, as though to join in, while Héctor looks at them both, saying nothing, taking in everything with a wide smile on his face.

***

More. More coffee.

Ernesto lets his last few coins drop into the machine, rubbing his face with his free hand. It’s been… three hours? Feels like more. There hasn’t been much for him to do, other than calling his mother with the odd request of trying to contact Imelda’s parents - he has no clue what their number may be, maybe she can find out or even visit them, they’re in the same damn town - to let them know what’s going on. 

For the most part he’s been sitting in the waiting room, with a growing pile of empty plastic cups on the floor in front of him. He goes to sit again, drinks the bitter hot coffee in one gulp, adds the cup to the pile, and leans back. 

He tells himself there is no reason to be nervous, of course giving birth cannot be done in a pinch, but the more he waits the more uneasy he feels. What if something went wrong, two weeks early shouldn't be cause for concern, but-- no, surely Héctor would come tell him-- or would he stay in, unable to leave her side while… while…

“ERNESTO!”

Héctor’s cry and the bang of the door slamming open causes several people in the waiting room and Ernesto to jump several feet up in the air, all hair standing on end, letting out a shriek he’ll barely manage to pass off as a grito later.

He has barely enough time to land again before Héctor throws his arms around him, laughing and crying, trying to lift him and failing miserably, dragging him into a clumsy half-twirl. “She’s here! Coco is here! She’s beautiful, the most beautiful baby girl you’ll ever see!”

Something aches just a little, a part of him that is still bitter and spiteful over being cast aside for her sake, but Héctor pulls back with such a wide smile it’s near impossible not to smile back. And he does. 

“Imelda…?”

“She’s fine, she was amazing. Resting now, but we can visit later. Oh! They’ll take Coco to the nursery, there is a window - want to come take a look at your goddaughter?

Ah, yes. I have a goddaughter now.

The ache grows duller, and Ernesto’s smile grows a bit brighter. “I would like that,” he says.

And means it.

***

A/N:  Imelda's reaction to Coco is kinda based off my grandmother's when she first saw my brother a hour after birth. He was ugly. Just, so damn ugly. All she could say looking at the crib was "... so, it's this one?", clearly hoping to be told that no, it was the next one over. And while grandma was never known to be the nurturing type, when an Italian grandmother cannot manage to pretend her newborn grandchild is cute, you know it's one ugly baby.

***

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[lifeofroos]

Part 27. Hoot. 

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. The other chapters are on AO3 and FanFiction.net and in Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, fanfiction, pjo etc. 

This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 27: Sweetend water

‘Well, we triumphed over evil once again.’ I shrugged Dionysus sighed. 

‘I guess we did.’ 

At the counter, Mary sighed as well. ‘I wish we could just be done with triumphing over evil. Cross it off the to-do list. It would be nice to bring the baby into a world with all the evil defeated,’ she said before turning back to her magazine. 

I nodded. ‘She’s right.’

This time, Dionysus shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ He leaned back in the chair a little. ‘But did you triumph over the voices in your head as well? Or, better said, what happened to them?’

‘Hm. I wouldn’t say I triumphed over the voices in my head. However, as soon as the snake was defeated, they calmed down. They are still there every now and then, but way less often.’

‘It is good to hear that it has become less. Still, we might need to figure out what the source of the voices was.’

‘I can quite certainly say that the snake was the indicator. After Nero was defeated and the one thing controlling the snake was gone, the voices were at their loudest. After a few hours of the defeat, they slowly became quiter and quiter, until they were nothing more than… I can only describe it as an ominous chanting, and then only on certain moments.’ I shrugged. ‘It bothers me, but I can live with it, I truly can. What bothers me more is the increase of intrusive thoughts I have been having since the last trial of Apollo.’ 

Dionysus nodded a couple of times. ‘What you are saying sounds logical. Because the snake will probably be out for some time, I think we can assume that the voices stay put as well. However, if they ever come back, you need to tell me. We still don’t know what they are, after all.’

I nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Alright. Then how about we spend this session talking about what you can do to combat intrusive thoughts?’

‘Yes, okay.’ 

‘Alright. But first…’ He lightly tapped the top of the table. A  big glass cup of water appeared. 

I picked it up and took a sip. It was sweet, sweeter than water should be. 

Dionysus opened his mouth to say something, but Mary was quicker: ‘Are you trying to put me out of business?’ 

‘No, I am saving you the effort of walking over her while seven months pregnant,’ Dionysus answered. 

Mary shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’

Dionysus chuckled, before turing back to me. I took another sip of water. ‘Okay. Now. What you can do is trying to turn a switch in your brain by attempting to think of something else. So, instead of thinking about a hurtful subject, you think about a funny subject. And the easiest way to do that is too think of a stupid song.’ 

I raised my eyebrows and took another sip of water. That sounded awfully silly. ‘What?’

He sighed. ‘I know it sounds dumb, but sometimes dumb things can have great effect. For an example you can look at Percy Jackson.’  

I got a mini heart attack, until I realised he did not mean a great effect on me specifcally. I awkwardly chuckled. ‘Hm, yes.’  

He gave me a weird look for a second. ‘Anyway. What is a song you find… kinda stupid, but in a good way?’

Hm. Now that is a question that will give me a full-on existential crisis. I took a thoughtful sip of water. ‘Ehm… Another One Bites The Dust?’

Now Dionysus raised his eyebrows. ‘Professionally I am not allowed to say this, but why would you think Another One Bites The Dust is a silly song?’

‘Well, I once saw someone drop to the floor and literally bite the dust while trying to dance to that song. Every time I hear it, I think of that.’ 

Dionysus stared off into the distance and smiled, as if he remembered a similar event. ‘Alright, that is pretty funny. Okay, so, the next time you think of something nasty, you try to think of Another One Bites The Dust and that person literally biting the dust. The technique won’t immediately work, but it will after you practice it for some time.’

I fell silent and looked at the doors. Out of nowhere, a memory of the indestructible cows tumbled into my brain. I let it remain there for a few seconds, before I switched to Another One Bites The Dust, which immediately directed me to the vison of the man falling on his face. I was still mostly thinking of the cows, but it made the thought more bearable. If I had to believe Dionysus, it would get easier to switch over time. I pulled a weird face. 

‘Alright, little overthinker, I did not mean you had to practise it right now.’ I shook my head, before taking another sip of water. ‘Next are the things I taught you way back in January and February, things that are simple to do: concentrating on breathing, talking to someone, drinking something.’ 

It was too easy to resist: ‘I fancy you are not talking about alcoholic drinks?’

‘How very sharp and on thin ice of you, Nico di Angelo.’

I took a sip of water. ‘Drinking water makes you stop worrying for a second, because you need to focus on something else,’ I obediently said. Which alcohol also does, but I get that that only makes the problem bigger. 

‘You get it. Another thing, which is more important in the long run, is that you keep doing stuff. See people you like, take time to eat properly, go to your training… go to your dad… you get it. That means you are distracted, which keeps you from sitting on your bed all day with nothing to do but think bad things.’

I nodded. That was logical. I knew that. ‘It seems like the most important thing you can do with thoughts like these is make sure you get distracted from them.’

‘That seems like that because it is like that. If you are beating yourself up with bad thoughts, what you need to do is get out of that rut.’

‘So I should try to think of something else, but I also should not bottle up my feelings or hastily push them under the mat.’

‘Thinking of something else and hastily shoving your feelings away are different things. One makes sure that you lead the thoughts away in a healthy manner, so that you get a clear mind to try and fix them, while the other one makes it so that the problems pile on top of each other until they inevitably lead to bigger problems.’

‘I get it, but I don’t get why, if you understand what I mean.’

‘The mortal mind is a mystery that is just slightly more understandable than the immortal mind.’ 

‘Hm.’ I took another sip. ‘And therapy? How does that play into the picture? Because it is not really distracting yourself…’

‘It is getting to understand what you feel in a safe environment…’

‘I know you are still talking, but I am cutting in, because when did you learn all this therapist lingo?’ 

‘Why do you have such an especially big mouth at the moment?’

‘Dunno. Maybe this subject is not that hard on me, so I react kind of louché.’

‘It is still important, Nico.’

I looked at my glass. ‘... I know.’ 

Dionysus took a deep breath. ‘Honestly, I feel like I should have revised all of this with you earlier…’ 

I waited for something else, but it didn’t come. 

‘I mean… you already told me a lot of this stuff and I have been practising it. The song thing, maybe that would have been handy to know earlier. But we were so busy with other stuff…’

‘Again with the excuses for others, Nico.’ I shut up and looked at my glass. 

Dionysus sighed and shook his head. ‘Well, I hope it is still useful for you today.’

‘Well, I think so.’

‘Good. Then I have done my job. Hopefully you are less cocky next time.’ He was silent for a few seconds, while I finished my sweetened water. ‘Ehm… that being said… I do think it is good that you can act like this. It shows that you’ve got your confidence back after that rough patch. Which you have gotten out of  remarkably fast.’

‘Good to know that I have full permission to act the way I did as long as it isn’t directed to you.’

‘Thin ice, di Angelo.’ But hey, he did not disagree.

I shoved my cup aside, after which I yawned. 

Dionysus smiled. ‘If you promise to immediately go to bed, we’ll go back.’

‘I’ll immediately go to bed.’ I didn't even want to do anything else. 

Dionysus snickered and gave me a tired smile. ‘Alright, then.’ 

A/N: I think you all have noticed that sometimes there are sessions in between what I write, because sometimes I just want to get on with the story. My own experience with therapy tells me that often you just do what you already did over and over again. But today I wanted to write one of those chapters, not in the last place because it felt like I needed an interlude after Lester/Apollo.

All techniques are legit. I am not kidding. Try the song one. Think of Nico di Angelo seeing some guy fall flat on his face while bopping to Another One Bites The Dust the next time you feel sad. 

The next chapter will be the last in the Apollo arc. Then we’ll get to what I like to call the ‘parents’ arc.

My test week is weighing down on me and this might be a little hastily (and gloomly) edited. Still though. 

[evywrites]

Elation (George Weasley x Reader) pt. 1

 summary : After pining after George for so long, your dreams finally come true warnings: none? oblivious reader word count: 3k (oops) writing date: Apr 6, 2020-Apr 8, 2020 a/n: i wrote this for myself to make me feel less lonely, but i thought i should post it to tumblr just incase. this is my first post to tumblr, so apologies if I’m doing anything incorrectly. also i lost the first draft of this. sad. part 2

     In true Hufflepuff fashion, you’d been deep in this hole for as long as you could remember. It had always been him. You’d tried to fall for other people’s yet it didn’t work. The way he lit up a room with merely just his presence. His ability to cheer up anyone who needed it. The caring side of him that was rarely shown, but was there. Words couldn’t describe what you felt for him. He just pulled you in and kept you there, despite never having talked too much. Plus, he’s super hot.       Unfortunately, he never seemed to pay any special attention to you. He’d occasionally talk to you about school, but not much more outside of that. Atleast you knew he didn’t despise your guts.      You were always baffled when others changed who they fawned over each week. One week it’d be a Slytherin girl, the next it’d be a Gryffindor boy. You didn’t know if you were the strange one for never changing your crush, or if they were the weird ones for not being able to keep one.

    However, over the years you’d find yourself wishing you could become like the others. Seeing him falling for others devastated you, even though he never stuck with anyone. No matter how many times you had seen him fall, it still had the same effect. You cursed yourself for being this way, falling headfirst into a hole you couldn’t drag yourself out of. You would go up into your dorm and break down, cursing yourself for falling for someone who would never like you back.

     It stayed that way up until your sixth year at Hogwarts. Your feelings remained, however, they became more bearable. You could go on about your day and studies normally. You still spontaneously got sad about the inevitably of moving on from Hogwarts and never seeing him again, but you just brushed it off and enjoyed the time you had left.

     You went on your year as usual, keeping up with your studies, hanging out with your friends. Everything was normal and dandy. However, something changed. You didn’t know if you were going insane or misreading signs, but George started interacting more, he started talking to you more.

    It started with brief, subtle glances that you had brushed off as just a coincidence. The possibility of him liking you was unheard of at that time, as you had practically given up. However, one specific incident started to change your mindset, maybe just a tad bit.

     You were on your way to the first period of the day, potions class, feeling and looking visibly miserable. No one liked first period potions, especially not you. Being yelled at while being half asleep was not fun. Potions in general, was not fun. Especially not for Hufflepuffs.

     However, there was one redeeming quality of first-period potions. You had it with the Gryffindors, and George was in that class. The only reason why you’d grown to tolerate first-period potions.

     You arrived at Snape’s classroom, bracing for the dark and moody atmosphere of his classroom. You entered, eyes instantly darting around to look for George. No sight of him. Crap. Whenever George wasn’t at potions, you felt absolutely miserable. All of the doom and gloom that George and Fred chased away instantly caved in on you.

     You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily. You’d survived other classes without him before, you’ll be fine. You had your desk-mate who you were slightly acquainted with due to short-small talk you’ve had before. You’d be fine.

     Setting your things down, you sat down, giving a brief nod to your deskmate on the left.  You turned your attention towards Snape’s direction, getting ready to space out to somehow make up for lost sleep whilst trying not to miss so much that you totally failed potions class. 

     Your deskmate’s head whipped around, something that wasn’t normal. However, you thought nothing of it. You were off in space, trying to get the period over and done with as quickly as possible.

     However, when your deskmate got up and moved, that piqued your interest. You came out of your daze, and glanced to your right. What you saw there, absolutely freaking shocked you.

     It was George Weasley, Sitting. Next to you. Not beside his brother. But next to you. What in Merlin’s name.

    So many questions were streaming through your head at a cut-throat pace. Your eyes grew wide with surprise for a split-second. Wrestling with your body language, you tried to suppress the pure shock and confusion that would be shown. Instead, you tried to subdue it to something nonchalant. You don’t think he noticed. Hopefully not. It was probably obvious. Oh no.

     He got settled in, shot you a smile that made you feel like you were gonna melt and die inside. You felt like your cheeks were on fire. What the heck was happening? Why was George sitting next to you?

     “Hello, I’m sitting here now if you don’t mind. My dear Freddie over there has pushed me to my limits and I can no longer tolerate him.” He joked, holding his hand out in greeting.

     You mustered up a small smile, sending him a small wave in response. To you, that was a majour accomplishment. Before, you could not have even come within his general vicinity without wanting to run away. However, you couldn’t win them all, as you had failed to process that he held his hand out for a handshake. Heck. Do you shake his hand or is it too late to be socially acceptable to shake his hand by now and it’ll be super awkward? Or- oh it’s too late. He awkwardly pulled his hand back. Crap. Why didn’t you shake his hand? Did you just ruin whatever the hell was going on? Oh no.

     You didn’t hear the snickering, nor did you see the look that George had sent his brother. You were too busy trying to sort out the thoughts that swirled aggressively around in your head. 

     Snape called for the class’ attention, preventing any further conversation from happening. Snape announced that it would not be a practical lesson today, which you would usually groan internally at, but this time you just thanked Merlin. You’d probably lose focus and end up splashing a defective potion all over yourself, which would not be fun.

     During the lecture, George occasionally leaned over to murmur a joke at the expense of Snape that made you giggle lightly under your breath, as his jokes always had. A side effect of that was your cheeks burning up even more than they already had due to the feeling of him being so close to you, but you were fine with that. You had only hoped that he didn’t notice.

     As the lesson went on, you found that you had been paying even less attention than usual, which you didn’t think was possible, but how were you supposed to pay attention when the George Weasley was sitting next to you? Why was he even sitting here anyway? His seat was on the other side of the room with his brother and all his friends. Why was he sitting here?

     You didn’t want the class to end, however, unfortunately, it inevitably ended. Students filed out swiftly, rushing to get to their next class.

     "See you later, y/n.“ George waved, getting up and walking off to join his brother and the others.

     You slowly stood up, still questioning what in the world just happened. Was this all some kind of bad dream? It couldn’t be, you would’ve woken up by now. You collected your stuff before walking out of the classroom, mindlessly heading to your next class whilst having an internal discussion about what just happened.

     It’s been many years crushing on one particular person, and that person just sat next to you out of nowhere. He told jokes to you like you were an old friend. What in the world was happening?

     There had to be a reasonable explanation. He wouldn’t just do this out of the blue. It must’ve been one of his pranks. You know what, he’s probably only done that to be nice. He probably noticed you staring at him and wanted to kindly reject you. That’s it. It means nothing. Why would he suddenly start liking you out of the blue? That doesn’t logically make sense. Either that or he got dared. Of course, it’d be amazing if he did it because he liked you, but those were the most logical answers.

     However, throughout the day, you kept looking forward to telling your friends and getting their opinion on the situation. You’d always went to them whenever you had false hope and they’d always give you their honest opinion to keep your hopes at a reasonable level. They’re the perfect people to keep your mind in check and not get your hopes up over something that was not genuine.

     When the last period ended, you darted over to the spot near the Black Lake where you and your friends usually hung out after school to wind down after a long day. Normally you would just walk, however you needed to get the morning’s events off of your chest as soon as you could. Unfortunately, your last class was Astronomy, so you had a long way to go before you could reach your destination.

     Severely out of breath, you made it. You raced towards your friends who’d been sitting in their usual positions, lightly chattering. At the sight of you, they stopped and had a concerned look on their faces.

     "You look like you just ran from the top of Hogwarts down, what happened? Did George kiss you or something?” Eve, your friend, teased. Your cheeks instantly flared up at the mention of George’s name causing your friends to laugh.

     "Sort of. Kind of, maybe.“ You answered, plopping down onto your usual spot with your friends. They stopped laughing then, looking intrigued at what you had to say.

     Then you recounted the story, all of your internal thoughts and confusion spilling out for your friends to analyze. You put an emphasis on the extreme confusion you were feeling, because that was the emotion that was dominant at that moment. No words would’ve ever explained the pure confusion, but you tried to the best of your ability. Once you finished, you looked up to see them all with wide grins on their faces. 

     "That’s definitely something. It can’t mean nothing. George has never done that to anyone before. You might have a chance.” Eve stated, the others nodding along to what she said. You tried to argue the points that you had mentally stated earlier, but they just shut you down swiftly, insisting that you were just finding an excuse to have a negative mindset.

     You felt conflicted, you knew that you could trust your friends and that they’d always give their honest opinion on the situation, but you were feeling a bit skeptical. Things like that didn’t just happen to you, especially not with George. He’d always been someone out of reach, someone so far from what was possible that you had taken the most pessimistic mindset.

     "You need to seize this opportunity. He’s definitely interested in at least becoming friends with you. We all agreed in the past that you’d rather be a friend than to be nothing to him, and he’s already made the first move, so just go for it.“ Eve continued, her Ravenclaw nature shining through.

     You slowly nodded, beginning to work on accepting this bizarre reality. The fear of it all just being one of his pranks still lingered in your mind, but you tried to brush it off and trust your friends.

     George continued throughout the next few weeks. It started with him passing you in the hallway and waving to you, then many more little things that made you feel like you were on fire. Him smiling at you whenever he saw you. Him always being helpful with your potion. Eventually, it turned into him resting his arm casually around your shoulder, reducing you into a bushing mess, but he never commented on it.

     To your amazement, you had instantly clicked as friends and had started to hang out more outside of class, which you were grateful for. You could have long discussions about literally anything. Occasionally, reality would sink in and you’d get extremely flustered mid-conversation, however you think he didn’t notice, thankfully. Hopefully, you were hiding your exponentially growing crush on him just as well. It was all so bizarre, but you were glad that it happened. You were glad that George miraculously decided to sit next to you in potions class and decide that you were mildly interesting enough to want to be friends with you. 

     Weeks went by, you and George became closer as friends. Your crush on him still raged on, however you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you two now had. It was a miracle that you didn’t think to be possible, you didn’t want to screw it up.

     The last period of the day had ended, you just began the walk down to the Great Lake. You were fully prepared to have a nice mental conversation with yourself about whatever, however that plan didn’t exactly go as planned.      "Hey,” George flung a casual arm around your shoulder as you tried to begin your walk to the hangout spot by the Black Lake. You went in whatever direction he led you in, forgetting about your initial destination. Your friends would understand if you were a bit late. “Fred and I are going to go practice and hangout at the Quidditch pitch. Do you wanna come and watch? You can do other stuff, of course, it’d just be nice to have you there. I checked with Freddie and he said it’s fine of course.” You nodded, completely forgetting about your plans with your friends

     You two strolled through Hogwarts, his arm still casually draped around you, making you blush. You talked about your days and other meaningless things while walking down to the Quidditch pitch. Time flew by, and before you know it, you’re there. 

     Much to your dismay, George removed his arm and told you to wait up a minute. You obeyed, sitting down on the pitch floor, peering up at the sky, thinking to yourself. How did you even get here? You’ve been pining after him for years and then this year he just suddenly starts talking to you. Don’t get you wrong, you were absolutely grateful, just confused.

     To be honest, you were also scared. Scared that he had noticed your crush on him earlier, and was just playing with your emotions like some kind of cruel prank. You weren’t prepared for the heartbreak if that were the case.

      Movement on your right snapped you out of your train of thought. You looked to the right and saw Fred. You’d talked to him before when you were with George, so you weren’t complete strangers.      “Before Georgie comes back, I just wanted to ask that you don’t be too harsh on ickle Georgie. He’s usually not like this and I had to bully him into doing this.” Fred smiled at you, patting you on the back before standing up to go greet George who was carrying their Quidditch equipment. George passed off Fred’s broom to him before taking off, sending you a smile.       You smiled a bit back, still dumbfounded and confused at what Fred had said. Don’t be too harsh? What did he mean by that? It couldn’t possibly mean what you thought. There was no way that would happen.      They proceeded to pelt the bludger back and forth, goofing off and doing the weirdest tricks. You were aware that George gave you the option to do other things, but you could watch those two forever.       They included you in their banter, somehow shouting loud enough so that you could hear each other. It was pure bliss, being able to just hang out and enjoy time with the two. It was still strange to you, but you weren’t going to question it anymore.

     Time flew by extremely fast, and soon enough, it was time to go back in. You were sad, but you enjoyed the time. George and Fred came down, sweaty but smiling. Fred headed off with their brooms and Quidditch things, leaving George and you alone.

     “Hey, uh.” George started, stopping you both in your tracks. Your heart rate sped up, oh no. Is this what Fred was talking about? You turned to face him, unconsciously admiring his eyes, a habit that you had not been able to shake even when you became friends.      “So um. I know it’s been really weird with me just coming out of the blue and wanting to be your friend, but uh. I think you’re really cool and would you fancy going out to Hogsmeade with me? As a date?” George looked extremely out of character, unable to hold eye contact with you. The confidence that he usually radiated when he was with his brother doing pranks was not there.       Holy crap. Did that just happen? You would need a full hour to process that. Unfortunately, you did not have that time. All of the insecure thoughts from the beginning of these events came flooding back in. What if this was just a prank? His body language said otherwise. You should probably just do it, it’s been what you wanted forever. Besides, he can’t know that you had a crush on him for forever, right? Has it been too long? You should probably respond.

      Before you could think any more, the words came spilling out of you, “Yes.” George instantly looked up, grinning widely       “Great. I’ll meet you, yeah? This great. Thanks!” He exclaimed, and without thinking, pecking your cheek quickly before running off toward Fred who you just noticed was lurking.      You stood there, dumbfounded. Did the George Weasley just ask you out on a date? The past weeks have been a blur of shockedness and happiness, but this just topped it. You did not know what was happening, but you loved it.

      You walked in a trance back to your dorm room, fully ready to explain this to your friends. They’d be so shocked. Oh, crap, your friends. Eh they’d understand once you explained. part 2 thanks for reading :)

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

All is Fair

Oh, Dear God. I’ve had an idea for a fic. Tommy is bored with his OBE, MP life. In an attempt to cheer him up, Ada invites him to a fundraising soiree she has organized, and Tommy becomes horny intrigued by a bright young thing.

“I’ve lined up Picassos, Muchas, a couple of Lalique glass figures — lots of up and coming artists.” Ada paced back and forth before Tommy, counting on her fingers the artists whose work would be shown at the charity auction she’d helped to organize for the Grace Shelby Institute. “I snapped them up for a song, but with the crowd I’ve invited all trying to outdo one another they will bring in thousands…” Ada stopped mid-step and stared at her brother. He had insisted on meeting her before the start of business, and after summoning her at such an ungodly hour he didn’t seem to be listening to a single word she said.

 “Tommy. Oi, Tommy! Are you listening to me?”

 Tommy had been listening. He absorbed every word spoken in his presence, even while he seemed a million miles away. Smoke from a dwindling cigarette curled in a graceful column before his eyes. He was mentally weighing how much money the auction would bring against the amount in his charity reserve account. Of course, he could singlehandedly fund the Institute with the stroke of a pen and skip this whole event, but that wasn’t the point. Publicity was important, and Ada had arranged for all the right people to be seen at his party. That was the point. He knew the rules of the game, but it weighed heavily on him. He was bored with pretending to care about the issues and opinions of the upper-middle class. He craved the gritty realism of Small Heath; the honest observations of the working class meant more to him than the relentless droning of his new peers.

“Yep, Ada, got it,” he sighed as he stood up from his desk and pulled on his jacket. He crossed the room to where she stood and lit another cigarette, seemingly forgetting the one he left burning in the ashtray on his desk. “It should be a resounding success. Thank you for all of your hard work.”

 In the clear light of day, Ada could see the strain of the last few years playing out on her brother’s face. His pale blue eyes used to snap with electricity, but now they were slower, deeper, and more contemplative. Not quite sad, but worn and weary.  “I know it’s hard for you to go to these things, Tommy, but I’ve invited some bright young people who will make it a bit more bearable. Who knows? You might have fun,” she shrugged and smiled hopefully.    

The energy that it took to keep up the façade of a legitimate businessman and Member of Parliament had sapped every ounce of fun from his life. “That wouldn’t be fair, now would it?” he mumbled as he stepped out into the hall and out the door. 

 ***

“Lia, wake up!” 

Sunlight streamed in through the window, painting the backs of Lia’s eyelids pink and warming her face. She had stayed up late talking with her cousin the night before, catching up on family gossip and getting the lowdown on her new job.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled and pulled the sheet over her face. Her mind lazily drifted to thoughts of the upcoming day. She was to train as an assistant librarian; a position made possible by her cousin’s connections at City Hall. Even though she was grateful for the job, the temptation of a few more minutes’ sleep was tough to resist.

“Now! It takes a while to get across town. I stuck my neck out to get you this job, and I won’t have you being late on your first day.” 

The rapidly approaching clacking of high heels on hardwood let Lia know that her cousin Jenny meant business, so she threw back the covers and groaned. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.” 

“You’d better be,” Jenny called. “I’ve got fresh scones and tea.” 

Jenny’s two up two down in Small Heath, Birmingham was like all the others in her street, except where the other houses were filled to capacity with large families, hers was all but empty. Her mom and dad had moved back to the country, and her brothers were off with their own families, so in order to stave off loneliness, she wrote to invite her favorite cousin to come live with her in Birmingham. “It will be great fun, and there’s a position coming open at the library. They promised to hold it for you. After receiving the letter, Lia and her family decided that the change would do her good. The country was stifling Lia. If she stayed, she had no prospects for anything other than marriage to a local farmer and a brood of children. Birmingham meant freedom and adventure for the restless young woman, so she went.  

The pale yellow frock Lia wore stood in sharp contrast to the sooty dark patterned wallpaper in the kitchen. At one time it must’ve been green with pink flowers, Lia mused as she sipped her tea which was the approximate color of the flowers on the wall. 

Jenny laid a plate of scones down on the table and eyed her cousin. “You’ll need to get darker dresses, Lia. The mud and soot of Small Heath will make a hash of that.”

Lia rolled her eyes and smiled, “I plan on doing just that with my first paycheck. In the meantime, maybe I should help myself to your closet.” 

“Not with those knockers you won’t,” Jenny teased. It felt good to have her cousin in the house, and despite the early hour, they were both in the mood to laugh. 

Jenny sipped at her tea and flipped through the morning post until one envelope, in particular, caught her attention. Her lips moved as she whispered under her breath, and her eyes read and reread the writing on the heavily embossed card.  

 “What’s that?”

“My boss has forwarded an invitation to me. It’s for an art auction at the Grace Shelby Institute.” Jenny’s eyes were wide. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe I’ve been invited!” 

“That’s great! Wait, do you have to go with your boss?” 

“No, it’s my own invitation, and I get to bring a guest.”  

The name Shelby rang a bell with Lia. Jenny read the look on her face and lowered her voice as if Arthur Shelby himself were lurking just outside her door. “Yeah, those Shelbys. But they’ve gone legit. The leader is even an MP now.” 

Lia arched an eyebrow, “Legit? How exactly does a razor gang go legit?” 

“The Shelbys can bloody well do whatever they want, and we are going to this event. It means a lot to get invited to these things, and I need to show that I can fit in.”  

 ***  

 The pale blue dress that Lia wore had a low cut back and fringe at the knee, not at all the stuff of a librarian’s wardrobe. She had worn it to a formal engagement party the year before and had been pining away for a reason to wear it again. In a room full of tweeds and sensible shoes, she was a flash of blue sky on a stormy day.  Her cousin dressed to blend in with the crowd—perfect for a work event, and Jenny was certainly all business tonight.

While Jenny circulated around the room, Lia availed herself of several glasses of champagne and studied the paintings on offer. As the daughter of a farmer, she had not had many chances to go to museums and galleries, but she loved art and soaked up everything she could read about it. There was an amazing selection of work at the Institute including a cubist piece by Picasso, but what really caught her eye was a group of Art Nouveau paintings by Alphonse Mucha. She stood, sipping her champagne and smiling at a depiction of a woman in a gracefully flowing gown on a backdrop of stars. 

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” A sweet feminine voice with a Brummie lilt drew her out of her reverie. Lia turned around to see a woman with porcelain skin, dark bobbed hair, and piercing blue eyes extend a hand toward her.

 “Ada Thorne, and you are…”

“Lia Montrose,” she managed to answer in a relatively confident manner. Jenny had mentioned the Shelby’s sister on the way there, but Lia never thought she’d end up in a conversation with her.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You know, at most of these things people only glance at the paintings and then try to make business deals for the rest of the night. It’s nice to see someone actually appreciate the art for a change.”  

She held up a perfectly manicured finger in the direction of a waiter who immediately brought over a tray of drinks. “Champagne?” She handed Lia a fresh glass without waiting for an answer and then took one for herself. She smiled conspiratorially and raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen the Max Ernst yet?”

“You have an Ernst?” Lia asked, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she realized and closed it. 

“Yeah, it’s in the next room. Come on.” She hooked her arm in Lia’s and led her to the next room where, indeed, the promised painting hung. 

“It’s bloody amazing,” Lia whispered. 

 “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m sure you could have it for a song. None of the tossers here will recognize its significance.” Ada gently shook her head, and the rubies around her neck caught the light. Lia blushed and looked down. She had not near enough to even make a starting bid on any of the artwork. Ada led Lia around talking about the various works up for auction. She was genuine and warm. Not at all what Lia imagined a Shelby would be like. When Lia explained that she couldn’t actually buy any of the art because she had just started a job as a librarian, Ada commiserated with her about the low pay.

“I was a librarian myself for a time. If it weren’t for my brother Tommy… well, let’s just say I know what it’s like to live on a librarian’s pay...and much, much less” 

Ada didn’t expand on her role at Shelby Company Limited, except to say she dealt in imports and exports, and Lia didn’t pry. Even though Ada spoke with a candid ebullience, it seemed safer not to ask questions. As they were discussing the merits of public reading rooms a man entered by a side door and motioned for Ada to come over. “Oh, dear. If you’ll excuse me, I should go to make sure that everything is running smoothly.  It was so nice meeting, you Lia.”

“Likewise Mrs. Thorne.” 

“Call me Ada,” she warmly smiled and was on her way. 

Lia was positively buzzing. She had lost track of time and of how much champagne she had quaffed while talking to Ada. She squinted across the hall into the main room and scanned the crowd for Jenny, who was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to her, someone had been watching in admiration as she strolled along.  

 Another Picasso caught her eye, and she stood squinting and biting her bottom lip as she looked at it. She was so astonished by the colors and lines that she hardly noticed the gentleman who had come to stand beside her and ask her what she thought of it.

“Vastly overrated. I much prefer his blue period...”  

As she spoke, she turned to find herself under the gaze of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He took her in with an intensity that was slightly lessened when he raised one corner of his mouth and tilted his head a bit. His voice was a low, raspy rumble and Lia felt it in her gut when he tutted and spoke again.

“If our Ada were here, she’d tell you all about how it represents the chaos of war and the destruction wrought by the powerful…how mechanization renders people obsolete…turns us into interchangeable parts.”

Lia stared at him as her mind lurched toward the realization that maybe she shouldn’t have been so candid. Our Ada? “Are you…” 

He turned his whole body to face her. “Thomas Shelby. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs…”

 As he kissed her hand her breath caught in her throat. She was toe to toe with the most powerful man in Birmingham, and his warm soft lips were currently on her skin. Tommy did not fail to notice the little shiver of electricity that passed between them.

“Miss… Miss Lia Montrose, and the pleasure is all mine.” The heat from his lips on her hand made its way up to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and swirled the champagne in her glass.  “Great party.”

“Party, event, fundraiser, no matter what you call it it’s all about separating this lot from their money. Since my Picasso is shite, tell me, which ones do you like?” There was a hint of mischief in his voice as he spoke.  

Tommy liked that there was something different about her. She was younger than the usual patrons of local charities, but the difference seemed to do more with the light in her eyes as she surveyed the room. Bright. The word Ada had used to describe their special guests sprang to his mind. She was one of those bright young things who Ada invited to try to make him have fun. There was a distinct lack of pretense in the way she carried herself. She had spent the evening looking at and chatting about art instead of business, and her honest reaction to his question did not surprise him in the least. 

Lia giggled a little and apologized. “I didn’t mean to insult your taste in art, Mr. Shelby…” 

“Call me Tommy.” He lazily caressed her body with his eyes.

“…I didn’t know who you were when you asked me.” Lia’s voice quivered, betraying her surprise at the bold way he was looking at her. After all, he was Tommy Shelby, and she was taken aback by the open way in which he was flirting with her.

 He took a step closer and raised his eyebrows. “Had you known, would it have changed your answer?” 

Lia bit her lip and fought back a smile before answering, “Well, no, but I would have used a bit more tact.” She looked up through her lashes at him.

Tommy held her gaze and waited for her to answer what he had asked previously. She seemed a bit dazed, so he repeated the question.  “Which ones do you like?”   

She glanced around the room, gathering her thoughts and began, “I really like the Mucha paintings. They are much more organic in how they reflect the beauty found in nature and…” As she trailed off, she realized that Mr. Shelby was still looking directly at her. His unwavering attention coupled with the champagne made it very hard for her to concentrate. 

Tommy could see that she was having some difficulty in expressing herself, and he was having quite a lot of fun teasing her. He narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue along his lips. “What makes you think the Picasso is shite?” he asked in an exaggeratingly sincere voice.  

She drained her champagne. Liquid courage could only help her current situation. “Personal preference, I suppose. It’s ridiculous,” She leaned closer to him in a conspiratorial manner.  “It’s overwrought and pretentious.”

 As soon as the words left her mouth Jenny came into view. Her eyes were huge as she gingerly approached Lia and Mr. Shelby.

“Oh, Jenny, let me introduce you to Tommy. We’ve been discussing his art collection.”  

Tommy offered a warm greeting to Jenny, who hid her surprise as best she could. “Mr. Shelby, thank you for extending an invitation to my cousin and me.”

“My pleasure. The fine work you’re doing for our city has not gone unnoticed, and I’m happy to show my appreciation. Do you have opinions on art, Miss Montrose? Your cousin is partial to Mucha.”

Lia giggled and smiled up at Tommy, “Well, yeah, of course, I prefer him to Picasso.”

Jenny’s eyes shifted from Lia to Tommy and back again, as she could hardly believe what she was seeing. There was an obvious attraction between them. Lia was fresh from the country and had no way of knowing the gravity of the situation she’d stumbled into. But Jenny did. 

She took the empty champagne glass from her cousin’s hand and placed it on a passing tray, “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mr. Shelby, but we must be going.” 

Lia frowned, and Tommy’s demeanor cooled as he turned to face Jenny. “Won’t you stay for the auction?”  

“We would love to, but…” Jenny’s excuse was mercifully cut short by an announcement that the auction was beginning. 

Tommy shifted his attention back to Lia and slowly shook his head, “It’s a shame, you know. I could use your expertise to run up the bids.”

Lia looked over her shoulder as she walked toward the door and smiled sweetly, “That wouldn’t be fair, now would it, Mr. Shelby.”      

[thegc4life]

Oh my, I wasn't expecting a quick response! You honestly made my day ☺️ & I would LOVE to hear the ideas you've got cooking for your FFXV story! (Also, the starlight reader tag under my first ask made my heart flutter. Thank you so much, my long shift suddenly seems bearable now ❤️)

I’m glad I could make your day a little better, it sounds like you needed it. You are now dubbed the starlight Anon. Cause you’re a bright little spot of starlight!

I went back into my doc (so MUCH) and wow, I was really close to being down with the next chapter. I’ll put it under the cut for you, love. If anyone else is interested this was going to be the majority of the next chapter of the fic “Last Chance” for FFXV. Where Umbra and Pryna take matters into their own hands.

Libertus knocked on the door, ignoring the side-eyes the guards were giving him.

“...Come in.”

He frowned at the heavy rasp. It sounded worse than usual. Twisting the doorknob he strolled in, nudging the door closed behind him. “You sound like crap.”

“Thank you, Libertus,” Umbra smiled at him from where he was curled up in his bed with a book. 

“Welcome,” Libertus grinned.

Umbra huffed, lips twitching a bit higher. “Did you need something?”

He shrugged, plopping himself down in the chair next to the bed. “Not really. Nyx is busy, Selena is helpin’ out in the kitchens today I think since she wasn’t in ‘er room, and I don’t have anything to do.”

“So you are bored.”

“Pretty much.”

Umbra nodded, closing the book and setting it on his nightstand. Libertus glanced at the headache medicine next to the glass of water also resting there.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick before.”

Umbra blinked at him. “...I have a strong immune system. It doesn’t happen often.”

“That sucks,” he stretched out, propping his feet up on the bed next to him. “You can’t see the little princeling til’ you’re better right?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I am not contagious but no one wants to risk his or mother’s health.”

He looked genuinely regretful. Libertus got it. His little brother had just been born yesterday and, with how hard it looked for him to let go of the baby when it was time for checkups, it probably really sucked to have to stay away from him.

“When Selena was born Nyx wouldn’t let go of her for days,” Libertus shared. “Even when his mom made him go to bed she’d wake up and find him curled up in her crib with her.”

Umbra leaned back into his pillows, eyes warm. “He loves her very much.”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed. “We both do. She’s an awesome kid, you know? This one time, after Nyx’s mom died and we were alone, we needed a way ta’ make money. Nyx kept tryn’ to get small jobs from the market but no one would hire him on for longer than a day. I kept tryn’ to get construction stuff cause that paid pretty well but I was too small back then so no one even gave me a second glance. We came back with nothin’, just like usual, and Selena wasn’t there.” He laughed suddenly, putting his foot down and leaning forwards. “You know how Nyx is always the one tellin’ me to calm down?”

“He is a very calming influence on you,” Umbra nodded.

“Uh,” Libertus paused, processing. “Yeah? Yeah, that. Anyways, he was not when she disappeared like that. I seriously thought was gonna kill someone, he was so mad.”

Umbra brought his knees up to his chest so he could rest his chin on them, smiling warmly. “Where did you find her?”

“Oh, we didn’t find shit,” Libertus laughed. He was glad Nyx wasn’t there to get mad at him for using ‘inappropriate language’ around the Prince. “She strolled right back home when she was good an’ ready. An’ Nyx was about to have a heart attack, he was runnin’ around like his head had been cut off!”

“And I’m sure you were very calm yourself,” Umbra said, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Libertus squinted at him. “I mighta been a little worried, sure, but the town was pretty calm back then. I figured wherever she was, someone in town was watchin’ out for her. Nyx wouldn’t hear it though. He was bangin’ on doors, demandin’ if people had seen her anywhere. Then, right before he damn near broke through old man Relis’ door she came skippin’ down the street with her little basket Nyx had woven for her. It was full of food and some cloth to make new clothes. Nyx and I damn near lost our minds.”

Umbra blinked slowly, his face relaxed as he curled in further over his legs. “How did she get all of that?”

“By being a little shit, that’s how!” Libertus laughed, leaning back. “She went around to all the market stores and houses with people that had more work than they had hands, offerin’ her own for just a little of what they had to spare, and when they tried to turn her down she guilted the hell out of em’! Told em’ that if they didn’t even try to help out the kids of Galahd then they’d end up with a town full of old folk and no one else until the whole place just fell apart. And that if the kids didn’t starve they’d up and leave for a place that took care of their own better than our shit hole.”

Umbra huffed, blinking less and less because his eyes were staying closed more and more. “I doubt they took that very well.”

Libertus smiled even wider, his heart going all warm and tingly. Because Umbra was right, Selena had pissed everyone off saying stuff like that. Galahd was huge on making sure everyone was cared for and looked after, as best they could be with what they had, so when Selena had told them otherwise they’d all felt insulted to their cores. Not a lot of people had anything to offer back then, even less as the years went on, but Selena made sure that their people stuck to their codes with a backbone of steel and the mouth of an Imp. It was hard, looking out for people when you needed looking out for, but that’s just how Galahd people were. They just needed some reminding from time to time, and Selena took to that job like a fish to water.

It was nice to see that Umbra knew that. Not a lot of city folk did.

“They were pissed,” Libertus nodded, scooting forwards when Umbra swayed a bit to the side. “Gave her all these odd an’ end kind of jobs just to shut her up and then gave her whatever they could spare in return. I don’t know anyone else that can get people to pay em’ out of pure spite like Selena can. They started givin’ Nyx and I some of those small jobs too, and even the other kids started helpin’ out. It made everyone come together again after everything. Selena is the meanest hero I’ve ever met.”

Umbra hummed, low and soft. His eyes were still closed. “...I’d love to meet her.”

“You will,” Libertus assured him. “Don’t know how you two haven’t met yet, honestly. With how much time Nyx and I spend with you and how often she hears about you I’m surprised she hasn’t kicked down your door just to know who the hell we’re talking about.”

Selena’s job in the kitchens always kept her busy (but she never complained, a spring in her step when she would come back with flour stains on her hands and crumbs in her hair) and the Glaive schedule was a ‘round-the-clock’ kind of thing so besides bedtime they never really had time to hang out with all three of them. Nyx would hang out with Selena in the kitchens in the mornings and Libertus would sneak her away for lunch, but other than that they were just too busy. 

Umbra blinked blearily, his eyes a muted dark yellow. “...Next time you have training. Invite her.”

“Sure,” Libertus said even though he knew Selena was always hard at work when they trained and Umbra was usually doing his own training with the Queen. Umbra said stuff like that sometimes. Things that wouldn’t normally work but always somehow did when he said so. “Did I ever tell you about the time Nyx and I got lost in the gardens and this bird tried to eat my ear?”

Umbra breathed out softly from his nose, an approximation of a very tired laugh. “No.”

“Okay,” Libertus said, raring up for another story. “So we had the afternoon off cause you were doin’ somethin’ with your Dad, I don’t remember but it sounded boring, and Captain Drautos was in some meeting so Pelna told us to go enjoy ourselves. So Nyx, of course, picks the gardens cause they’re gods damned beautiful and we don’t even realize when one wall of plants starts looking like the next.”

As he talks he can’t quite help the slight laughter in his voice when Umbra turns sideways into his pillows and drops straight into a dead sleep. He really was a little kid. Talking someone to sleep was exactly what he had to do to Selena whenever she got sick and Nyx wasn’t around to sing to her.

Libertus kept talking, even as he pulled the blankets up around the boy’s shoulders. Nyx had mentioned that Umbra didn’t seem to be sleeping even though he was sick. Umbra was usually real good about doing what needed to be done to keep his body in tip-top shape so he wasn’t quite sure why the brat would fight sleep now of all times, but germs made you think weird so it didn’t really matter.

Libertus placed the back of his hand on Umbra’s forehead, frowning a bit at the heat. Luckily it looked like everything he needed was on the bedside table so he wouldn’t have to leave until dinner time. He’d seen one of the ladies in charge of cleaning and stuff on the way in so they’d probably be back a little before then to give Umbra whatever medicine he needed. It would be just like looking after Selena, only quieter and less likely to give him a heart attack cause Umbra knew not to sneak out of the room to work if Libertus just so happened to doze off. 

Hopefully.

Wringing out a washcloth that had been soaking in the little metal bowl of iced water Libertus set it on Umbra’s head and chattered on. Background noise and a familiar voice calmed Nyx down when he was having problems falling asleep, and judging by the peaceful expression on Umbra’s face it was helping him too.

“The last time Nyx got sick I almost knocked him out just to keep him down. Selena nearly pulled out all her hair too. Nyx is such a pain in the ass when he’s sick cause he refuses to believe he’s actually sick! Even when he’s passin’ out or throwing up his entire stomach he’s all ‘I’m not sick, you two are just paranoid’. Paranoid my ass. I could sneeze and he’d have me strapped to my bed with no escape but he coughs up his own damned lung and it’s all ‘oh no Libertus, this is normal. I always cough up organs, haven’t you noticed’?”

Umbra burrowed further into his blankets.

Libertus took that as an agreement.

--00—

“Ughhh,” Pryna groaned miserably. She flopped to the side for what had to be the fiftieth time before rolling back to her original position. Why was it so hard to get comfortable? 

“I warned you there would be consequences,” Umbra told her, sounding perfectly fine. “With physical bodies, we can not just push the fluctuating Time to the side, it will affect us more strongly now.”

Pryna blinked around her room blearily, making sure she was actually alone because it was so hard to focus and Luna had tried to sneak in multiple times now. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?” she said, pressing her palms to her eyes in an attempt to relieve the pressure built there. Her face burned beneath her hands. She could talk to him in her head, but the effort to transfer her thoughts just felt like too much. She missed the connection they had when they had full access to their core. She didn’t have to think so much to talk to him, she just had to feel and he would know. Human bodies were stupid.

“Because you learn better through experience. It won’t last long, half a day at most, but let this teach you to always keep in mind the result of our interference.”

“Will this happen every time we change things?” Pryna whined. She didn’t like the sound of that. They had big plans, they couldn’t get laid out like this (or worse) every time they needed to make a move.

“No, only when we use our magic too much. I know it feels like we are drastically weaker now due to our fractional magical supply, but what we have now is still a great strain on our physical forms. Simple things such as pausing or Seeing will not harm us in moderation, but focused skills and spacial creation will drastically affect our bodies. Freezing and slowing Aulea’s Time is simple enough, but our bodies will need the adjustment period all the same.”

Pryna frowned. She prodded at their shared magical core. It was like a giant wall was placed between them and it, only small amounts filtering to them in order not to overload them. The amount filtered to Umbra was a bit bigger. “But… you never actually stop Seeing. Won’t that make you sick all the time?”

“It would, if I were in your shoes. The Fleuret family is very magically gifted, but not nearly to the same degree as the line of Lucis. It is why your illness is so much more poignant than mine. I tried to separate the recoil as best I could but with sharing the same magic it is nearly impossible to split so definitely.”

“So that’s why we’re filling flasks,” Pryna realized. She had thought it was a little odd, placing small fractions of their magic into little magical flasks and storing them in a pocket dimension, but she had just thought it was a way Umbra had made up for her to practice her control. She shattered the vials often enough, putting too much into them, so it had made sense. “So we can use that magic instead of our main reserves.”

Umbra hummed in response. “For the most part. The flasks have many potential uses but by separating them from ourselves it makes them a little more volatile. We can’t use them for things that need absolute focus to maintain.”

“Like helping Aulea.”

“Yes.”

Pryna crossed her arms, before realizing that made her shoulders ache even more. She flopped them back to her sides, glaring at the ceiling. “I want to be able to do more too.”

“I know,” he sounded amused. “But with your control, the less is better for now. As you grow your body will be able to withstand more and you will be able to utilize it better as well.”

Pryna used to think it was unfair that she had to be limited in what she could do and try when Umbra had started out with no limiters whatsoever. She’d complained about it a lot, when she was first exploring their magic. Then, when she snapped at him for stopping her again, he had looked so sad and hurt she’d apologized on instinct. He’d said that the mistakes he made when he wasn’t even aware of what he was truly doing were irrevocable and he refused to let her make the same. She’d still felt a little cheated, but the more she learned the less angry she was.

Time could be scary sometimes.

The door creaked open and Pryna groaned.

Umbra laughed. “Try to get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

He was one to talk. Pryna knew he felt just as nervous as her, falling asleep in these weaker forms. They could still See, when they were asleep, but they could never See themselves. It made them feel vulnerable, and now that they were sick the feeling was multiplied tenfold.

Reikin walked in with a tray in his hands.

“Dad,” Pryna croaked, smiling up at him. She perked up even more when Ravus walked in and closed the door behind them. A small thump told her that Luna was on the other side, probably upset that she’d been locked out. “Ravus! Are you supposed to be in here?”

“Just for a bit,” Reikin answered for his son, voice soft and quiet. “I thought you’d like a bit of company. Can’t be too much fun, all cooped up in here.”

“It’s awful,” Pryna sniffed. “I hate being sick. I don’t know how you all handle it.”

Ravus rolled his eyes, rolling her around gently to get the blankets out from under her. “I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve ever gotten sick.”

Pryna stuck her tongue at him. It was probably thanks to Umbra. He was always telling her when to stop using their magic and how much to use. Which was only fair seeing as how he hadn't told her about it making them feel horrible if they used too much!

“Hmmm,” Reikin brushed her bangs back, resting his hand on her head while balancing the tray in his other arm. Pryna leaned into the cool touch, closing her eyes. “Your fever has gone down a bit. That’s good. Do you feel up to eating?”

She definitely did not but Umbra would get all huffy if she didn’t. It was kind of hard to remember to eat all the time (until her stomach clenched and yelled at her, that was so weird) but he always told her it was important. That rule probably still stood even if her stomach already felt like it was full of rocks.

“I guess,” she said, pushing herself up. Ravus helped her stuff the pillows behind her back, crawling up next to her and letting her rest her head on his shoulder. “...I love you Ravus.”

He snorted, tucking all of her hair behind her and out of the way. “I love you too. Now eat.”

Reikin sat on the edge next to them, helping her with the bowl of soup. They all hung their heads when the door swung open and tiny feet barreled towards the bed.

“Luna,” Reikin sighed, reaching down to scoop her up. “You can’t be in here my little moon, you’ll get sick.”

Luna looked like she wanted to cry, which made Pryna want to cry.

“I want to help,” Luna clasped her hands together, looking towards Pryna with wide, watery eyes. “You’re hurting.”

“Not anymore!” Pryna pumped her fist in the air, grinning through the aches and pains. “I feel better every time you smile, I think it’s magic!”

Luna, never one to call Pryna out for being a liar, smiled immediately.

“Ohhh,” Pryna looked at her arms in wonder. “How did you do that? I feel so much better!”

Ravus tapped her head. “Stop moving, you’ll make yourself worse.”

“You’re right,” Pryna nodded, settling back against him. “I shouldn’t waste Luna’s healing magic. Right, Luna?”

“Right,” she beamed.

A heavy, exasperated sigh drew their eyes back to the door for the fourth time. Sylva looked unimpressed.

“You three,” she narrowed her eyes at the ones that were not currently bedridden. “I explicitly told you not to come in here.”

“Darling,” Reikin stood, Luna still cradled in his arms. “I was just bringing Pryna her food and-”

“No,” she held up a finger to stop him, stepping in so she could shoo them all out. “The three of you have terrible immune systems. I told you I would handle her food, you need to go wash your hands.”

“Sylva-” 

“Out,” she commanded, lifting Ravus straight out of the bed (Pryna giggled at the startled squeaking sound he made) and readjusting the pillow so Pryna could sit back again. Three pairs of sad eyes stared at her when the door closed in their faces. “Honestly, I turn my back for one second.”

Pryna laughed.

Sylva turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “And you are no better. I know you do not want them to worry, but if you push yourself this will only last longer.”

“Okay mom.”

Sylva’s face softened. She took Reikin’s spot at the side of the bed, settling the bowl of soup into her own hands.

“How are you feeling sweetie?”

Pryna smiled, feeling warm in the best way all the way down to her toes. “Better.”

“Good,” Sylva offered her the spoon. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Pryna was eventually able to doze off with Sylva’s fingers carding through her hair and a lullaby in the air. 

She guessed sleeping wasn’t so bad. Not when there was someone nearby to watch over them.

--00—

One of the best things about the birth of the youngest Lucian Prince was that it made Nyx’s job much, much easier. In the Citadel it wasn’t like there was a lot he really needed to watch out for, and being surrounded by a hefty amount of both Crownsguard and Kings Glaives meant the chances of anything happening were low. The only thing Nyx really had to worry about was finding Umbra and then keeping it that way. Which, admittedly, also wasn’t very hard because for some reason while Umbra would often disappear on most of his guards (the stories shared at mealtimes were both ridiculous and a bit unbelievable) he rarely, if ever, ditched out on Nyx or Libertus. He wasn’t sure about the reasons but looking at the faces of any guard that wasn’t Alec (who Libertus was convinced had a tracking device placed on the Prince) he decided it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

It was still a trial and a half to find Umbra though. 

At least, it was until Prince Noctis was born. As soon as Umbra’s fever had broken he had been in the medical wing with the Queen and his new little brother. Then, when Noctis was moved to his own nursery room, Umbra trailed after. Wherever the newborn was, Umbra was sure to be there too.

The shared looks of relief between Guards and Glaives when they realized they now had a sure-fire way to track the eldest son was both hilarious and relieving (who knew that one of the best ways to bring two very different types of people together was to make them watch a child with so much wanderlust it was like he was trying to float right out of his own body). 

Nyx counted off in his head the four different locations Umbra was most likely to be. It was after lunch so he wouldn’t be with the Queen. She was still recovering from giving birth so she was typically only awake around meal times. He was pretty sure the King had a Council Meeting so neither Prince would be with him (even though Umbra seemed pretty intent on getting involved in those). He’d already checked Umbra’s room and found it empty, so the only other likely place for him to be was the nursery.

Hopping from ledge to ledge Nyx flipped his way to the eastern wing. When he landed on the ground outside the nursery door Alec waved at him in greeting. The other Guard was a tall, stone-faced woman Nyx had seen around a few times. She didn’t talk much. Or ever. Libertus thought she was a mech.

“Hey Nyx,” Alec smiled, tired and warm. “Here to switch with Libertus?”

“Yeah,” Nyx said. “You look tired.”

Alec scratched at the scruff along his face, blinking slowly. “That obvious? My sister’s been real sick lately. I’ve been trying to help out with her kid whenever I’m off.”

Nyx frowned. Hadn’t his sister gotten sick over a week ago? “...She okay?”

Alec shrugged, his face blank. “Hope so. I’m off soon actually, they got that new kid taking over for me. You’ve met Morgan Dires, right?”

Nyx held back a snort. “Yeah. He’s…”

“Nervous?” Alec smiled teasingly. “He’s a good kid. Just thinks too much. Mind keeping an eye on him for me?”

“Thought I was here to watch the Prince,” Nyx joked.

“Tell the Prince that,” Alec rolled his eyes fondly. “He’s been pretty lazy today though. Hasn’t left this room since noon.”

Nyx glanced at his watch (standard issue and more expensive than anything he had ever owned before). It was a little after 3.

“Before you leave,” Nyx looked up at the tall man, “stop by the kitchens and ask for Selena. Tell her I sent you and she’ll make you some Galahd soup. It clears up just about anything and it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Yeah?” Alec smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Nyx resisted the urge to bat the hand away. Alec had been one of the few people that treated him and Libertus like normal people when they first arrived, and he never cared that they weren’t from the Crown City. He always listened to Libertus and showed interest in their culture in ways none of the other Guards did. He was a good man.

“Yeah, she’ll help you out. Might talk your ear off though. Her mouth is worse than Libertus’ so you’ve been warned.”

“Thanks,” Alec smiled.

Nyx shrugged. It was a kindness done for a kindness.

Nodding to Alec and the Guardswoman (who stared straight ahead, unblinking as always) he opened the door. 

Libertus was in his face, patting his arm and out the door before he could so much as say hello.

“Gotta pee, have fun, he’s super boring today!” Libertus shouted all the way down the hall.

Nyx pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. One day, one day Libertus would be aware of the people around him. One day.

Umbra was sprawled out over a collection of pillows and blankets, leaned back so that Noctis could rest on his chest with one hand on his back protectively and the other holding a book against his knee.

“Hello Nyx,” Umbra greeted, not looking up.

“Hey. You planning on letting him go anytime soon?” Nyx smirked.

Umbra looked up from his book, thumb absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into the baby’s back. “He can’t do much right now anyway.”

“Yeah,” Nyx conceded, “but you’ve been here for about three hours now and I bet you haven’t put him down once.”

Umbra rested his head on Noctis’, closing his eyes. “My tutor mentioned that babies have a particular scent that evokes protective instincts and emotional attachment in the people around them. I wasn’t prepared for how strong it would be.”

Nyx snorted. “I can see that.”

Noctis sniffed, giving one soft yawn before turning even further into Umbra’s chest. Nyx watched Umbra melt even further into the pillows and thought about Selena. 

“There’s some coloring books over there,” Umbra murmured into the light tufts of Noctis’ hair, eyes blinking open and glancing to the table against the wall near the crib. “Libertus was bored.”

Of course he was. Nyx walked over to the desk, smiling down at the half-colored pages of fish and animals.

“He didn’t even finish one,” Nyx thumbed through the top book. It was clearly designed for young children. The first ten pages were randomly colored.

“He doesn’t seem to like hobbies that make him sit,” Umbra said. “Perhaps something that uses his hands more.”

“He likes knitting,” Nyx said, tearing out one of the pictures of a Chocobo and tucking it carefully into his jacket for Selena. “And carving.”

“Mh,” Umbra hummed. Nyx glanced over at him. He was curled on his side now, Noctis resting on a large pillow next to him. Umbra had his arm wrapped around the youngest Prince to keep him in place. “What do you enjoy?”

“Not sure,” Nyx shrugged, walking to the window and leaning against the wall. He pulled out one of his daggers and practiced flipping it from one hand to the other. “I never really had time to relax and figure that kind of thing out. Libertus took up things to help me and Selena out after Mom died, and Selena only got into cooking to keep us alive. I did a lot of the grunt work so anything that required a ‘finer touch’ I left to them.”

“You have time now,” Umbra said, sighing contentedly. “You should find something before that changes.”

Nyx frowned a bit. “...Things gonna change a lot?”

One yellow eye peered open, staring at him for a moment before closing again. “The older we get the busier you will be.”

Nyx turned back to the window. That was true. Now that Umbra had completed the Crystal’s Ceremony he would be recognized by the Council and King as a true member of the royal family. With how eager Umbra was to jump into everything Nyx was sure his days would become a lot more hectic.

If Umbra was hard to keep track of in the Citadel what would it be like when he had access to the city as well?

...He didn’t want to think about that.

Nyx sighed. He’d been here for less than thirty minutes and he was already feeling restless. One look at Umbra told him that both Princes were sleeping soundly now and would be for the foreseeable future. He was used to roaming the Citadel all the time, or at least listening in on Umbra’s lessons. Umbra never napped until Noctis was born. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t go talk to Alec (or Dires) because of their guard set up so he had to stay in the room, he wasn’t big on coloring, and flipping his knives around would only keep him mentally active for so long. 

Nyx paced around the room, picking up the few toys that had been lying around. The little Princeling already had more toys than Selena had ever seen in her life but it made sense. He couldn’t get mad at the kid for being born into a better life than others. That’s just how life was sometimes.

Another half-hour passed and Nyx was debating on borrowing Umbra’s book while he slept.

Noctis whined.

Nyx ambled over, looking down at the pair.

Tiny blue eyes looked up at him curiously.

“Hey there,” Nyx whispered, crouching down. “You done napping?”

Noctis yawned, showing off his gums. He started to wiggle a bit, one hand nearly punching Umbra in the eye.

“Careful there Highness,” Nyx pushed the little arms away gently. He jumped when Umbra’s hand clamped around his wrist.

Eight-year-olds are not intimidating. 

The eight-year-old holding his wrist like he was about to snap it, glaring up at him with eyes too slitted to be normal, was. 

Umbra blinked. His face relaxed, pupils widening. “...Nyx.”

“Yeah?” Nyx said, trying not to sound like his heart had just jumped into his throat.

Umbra released his wrist, yawning into his shoulder. Noctis batted at his face and he smiled. “It’s time for him to eat. Let’s go to the kitchens, they should have everything ready.”

“Okay.”

Nyx stepped back to let Umbra stretch and get ready to go. He tapped slowly along the side of his leg, forcing his heart to calm down and match the steadier tempo. That had been… startling. Libertus sometimes woke up swinging because he didn’t know where he was or what was going on. Selena would shake awake from her nightmares and stare at him blankly until her brain processed what was around her. Those made his heart race too, but not like this.

“Shall we?” Umbra tilted his head towards the door, polite smile in place and Noctis cradled in his arms with a soft blanket. The baby Prince was making short, burbling sounds that had Umbra humming in response. It was like the last few seconds hadn’t happened at all.

Nyx opened the door for them.

“Prince Umbra!” Morgan saluted sharply, twitching at the sudden appearance. “And young Prince Noctis! Are we going somewhere?”

“Hello Guardsman Dires,” Umbra greeted, shifting Noctis more comfortably in his arms. Nyx wondered how often he’d shooed away the nursemaids throughout the day, seeing as how he hadn’t ever really seen them around when Umbra was with the princeling. “I offer my gratitude for taking over Guardsman Nollan’s duties.”

Morgan flushed to his ears. “I-It was no trouble at all Your Highness, I am always happy to serve.”

Nyx snorted, drawing the anxiety-ridden guard’s attention to him.

“Ulric,” Morgan scowled.

“Dires,” Nyx tipped his head.

“Your Highness,” the female guard from before cut in. Both Nyx and Morgan jumped a bit at the sound of her voice. “Prince Noctis is not to leave this room unless escorted by the King or Queen.”

Umbra smiled up at her. “Father is in a meeting and Mother is ill. I’m afraid there isn’t much choice if Noctis is to eat, Guardswoman Nelia.”

“The food can be brought up here.”

“It will be safer if we go ourselves.”

The lightest crease of a frown on Nelia’s face (it had taken far too long for Nyx to learn her name) was the most expression Nyx had ever seen from her. “Safer, Your Highness?”

Umbra nodded, still smiling. “The servant in charge of delivering Noctis’ food has been feeling under the weather lately. I would hate to accidentally expose Noctis to any illnesses while his immune system is still so weak.”

Nelia stared down at him, unbending. “Another servant can be requested.”

“Yes,” Umbra agreed, “but they are short-staffed today. By the time they found someone Noctis would be very upset.”

“The needs of the royal family is our top priority, a servant would prioritize that above all else.”

“Which is why it would be best for us to go to them. They would put a simple meal first and foremost and then their tasks for the day would be even more behind schedule. I would hate for a bottle for Noctis to come in the way of my Father eating on time.”

Nelia’s eyes narrowed. 

Nyx and Morgan shared a look. There was no way to know if asking one servant to do something would actually make the King’s meal late, but there was also no way she was going to call Umbra a liar to his face. 

“...As you wish Prince Umbra.”

It was a good thing Libertus wasn’t here. He wouldn’t have been able to hide his snickers like Nyx could. You really didn’t argue with Umbra. It never ended well.

As they started walking down the hall Nyx hopped up onto the ceiling ledges. He rolled his eyes at the doe-eyed look Morgan was giving Umbra. That kid had a serious case of hero-worship. It made poking fun at him way to easy.

“Nyx?”

He looked down. 

Umbra smiled up at him. “Would you mind going ahead and letting the staff know we’ll be there soon? It should make our trip a little faster.”

Nyx pursed his lips a bit to stop the knowing smile growing there. “Sure.”

Flipping out the window he warped his way down to the kitchens. Hopping down next to the door he waved at the head cook.

“What’re you doing here Ulric?” the robust man asked, pressing deeply into the dough laid out in front of him. “You’re on Prince duty, aren’t you?”

“The littlest Princeling is hungry,” he said.

The chef’s eyes brightened with understanding. He nodded to the fridge behind him. “In there. Warm it up for a bit and it’s set to go.”

Nyx nodded, feeling a little odd at being trusted to handle the food for a royal. Perks of having a sister that stole the hearts of the people around her with sarcasm and dedication he guessed.

When the milk was warmed (and double-checked by the chef) Nyx walked out to see Umbra waiting for him.

“You got down here quick,” Nyx smirked. Neither Morgan or Nelia were with him.

Umbra smiled, teeth bright. “I took a shortcut.”

“Of course you did,” Nyx handed the bottle over. “Where to now?”

“I want to check if Mother is awake.”

“Alright.”

--00--

And that’s all I’ve got for that chapter. There’s a lot more stuff, in less chapter like format. let me know if you’re interested in reading more darling! Some of them are literally two sentences long like a summary of what I was planning to write but some are pretty long scenes. A lot is from when they are all older. I hope you liked it!

[binnie-binnie-bambam]

where I’ve been...?

hey. I feel like I owe y’all an explanation as to where I’ve been for the last 3 months. but imma put it the whole big detailed story under the cut just in case y’all don’t care haha and coz I don’t wanna clog up people’s feed with my incessant rambling.

TL;DR: I’ve been through 3 months of mental hell and that took a big toll on everything, including my love of a lot of things, so I’ve been struggling but I’m gonna try to be on here more and I’m sorry for being away for so long and not saying anything about it. Thank you to everyone who has tagged me in things and sent me messages during this time, I have seen it, I promise, even if I haven’t been in the right headspace to respond, you have made this time even just a bit more bearable, and for that I thank you greatly.

so yeah, things have been rough to say the least. I want to explain what’s been going on because I’ve always been pretty open on here and I know a lot of other people struggle with the same things so I don’t feel so alone. basically, I’ve fallen into another awful depression. I’ve lost my passion and drive and desire, I’ve lost the ability to find joy in things, I have no interest in hardly anything at all, I’m just not...me...right now.

I mean, my whole summer was crazy busy because I was spending almost all of my time doing wedding prep for my best friend/cousin’s wedding so I really didn’t have much time for myself and if I did, I was too exhausted to do anything I wanted to do. that’s when my partial inactivity started. I also started to see a new psychiatrist over the summer and he started me on new meds around August. since August, over a span of ~5 months, I’ve been on and off 6+ new meds, being treated for severe anxiety, panic attacks that resurfaced after being free of them for over 4 years, severe depression, ADHD, and trying different things to see if I had bipolar, as well as having a heart condition, thyroid issues, and fibromyalgia all going haywire.

I was pretty much ok through September, aside from some not so fun side effects that got me on and off 3 new meds in that month alone. like my mood and motivation and everything was fine, we had the engagement party and bachelorette party at the beginning of the month, I got to spend a bunch of time with the guy I have a (stupid) crush on, I was busy, things were going pretty great, honestly. but October rolled around. the first half wasn’t so bad, we had a girls’ trip for a weekend sort of as a last hoorah before my best friend got hitched and that was a lot of fun and I’m super thankful I was able to go, especially since I originally thought I wasn’t going to be able to make it due to family circumstances.

and wedding prep continued on, until I was driving over to my aunt’s house for the last day of prep and things started to hit me. my aunt and I got really close this past year and this was the last time I was spending with her for a long time, like sure we see each other once in a while but I was going over there and going shopping with her and doing all sorts of stuff multiple times a week and I think I just got scared of the idea that I was facing a new normal all over again when my normal had already changed so drastically at the beginning of last year. and also the fact that my best friend was getting married and moving an hour away when she used to be 10 minutes away and I saw her all the time. like we had the rehearsal dinner the Sunday before the wedding and my oldest cousin made this speech (because she knew she’d be sobbing too much to actually make it at the wedding) and she talked about us three girls as kids growing up and all this stuff about my best friend and how perfect her fiance was for her and it was just all really sobering I guess?

and I spent a lot of nights that week writing and rewriting a letter to the couple and I definitely spent most of that time sobbing over everything and sometime that week my mood just plummeted. my dad got /really/ concerned because the change in me was /so/ drastic but there wasn’t much we could do with only a few days until the wedding so we just hoped for the best and waited till my appointment with my psychiatrist to figure out the next step. I ended up getting a migraine at the wedding (I know it was from stress and from being so upset) so I couldn’t have a good time like I wanted to and I knew I’d regret it and I definitely regret it but I can’t change anything now. I got to hug the bride and groom goodbye just as they were leaving and I’ve never struggled so hard trying not to cry, which I mean, my best friend was sooo close to becoming a sobbing mess hugging me too, and the groom, well he was a blubbering mess (he’s a very emotional dude, all three of us have sobbed watching movies together, we’re a sight lmao) so I didn’t feel too strange haha. but it was a really weird feeling and it was really hard to sleep at the hotel that night. we drove home in the rain the next morning and did absolutely nothing the entire day.

then the news hit about Woojin and I spent my Monday night quite literally sobbing myself to sleep. at that time, I was still pretty new to skz but it still hurt like hell and I know my depression warped the emotions out of proportion but it was still so incredibly painful. but nothing could prepare me for the news about Wonho. nothing. I was already so deep into my depression and that just, I still don’t even have words. something hasn’t hit me that hard in I don’t even know how long. I couldn’t even cry, it took me over 2 months to cry about it because it just hurt too much. I still can’t listen to any of their music, I can’t even see photos of them without bursting into tears, and I’m ashamed at myself for being so attached to something that I react this badly, but even more so, I’m upset with myself that I can’t support them when they need it most because it causes me so much physical and emotional pain I just can’t deal with it. I’m not giving up on them, god no, I know it probably sounds like I am, but I swear I’m not. I love them way too much for that. it’s not even possible to describe how much mx and Wonho mean to me, I’m not giving up on them, I’m just handling things in my own way at my own pace, I guess.

from then on, things just spiraled out of control. on and off more meds, more and more problems arose, I really felt like I could not keep my head above water. and on top of it, I had the 7th anniversary of my grandma’s death in early November and the 10th anniversary of my grandfather’s death in early December and to say the least, that did not have the best effect on my mental health. it’s been 3 months of pretty much hell. I genuinely have /no/ interest in things I used to do, none of my hobbies, everything, and I mean everything, is a chore. it’s still like this. but I’m trying to do more to fix it. I’m seeing my doctor next week and I just spent 6 weeks getting another med out of my system so hopefully when I see him, he’ll try something new and we’ll actually make progress instead of taking 2 steps forward and 8 steps back. I haven’t lost hope yet.

there’s been many, many times in these past few months where I’ve felt like I’ve already hit rock bottom and I’m just waiting for the final blow to finish me off. but, if I’m being completely honest, what’s kept me going has been my really close friends on here that have stuck with me this whole time and my love for kpop which thankfully, god thank you, hasn’t diminished whatsoever despite everything. I can confidently say, I wouldn’t still be here without my friends, you know who you are my loves. y’all keep my world turning and no matter how painful it can get sometimes, I wouldn’t have made it this far, I wouldn’t want to keep going, I wouldn’t owe my life to you guys, so thank you, more than words can express. I love you all to the moon and back. and then some.

so this has just been paragraphs upon paragraphs of me rambling so I really don’t know why you would’ve stayed and read the whole damn thing, but if you did, thank you, I feel a lot better getting things off my chest. and this isn’t to say I’m back completely, I can’t guarantee how active I’ll actually be, but I’ll do my best to spend some more time on here because I genuinely do miss this place and all the amazing people in it. I’m so sorry I’ve been gone so long, especially without any real explanation. I’m going to do my best to rediscover my love for things, I may have lost it for a time, but it’s not gone completely.

~

until next time, this has been “aly won’t shut up”. thank you and goodnight, I love y’all

[granny-core]

do you have any suggestions for how i can keep positive in the winter months? where i live, it's so rainy, cold, and urban. i want to enjoy every time of the year but this time is especially difficult for me :/

Oooh, this one is kinda difficult, because I really struggle with that too. Especially when the days get shorter, my mental health always takes a hit. I’ve tried to find some ways to get through it a little easier, hopefully I can be of at least some help. (Though if anyone reading this has any suggestions to add, they’ll be greatly appreciated!)

Firstly, it’s super important to get some daylight, if there is any during the winter where you live. Just going for a short walk or sitting near a window is nice, daylight helps keeping us awake and is recommended if you experience depression as well. If there’s any parks near your home, going there could perhaps be a nice way to get some daylight and maybe watch some birds or have a snack or a hot drink outdoors, even if the weather is kinda bad.

Other than that, I think making your home and surroundings a little extra cosy makes being indoors most of the day a little more bearable. I like getting lots and lots of candles and indoor winter plants. I really love decorating my home in a way reflecting the seasons, so november and december is all warm colours and spicy scented candles, while I see january and february more as “super extra early spring”, and so I get cut tulips or roses, candles in light colours, and floral scents. Eating stuff that is in season is also a nice way to feel in touch with the changes.

Hot drinks, soup, nice showers or baths are lovely ways to stay warm, and at least for me it gives me something to look forward to during the day. Also, romanticising stuff like putting on some warm socks, getting hot chocolate, or relaxing under a blanket makes it feel like a small luxury, and so it feels a little extra enjoyable, even if it is a little silly.

If you celebrate any holiday during the winter months, that can be a really nice thing to look forward to and plan. I know the holidays can be difficult for some, but celebrating with friends or alone is as valid as celebrating with family. Regardless of how one celebrates, I think it should be a point to making it as enjoyable as possible, and choosing the traditions that make sense to you.

Regardless of whether you celebrate any holidays, I think it’s important to take some time off to recharge during the winter months. Watch a movie you enjoy, take a nap, read a nice book or magazine, try knitting or painting, or some other activity that makes you happy to try to take your mind off the weather. Also, it’s not cheating if that activity is Planning Spring. 

I really hope your winter is lovely, or at least as nice as a winter can get, and that you stay warm and comfy. I know it’s tough, but stay strong, spring will come!🌼🌼🌼

[udonthreens]

s;g0  episode  3

sspoilers under cut

pretty

drastic change from the vn towards the end

feeling the christmas spirit you guys!! gosh!!! i cant believe its december already!!

..

so anyway,, okabe ended the call on the rooftop himself in the vn. the conversation happened, but it wasn’t at the christmas party. he said something along the lines of “that’s the part of you i lo--” then thinks to himself ‘what was i about to say?’ and has a bit of a panic attack. not sure what term to use actually. ptsd attack? smth like that.

maho did not end the call for him. but i like that touch,, the worry she shows for him. her own grief.

although.. okabe didn’t forget that was amadeus in the vn. he nearly did but,, not entirely.

its a change i dont like bcs it has a different take on okabe’s character. it implies he let himself get caught up in the lie, whereas in the vn he tried his best not to forget. he had to remember. makise kurisu is dead.

WAIT HA NG ON

THIS MEANS THEY SKIPPED OVER OKABE’S BIRTHDAY IN THE ANIME AS WELL

S.M.H.

they played christina’s theme at the part where amadeus was shown the lab. ouch! a good use i think,, it reveals something about the original kurisu that wasn’t quite explicit in the original iirc,, and makes the viewer think amadeus is kurisu.

hm,, they say it a lot in the show:

amadeus is not kurisu

but i think the audience forgets that as well,,,i have finished the vn,, although i’m only really recalling it when the anime gives me a refresher,,

but that is true.

SO ANYWAY,,

it was another time issue again. i think this was a bit too rushed,,, okabe’s barely interacted with amadeus on screen,, but its implied they’ve talked a lot at least. that makes it bearable i think.

also i forever love the memeiness leskinen brings to the place, gosh.

the scream okabe let off felt a bit overdramatic,, he sorta suppressed it in the vn. also,, a friend made fun of it once, so unfortunatly i can’t take him seriously as easily :/

the christmas party was one of the calmer, happier moments in the vn. not in the anime though,,, hm. i’d say this is the worst pacing issue so far,, and considering it wasn’t that bad,, im holding out hope still. im just a little more on the defense now

hopefully they won’t start to rush things more! but they conveyed a pretty important scene in the vn with the time they had,, so its good enough i suppose.

of course,, when the series is finished my thoughts on pacing might be entirely different. plus, watching a series weekly is much different than watching it all at once.

tired again so i’m being very rambly an not wording things as well as i could

also this was the only thing that really stuck out nd im too tired to think of any more fgkdhgdfhg

everything else was sorta the same deal,,, similar stuff happened in the vn (from what i remember) it was just summarizeddue to time constraints.

[yeonchi]

Kisekae Insights #1: Introduction

Ever since I was little, I thought that my life was one big story. Influenced by the people and events in my life, the things I saw and the games I played, I started to form an imaginary universe full of possibilities. As the years went on, my universe evolved as new characters and things were introduced. However, as I begin to retire from the imaginary universe to focus on real life, I look back and realise that while I promoted or teased this universe to my friends, I’ve been very reluctant to share it with the public - until recently.

Yes, this is the “personal project” I’ve mentioned on things like the Sea Princesses reviews, Series 12 of the Thirteenth Doctor Reviews or this random post I wrote about a song parody I did. Yes, it is linked to my posts on the Yui Hirasawa Waifu Network. Yes, it’s kind of a revival of the Yui Hirasawa Kisekae Project that I started in 2015 and soon forgot about, but not really.

The coronavirus lockdown, coupled with a desire to not exactly escape reality, but make it somewhat bearable, has enabled me to post more frequently on Tumblr. Having recently opened up my personal project to everyone on my Facebook friends list (if they wished to read it), I have decided to share some aspects of it publicly on my Tumblr, under the title Kisekae Insights.

Out of respect to the privacy of myself and everyone I’ve mentioned in it (don’t ask), I won’t be revealing full details about characters and storylines influenced from my life (any such characters mentioned, where applicable, will be anonymised) and I hope the people on my Facebook can respect this. However, I can share details about characters and storylines influenced from other things, as well as theories I made as part of the project.

Doctor Who (specifically the Moffat era) was the main inspiration of this personal project. Inspiration was also taken from other sources, but it’s too hard to list them all here; you’ll gradually see them as you go through. I never really thought about naming this before, but I eventually decided to gather it under the Doctor Who banner. For the purposes of this series, however, we’ll call it the Kisekae Project. The Kisekae Project was originally meant to be a collection of fanfiction works based around the stories of my personal project, but I gave up on it because real life was getting to me and also because I decided that it was better to write new stories than keep adapting old ones.

While my personal project has developed over the years (with settings going back to the early 2000′s), it was only during the last decade that I started writing it up. I’ll be splitting the project into three phases, with Phase 1 being from 2012-2013, Phase 2 being 2014 and Phase 3 being from 2017 to the end, with 2021 being the estimated end date. I took a break in 2015-2016 to focus on my high school stuff, but I did do some “director’s cut” rereleases of old stuff.

The universe of the Kisekae Project is one where you can get from Melbourne to Tokyo in a few hours through a network of tunnels and freeways passing through Cardiff and Sao Paulo. You can also get there through (the top half of) Taiwan or Shizuoka Prefecture. It should be noted that the real-life counterparts of said cities are not the same as those in this universe, meaning that they are copies. There’s also a thing called “One Country, Two (Naming) Systems”, where places and suburbs in Melbourne are named after places and suburbs in Hong Kong, Japan, Taiwan or whatever. To that point, Melbourne can just be called Hong Kong. It’s an extra layer of privacy for you and a fun thing for me.

Because I have an ego as big as the fucking sky, I wrote myself and a lot of the people I know into the project and also made what are essentially self-insert characters for a number of franchises. The project is heavily inspired from my personal life, so I tried my best to make it as accurate as possible while taking massive liberties for the purpose of entertainment. Did I forget to mention that the project is basically one massive crossover fanfic?

While this is my project, there are portions of it that I “didn’t” write because other writers “wrote” it. I might not know the full details for those portions, but in some cases, I may have some idea how they go, so those portions will only be explained briefly when they come up.

For some reason, I can get very technical about things and thus I have a tendency to explain or seek explanations for things that people can’t understand, which is part of the reason why I started this series. However, there are some things that I just can’t or don’t want to explain for some reason, so in those cases, I will have to invoke Zi-O Rule 3:

There is no set schedule for this series. There is no set length for this series. There is no set format for this series. If I don’t explain something, chances are that I will explain it later. I might repeat things I stated in past instalments if they’re relevant to the topic. Think of this as a collation of notes into a universe I’ve held dear for most of my life.

I’ve made Photoshop composites and Kisekae/Pony Creator models for this project, but I’ve never drawn anything original because, well, I’m not that artistic. Would I allow people to draw things based on this project? Probably, but as long as I’m informed beforehand. Sadly, I’m not one for commissions because of my financial situation. Also, I may have taken ideas from other people’s arts, headcanons, fanfictions or OCs, but I promise to give credit where it’s due, so maybe get ready to be put in the spotlight or thrown under the bus.

Hopefully this should make up for my lack of involvement in fandoms over the years. Anything relevant to the Waifu Network will also be simulcasted there, but please be sure to follow this blog (or the tag “kisekae insights”) if you want to follow the series.

[siodymph]

Disney Femslash Request 1

Ok! So for the original plan was to start posting some of the requests I’ve been getting for day 7, "Free Day" but I got a little behind schedule. But anyways, here’s the first one from @horroraceman93 “Read your Disney Femslash Day! Can you do Tiana x Elsa, Esmeralda x Jasmine?”

Alrighty! Since you gave me two suggestions I decided to write about the four of them going on a double date! Also I hope you don’t mind but I also decided to make this a modern au. Thanks for the request and I hope you enjoy this!

(And it’s not too late to send in requests for this fan week to me! I’m happy to take any suggestions till my cut-off date, July 12th, tomorrow!)

And as normally you can read this story under the cut, or feel free to check it out on my AO3!

word count: 1315

Despite being the one to suggest this, Elsa found herself dreading the idea when the day of their double date finally came. The four of them had been a part of the same friend-groups for a while now and when Esmerelda and Jasmine found out that Elsa and her girlfriend Tiana were officially dating they’d been ecstatic.

And then Elsa just had to open her big mouth and suggest they all hang out together sometime.

Elsa groaned to herself, thinking about it, as she started getting ready for her date. It wasn’t even that she didn’t like going on dates, she loved being with Tiana and doing everything with her. And when she was in the mood she always liked meeting up with her friends, joining them in their shenanigans.

But the idea of a double date, now that she thought about it more and more, seemed to just beg fro trouble. Being alone with three people. And if things got awkward or wrong there was no way to escape to go talk to other people or be alone.

Honestly, it was the waiting that was doing her in now. Just sitting here thinking about it over and over, every way it could all go wrong. How she could mess things up and make them awkward.

Tiana was always better at this sort of thing. Elsa accredited it to her open personality, as well as all her experience as a waitress. She could pick up small talk effortlessly. Get people to open up, warm up to her. Sometimes Elsa liked to imagine she was the human embodiment of a campfire, being so inviting, bringing people together. She couldn’t help but envy that natural ease when it came to situations like this. Since she always ended up so uncomfortable, unsure what to say, unintentionally cold.

She tried to push that jealous feeling down and tried to reassure herself. Even if she sucked at starting conversations, Tiana would be there right by her side all night so she shouldn’t have to worry about struggling through small-talk or asking the wrong questions. And it wasn’t like she was going to hang out with people she hated. She actually really liked Jasmine and Esmeralda. They made a cute couple, and were always fun to be around. It would be ok. Tonight was going to be fine. And if it wasn’t then she and Tiana could make up some fake emergency to escape and come back home. Everything would be fine.

When she came out of her room she saw Tiana waiting on the couch, legs jiggling slightly as she scrolled through her phone. She had her hair pulled back and a button-up dress, the only thought that went through Elsa’s mind when she saw her was “adorable”. But she looked up from her phone when Elsa walked over, smiling.

“You ready to go?”

Elsa sighed, pulling her cardigan a little tighter around herself. “As I’ll ever be.”

Tiana frowned a little when she saw how distressed Elsa was internally. She made her way across the room and pulled her into a hug and quickly kissing her on the cheek. “It’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.” Elsa replied back reluctantly.

“Come on, this is going to be fun, you’ll see.”

Together, hand in hand they locked up their apartment and made their way down to the parking garage to go out on their double date.

~~~

Jasmine forced herself to breath steadily as she put on her make-up. It was something she normally enjoyed doing but right now she couldn’t help but feel nervous.

This would be the first time in a while she and Es went on a double date. And even while the idea seemed fun, Jasmine found herself worrying about the people they were hanging out with tonight. She always liked being around Tiana, she seemed sweet, and certainly someone interesting to talk to. But she’d never gotten along super well with Tiana’s girlfriend, Elsa. Elsa always seemed so shy and standoffish. She barely knew her even after being in the same friend group for several years now. She couldn’t think of a single moment she’d ever been alone with her.

She heard her bedroom door open behind her but Jasmine didn’t turn around to see, she already knew who it was.

“Hey babe, almost ready?”

Jasmine smiled towards her mirror. She could see Esmeralda in its reflection, walking through her room and sitting on her bed. She was wearing a green sundress with a jean jacket and brown leather flats. Practical, one might even say simple, but like everything she did it seemed elegant and effortless.

She found her voice as she focused back on herself, putting on her eyeliner with a hand steady enough to do open heart surgery. “Almost. Just need to finish up my eyes and grab some shoes.”

When she finished her eyeliner in two curled wings, she took a moment to admire her work. Well, at least if everything went horrendously tonight her eyes would be still flawless.

As she got up to look for the boots she’d left out for tonight, she spoke over her shoulder to her girlfriend.

“So what do you think? Of Tiana and that Elsa girl?”

Es shrugged, falling back onto Jasmine’s bed and kicking her feet up into the air. “Personally, I love Tiana to pieces. But I’m not too sure what to think of her new girlfriend. She seemed really quiet.”

“Yeah that’s what I was thinking.” Jasmine agreed, flopping down on the bed next to her girlfriend and going about unlacing her shoes and tugging them on one at a time. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak until Kuzco’s party last week.”

“It was pretty nice of her to suggest hanging out together though. Maybe after tonight we’ll get to know her a little better.” Esmerelda offered.

Jasmine couldn’t help but find her girlfriend was right. She was always great at perspective stuff like that, knowing when to look at the big picture and when zoom in on a few small details. And hopefully having Esmeralda there by her side would make tonight more bearable. Help her keep her patience if anything started to feel weird, help keep Jasmine from saying anything stupid or unintentionally mean that might ruin the night. In the time the two had been together Esmeralda had become an unofficial censor for Jasmine sometimes.

And she was right, the only thing they could really do tonight was learn more about who Elsa was. And seeing how Tiana was so happy with her obviously meant she probably wasn’t someone rude or unbearable to be around. Hopefully.

When she finally re-laced her boots there was no more reasons to procrastinate. She offered her girlfriend a hand and quickly yanked her up off the bed and onto her feet. And together they locked up their home and went out for their double date.

~~~

Hours later the four of them were laughing over ice cream, sitting on a park bench, watching the sun set over the cityscape as Elsa recounted some stories about her little sister.

Tonight was going wonderfully, the four of them had been able to just sit down and talk for hours. And yet when times came where they all couldn’t think of new things to say, it didn’t feel tense or wrong. It just happened. Something that especially shocked Jasmine who usually hated silence.

And instead of making up half-baked excuses to go home, both couple found that they actually wanted to stay out longer. Esmeralda suggested going out exploring the downtown area, soaking up the night life. And despite her own insecurities about the idea, Elsa found she wanted to give it a try. Wanted to keep hanging out with these two with her girlfriend. Wanted to see where this night might take them all.

[twxntrash]

Rewrite of This

The beginning of each school year was always the same package of dullness for students, regardless of the year or school. Same bland lockers, same annoying teachers acting superior and better because they’re older, same old faces to the same annoying and awful people, same group of friends all dragging their feet because summer has come to an end.

For seniors, it was the final year before they’d go off to college, if they were lucky or motivated enough, and that alone was dreadful enough because it meant they’d study not just for their regular classes, but for their SAT’s, ACT’s, they’d be under a mountain of paperwork called applications for scholarships and collages, and their emails completely full of junk and spam under the guise of grants and award money.

It was Hell. Students may be on a buzz for the first few days, feel like everything is new because the three months they were gone, but by the time they were done with the first full month, they’d be bitter and angry and ready to quit. They’d grow to hate their teachers, their lockers, their classmates.

It was only five minutes in and Lapis already hated everything. Her locker. Her class schedule. Her teachers, even though she hadn’t met them directly yet. She just wanted to be out and back at the beach, swimming and lifeguarding. Not in this brick prison called school.

At least now Jaspers weekly parties had a reason for celebration again; free from school for a few days.

Lapis tiredly tugged on the strap of her vibrant blue backpack, her head held high, her expression that of someone dead inside and she glared at anyone who dared cross her path. It was morning, she was ready to fight someone. She was not a morning person and she’d grown too used to sleeping in until noon only to abruptly wake up at seven.

Three o’clock couldn’t come any sooner.

The final year of high school just meant one more year of prison and morning classes before she could finally blow this town and do something she actually liked. She didn’t really care about getting into a college or not, her grades weren’t all that great anyways so she doubted any would accept her. Lapis was already certain she could make a living as a swim instructor during the summer days and selling her paintings and giving art lessons during the winter days. She didn’t need a college degree for that. She doubted she even needed a high school degree.

Art was her passion, so was swimming. Lapis had decided when she first started swimming that it was what she was born to do. When she picked up her first paintbrush, she fell in love.

She supposed that made her first class of the day a bit more bearable. It was an advanced art class, though she would use the word ‘advanced’ loosely. Still, it was art, which meant she could paint and draw as much as she wanted and the teacher wouldn’t scold her. Well, not as much as the others would. She heard Vidalia was a pretty chill teacher and sometimes even let the class do whatever art project they wanted so she could sleep.

Slipping into the classroom, there was only a couple minutes to spare before the bell would ring so she considered herself cutting it close. She would have wanted to be there a little sooner since it was the one class she was looking forward too, but, she had been held up just a little by running into another student in the hall. Probably some freshmen from the way she looked, it was kind of cute how the blonde had been so frazzled trying to figure out where certain rooms were. Lapis had to admit she was pretty cute. She hadn’t even gotten to ask the girl her name, but, she’d have to keep an eye out for the pretty blonde later in the halls.

Closing the wooden, paint stained door behind her, Lapis scanned the room. It wasn’t hard to find Jasper near the back, the woman was well over six feet tall and packed with nothing but muscle, she stood out like a sore thumb in any crowd and had an attitude to match her appearance.

Lapis shoved her way to the table and dropped her backpack unceremoniously onto the ground by her chair. “Hey, surprised you’re here,” she greeted.

Jasper shrugged as she leaned back in her chair, “Needed a fine arts credit, figured if I got art then at least I could use you to give me a crutch for this class,” Jasper was not an arts person. She was a sports person, and though she was phenomenal in History and English, any other subject she took she barely survived.

“So, when’s Vidalia getting here?” Lapis asked glancing up at the clock. Eight fifteen. Teacher should have been there by now since school officially started.

Her best friend looked at her as though she’d sprouted another head, “Seriously, Laz? You’re the art person and you don’t know?” she asked and Lapis turned with a raised brow, “Vidalia quit at the end of the year, she and her husband and kid moved.”

“What? But Sour Cream’s still here?”

“He’s apparently rooming with Buck and staying here, didn’t want to do long-distance dating with his two SO’s. Vidalia gave the okay to it.”

Lapis hummed as she thought it over. Well, at least that meant Onion wouldn’t be breaking into Funland stuff and giving Mr. Smiley a headache anymore and the Cool Kids wouldn’t be separated. “Any idea who the new teacher is?” Lapis asked. Jasper tended to know anything and everything that went on in this school. Probably because the principal, Scarlett was her aunt. At least, that was Lapis’ theory on it.

Again, the large woman just shrugged, “Heard it was some newbie, fresh out of college teacher,” she said.

“God, they’re going to get eaten alive.”

As Lapis and Jasper chatted, the door was pushed open and a short woman with fluffy blonde hair stumbled in. She had an overstuffed brown messenger bag completely covered in pins and buttons and her entire attire was a mess, like she’d rushed all the way here. She didn’t look that much older than Lapis, in fact, she kind of looked like she was younger given her height and babyface. She had a green blouse and faded jeans, and, well she was kind of cute.

She was a face that was hard to forget. It was the very same girl that Lapis had ran into earlier in the halls. She found a grin making its way to her face as she straightened up. For a moment she wished Jasper wasn’t at her table so she could hail the cutie over to sit next to her. Maybe she’d be able to get beside her later on. But, being classmates with this girl certainly made things easier, she could get near the girl under so many class-related reasons now. This could be good. Hopefully this girl was gay.

Her grin faltered for a moment as she continued watching the girl. Instead of coming to one of the tables for students, she made her way to the front of the room and dropped her bag on the teachers desk and turned to scrawl her name onto the board with a green marker. Without saying anything she wrote Ms. Peridot Olivine. It was scratchy, messy and a little hard to read, but that just gave it personality.

Turning back to the class, she wore a smile far too big and eager for a teacher just starting the day. She clapped her hands together and her grin grew a little, “Hello everyone, nice to meet you. I’m your art teacher for this semester, the great and lovable Peridot Olivine!” she introduced herself with a little laugh, “Don’t think you’re going to get a free A just because this is art. I grade on the effort you put into your work and how you behave in class, along with a paper you’ll have to write as well. Well, multiple papers.”

The class groaned at hearing that, but the smile never left her face. It was genuine, like she really was happy to be here and teaching this class to a bunch of high schoolers.

So, she wasn’t a first year, she was actually older than Lapis. Probably early twenties if Jasper was right. Lapis was, to be frank, quite surprised by that, but… she had to admit that it made it more interesting. The girl, Peridot, was still rather cute. She wasn’t too terribly older than Lapis, not to forget that Lapis was already eighteen anyways.

Lapis felt her grin grow and the interest she had in this adorable blonde grow as well. This was going to be a good year.