#i guess. i'm not ever giving this proper lines or colors.

[mukuharakazui]

and a merry gabrivor divorce sweep to all

[pfffsfic]

okay. okay this is not a serious theory but every time I think about it I come up with new "evidence" for it. basically the gist of it is TAWOG'S SHAPE PEOPLE ARE EUCLYDIANS. maybe refugees? "but didn't everyone in eucyldia die?" ignore that. just pretend they skipped town before the fire or something, this is not airtight. it's not even close. it's basically a joke treated seriously. i know the shows are not in the same universe but

hear me out.

Part 1: At face value.

point numnber one: these guys are 2D. the gumball universe has 3D people and 2D people, and the Shape People are 2D, or drawn as opposed to modeled.

point number two: physical traits! other than the obvious 'they are shapes', some or all of the Shape People:

Lack visible mouths (mind you, these Shape People's mouths appear when they speak). Bill also lacks a visible mouth but very occasionally gets one (one page of the Book of Bill, a polaroid in the Weirdmageddon intro).

Can have one eye. the rectangle in the top image is a one-eyed shape person, but there's also this familiar-looking yellow one-eyed triangle Shape Person (who pre-dates Bill's first proper appearance, by the way):

They have noodle arms. little noodle arms

this one is hard to explain but the positions of their arms aren't fixed. this applies to all/most Gumball characters but not to all gravity falls characters. how do I explain this uhh

look at how one of his arms is attached to his bottom plane and one is attached to his side plane. sometimes both of them hang down at the bottom and sometimes both are on the sides. POINT IS-

look at that!

in the rightmost image above you can also see a tiny sliver of a 3D edge like Bill has.

Each Shape Person is also a single color.

Part two: Culture.

note: this one only really applies to the three shapeople i've been using as examples this whole post- Ed the triangle, and his black pentagon and rectangle friends? family members?

I know there are other shapes who look less like them and whom these things don't apply to, but we can blame that on interbreeding with Elmoreans/cultural assimilation or something. okay, let me begin.

point number three: Ed's group is implied to not be from Elmore. when we first see him he's mistaking a bus stop for another shape person:

he also-

point four: the Shapeople language includes one spoken(?) system with colorful squares representing it. on the TBOB website the words of Euclydians are written in colorful square substitution cipher. there are also other shapes for the shapeople, mind you.

back to point 3: not from Elmore. The next time Ed's group appears, they're framed like tourists and ARE HAVING TROUBLE MAKING SENSE OF A 3D (well, i guess 2d but in the other way) MAP.

Gumball tries and fails to talk to them in their language, and ends up making a cultural faux pas. and in Ed's final scene there's an interesting line...

my people? He could be talking about his species, but the existence of a culture implies to me that this line refers more to a homeland. in other words the shape people are from the same place, which we sort of knew because they speak the same language. also has bill ever been seen giving a thumbs up or down? i'm pretty sure he hasn't but maybe I'm wrong, someone correct me here.

point number five: grasping at even more straws.

Despite their origin, the one known named shape person's name is Ed, which falls into the same cultural sphere as Bill.

We know that Ed's type of shapeople are physically capable of speaking English because the black rectangle does so at one point.

one of the symbols in the shapeople language is a skull. we see that Bill's mind has a bill skeleton with a skull that also fits the humanoid-ish template.

final point that does not help the theory but is still weird: Bill's baby photo seems to have a live-action background?? and so does the image of teen/preteen bill? look at these. i'm not implying that elmore IS euclydia somehow, that makes very little sense to me as of writing (though i guess it was destroyed and now Bill has a fear of TV static, which, like, maybe I could phenagle a theory here if I really tried but it seems like even more of a reach than this existing theory.) I dunno, maybe Euclydians would have wanted another 'realistic' dimension to flee to.

(we also see this squishy rosy-cheeked shaperson baby at one point, make of it what you will).

[xerith-42]

Some Thoughts On Miku Expo 2024 (AZ)

So. Let's get the big one out of the way. I knew going into this concert that I was not going to be seeing the proper Miku hologram, which was cringe, but my friends and I had been preparing for this for a while and we're too excited to give up on it. We were determined to make the best out of a potentially bad situation.

And I will say, there was some good stuff at that concert. While the LED screen certainly wasn't ideal, the model they projected onto it was incredibly expressive, fluid, and honestly real in a way that a projection shouldn't be. That's just the power of Hatsune Miku I guess. And the band was absolutely incredible, I think I fell in love with the bassist.

For the songs I knew I had a great time. I was singing and dancing along, the crowd was really energized, there was something special in the room. And even some of the songs I didn't know I had fun dancing to. Vocaloid music almost always slaps. There's another positive I want to bring up, but I'm holding onto that for a bit. There is one more positive I promise.

But uhhh... There was a bit of a problem with the set list. I knew 2 songs on it. I would consider myself a more casual Hatsune Miku fan, I was more into her in middle school and listened to a lot of her classic songs. In fact my outfit was themed around my favorite of these, Two Faced Lovers. And they didn't play it! Even though it's one of her most popular songs ever of all time!!

I don't object to newer music being played, but part of the concert experience is the collective feeling you get there. The sense of community when you all sing along to a song in this room, looking at your idol on stage. But most of the crowd didn't seem to know these songs either. I would wager a lot of them were people who have been Vocaloid fans since their formative years, and the classics from those older eras mean a lot to people. It really limited the collective experience when most of us didn't know 80% of the songs on the set.

Furthermore, the LED projection was incredibly limited, and underutilized. I won't pretend to know anything about how it works but it really sucked that the visuals were so... Typical. I don't know if you've ever seen a Vocaloid music video, but those things are so visually stimulating, full of really creative and bonkers animation. They have songs with incredibly striking visuals attached to them that they could have put on the screens surrounding the stage, but they didn't do that.

I would say overall the experience was worth it. But it wasn't because of most of the set list, or because of the visuals, or because of the lighting. It was because of the people. The incredibly talented band that played with her. The masses of people who showed up in merch, in cosplay, doing choreography in line, playing games in the pit. It was the people who cheered for someone holding up a picture of Shadow The Hedgehog and all of us losing our shit over it. It was the Hatsune Miku plush without a hairline that got held up and caused us to all yell "BALD!" while pointing at it.

It was the people I made jokes with in the pit knowing I'd never see them again. It was the people who complimented my outfit and I did the same for them. It was the two Miku plushies that started fighting each other in the pit. It was everyone changing their light sticks to different colors for the different idols. It was the people. I know Miku is an artificial being, but she has a way of bringing people together and uniting us as one.

I just wish the event planners had utilized that properly.

[destinyc1020]

I feel the same way about MJ, and I frankly hope she doesn't come back to the franchise. They did nothing to protect her from the bullies and a racist fanbase, and they completely fed her to the wolves by not giving her a good story, and not developing her character properly. They didn't even bother giving us a true love story. I'm tired of people saying that the plan was to pursue other movies, NO, they had 3 whole movies and gave us nothing. They had absolutely no intention on doing a better job because that contract ended and they didn't know whether or not they would need her back. Look at what they did to Aunt May, Peter couldn't even process to death. They didn't even give the character a decent closure. We could have had an intimate moment between Peter and MJ mourning May and sharing some fond memories without throwing two Spider-Men(strangers) into the process right away. I think both Zendaya and Tom have great chemistry and I would love to see them in anything else but Spider-Man.

I feel the same way about MJ, and I frankly hope she doesn't come back to the franchise. They did nothing to protect her from the bullies and a racist fanbase, and they completely fed her to the wolves by not giving her a good story, and not developing her character properly. They didn't even bother giving us a true love story. I'm tired of people saying that the plan was to pursue other movies, NO, they had 3 whole movies and gave us nothing. They had absolutely no intention on doing a better job because that contract ended and they didn't know whether or not they would need her back.

I will never feel like someone should drop out of a role simply because of dumb racist pricks on the internet who unfortunately exist in the fanbase. To me, that just means they've won, when in reality, people like that need to grow up, get with the times, and get over their issues with diversity and people of different races/cultures/colors. 🙄

With that said, I def understand your frustration with how they have underused Zendaya's MJ in the SM franchise. I kind of feel like if they hadn't been too busy trying to HIDE Michelle's TRUE identity in the first film, they could have really developed her character so much more. 😔

I mean, it kills me when I see models like Kaia Gerber getting roles in a film like "Bottoms" with more lines than what Zendaya had in "Spider-Man Homecoming", when Zendaya has actually been acting since she was a KID (something that Kaia Gerber has not), and was leading shows when she was still a teenager. It just goes to show that when you're rich, have privilege, and are a Nepobaby, you can basically get things handed to you...whether you have talent or not. 🙄 It's just irksome.

MJ should have had more than 5 lines (exaggerating) in HOCO imo. Like you said, she should have had a proper love story with Peter, and better character development.

Oh well..... That's neither here nor there! 🤷🏾‍♀️

Look at what they did to Aunt May, Peter couldn't even process to death. They didn't even give the character a decent closure. We could have had an intimate moment between Peter and MJ mourning May and sharing some fond memories without throwing two Spider-Men(strangers) into the process right away.

That's a good point. I guess it didn't really bother me too much because I just KNEW that we were going to be getting a SM4 in 2024. 😭😭

I think both Zendaya and Tom have great chemistry and I would love to see them in anything else but Spider-Man.

I doubt we'll see them in something together outside of Spiderman. Isn't that the kiss of death for a couple lol? Or, is that only when it comes to doing a song together lol? 😅 But if they ever did, I would be here for it! They could take all my money!!! I feel like it would probably be waaaay later on down the line though lol. 😅

[kariachi]

Top 10 digimon that arent a thing yet?

I'm not sure what you mean from the phrasing because I am a moron but I'm going to guess you mean 'top 10 digis you wish existed' and go with that. These will be in no particular order.

Once upon a time I made the Putremon line, a full evolution line covering the stages of death and decay, and I still wish that was actually a thing

A food-based final evo- and no Devitamamon doesn't count. I mean we've got the Burgemon, and we've Jagamon, and we've got that little chicken nugget... Torikara Ballmon! We've got those fuckers, we need a proper food mega to go with them!

More non-humanoid megas in general honestly, we have a serious lack of them. But for something specific give us like an ant or something. A big queen ant. Or even just a queen bee to go with the FanBeemon line.

An official line for Gizamon. Not like 'oh they officially evolve into Seadramon' or shit like that an actual line made for Gizamon, like the Agumon and Gabumon lines have. Give my darlings some love.

Betta fish digi. I never said I wasn't biased now picture this for me- nine-tailed fish digi, each tail is a chain that ends in a crescent blade, they fan the tails out into a half-moon, it could work! Make it an Ultimate or something

Just in general I wish the Appmon would be integrated in with the Digimon proper, but if we got that I would like to see a Champion and an Ultimate to put between Yadomon/Spamon and ElDoradimon. Give me a line of critters that carry locations on their backs

I think Gururumon should get its own version of the rest of the Garurumon line. Give me WereGururumon. MetalGururumon. Gururumon X-Antibody. Z'd Gururumon. It'd be awesome and drive people up the wall

I think Keramon should get a color variant. I think there should be like a Keramon (Orange) or something. And it shouldn't be a chill orange either I'm talking hunter orange

Give me more folklore digis, they're always fun. Expand shit out too, give me obscure fuckers from around the world. And if they can't manage that, if nothing else my soul will not rest until ever mons series has a kelpy and a nixie critter

Give me a Simon, or Ramon, or Solomon and have them just, look like a kid. Normal-ass kid. Everyone thinks they're just another. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, boom! They digivolve into something awesome. And no I don't mean with the digimon shapeshifting stuff we've seen, I want them to just look like a kid. I think it'd be funny as hell.

[hopefulstarfire]

Have a lil drabble about Kat and Ryous friendship as requested by @kira-quartz

"Thank you for coming over to help with these."

Kat looked up from the figurine she was working on, offering up a smile to her best friend. "It's no problem, Ryou!" She assured him. "I'm happy to help, and, besides, this is actually a lot of fun anyways."

The first session of the newest campaign he was going to be DMing was coming in less than a week. They'd gotten their usual little crew back together for it and Ryou had wanted to go all put with this one. Rather than use base miniatures he kept tucked away, he'd ordered custom models to be based around the designs the others had given him of their characters.

Technically speaking now, she had a sneak peak at her own characters soon to be made party, but Ryou would not budge on giving her any details -- names, classes, who of their friends was playing them, etc -- as it would "spoil the element of surprise". He also refused to tell her which ones were actually npcs or party members as well.

She hummed, attention flickering back to the figurine in her hand. It was a fairy with a flowing dress and bands around her arms, butterfly wings and she was supposed to have opalescent eyes, pink hair and a Fae characteristic of having a glittering mist around her.

"It's fun figuring out who they might belong to," she said, bringing her brush back to the hair. Max had taught her the proper way to color and paint in the lines and give depth to shading; she did great with coloring books and the likes, but actually drawing was a talent not even he could bestow upon her. "Though, I think this one's obvious."

Ryou gave a wry grin, looking up from the gnoll he was currently doing the detailing on. "I don't know; it could very well be Tristans."

Kat snorted in laughter, holding it up a bit higher. "I need you to look me in the eye and tell me you've ever even heard Tristan use the word opalescent to describe anything."

He bristled a bit, but there still remained a small smile. "He would, given the right circumstance!"

"Oh, I'm not doubting the capability; I'm doubting the notion he'd say it to begin with," she teased. She re-situated the figure a bit better, finishing off the first coat of her hair. "Besides, getting glittering mist instead also seems more Mihos style. That gnoll you're holding looks more like Tristans speed."

Ryou gave a slight shrug, though he himself had the answers; she'd been right on the fairy, but the gnoll had actually belonged to Tomoya instead. Tristan had chosen a human with an Artificer class, with it being his second attempt at DND and his first time playing an actual campaign versus a one shot.

"I guess you'll just have to see," he mused, shifting his focus to the miniatures clothes. "I will say, though, your little Harengon is certainly going to be in an interesting group."

Kat shifted, nodding over to the painted figure of her little rabbit rogue. "I think she's gonna at least be fun to play." She was honestly more surprised he had yet to comment on the obvious inspirations from My Melody and Funny Bunny on the character. She had worked hard to put references galore in her new player character and she wondered how long it would take the rest of their friends to piece it together.

It took a little bit more time before she finished the fairy, setting it down to dry. Kat moved towards the rest of the unfinished minis, foot tapping as she weighed her decisions. She picked up what looked to be a guard of some sort to do, one that was set right next to a stack of books with the DMs manual resting on the very top.

"Maybe some time you can help me figure out how to be a DM?" She offered up, finger tracing the spine of the book. "Then you get a chance to play rather than have to oversee the whole story."

Ryou brightened, sitting up a bit straight, hands fumbling with the figure he almost dropped. He hadn't had much real experience being a player; most of the times, he was the master of the game, concocting the story and pushing players forward to the best of his ability. Perhaps it'd be nice to be on the other side. "I think I'd quite enjoy playing a campaign you got to create," he beamed. "Besides, it'll help me get a better understanding of what it's like on your guys side so I can better equip you in my own campaigns!"

Kat laughed, happily. "That would be really awesome to have, not gonna lie."

Before the white haired boy could further speak, the Ring around his neck began to glow, the points jutting out in different positions.

Landlord. I want in. I want to play a game hosted by my girlfriend. Immediately. Forget your campaign.

He bit his lip. The Spirit of his Ring had been working on being...nicer, to an extent. Kat usually kept him under control, made him apologize for some of his past behaviors, but, it hadn't been enough to wash away all the years of hurt fully.

Though, he had been making improvements; he wouldn't even steal to provide for her anymore, going to find ways to earn an "allowance" from Ryou, rather than consistently grabbing things he thought were pretty but usually, more often than not, belonged more in a museum than around her neck. And he hadn't caused any bodily harm since Battle City. Mostly out of threat from Kat.

His hand weaved around the Ring, and he gave an exasperated sigh. "Settle down; we're still doing mine first, you."

Kat cocked her head to the side, before her green eyes found the Item holding her boyfriend's soul and she moved closer, going to poke the eye on it. "We'll do a campaign later, you and me," she promised. "But, first, I want to play Ryous. And you have to keep from interfering. No pulling what you used to."

Now why would you all ever share those details to her? All I was doing was helping you and you paint me in a negative light. It's rude.

"Because you're a feral cat most of the time and we have to retrain you." Ryou told him with a tight lipped smile. His hand found the rope and he slid the Item off of him, setting it to the side. "Now, hush, I have other things to worry about."

Faintly, in the back of his mind, he could hear Bakura cursing him out bur for now he was more than happy to shift his focus back to where it was.

Kat picked her forgotten paint brush back up and refocused her own efforts. "It's just a thought, but, I have a slight idea for the campaign I want to run, but it's very magical girly."

"Now, that sounds like it'd be fun," Ryou beamed, moving to sit down next to his best friend. "And very you; the best campaign stories come from the most genuine places in its GMs heart, I think. It's why I always tackle mine from a place of what my own interests are."

She giggled. "Yeah, I kinda picked it up with all the occult references, the zombies, evil cultists--"

"All in good fun!"

"Yeah, and your idea of good fun is giving the rest of us the heebie jeebies!" Kat playfully shoved his arm, being sure to miss the spot where he'd been stabbed. He still had some nerve damage done there and she didn't want to risk anything.

Ryou laughed, good naturedly. "You're the only other person I've heard other than myself use that term, and you want to joke about Tristan not using opalescent?"

"Well, yeah, cause more people should use heebie jeebies," she mused, dipping the cleaned brush in a navy blue paint for the armor. "It's fun to say, it can be applied to a lot of more unnerving things--"

"It's very silly and very you. All along with your odd southern turn of phrases."

"Eh, I dunno, Ryou, I think the British ones are way weirder still."

He smiled, eyes closing as he tilted his head. "Mhm. I see. Well, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Kat hummed, glancing at her paint brush before getting a mischievous glint in her eyes. She turned, raising the brush and painted a navy stripe over his nose. "Rude."

He balked at her for a moment, before picking his brush back up and swiped a curved yellow line across her cheek. "Doubly rude on your end for that."

They stared at each other for a moment before the figurines were sat back down and their paint brushes were dipped back in the paint just as quickly before they went to use them to swipe at each other, laughing all the way through.

Kat never thought something like DND would bring people together; but, the moments that came with it were still some of her favorites with her best friend.

[xarrixii]

The prince taps their sword in the gravel. "I come from a long line of failure, I hope you understand."

"How could you not want the throne, Your Highness? He took it from you, slew your father in a ballroom full of people," the knight—more accurately, the prince's bodyguard—says, exasperated.

The prince stares at his ex-bodyguard, Jakob. Glares through the rays of sunlight pouring down.

"You are not a failure like your father was, Prince Elias. Nor like your grandfather was. You are much better than they ever will be, this whole kingdom knows it."

"I know I'm better. That's why I'm giving up the throne."

Jakob belatedly sighs. "You're not making any sense."

"I am better than my father, yes—but I am only good enough to know I am not fit to rule these lands, Jakob." Elias lifts his sword and fits it back in its hilt. He'd brought it out in case the one to approach him wasn't trustworthy enough to leave himself unguarded.

The bodyguard relents, putting away their sword in turn. "I suppose what I really plead from you, Your Highness, is an explanation of your thought process."

Elias takes a moment to breathe, reading Jakob like a book. "Go home."

"Politely, Your Highness, I am refusing your orders."

The prince grits his teeth, turning around and walking back inside his new home. "Fine. Make yourself at home."

It was notably cozier than the palace. Warm lights and wooden floors, contrary to the cold, white stone that made up the palace. Even its garden was lifeless, but here there were plants of all colors growing wherever the prince—Elias—had deemed appropriate.

"I never knew you had such a passion for... herbs. Your Highness."

"It's just Elias now. Sit down, I'll get the tea."

Jakob grumbled something along the lines of that's not your job before sitting down and waiting for Elias to return with a tea set, sitting beaide the knight with casual grace he'd never been able to use in the palace.

"I spent more time learning etiquette than I ever spent learning how to rule. You would know that, you always had to stand there."

"If you think that makes you not worthy of the crown⸺"

"His Majesty—my uncle has always spent his days in the war room. Talking with officials. Learning how to rule, while my father learned etiquette just as I did, not caring for preparing himself. He was older, so he'd get the throne. That was the end of it.

"No matter how hard my uncle tried, Jakob, he would have never gotten the throne. He related to me a few months before my father's death that he'd planned to kill my spoiled and pathetic father before he took the throne anyway."

"But then your father had you," Jakob guessed.

Elias nodded.

"So you're telling me that you think your uncle deserves the throne. That you care not for the tradition of birthrights."

"I want to begin a tradition," Elias stood up and walked over to a watering can. "One where the person most fit to rule receives the throne. Not just because they were brought to the world first."

"How do you mean to do that living out here with your uncle on the throne?"

"We talked. I am the reason there were no guards close enough to my father. I agreed with my uncle. He plans to adopt, without a wife. He experienced it firsthand, I doubt he'd go back on the old traditions."

Jakob watched water flow onto the leaves of plants out of the spout, lost in thought. "The temple..."

"You tell those pompous robe-wearers they will either acknowledge my uncle as King or I will announce their treason as my uncle's second-hand."

"So, Your High—Elias, you're truly choosing to abdicate the throne? To relieve your birthright?"

"I am. My proper title is technically as one of my uncle's advisors now. He can call me to the palace whenever I'm required."

Jakob stands, walking over to hold Elias' hand. "Then I will stand with you."

You are the firstborn son of the deposed king and true heir to the throne, on which your usurper of an uncle is currently sitting. Knights and peasants, minor lords and clergymen all try to convince you to reclaim your birthright and can’t understand why you would turn them all away.

[thedarkmistress16]

please gush about your passions and pastimes!!! I would love to hear about them

ack- im happy you want to hear about them!

Passions:

obvs as y'all know recently and just in gen., i guess, writing- i love crafting worlds and stories where anything can happen and just creating scenes above all else, like getting lost in the details of everything. I love getting lost in my own world and making myself happy as most self-indulgent writers do (and showing off my legitimate skill in a proper form of writing after doing shitpost-y things for so long is pretty rejuvenating, XD). And upon going back to some of my older, posted works and wips, I still laugh at the dumb shit I thought was the best stuff ever and now find myself giving those ideas a refresher like my last writing update, because it's still a legitimately enjoyable read.

i love sketching for similar reasons, but more so to visualize a fuzzy, almost-there idea, usually about fashion. Like recently I re-drafted some outfits for a fic idea I had, in order to make the world and designs make sense in my head. And I redesigned an existing outfit, running with certain themes and embellishments in design. I'm so happy I can churn out simple sketches like that when i really put my mind to it and feel content with the finished product nowadays. I feel accomplished as a hobby artist now and it's all thanks to heavy online research, a few how-to books, and putting effort into one art class. It's the second hobby of mine that I want to be good at, almost as much as my writing. Speaking of, I sometimes draw what I write or dream about because it's that prominent in my head.

Wow i love music guys- ha, but you already knew that *lenny face*

Past times:

I really like playing the simpler games in life- not as much in the vein of it being less difficult or busy, but more so with fewer controls, interesting mechanics, and a captivating style that I can easily fuck around in or beat some levels for a few hours. Bring on the (spider) solitare (only 4 suit sucks ass why do i do this to myself), jewel quest (FUCK YOU CROWS), barbie's fashion show (SINGLE DREAM-), zoo tycoon (fuck guest happiness), and sonic adventure or x-men of course.

MMD vids are v neat, like I know a handful of choreos that are fun as past midnight exercises to get my blood pumping and i get to discover new songs and learn more about other languages at the same time! Also the aph as mmd crack vids are the best whether its them making 'i hate this' or 'yeah im hot shit' faces or being completely into it as they're forced to dance or simply copying a vine. Like, they give me brainrot and serotonin at the same time its so fun. I love seeing all the different outfits for mmd vids in general, too, on top of new covers i never would've known about.

I really love analyzing things in general, actually. It's how I learn most of the things I do and know now, even though it technically causes me to lose large chunks of time because all i'm doing is staring at the damn thing, XD. Sometimes (all the time) I'll look at a gif or vid of a character changing their facial expression as they do/say something and I'll be completely enthralled by it. Something similar happens when I stare at REALLY GOOD artwork. I think it's the technical part of my brain trying to figure out the individual elements which make up whatever that thing is, like what facial muscles are being used to convey that emotion or mix of them, what the character is feeling, how the lighting or shading of the environment or extra details in editing affects said expression, etc. And for art, I'm thinking of the lines, posture, composition, object placement, color palette, negative space, tone, and all that jazz you learn from studying art.

Scrapbooking is a fun pastime for me that's extended from celebratory cards to actual gifts to my personal sketchbooks. It's part of the "creating something out of nothing/seeing what you can create with some basic templates and decorations" kind of mindset. And it makes me happy because I get to be creative and my family members and friends (even my employer) love them as part of their gifts every time and come to expect it from me each holiday, so I'm constantly encouraged to do it in the best way. I've recently kinda gone overboard on using ribbons and charms for the spiral and stickers and washi tape for the actual book itself on my sketchbooks, but I find myself wanting to draw in it more because I did that, lol.

I love rewatching the things I love. I usually have the same commentary about it, but its nonetheless enjoyable. And I never know what new thing I'll discover about it next, even if i've seen it over 50 times and only have it on as background noise and don't actually watch it. And yes, I will easily let something play on repeat at least that many times in my lifespan as well (like, a full day of it, at least).

wow i love staring at characters im attracted to for hours on end can i get a HUYEA-

[just-some-random-blogger]

I LOVEEEE your daemon angst!!!! MORE MORE MORE 😃😃

I'll Play The Fool Instead

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Harwin Strong x Reader

Summary: The king's younger brother was as insufferable as the rumors made him out to be. Having caught his eye at a feast, your instant reflex was to snarl your teeth at the prince, until you realized your parents were against the idea of him lingering around you. Ever since then, it was Daemon, you, and not at all secret rendezvous. Oh, and ser Harwin.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Bad parental relations, graphic mentions of physical violence and injuries, fem!reader, angst? i truly cant tell, typos, etc.

A/N: I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHY I MADE THIS SO LONG KILL ME NOW. ALSO ???? is it even angst i can't tell, can someone tell me i'm being fr right now Anyway, this was anon was most probably a responding to another ask i had where I said I wouldn't be continuing my angst fic called Doves, Snakes, Dragons, so you should go read that i guess, though it literally has nothing to do with this fic HAAHAH. also the title is a line from the english version of congratulations by day6

The first time I ever encountered the prince was during a feast where he said he liked the color of my dress.

"I like the color of your dress," a voice calls from behind me, making me and my lady friends halt our giggles and turn over to whom spoke.

My brow quirks and my grin falters into that of annoyance, "why thank you, Prince Daemon."

The prince's eyes rake my entire body up and down without shame.

I let out a barely amused chuckle, "I have not yet had a man compliment me in such a way."

He tilts his head, eyes finally locking into my hardened gaze, "what do they usually compliment?"

"My bosoms," I retort, crossing my arms, making the very area of my body push up at the action.

He breaks into a chuckle, and I half expect him to turn to my breasts, yet he does not look down, "the men around you would dare be so tactless?"

"I'm shocked that you're surprised by it," I say in uninterested tone. I give one last nod in regard then turn back to my friends, though obviously they had been watching my exchange with the prince and looked far more interested in it now than whatever it was we were previously talking about.

"Might I tempt you with a dance?"

I roll my eyes and make no attempt to turn to him, "no, but perhaps one of my dear friends would be interested," I look between the ladies then finally turn back to the prince.

With that, I give him a proper curtsy, "your grace," then walk away.

Daemon turns to the ladies.

"My prince-"

He walks off before she could continue.

"What was that?!" an aggressive mutter paired with an aggressive grip pulls me to the side before I can even make my way to the banquet table to pour myself a drink.

"What was what, mother?" I say releasing a deep sigh to calm myself, lest I blow up in front of everyone and be locked in my room as a consequence again.

"Were you entertaining the prince?!" she breathes heavily against my neck.

I roll my eyes, turning to her, "no mother," I pull my arm out of her grip, "I have no intention of-"

"Good," she releases, firm and relieved. She straightens herself up and fixes the already perfectly fixed hair on my head, "the prince acts like he is starved of attention and nothing but trouble nips at his heels. I will not have you associate with him as both your brothers would likely fall into hot water for it. Especially not when your father has already laid out a more suitable match for you."

My eyes widen, not that she would notice, since she was busy pampering me for no reason.

Her words make me scan the room for the very person she did not want to be around me. So very quickly, I spot the prince on the other side of the room, eyes already on me.

Prince Daemon's expression is stoic, and yet there is a slight curve in the corner of his lips.

"Now go," my mother says, forcing my head to look at her with her soft but heavy hand, "the Strongs await you."

My lips curl in distaste. My mother spins me around, facing me to the direction of my father, and pushes me off. I release a sigh and head to my old man beckoning me over. On my way, I look over my shoulder and find the prince's eyes have still not left me. I smile to myself.

"Lord Strong," I bow to whom I would assume was my potential match, "Lord Strong," I bow to whom was clearly his father, "Father," I give my father a sardonic smile.

He ignores this and pulls me under his arm, "finally, my daughter graces us with her presence."

"Tis a pleasure to finally see you face to face," the man my father's age speaks, "your father's stories do you no justice."

My father is displeased when I only return the man's words with a half smile, "thank Lord Lyonel for the compliment, daughter."

I turn to my father with the same smile still on my face, but Lord Lyonel cuts in, "no thanks is required, I'm merely telling you my thoughts."

The genuine tone of the man makes me turn to him and drop my fake smile.

"I can only assume then you are more temperate than what your father described."

I snort at that.

My father shifts next to me.

I break into a genuine smile, "Thank you, my Lord," I curtsy, "tis not often that I hear such genuine compliments."

"I do hope you allow my son to continue with the task," Lord Lyonel says, motioning to the man beside him.

"Harwin Strong, my lady," he introduces, reaching his hand out to me.

I take his hand, introducing myself, and find myself not utterly revolted when he kisses my skin.

After that, our fathers promptly leave us to our own devices. Harwin pours me a drink and leads me to a more quieter side of the room.

In all fairness, he was kind, funny, and an utter gentleman. He did not advance with his hand like other men would, nor did he press on topics I showed no interest in. I did enjoy our conversation, but I was too distracted by the silver haired prince that positioned himself conveniently right across us.

I giggle at Harwin's joke. He leans in as he shares in my laughter. His father and my parents, who were watching us intently, are utterly pleased with our exchange.

"I do not wish to cut our laughter short, but I fear I might piss myself if I do not relieve myself right this instant," Harwin says after his chuckles die down.

"Oh," I shake my head, "and here I thought of inviting you to a dance to prove how true your jests at being horrible at it are."

Harwin lets out an amused breath, "then I shall be quick about it and return to accompany you with my two left feet."

I nod, "I'll walk you then."

"There is no need, my la-"

"No, I think I shall ask the prince to be my partner in the meantime."

Harwin's grin falters and he instinctively turns to the man he had been acutely aware was staring the whole time.

Noticing his features dip, I look over to my parents and see that they looked utterly blissful now. How nice it would be if I changed that.

"I snubbed him a while ago," I mutter, making Harwin turn back to me, "I do think I should entertain him now while you are gone."

I half expect Harwin to repel the idea, but I am impressed at his composure as he nods, "as you wish."

And so we head over to the other side of the room.

On the way, he jokes again about his horrible dance moves and I let out a laugh. I feel my parents eyes hot on my back when we near the exit. Harwin gives me one last look before I break away from him and move over to the prince.

The Targaryen is fully amused when I walk in front of him.

"My prince," I curtsy.

He hums, "bored out of your mind, were you?"

I straighten up and chuckle at his words, "I think you witnessed how much I laughed at his words from here, just as I witnessed your intent gaze."

The curve on his lips does not falter, and yet I do not miss how his jaw tenses.

I hold back a laugh, "I have decided to rescind my rejection."

He chuckles, turning to his feet as he walks over to me, "and did your mother convince you otherwise?" He clicks his tongue once, "I'm afraid no one in this world has a face pretty enough for me to forgive conspirators who wish to leech off me for power."

Once he is before me, he lifts his eyes and burns me with his gaze.

I am excited by his attempt and give a smile in return, "contrarily, she piqued my interest when she ordered me to stay away from you."

The prince narrows his eyes upon hearing this.

"I am honestly shocked you are unaware of the impertinent eldest child of my house, who works tirelessly against her parents' wills."

The glint in his eyes brighten, "and why would she do such happy things?" he lifts his head interest.

"She is sick that her stupid younger brothers get to do what they want and she has to get married off for the benefit of her family."

He mock sighs, "pity."

"It would be if you don't allow me the satisfaction of maddening my parents," I purse my lips, "it is precisely for that reason that I am now eager to take you up on your offer."

Daemon takes a moment to measure my reaction. He tears his gaze from me, looking out to the room, finding, sure enough, two pairs of eyes were angrily staring back at him. He smirks, turning back to me, "an interesting turn of events."

"My mother said you were starved of attention," I note, immediately making him grunt in amusement. I continue, "and my parents' angry gaze is attention still."

Daemon places his hands behind him, tilting his head in thought. I mirror his actions. He chuckles breathily in response.

"Might I ask for your company the second time then?" he reaches is hand out.

I take it and pull him to the frolicking crowd without another word.

The second time I would encounter him was the day after, on my way to a tea party that was routinely held by the gardens of the palace.

"I heard you received quite an earful from your mother after the feast," the familiar voice speaks from behind me, "before ultimately being locked up in your room."

I look over my shoulder and behold the Targaryen prince. I stop in my tracks, making him do the same, "and where, pray tell, did you hear such a viscous rumor?"

Prince Daemon looks down at me due to his height. He has his hands behind him as he shifts on one leg. He looks much more princely now with the gardens in the background. Suddenly I wonder what he was doing here, since he's never attended the tea party before, and I was sure only the ladies and I would be here today.

"The servants talk" he mutters plainly, "and apparently your mother's rage is unmistakable."

I laugh heartily, "it is," then shake my head, "but do not worry. It is a custom in our house, and she only ever uses her words to wound me."

"Yes," he says, turning to the direction I was heading, leading us off, "I assumed as much when you told me how you revel in disobedience."

I smile to myself as I follow after him.

"There is a congregation of chatty ladies beyond the fence, correct?" he points forward.

"Indeed, my prince," I grin ear to ear, turning to him.

He turns to me with a knowing look, "how long do you think your sermon will be if I walk you there, hand in mine?"

I break into a laugh. Daemon turns away and follows suit. I grab his hand and take larger strides, "best not to think about it too much."

I do not hear the way Daemon chuckles as I make my way to the heart of the garden.

The very moment we arrive, it is clear the tea party is unlike the usual ones, as each lady is paired with a man, standing closely together in their own personal bubble.

"Oh, there she is," one of the ladies say, "and by the gods, in the hand of the prince."

The prince greets the scrutinizing gazes with a grin and leads me to the dining table that was mostly vacated.

I find my focus on ser Harwin, who was seated by the opposite side of the table, gazing tightly at Daemon, then speak "I was unaware we would be joined by the lords today."

"Clearly, my love," one of the ladies seated retorts before sipping on her cup.

"I am surprised you managed to drag the prince here," another adds, looking to our joined hands, "he digs his heels in the dirt every occasion I invite him."

I turn Daemon, who turns from Harwin, then to the woman who spoke, "I only thought it would be unbecoming if our lady walks all the way here by herself," his eyes take in mine, then presses a kiss on the back of my hand, "I shall leave you to your tea, then."

I curtsy at him as he pulls away.

"Ser Harwin," Daemon turns to the man glaring at him, "do take care of our lady."

I walk over to Lord Strong the moment the prince leaves. The ladies watch me and begin to gossip with each other.

He greets me, lips not missing a smirk.

I match his expression, "my Lord Strong."

"My lady," he stands beside me, "your mother did warn me you had a knack for theatrics."

"Hmm," I chuckle, "did she say theatrics or impertinence?"

Harwin chuckles, looking over his shoulder, deciding to lead me off to where we would not be heard so keenly, "no mother would dare speak so poorly of their child."

I snort as we walk over to the flowery part of the garden, "clearly you are not acquainted by my mother."

"Well," he raises a hand, "tis not your mother I wish to be acquainted with anyway," he picks a flower from a bush, "but her daughter."

I turn to the bright pink petals in his hand and take it in mine. Harwin smiles as I inhale the flowers scent.

Ever since then, whispers of me and the prince, and me and ser Harwin, would slowly trickle through court. It wouldn't take long for the mangled truth of us to reach the ears of my parents. And of course, for every time they told me to stay away from the king's brother, I would reach out to him more eagerly.

For every time they would arrange a meeting with Strong, I'd make sure the Targaryen would find an opportunity to butt in.

At a point, my parents stopped telling me about my premade meets with Harwin, and yet Daemon still managed to come around, to my delight and everyone else's annoyance.

It was clear to most onlookers that I was absolutely smitten with the prince after all our 'coincidental' meetings, and yet I was also extremely taken by how ceaselessly patient Harwin was by it all.

It was, I suppose, during our 20th meeting that a chord was actually struck. And as innocent I could say I was, for I truly did not know they would fight that day, perhaps I should have known they would, considering we were at a tourney after all.

"My lady," Harwin huffs, looking up at me with a grin. The horse he is mounted on is restless as it was only just galloping fiercely across the grounds moments ago. "Might I have your favor again?"

I smile down on him from the elevated stand as he points his lance at my direction.

My mother hands me a wreath and urges me off my seat. I walk over to ser Harwin and throw the ring of leaves to his undefeated weapon, "nine is a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"Shall I withdraw at your command then, my lady?"

I shake my head, "I would not dare deny the crowds their dashing champion."

Harwin chuckles as the crowds roar at my words. He takes the wreath from his lance and hands it to the servant who places it with the rest of them, "then perhaps a last victory for an even 10."

"As you wish, my lord."

I retreat back to my seat and earn a pleased look from my mother. Her pleased look does not last when she hears the name of Harwin's next competitor.

My own jaw slacks at the sight of Daemon from the other side of the fighting ground. He was clad in thick, and flashy armor, and he seems to know exactly where my seat was, considering he was staring right at me as he strut his horse over. I have no idea why my mother thinks pinching my arm will make me close it and not open my mouth wider.

It doesn't take long for the two to ready on either side.

Without a seconds thought, the two opponents are now charging, bashing their beams on each other's shields. Their might seems to be an even match, as both their lances are crushed on impact.

The audience revels in the violence of the match. They crush their lances on each other twice more before, finally, Harwin is thrown off his horse.

I honestly was so shocked by the outcome that I jump out of my seat and lean against the rails gasping.

Daemon gallops and screams victoriously at the crowd who was celebrating their prince. His gaze meets mine and he rides over my direction at once. I cringe at the thought of him trampling on Harwin, who was writhing in the dirt, and mutter a prayer that the two do not go at each other with their swords.

I release a breath when Daemon passes Harwin, making no attempt to unmount his horse or continue the fight.

I hear my mother call out my name repeatedly but I ignore her as the prince is nigh over. I watch as Daemon points his lance at me, "I have spared your strong suitor a death in the tourney grounds," he makes his horse halt before me, "the least the fair lady can do is offer me the wreath meant for his tenth victory."

I release a chuckle and shake my head.

Daemon smirks as he looks up at me in expectation.

"Of course, my prince," I turn over, holding my hand out to my mother. She gives me a defiant look and I raise a brow in response, "the wreath mother."

She clenches her jaw.

I sigh, looking back out the stands, "can someone give me a wreath?"

Daemon catches my mothers gaze then drops the lance in his grip to the side. I turn back to him after, as he then commands his horse to stride forward.

Harwin finally stands from where he was on the dirt with the aid of his family servants.

"If you cannot grant me a wreath," Daemon calls, bringing his horse to the side, forcing me to lean into the railing so I could still see him.

The crowd goes wild. My mother grumbles my name.

Harwin watches as Daemon throws his helm and shifts on his steed, wobblily bringing his feet to his saddle attempting to stand.

I gasp when his hand reaches the rail and his head rises up near mine. His grin does not fade even after seeing my mother's furious expression from behind me.

"Perhaps a kiss then?"

The crowd goes wild.

My mother blinks rapidly, in pure disbelief. She is too stunned to move. She barks my name out in a warning, but I my heart is fluttering at the prince's boyish grin.

I do not hesitate and take his cheeks in my hand, bring my lips upon his. The crowd grows even wilder.

Harwin turns away as the crowd roars in approval.

Our 21st meeting is in the secrecy of midnight at the stables near my home.

I hear my name. I lift my gaze from the horse I was petting and find the prince's face as it twists at the sight of me.

"By the gods," Daemon mutters, hand springing to the side of my face. His eyes darken at the purple around my eye.

He does not find the same amusement I do when I speak, "I never thought they'd lay their hands on me like this. I used to pride myself in knowing only my younger brothers got the wrath of my father's hand."

"Your father did this to you?" Daemon practically growls.

"Apparently, my words amount to nothing now, as he is more convinced by the rumors of the servants that claim I am pregnant with your child."

Daemons brows tighten, "and what did your Harwin Strong have to say about this?"

"He has not seen me for days after the tourney, which is what angered my father to begin with."

He scoffs out a chuckle, "I underestimated how weak willed and spineless the ninnyhammer could be," Daemon pulls his hand away to brush my hair back, "clearly he should be called Harwin Cunt."

I roll my eyes, "he could have broken bones from your blow for all you know."

Daemon narrows his eyes at that, "I broke his fragile ego, surely," he shakes his head, "and you a bruising mine by guarding his name when he failed to guard you from your father's hand."

I chuckle before aimlessly walking off, "how brave of you to admit to the fragility of your ego." I look over to him as he walks by my side, "still, Harwin has done nothing but be patient with me and our schemes against my parents."

Daemon looks like he doesn't enjoy where this is going.

"I've accepted that he is to be my future husband. My father will stop at nothing to ensure it."

"No," he quips, causing me to stop in my tracks.

Daemon and I share a long look before her brings his hand up to ghost on the bruise on my face, "there would be no finer match between a lady of your stature and a prince like I."

"Hmp," I scoff, "except my father loathes you."

"Surely, he does not loathe the opportunity to rise next to the second highest seat in the realm."

I am unable to respond as he places his hand on my belly, "and making the rumors true would give him no choice but to comply."

The sincerity of his words make me raise my brows and shove him off. He chuckles.

I cross my arms, "I might be unruly, but I am still a lady."

Daemon chuckles as I continue, "if you wish to get me pregnant, you're going to have to get on one knee first."

I'm genuinely surprised how the prince invited himself to our house later that day. Of course, he was still the prince, and knowing his wildness, my parents did not dare to turn him away.

My father was rendered completely dumbstruck by the visit, and where my mother chastised me again later that night, he only watched our viscous exchange.

I sent word to Daemon about it swiftly, practically giggling in my letter at the idea that his visit broke my father.

I did not receive a response though, but I thought nothing of it because I knew I would see him soon enough.

And yet days would pass I wouldn't hear from him same as ser Harwin.

It would not have phased me as much as it did, but then my mother had taken her turn at beating me. With my father no longer present, since he was out of town to mend my proposal with ser Harwin, my mother readily took up the mantle as disciplinarian.

She was not like my father, who I knew immediately regret bringing his hand out to his only daughter; she used me to air out all her frustrations eagerly. She was worse than my father, since she made sure to hit me repeatedly with not her hand, but her cane in places that would not be visible.

It got to a point were the servants called a maester for me at one time. In fact, it got so bad that my younger brothers, who had always been scared shitless by our mother, finally stepped in to hold her back. They even told me to leave home until father returned.

You can bet that they didn't have to tell me twice.

And so having already prepared lodging for me, my brothers sent me off to the capital and told me not to return until they sent word of my father's arrival.

At this point, I had sent word to the prince, eager to take my mind off my aching body. I found it utterly out of character when I still did not receive a response. Thus, out of my own volition, I came to him.

"The servants told me you'd be here," I call, releasing a soft and relieved smile upon seeing the prince's silver-white hair reading a book by the weirwood tree.

He was sitting on a chair at a table set with snacks, not at all moving to turn to me at all.

"Is your story that intriguing that it's made you ignore me?"

Daemon finally turns to me, face hard, eyes uninterested.

The smile that I gave him fades when he stands and walks past me without a word.

I knit my brows as he strides away. I call for him when I am faced with his back, "Daemon, I-"

"It's your grace," he cuts, raising a finger as he turns back to me with a look of anger, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen."

I look at him as he clutches the book in his hand tightly.

"Your grace," I mutter softly.

"Yes," he snips, then slowly words out, "Lady Hightower."

My face contorts as I shake my head in confusion, "I do not understand. I am not-"

"No?" he adds blurts, "but your cunt of a father is The Hand, Otto Hightower's cousin, is he not?"

I step back when he steps towards me.

"This was all your elaborate mind fuck, wasn't it?" he chuckles dryly, "you even went as far to let your father strike you so that I would-"

"Daemon," I raise my hands, "I-"

"DO NOT ACT FAMILIAR!" he snarls, throwing his book forcefully off to my side. I heave sharply in fear and feel my pulse quicken as the prince accuses, "you are a deceptive wench, hellbent on climbing to the top, just as I knew you were from the start!"

I shiver, "and you are turning into my father that chose to strike me because of baseless rumors!" I whine, holding back tears as my lips wobbled.

Daemon turns away, laughing darkly, "oh, don't play the victim!" He turns back to me, chest rising and falling in anger, "I heard your father speak it to his conspiring cousin that he struck you so that I'd take notice."

Unable to even process the weight his words held if it were true, I just look at him with tears falling helplessly from my eyes.

"What say you now, bitch?" Daemon seethes.

"Daem-"

"DO NOT CALL ME BY MY NAME!" he shouts, taking my shoulders in his hands, shaking me in anger.

He was unaware of the bruises in my arms, which is why he shoves me back when I scream, what was to his ears, exaggeratedly.

I reel back at his strength, having none to repel it, and come crashing back to the table behind me. The unanticipated contact on the small of my back makes me coil in the most unsavory of ways. I knock a few plates on the floor.

There is a shooting pain that shakes all over my body. The searing sensation makes me drop to the floor where my hands land on a plate that breaks under the force of my weight.

Tears and whines rip out of throat as I pull my bloody hand away from the shards that cut me.

Daemon had not anticipated that to happen at all, and so he just stood there, stunned. He was so stunned, in fact, he didn't have the wits to look over his shoulder as someone screamed out and tackled him.

With intent to destroy, Harwin lunged on Daemon, pinning him down on the ground where he punched him twice before he halted after hearing the sound of pained whimpers.

Harwin looked over his shoulder to me, and shoved himself off of the prince that was writhing, dazed on the floor.

"My lady!" Harwin calls to me, offering his one hand out as the other goes to my shoulder. He makes tries to lift me to my feet, by I let out a pained cry that stops him from moving me any further.

Daemon props himself on his elbows upon hearing it.

"Apologies," Harwin says, "I-"

"No," I shudder in pain, "I-" tears fog my sight, "I don't think I can stand."

Harwin clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring, "I will have the prince answer to hi-"

"It's not him," I whine, finally managing to at least pull away from the broken glass on the floor with the dark haired man's aid, "it's- it's my mother," I choke out a cry, "she's enraged that you have not returned because I have upset you-"

"You have not upset me," Harwin calls, "not you."

Daemon finally has the brain to stand.

"Harwin, I- I can't-"

Without another word, Harwin mutters that he will carry me to the maesters. I shake my head in disapproval, but he only hushes out apologies as he brings me to his arms.

Daemon catches a glimpse of what was underneath my skirt, discolored marks, unmistakably bruises.

I moan out in pain as Harwin cradles me in his arms. My hand darts to his face, but I pull back when I wipe blood on his cheek. I cry harder now, "I- Harwin-"

He looks down at me in his arms, hushing me as he shakes his head.

Daemon runs off in a hurry to ready the maesters that were just a hall away. Harwin is shocked but relieved that the maesters have a bed prepared for me the moment we enter. He is angered to know it is because of the prince.

"The prince pushed her," Harwin speaks sharply, turning to the said man, as he sets me down on the bed.

The closest maester does nothing but come towards me to attend to my bloody hands.

"She has bruises on her legs," Daemon says, making both Harwin and the maester turn to him. The former clenches his jaw tightly, anger doubling when my legs are examined by a separate maester.

He doesn't have to say it, but the maester speaks what both men already figured, "the lady was probably hit by a stick of sorts."

Daemon heaves in anger. Harwin twitches at the prince's reaction.

The maester asks me to describe the pain I'm feeling, and I explain it to him, adding I collided against a table but then also the fact that my mother hit me with a cane on my back on an occasion where I ran from her.

The maester gives me something for the pain.

Upon drinking it, I look between Harwin and Daemon who were both angry and distraught. My face was still glazed with tears when I muttered, "please, don't take me back home, I beg of you."

The two of them move to speak, but Harwin is who is heard, "I will take you to my residence."

Daemon scoffs, "she will stay here," he throws Harwin a dirty look, "with the company of the best maesters."

"What so you can fucking push her from the top of the tower next?"

Daemon rages over to Harwin, but my squeaking command for them to stop proves to be effective.

Daemon turns to me, but I am too focused on Harwin to care, "my father said he went to you to convince you to take me back."

Harwin knits his brows.

"How could he when he's here, conspiring with Otto Hightower?" Daemon retorts in a sour tone.

Harwin ignores him and walks over to me, kneeling by the side of my bed, "he came to me, saying that you were ashamed to face me after the tourney and told me to patient for your call."

I cannot believe what I am hearing.

I break into a fit of tears, screwing my eyes shut in disbelief, "Harwin, I've been waiting for you to come to me so that I-" I bite my lip and shake my head, "when I realized you weren't coming, I thought my only hope of relief from my mother's hand would be when my father returns home."

Harwin sighs, as I repeat, "please, don't send me back."

Moving closer to me after the maester finished wrapping my wound, he mutters, "I will not allow another soul hurt my bride."

Both I and Daemon freeze upon hearing that.

Harwin pulls the ring from his finger and fiddles with it for a moment, "I agreed to my father's plans to wed you the moment I saw you, my lady."

He slips the ring on my finger, making my breath hitch.

"Harwin," I start and make a move to sit up, but there is again a blinding pain that shoots down my spine that forces me to screw my eyes shut and yelp.

He places a gentle hand on my arm, barely ghosting on my skin, hushing me yet like he has been since he carried me.

When I open my eyes, my gaze darts over to the prince, but I find that he is no longer here.

My line of sight drifts back down to the man before me, and I only have the strength to reply to him with a sad smile.

[strayrockette]

Give Me Peace Over War

Chapter 1: The Nightmare

Previous Part⚪️Next Part

Thomas Shelby Masterlist

Summary: Miruna is a recluse "gypsy witch," who finds herself being pushed out of her apartment for a job at a bakery at the insistence of Lizzie Stark, a neighbor, and a friend.

A/N: *phew* this was a long time coming. It took a lot of rewrites and drafts to put this chapter together. If it wasn't for @mysticalpandora lovely help, I probably would have crawled into a hole and given up on writing. She's an amazing writer and I'm so glad she took time out of her busy schedule to help edit this chapter! 💙💙 Now that this is done, I can finally move on to my other WIP and requests. You have no idea how stressed this chapter got me.

PS: @mysticalpandora is a writer in hiding, you guys should definitely keep a lookout for her. I for one can't wait to see what she writes and what fandom she'll get me back into! 😊💙 (My baby sister told me to do a blue heart. I guess she got bored with red?) (Update: She just told me blue is the best color)

Fresh pastries and blossoms. None would expect that peculiar scent to waft in the air of Small Heath. For Miruna, it was the opposite. Despite the smell being a strange thing to encounter, it was ever present to her, much like the graphite that lined her fingers and smudged the side of her palm. Fingers gripped the pencil in her hand achingly tight, joints protesting from the lack of comfort and freedom. Her sketchbook lay haphazardly next to her on her tiny twin bed, the sheets resembling the same haphazardness despite the fact that she had barely slept amongst them. Miruna had spent her time, drawing within the comforting silence night had provided, sleep few and far between. As the sun rose from its slumber and kissed the earth with its morning rays, Small Heath had buzzed to life. 

With it, a sense of relief washed over Miruna as she found herself grateful for the distraction. Resting her head back against the wall and closing her eyes, she allowed her hand to move freely to the side to lay her pencil atop her sketchbook, before returning her hand to her lap, a breath of a sigh escaping her lips as she allowed herself to relax. Though, it wasn't long before she could hear the sounds of her neighbor clamoring around their equally tiny apartment. 

If she allowed herself to sink further into the depths of relaxation and peace, she'd be able to hear the sounds of Giddy - the neighborhood cat - sauntering around the hallways and possibly chasing the occasional mouse. The buzz around her was more welcomed than she had expected, lulling her mind into Sleep's awaiting arms. Arms that begged and pleaded for her to rest her aching bones upon the mattress of her bed, to cast aside her external distractions for rest... If she allowed it. Despite the sleep, she knew she craved, she could already envision the nightmare that loomed over her like the smoke that hung around the rooftops of Small Heath, visiting her in her impotent state.

Hurried footsteps and frantic knocking jolted her, "Miruna! Are you up?" 

Her dark brown eyes surveyed her apartment a breath of relief escaping her chapped lips when seeing it as empty as it was moments before closing her eyes. She suspected that she would need to sleep soon, a week without proper rest had a way of tricking the mind. Her body moved sluggishly, heavy with exhaustion. Standing from her bed slowly, she concentrated on movin one foot after the other. The knocking had ceased and whoever was looking for her had gone quiet. Her fingers brushed against the cool brass of the doorknob and gently tugged the door open. She peaked around the corner and found her neighbor waiting patiently, arms full with cotton and laced garments. 

Her neighbor grimaced as she took in Miruna's face, "Did I not tell you to sleep? honestly, love. You need to care for yourself." 

Her neighbor was a beautiful woman, which came in handy in her line of work as a lady of the night. Despite the grittiness of her career, Lizzie was still a dreamer at heart. 

Miruna tilted her head and murmured, "I slept."

Miruna had moved into the empty room next to Lizzie over a year ago. In that short time, Miruna had found an unwelcomed friend in Lizzie.

Lizzie huffed at her lackluster response, "two minutes of rest hardly counts. Today is your first day of work, you must look your best." 

Lizzie had made it her mission to get her out of her apartment and into a proper job because if anyone needed it, it would be lonely Miruna, who very rarely wanted anything to do with the outside world. Miruna had a habit of hiding in her apartment and only socializing with those who visited her for her “gypsy magic.” Though Miruna swears all she ever does is talk and have tea with her fellow broken souls. But no one ever listens. 

She pushed her way into Miruna's apartment, dropping a load of clothes onto the bed stuffed to the far right and making a beeline for the wash bin and tea kettle. 

Miruna shut her door and turned to watch as Lizzie took charge. There’s no way out of this one, she thought with a sigh. 

Lizzie turned to eye Miruna's disheveled state. Eye bags severely present on her lightly tanned skin, wavey hair knotted and her nightgown messy and disorganized. For someone who didn't sleep, Miruna looked as if she had tossed and turned all night. Lizzie eyed the open sketchbook sitting atop her pillowcase, a hint of a figure making its presence known but not quite finished in detail. She suspected that Miruna had sat in bed sketching away most of the night. She turned away from the sketchbook and pretended she hadn't seen it; Miruna's sketchbook was one of the many things she was private about. With a tentative smile, she stated, "You look a mess, but I've dealt with worse,"

She reached out with quick movements and dragged Miruna to a loan chair resting next to a circular table on the left side of the room. She rolled up the sleeves of Miruna’s nightgown and dragged a warm wet rag onto her bare arms and hands. Slowly and methodically washing away signs of built up grime and graphite. 

If Lizzie was not aware of Miruna’s sleeping habits, she would have half a mind to think her dead. With her sunken glazed eyes, pale skin, and stiff movements; Miruna was a walking corpse.  

Lizzie's soft hands delicately squished her cheeks, rubbing the sleep and dry drool-those two minutes of rest must have been the best- from her face with the rag, her green eyes scrutinizing her friend, "Have you tried the brew Lacey brought you?" 

Miruna humphed, "ish ophium" 

Lizzie huffed, "what does it matter? It should help with your night terrors" 

Since moving in Miruna has suffered night terrors every night. She had tried nearly everything to combat them. From herbal tea, lavender scents, lavender cookies, lavender scrub, calming lullabies sung by Lizzie, and a dog pile with Lizzie and two other lone ladies who lived in the apartments below them. Opium seemed like the best option, but Miruna was adamantly against using it. 

Lizzie’s hands threaded through Miruna’s hair, her fingers snagging onto some knots. She pulled away to grab the brush and ran it through Miruna’s long hair.

"Its' too addicting," Miruna asserted. She turned in the chair and grabbed the brush from Lizzie’s hand, "and I can clean myself." 

Lizzie stepped back from the chair and motioned for her to go on, “You’re a bit slow but I suppose you can do the rest”

Miruna rolled her eyes at Lizzies light tease, grumbling under her breath, “I’m not a child.”

Lizzie laughed and turned away and towards the pile of clothes she set on the bed,  "The ladies and I, all pitched in and managed to get some garments patched up for you, don't worry it's nothing scandalous for your taste." 

“And before you protest, it was all within budget, Lady Owen did all the patching up,” Lady Owen was an old widow who owned the building, an inheritance of sorts from her husband before he passed. She was the only one on this block of Small Heath who didn’t snear or smirk greasely at the ladies with a less desirable job. If anyone had trouble or simply needed a motherly prescence, Lady Owen was the one to go too. The day that she passed, would be a sad day for all. 

Miruna tilted her head as she stared at the clothes, she knew how territorial some ladies got of the fine garments and clothes they had in their possession. Looking presentable at all hours of the day was a must. For Lizzie and the few others to give up some clothes to be patched up and retailored for her was a sign of unity. If she denied the clothes, she was sure the other ladies besides Lizzie would take it as a snub. 

She pointed the brush at the white dress laying unceremoniously on her bed, “I’ll wear that one, it's the prettiest.” 

The rest of the morning passed rather quickly at Lizzie’s insistence. Lizzie shoved day old bread and an apple into her hands as they walked down the stairs. “Your to head straight to work at the bakery, Mr. and Mrs. Coulson are willing to give you another shot but that may change if you don’t show up again.” 

Miruna hummed behind a mouthful of bread, shifting the apple to her left hand she attempted to shrug on her worn wool coat. The clack of her shoes resounded in the stairwell, her foot nearly tripping as Giddy ran past them with a mouse trapped in his mouth. The bread muffled her cursing, as her hands gripped the wooden railing for balance.

Lizzie’s hand gripped the top of her coat and helped her shrug it on, “You promise, you’ll go straight to the bakery?” 

They’d paused by the building entrance, a small audience gathering by the stairs they had descended from. 

Miruna swallowed the bread and turned her gaze to the group of three, “Will you drag me there yourself?” 

Lacey, a blonde brown eyed waif, leaned forward with a teasing smile, “we can if you want to.”

“Abosultely not,” a girl looking no older than 16 protested, “it would take at least another two hours for all of us to get ready. She’ll be late by then.” 

Lacey gave her a look, “You mean, it takes you two hours to get ready, I only need one hour.” 

A tap on her shoulder distracted her from the groups quarrel about who took the longest to get ready, “Promise, you’ll go to the bakery this time”

Lizzies green eyes implored her to say yes. Miruna hesitated before relenting, “Yes, I promise, I’ll go to the bakery.” 

At her promise squeals echoed through the building and Miruna bounded out of it as quickly as her tired legs would allow. And with each step she took towards the bakery, she wished she had not made that promise. Because a week of sleepless nights made it easier for nightmares to follow her into the waking world. She should have seriously considered this fact before walking out of her apartment's comfort. 

~~~~

The dress

TidBit about Romani history:

Roma people, also known as Romani, Sinti, Sindhi, or Kale, according to their sub-groups, are an Indo-Aryan ethnic group mainly residing in Europe. They are also referred to as "gypsies" though some consider this to be a derogatory term. This term comes from when people thought Romani/Roma people came from Egypt.

In approximately 250 BCE, the Romani are thought to have migrated from what is now the Indian state of Rajasthan to the northwest (the Punjab region). A result of their subsequent westward migration, possibly in waves, is now believed to have occurred beginning in about 500 CE. 

The raids conducted by Mahmud of Ghazni may also have triggered emigration from India. Following their defeat, these soldiers and their families were relocated to the Byzantine Empire in the west.

Taglist: @mysticalpandora @ultimatreality @lovecleastrange @watercolorskyy @rockerchick05 @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time

[concoctionboy]

Hm, okay, before answering the specific person who added these tags, I want to give a general response:

Anyone in Wizard Tumblr is welcome to request that I make a custom Magic card for their character if they want one, but I make no promises that I'll definitely do it. I'll try, but it depends on time and inspiration. There are three things, though, that will definitely help it get done:

A picture of the character. All of the Wizard Tumblr users I've made magic cards for either have their character illustrated in their profiles or have at some point posted art of their character. Since these Wizard Tumblr Magic cards are a just-for-fun thing that aren't ever going to be sold, I'm not going to be too picky about the copyright status of the image, but if you're using an image you found online, please tell me the original source so I can include proper credit. (For a couple of the cards I made, I used a reverse image search to locate the original source of the images, but I mean, if you could save me that work it would be great.) If you don't have any art of your character, I'm not necessarily unwilling to draw a portrait myself, but in that case of course I'm going to need a description, the more detailed the better.

Colors. The colors of these Magic cards are not chosen at random. The five Magic colors correspond to different philosophies or personalities, and I've tried to choose the colors that I felt best fit the characters. Of course, in order to do that, I have to know enough about the characters; all the Wizard Tumblr cards I've made so far have been for users I've followed for a long time and whose characters I thought I knew well enough to make a judgment. (Although if someone thinks I've chosen the wrong colors and misrepresented their character, I'm not averse to changing it.) If I don't know your character well, I may not know what colors to choose. If you're familiar with the Magic colors, you can make a suggestion as to what color(s) you think your character is, or you can describe your character's general attitude and philosophy and I can pick colors based on that. (Or I guess you can take a "What Magic the Gathering color am I?" quiz online—I don't know of any such quizzes specifically, but I'd be astonished if they didn't exist, and they shouldn't be hard to find with a Google search.)

Abilities. Like the colors, the abilities on the cards aren't chosen at random; I've tried to pick abilities that I thought were a good fit for the characters' personalities, methods, and/or powers. Again like the colors, this means I have to know the characters well enough to do that. If I don't know your character well, the more description you can give me of what they do, the better the chances I'll be able to come up with suitable abilities. Even then, this is probably the hardest part; there are lots of mutuals I haven't made magic cards for yet mostly just because inspiration hasn't hit me for suitable abilities for them. (Note also that the abilities on the Magic card won't necessarily represent everything about the character, just one or two salient features. Trying to fully represent every aspect and power of a character on a single card is how you end up with terrible, unwieldy custom cards with twenty lines of four-point text that list seven different abilities with no synergy between them.) All that being said, I don't want people requesting cards to just state the exact rules text they want the cards to include. Coming up with abilities may be the hardest part, but it's also the fun part for me; I'm not really interested in just graphically laying out a card that someone else has already written.

Now, in response to the person who actually added those tags: @unexpectedly-wizardposting, sure, given our characters' interaction and the fact you've been by far the biggest (and lately the only) participant in the @towerquest, I'd be happy to make a custom card for you, but if you could address the points above it would definitely help the process along. (Particularly the first point; I don't remember ever seeing any art of your character (though maybe there has been some I'm forgetting?), and I'm not really sure what she looks like.)

Finally got around to making another Wizard Tumblr Magic the Gathering card, this time featuring @anti-wizard-council.

(I also finally labeled the layers in the Photoshop document I use to create these so I don't have to turn the layers on and off to figure out what's in them, and organized the layers into folders, which should make it a lot easier to make more of these in the future.)

I do plan on continuing to make these; there are a few other wizardblr figures I already have card ideas for, and I also have ideas for a few non-legendary Wizard Tumblr cards, because even though I definitely don't expect to make the equivalent of a full Magic set, I still figure the Wizard Tumblr cards shouldn't all be legendary. (I've also got a new mechanic I plan to put on some of the non-legendary cards, which... well, you'll see when I get to it.)

I also do eventually still plan to get around to setting up a neocities site where I can archive these (and a few other things), but I guess in the meanwhile you can see the other Wizard Tumblr Magic cards by searching my blog for the tag #custom mtg.

Once again, I emphasize that these cards have not been playtested, and I make no guarantees about their balance or lack thereof.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jack Howl - Birthday Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: Today's party is for me. And as such, I have to look sharp!

Summon Line: Ah, you wasted no time in coming. ...You're not scheming to horseplay around on my birthday, are you?

Groooovy!!: It was an unusually fun day today. It might be because I had you all to celebrate it with.

Home: Is my necktie crooked?

Home Idle 1: I received pink shoelaces from Floyd-senpai. He recommended it as an accent color but... does it really suit me?

Home Idle 2: I went to class and attended my club just like usual. But there's definitely something about it being my birthday that makes it feel special.

Home Idle 3: Since it was my birthday, I was exempted from early morning training preparations and the cleanup afterwards. I definitely don't dislike how thoughtful the track and field club can be.

Home Idle - Login: Today, I ran more than I usually do. ...Why? So I can fully appreciate the party's feast, of course.

Home Idle - Groovy: That was the first time I've ever eaten meat that delicious... Of course I'll have to thank Leona-san... and Ruggie-senpai's last minute gift.

Home Tap 1: [sniffs] The present from Jade-senpai doesn't have any kind of smell. He took proper measures to make sure I wouldn't be able to tell what's inside.

Home Tap 2: Trey-senpai made me a cheese soufflé. It never even occurred to me that I could get protein from a dessert!

Home Tap 3: Ace said "Buy anything you want" and handed me a wad of bills... or rather a notepad that looked like a wad of bills. Seriously, that's just like him to do something like that.

Home Tap 4: The combination of a letter jacket, necktie and a vest unsettles me because it gives off such a "Young Master" vibe.

Home Tap 5: You want me to take a picture of in this outfit and send it to my family? ...Well, I guess that's fine. Th-Then... please take one for me.

Home Tap - Groovy: Tch, there's even cream from the pie throwing on my tail. ...Hey! You don't have to wipe it! I can clean it off myself!

Duo: [JACK]: Thank you very much for the well wishes, Ruggie-senpai! [RUGGIE]: I'm looking forward to your return gift, Jack-kun.

Birthday Login Message: Thanks for the birthday wishes. …Something I hope for in the coming year? I want to grow some more. Eh? I’m already big enough? …I’m not talking about my height! I mean I want to mature more. Whenever you’re around I end up feeling so dazed. It must mean I’m relaxed around you. Thanks.

[sunfoxfic]

I've spent a lot of time learning about writing, and I've spent a lot of time learning how to draw, and here's the thing that advice about creative pursuits always misses about those creative pursuits:

You gotta love your craft.

It doesn't matter if you're writing, drawing, knitting, scrapbooking, making music, whatever. If it takes time and creative energy, the first thing that has to happen for you to get good is that you have to love it. And that doesn't mean you can't ever be frustrated with it, or that you have to love every creative thing you try. It means that if you don't love what you're doing, you won't be in the proper headspace to foster creative skills.

When someone who loves their craft gives advice about their craft, they're approaching it as someone who already loves their craft. And it's a lot easier to want to be better when you already love it. For example, common advice I hear about learning to draw: Draw something every day. Even if it's a sketch. And I think that on a practical level, this is a good advice! The physical skills involved with drawing - the way you move your muscles, for example - degrade if left too long.

But when I was starting out learning to draw, I felt very, very stressed about every drawing I did, because it didn't make me happy to see it. The gap between my skill and my vision was too big and I felt like every drawing was a failure. I absolutely didn't draw every day, because drawing every day would have been so disheartening to me.

The advice to draw every day was coming from people who loved to draw and who didn't hate the feeling of every drawing they made And that's not their fault. The advice they gave was good on a tangible level. But if I had followed it, I wouldn't have grown to love my craft, because I that's not how I showed love.

I trace basically all my drawings, too. A lot of art advice tells people not to trace. Obviously tracing is bad if it's illegal, copying off of another artist or otherwise violating intellectual property, but there's another layer of people who tell you not to trace: You won't learn as fast. You won't learn how to create a drawing from your mind.

The thing is, I get the photos I trace from legal sources (mostly Unsplash) and I give credit where it's required. If I didn't trace, I wouldn't love my craft, and so I wouldn't learn anything at all. No, I'm not the best at composing a drawing of my own, but 1) I have aphantasia and that's really difficult for me and 2) if I weren't tracing, I wouldn't be learning anything at all. I wouldn't be learning about color, composition, how to draw a straight line, etc.

I guess the point is that the first step to learning how to do any art is learning what about that art makes you love it. This may, and frequently does, evolve over time. Artists learn to love drawing every day, musicians learn to use minor keys, crocheters learn how to knits. But if you don't love the art at first, you're more likely to not continue with the art at all. So whatever it is you need to do to love the art - even if it's not what the experts say - that's the right thing to do. If it changes in the future? Great! If not? Then you can keep on loving your art, whatever that means for you.

[itsakpopalypse]

ORAGAMI HEART

Im Jaebeom x Reader

1.6K words

Warnings : None? unless pretentious, wordy inner monologs aren't your thing. Cause it's definitely that. Over use of metaphors, and a STRONG aversion to making any kind of sense at all.

Jaebeom's heart, he thought, was like a folded paper crane. The kind you left on your windowsill growing up that he could see from his own across the yard. You used to tell him each fold held a wish of yours that you whispered beneath the stars. You had loads of origami friends, each lined neatly in your room, an army of your hopes and dreams, he had no doubt they'd all come true.

Currently, the folds inside him, full to bursting with wishes and hopes, made him want to hide away or sing ? He couldn't tell but he knew he wasn't ready to tell you.  Not yet, anyway. 

Surely, on your trip you'd come back with priorities very far from his own, taking you to some adventure that wasn't quite so simple. No, because you were never really simple. 

You were spicy cups of cider on the roof outside your room, with matching fuzzy socks and a big shared blanket and "shhhhhh they'll wake up if you keep laughing Jae!"   

You were the feeling of adrenaline right before the drop on a roller coaster, that weightless fearful stomach in your throat  feeling that made your heart feel as high as the sun itself.

You were passion and jumping in puddles well into your twenties and arriving in the house soaked to the bone with a satisfied smile. 

You were moonlit nights and the smell of vanilla and anise. You were home to him,  but you were never home with him, and he feared  his heart would weigh you down. 

So he folded up his feelings, like your paper cranes, and let a wish get whispered into each crease. 

****

Jaebeom was like the very stars, to you,  glittery and out of reach and so, so much more beautiful than they know. 

Coming home meant coming to his side, and that was scarier than any bungie jump you'd ever done. Sure, you were full of spontaneous excitement, but he was the stillness your heart needed to find peace. He was steady and strong, like the undercurrent in an ocean. 

Dangerous, like that too. Because it took barely you dipping your toe in to feel the rush that overwhelmed you, 

 dragging your heart into the depth of his eyes.  

Truthfully, you did half your traveling to avoid the fear you had when you saw him last. Over a year ago in person, when you'd both drank a few bottles of rosé because he isn't tough like he wanted people to think  and you'd asked him what he wanted from life.

Then he'd said "Family. Someday."  He'd said so wistful, so full of certainty that your gut had twisted in pain. He said it like he knew exactly who that would be, like his future was laid out in clearly defined path he knew, but had yet to follow. 

It made you afraid to ask him who, it made you more afraid to guess. You didn't want to know, because you had feared  it wouldn't be you. 

But now, you couldn't avoid him. It was your sister's wedding, and your families were close. He'd be there, as always. It scared you just a bit, to imagine just how handsome he'd be now in person. You kept in touch enough to facetime occasionally, talked nearly daily. You'd seen his hair, pulled back in ponytail, little strands broke free. Part of you wanted to run your fingers through it loosely hanging about his handsome face. 

The various new piercings he had suited him perfectly,  and his once slouchy style had become more refined. Perfectly low maintaince and yet costly for you. 

The price you'd paid for being his closest friend was your heart, and he'd clearly lost the receipt.

He crossed the dance floor towards you,  one hand out as though asking you to jump. 

You were so tired of making excuses for your red cheeks, wondering how he hadn't figured you out long ago.

You were all pictures in black and white, when he was near your world exploded into a kaleidoscope of color, dizzying and free. 

He was the band aids he kept in his back pocket when your riskier stunts failed.  He was the click of tongue against teeth in disapproval when you said something a little too sassy back. 

He was worried brows and dark stormy eyes and protection from failure.  He was the rocks tip tapping against your window on a summer eve, when your tank top clung to your damp skin after  a shower. 

He was secret smiles and shared songs and night drives that let you scream until your voice was raw.

He was fingertips electrifying your skin when he held your hand to pull you back from the edge of misery. 

He was safety and solace and comfort like huge down comforters weighted with nothing but your best interests at heart. He was firey warmth and understanding in bright shining eyes.

He was mischievous and perfect… and you were scared.

As you slid your hand into his and let him lead you close close closer until your bodies were pressed  tight. More an embrace than proper form, and your head felt too heavy with  worry to be held up on your own, letting it fall, resting on his front, tucking into him for the reassuring you needed,  that even after running free he was still waiting for you.

Not as a lover does, but as a part of your life you couldn't be without. 

As you felt one hand too hot against your lower back, the swaying lulled your eyes closed to enjoy the moment,  afraid to pop the bubble of intimate silence. 

"You cut your hair."  He commented,  the rumble beneath his suit deep and low.

"Yours grew."  You replied simply.

He hummed, thoughtful as always.

The hand on your low back was too hot, grasping gently, thumb rubbing  over your spine. You couldn't suppress a chill, instead your breath wooshed out of your lungs.

"Jaebeom!"  your aunt called from nearby, dragging you both from your own planetary spiral.

He lifted his head and eyebrow, smiling gently as he always did. 

"Yes Auntie?"  He asked, moving you towards her, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze as you broke apart from blissful reunion. 

Your aunt was beaming. "I see you've found our wandering child!  Haven't you missed her?"  

Your eyes widened. "Auntie!" 

Jaebeom's ever patient chuckle hit your ears and  calmed you,  the sound so familiar and necessary in your life. 

You felt like you could breathe again.

"She had to do it, or she'd never know she could. Can't tie her down- Y/n deserves to follow her dreams. Missing her is preferable to her missing out on herself."

God, sometimes when he said such things you could imagine a future he wanted but with you. It tightened your chest, because you'd tried to escape this,  leaving distance should have brought clarity but instead within moments your choking on emotion.

They began to chat about his work, and you excused yourself, bodice of your dress too tight,  chest full of desert air too hot and dusty to allow you thought. 

You hovered near the drink table, desperately clinging to a wine stem, drinking several in one go. 

It wouldn't be long until you could forget,  you think,  too overwhelmed with it all.

By the time your body is buzzing from drink, just tipsy enough to brave the crowd again, Jaebeom is already there,  eyebrow lifted as he considered the 4 glasses to your left.

"Don't judge me. Weddings are scary." 

He didn't speak, just took your hand and led you away. 

The night air was fresh and brought you some sense of calm. You spun gently in a circle, your skirt flying out in a circle, enjoying the air and the silence and the humming of life in your veins.

"You were gone a long time. " 

You nodded,  opening your eyes to regard his handsome face. 

"Facetime isn't enough. I like it when you're tangible."  His hands steadied your elbows when you stopped spinning, letting your dizziness fade protected.

Except it didn't fade. Instead the dizziness got more intense,  the world outside yourself and Jaebeom spinning, the stars becoming a blur of white streaks and chaos reigned in your mind.

The roller coaster you loved so felt like child's play in adrenaline highs in comparison to staring into his eyes. Something in them undiscovered made you shudder in excitement, and you made either the biggest mistake or your first right decision, grabbing his lapels and bursting forward, he caught you and registered the shock for just one moment. You had a split second before you lost nerve, you only needed a hint.  

He glanced at your lips, wetting his own and maybe, just maybe  recognition in his hungry gaze. 

He read your mind and you let it go.

"I'm going to." Your voice was quiet, timid in ways you never were. 

"Do."  And that one word sealed your fates as you sealed your lips against his.

Sometimes  a moment feels like eternity in a bubble, trapped under glass for the infinite beings in the universe to ponder.

This moment felt like infinity and insignificance.  The first of uncountable kisses, the last time you could call him just friend. 

Because he responded.  He responded with the vigor of a man who knew only the breath inside your mouth as though he were useless without your touch  as though he felt the weight of your entire future flashing into his  minds eye. 

No moments spared for what ifs, when your foreheads rested against each other his folded origami heart suddenly beat inside your chest too, plenty  payment for the way you'd given yours to him. 

[soopersara]

Date

Well... as it turns out, it took a little over a year before I got a chance finish this one, but I got there eventually! @zutaradreams​ has probably forgotten all about this request by now, but I come bearing some very, very belated fluff.

AO3 | FFN

Prompt #18 from this list, originally Day 4 of Zutara Week 2010

When Katara takes a post as ambassador in the Fire Nation, Zuko wants to celebrate her and give their friends a proper sendoff. But their trip to the Equinox Festival doesn’t go quite as he planned.

⁂

"Well, I think that settles it." Katara plopped onto the bench next to him. "We've been ditched."

"Seems like it." Zuko's mouth was dry, and he scuffed his sweaty palms against his trousers.

This was not going according to plan. And technically, it was only half his plan anyway. So it wasn't really his fault that it was all going sideways.

It had been almost three years since they'd all been together in the Fire Nation. Almost three years since he'd had a chance to see Katara for more than a few days in a row, since he'd been able to talk to her outside of letters and political meetings. And the rest of his friends too. Of course he'd missed all of them.

But he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that it was Katara who occupied his thoughts most often.

And now they were back together, all of them, and while the others were preparing to leave in a few days' time, Katara was here to stay. It had nothing to do with him personally. He knew that. The Southern Water Tribe needed an ambassador in the Fire Nation, and Katara was far and away the best candidate. That didn't mean that he wasn't excited to have her back. That certainly didn't mean that his feelings for her had gone away. He was only human, and he liked her very, very much.

It had been Zuko's idea for the group to spend some time together before Sokka and Suki left. It had not been Zuko's idea to go to the Equinox Festival. That had been Sokka's suggestion. More specifically, Sokka had suggested a double date at the festival.

Zuko had tried to protest the idea, he really had. He and Katara were not dating. This couldn't possibly be a date. He just wanted to see his friends again before they left. And spend time with Katara. Mostly spend time with Katara. But not on a date.

Not that he would mind dating Katara. In fact, Zuko would have been delighted to date Katara. But he was fairly certain that Katara didn't feel the same, and Zuko was working very hard to learn how to quit while he was ahead.

But then Sokka had talked a lot and very quickly, and somewhere along the way Zuko must have agreed to the plan because the next thing he knew, he was standing sheepishly outside Katara's door and inviting her to the festival.

He really needed to figure out how Sokka did that. It would make his most crotchety advisors so much easier to deal with.

To Zuko's surprise, Katara had agreed. She even seemed excited about it. And Zuko had begun to hope that the festival might still be the kind of celebration he had pictured. For all of them. But mostly for Katara.

Then Sokka and Suki had ditched them.

He snuck a glance at Katara. She'd taken to wearing deep blue Fire Nation silks sewn in traditional Water Tribe styles. The color, she had informed him, was reserved for warriors at the South Pole, and now that she had earned the right to wear it, she had no intention to ever wear another shade of blue again. Zuko couldn't blame her. She'd more than earned the honor.

But it was a bit of a problem too. She was luminous in her warrior's blue, and it made it exceptionally difficult for Zuko to look away.

"Since we're here anyway," he began, voice rough, "Maybe we should—" He gestured lamely at the festivities.

Agni, why was this so difficult? He spoke in front of his advisors every day, and they were much less pleasant than Katara.

She followed his gaze, then turned back, smiling. "You're right. We definitely should."

⁂

Katara was tempted to tease him. Zuko, the wise and beloved leader of the Fire Nation, who had an impeccable sense of direction honed by years at sea, was completely lost in the middle of a festival in his own city and getting more flustered by the minute.

"I just don't understand! The street performances should be in the theater district. It doesn't make sense to have them anywhere else!" He grew more and more animated, punctuating every point with a broad sweep of his arms.

The impulse won her over. "I don't know about that. I think it would make more sense to put them in the straw-hat district," she deadpanned.

"Why on earth would we put street performances in the—" Zuko met her eyes and stopped short. His brow furrowed, and he made a grumpy little sound. "You're trying to tease me, aren't you?"

Grinning, Katara took hold of his arm. "I'm pretty sure I'm succeeding."

Zuko made another grumpy noise. "For the record, we don't have a straw-hat district. This isn't Ba Sing Se. We're not big enough to be that organized."

"I'm glad," Katara answered, still holding his arm as she kept pace beside him. "It's going to take me enough time to learn my way around as it is."

Zuko's hand rested ever so lightly on top of hers. "I'll make sure you don't get lost."

Katara's heart fluttered. She'd missed him. Exchanging letters was nice, but it was nothing compared to being with him, being able to talk face-to-face. A few peace summits and meetings a year just wasn't enough. But she hadn't expected to find herself alone with him so soon. Not unless it was on official business of some sort.

She suspected that Sokka and Suki had ditched them deliberately, though she couldn't decide whether it was so Katara would be left alone with Zuko, or so that Sokka and Suki could spend some time alone. The latter made more sense, which was exactly why she suspected the former.

She felt her cheeks burn and looked forward. "Good. I wouldn't want to make the Fire Lord's personal guards search the city every time I step out of the palace."

"I'd look for you too if you got lost."

Katara looked up in time to see his warm golden eyes soften. Her grip on his arm tightened just a fraction, and Zuko looked away, clearing his throat.

"And—uh—of course the city makes a lot more sense when the theater district isn't full of koalasheep petting stalls."

Katara laughed. It did look a little odd to see children petting fluffy animals in front of ornate, gold-trimmed theaters, but as far as she could tell, the festival had overtaken the whole city.

"You really had your heart set on finding the street performances, didn't you?"

He reddened. "I was looking forward to it. I heard from the palace staff that there was going to be an outdoor production of Love Amongst the Dragons."

She poked him in the elbow. "I seem to remember you complaining about having to watch that play."

His lips pressed together. "I complained about having to watch that play at Ember Island. It's a good play. The Ember Island Players are just bad."He paused briefly. "I guess we're not going to find out if this one is any good if I can't figure out where it is."

"Too bad you're in your fancy Fire Lord clothes. Otherwise you could climb up on one of these buildings to get a better view." She snuck a sideways glance at him. "Or does that only work when you have your mask with you?"

He scowled. "Very funny."

"You're grumpy," Katara observed, smiling.

He frowned. "I am not."

"Grumpy because we're missing a play."

"I'm not."

"You're the grumpiest."

She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "Stop."

"Fire Lord Grump."

He made a valiant effort at scowling but gave in when she laughed and hugged his arm.

"I'm not grumpy, Katara." The smile was evident in his voice, and when she looked up, the soft warmth was back in his eyes.

Her stomach did a pleasant little flip. "See, now I believe you." She let her head rest briefly against his shoulder. It felt good to be close to him again. Tugging him forward, she wound her way up the street, past a cluster of children ogling a pen full of moo-sows and the parents watching from a few steps back, past a tall woman giving another group of children an impassioned lecture about the gentle nature of komodo rhinos while holding one by the bridle.

Zuko fell in step beside her, following her lead, still wearing that small, soft smile whenever she glanced back at him.

Katara gave his arm a light squeeze. "Do they perform Love Amongst the Dragons very often? Maybe we could see it some other time." She motioned toward yet another petting stall. "When the theater district isn't full of moo-sows and koalasheep."

He reddened a little, but this time, it was softened by the warmth in his eyes, by the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm sure we could. If you want to."

She felt something warm inside her. "Deal."

⁂

Her hands stayed steady on his arm, a gentle line of connection between the two of them. He softened into it. He liked the contact with her, the sensation that felt almost like tenderness.

She was just making sure that they didn't get separated. Zuko knew that. That didn't make his heart beat any slower or his face feel any less warm.

He cleared his throat and looked ahead. He was a grown man. The Fire Lord. He shouldn't be blushing so much just from the sensation of Katara's hand looped around his arm.

They wound their way past the last of the animal pens and up to the next street, where a wave of aroma washed over them. Spices and cooking meat and sweets—every type of food he could think of mixed into a single, heady aroma.

Katara groaned, and her grip tightened on his arm.

He looked down at her. "Katara? Are you okay?"

She looked up at him, her lower lip jutting out a bit. For all that she'd grown, for all that she was more graceful and mature than he remembered, she could still manage the most adorable pout he'd ever seen.

"I just realized that I'm starving." She eyed the food stands ahead. "Possibly to death."

He couldn't hold back a snort. "Somehow I doubt that last part. I've seen you sneaking into the palace kitchens in the middle of the night.

A finger found its way into his ribs. "Only because you were sneaking around too. I'll have you know that I'm very sneaky about my midnight snacks."

He rolled his eyes and poked her arm back. "The sneakiest. That must be why I hear you walking past my door both ways every single time." He paused, turning his eyes down the street again. "Though you are a lot sneakier than Sokka, I'll give you that much."

"So generous." Her head swiveled from side to side, eyes wide as she examined all the carts and stalls and trays of fried snacks stacked into ornamental spires and pyramids and spirals. "What do you recommend? I don't even know what most of this stuff is."

Zuko gave his best thoughtful face. "Well, my favorite are always the fire flakes—" He cut off with a laugh when she jabbed her elbow into his side.

"Something I can eat. I'm a waterbender. I'm not supposed to breathe fire after I finish a snack."

"Wimp."

"Says the man who couldn't eat a pickled eel squid when he visited the South Pole last time." She smiled up at him, and Zuko's heart sped up. "I mean it. What's the best thing here that isn't so spicy that it'll burn me from the inside out?"

He considered. There were kabobs of different types of meat, all richly marinated, and several of them probably too spicy for Katara's liking. There were savory buns packed with spices, and dumplings smothered in peppery broth. And fire flakes, of course. She wouldn't like any of those. But everything else seemed equally likely. Stopping in place, he scanned the booths. There had to be something that would blow her away. Something more special than the cakes and pastries she was always stealing from the palace kitchens, sometimes to deliver to him, and sometimes not.

Something special enough to make up for the play she wouldn't get a chance to see tonight. Something special enough for her.

A smile crept over his face, and he cupped his hand over hers. "Wait here for just a minute. I think I know exactly what you'll like."

⁂

Katara waited. Not because she wanted to—she had her own money, and she was perfectly capable of picking out her own snacks. But Zuko had darted off through the crowd so quickly that she didn't really have a chance to stop him, and the crowd was so thick, so bustling, that she was a little afraid of getting lost if she moved too far from where he'd left her. Though she'd grown, she still wasn't tall enough to see over the crowd, and Zuko, though tall, wasn't so absurdly tall that he stood out from the rest of the crowd.

She was a tiny bit apprehensive. She trusted Zuko, of course, but he was almost too excited, and he really didn't understand how terribly spicy Fire Nation food could be. He didn't know that some of the milder treats that he'd sent along with his messages while she was still at the South Pole had given Gran-Gran an upset stomach or that Sokka had taken the spicier treats and challenged the rest of the warriors to an eating contest that left them all in tears. Of course, Katara's tolerance was considerably higher than Gran-Gran's, but she didn't want to accidentally make a fool of herself. She was enjoying her time with Zuko too much.

Only a few minutes passed before Zuko emerged from the crowd again, beaming, his eyes crinkled in joy and excitement. He held a small paper pouch between his hands and stopped a few steps away from her.

"Close your eyes."

Katara raised an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

"It's a surprise."

"I'm not sure I trust that smirk." She stretched upward, and Zuko raised the pouch so she couldn't see inside.

"Uh-uh. No peeking or you'll ruin the surprise. Eyes closed."

Katara made a face. "Fine. But if you're trying to feed me fire flakes, I will blow stinky spice-breath in your face."

"Noted. Now open your mouth."

She obeyed, and she felt Zuko come closer by the soft, ever-present heat radiating off of him. She wanted to lean even closer, to rest against his chest and get lost somewhere in his arms.

Zuko popped something small and dense onto her tongue. "Okay. Try it."

Almost the instant she closed her mouth, she was hit by a rush of salty, sour tang, and her eyes popped open. It was chewy, whatever it was, and the outside encrusted with a thin layer of crispiness. As she chewed, the sharpest edge of the flavor wore away, softening into a sweet, mild taste.

"What is this?" she asked, staring at Zuko, wide-eyed. It was a bit like some kind of dried fruit, but it wasn't a type of fruit that she recognized, and the slight hint of salt remained as she chewed, and she could have sworn that she knew the flavor from something, but it was just different enough that she couldn't place it.

"Do you like it?"

She nodded. Whatever that thing was, it was wonderful.

Zuko's smile grew. "Candied ocean kumquats. I remembered that your family ate them stewed when you were all in the Fire Nation, because—"

"Because they're just like sea prunes."

Zuko nodded. "I don't really get the appeal of stewing them, but the candied ones are pretty popular."

Katara couldn't keep her smile from growing wider and wider until it felt like her face would crack. The candied ocean kumquats tasted good enough on their own, but Zuko had chosen them just for her, and he knew her well enough to know that she'd like them, and he was right, and—she reached up and snatched the paper pouch from his hand. If she didn't do something quick, she was going to be in very real danger of kissing him.

"Just for that stewed sea prune blasphemy, I'm taking the whole bag."

"Hey!" he protested. "I didn't say they were bad. Just—slimy."

Grinning, Katara popped another little candied kumquat into her mouth and spun out of his reach. "I'm keeping them. All of them."

Zuko seemed to catch her teasing tone and caught up with her in just a few steps. "Give me one."

"Why should I?" She gave a little sniff and held the pouch out to the other side. "You called my favorite food slimy."

One of his long arms snaked around her, and Katara yelped, pulling the pouch in against her chest.

Laughing, she ducked under his arm and stepped back a few paces. "You'll have to fight me for them, Fire Lord." She folded the top of the pouch shut and dangled it out at arms' length.

"Are you sure you want to challenge me? I'm taller than you. I can reach wherever you try to hide them."

"You may be taller, but I'm hungry, and a very nice man just bought a snack for me." She opened the top of the pouch again, just enough to slip out another piece of candied kumquat between her fingertips.

Zuko took that as his chance to lunge, and caught her by the waist, lifting her off the ground.

Katara couldn't stop laughing. Through the irrepressible fits of giggling, she saw him laughing too. Her heart fluttered. How had she forgotten how wonderful his laugh was? It was rare, but every time she'd ever heard his laugh unweighted by stress, every fiber of her being lit up along with him. His arms around her waist were warm and strong, and being pressed against his chest was every bit as perfect as her imagination had suggested. She would be perfectly content to stay pressed up against him forever.

Smiling, he came to a halt, and holding her with one arm, grabbed the pouch with the other. "Got them," he said quietly, not pulling the pouch away from her.

His breath brushed against her cheek, and she realized anew how close he was, his face only inches away. In fact, with the way he was holding her, with her feet dangling a few inches from the ground, she was perfectly level with him. So close that if she just leaned in—

Her lips crashed into his, and she saw Zuko's eyes widen for the briefest moment before she closed her eyes. She'd kissed before. Not often, and not with many people, but this one felt different. There wasn't fluttering or uncertainty, there was no feeling that she was going to lift off the ground and float off into the sky. This felt like landing. This felt like reaching shore after weeks at sea, like her feet on solid ground after flying away from danger. This felt like home.

She only pulled away when Zuko's grip on her waist slackened enough that her feet touched the ground, and she stared up at him, breathless. Zuko's face had gone crimson—even his scar looked a shade darker than usual, and his eyes were wide.

"You—you just—"

"Did something I've been thinking about for a long time?"

"You did? You have?"

Katara smiled and pulled the pouch of candied ocean kumquats out of his loose grasp. "And I think I won these back." She dangled the pouch in front of him again.

Zuko kept gaping at her for a few seconds longer.

She looped her free hand through his. "Did I break the Fire Lord too?"

"Maybe." He looked down at her, and her heart fluttered in her chest. "Definitely a little bit."

"Hmm." She squeezed his hand and turned for the food stalls again. "In that case, I'm going to have to have you point out your favorite food in this whole place, and it'll be my treat."

"And if I say that it's fire flakes?"

She leaned a little closer to him as a cluster of people pressed past them down the path. "Then it might be a little while longer before I try that kissing thing again." She snuck a glance up at him through her lashes.

His mouth curled into a slight smile, and he returned the pressure on her hand. "Then I think I can handle finding another favorite."

[waywardfangirl]

I was incredibly fortunate to get to write for the wonderful @fight-surrender in the Carry On Secret Snowflake exchange, and she gave some of the best prompts I've seen. I ended up choosing to write a meet-cute (a meet-ugly, really) that takes place on the beach and centers around Simon's new fixation on the supposed dangers lurking below the waves.

I have to give a giant thank you to @foolofabookwyrm and @caitybuglove23 for being excellent betas, cheerleaders, and for helping me get the fic formatted and posted when my computer stopped working - you guys are the best! 💜💜💜

You can read the fic below, or on AO3!

Simon

 

I've always wanted to go to the beach. Growing up in care, I never had the opportunity to, but now that Penny and I are done with university and enjoying weekends without the threat of homework hanging over our heads, I finally can. Of course, we don't live close to the beach, so our day trip took some planning, but it gave me time to look up all the best places to eat, and it gave Penny time to watch every possible documentary about the ocean. I watched a lot of them with her, and while I know I probably won't see all of the tropical fish that swam across our TV screen, I'm still really excited to see the ocean. 

 

Unfortunately, I also happened to be in the room while Penny watched some show called “Predators from the Deep”, or something along those lines, so my excitement is also tinged with trepidation (or outright fear) of some of the things lurking under the waves.

“Sharks aren’t anything to worry about, Simon! They don’t want to attack you, and the likelihood of even seeing a shark here is extremely low.”

 

“It’s not the sharks I’m worried about, Pen! It’s all of the other stuff, all those little parasites, and the poisonous things, and the spiny ones.” The documentary was filled with shadowy shots of spiked balls and spotted tentacles just waiting to attack some unsuspecting wader.

 

“Don’t eat any of it then,” she replies, hardly even paying attention to me as she smooths out her blanket and sets up the umbrella.

 

“What?”

 

“You said you were worried about the poisonous things, so just don’t eat anything you find in the ocean.”

 

“They can hurt me even if I don’t eat them! What about that one octopus?”

 

“That was venomous, not poisonous, there’s a difference.” She squirts sunscreen into her palms and then slaps them lightly onto my cheeks, not allowing me time to squirm away.

 

“Whatever, venomous then, there are still things to be scared of in there!”

 

Penny ducks under the arm I have flung out to point at the ocean with, and grabs two waters from our cooler.

 

“You’ll be fine Simon, I promise.” She shoves a bottle into my hands. “Rub in your sun cream, and let’s walk by the edge of the water, alright? You’ll like it, we can find shells!” She starts off, picking her way through the sand and looking back only once to make sure that I’m following her.

 

It turns out that the water feels quite nice, even soothing. The sounds of the waves and the feel of cool water splashing my ankles combine to make me feel safe. They make me forget about the horrors lurking off-shore.

Penny has a handful of shells and has started handing me others to put in the pocket of my swim shorts. I’ve found a few shells of my own too, but I stopped paying such close attention to the ground about ten minutes ago, when I noticed a man about our own age playing in the waves with his younger siblings.

 

He has dark hair, originally falling around his face but now wet with seawater and slicked back to emphasize his widow’s peak. He’s still too far away for me to tell what color his eyes are, but as Penny and I walk closer I’m able to make out more of his facial expressions. He seems to be putting on sneers for show and occasionally gives bright smiles for the younger kids swarming him. He’s wearing one of those long-sleeved swim shirts, but it’s clinging tight to his body. He looks like he could be a footballer with all of the muscles I can see, even at this distance.

 

I’ve been trying not to stare too openly at him, but I can’t really help it - there’s just something about him that keeps drawing me in.It’s almost as if I’m under some sort of spell or thrall. Right now though, I’m extremely glad I’ve been so captivated by him, because I seem to be the only person on the beach who realizes the danger we’re all in.

 

Curling around the man’s left ankle are the tentacles of an octopus, surely about to stick its fangs into him and inject him with its venom (or whatever it is octopuses do to kill people).

 

"Octopus!" I yell. I’m at a loss for any other words, but I’m desperately trying to warn Penny as I sprint off to rescue him.

 

"Ooh, where?" She doesn't sound nearly concerned enough for the looming threat of death hanging over us all, but I'll talk to her about taking proper safety precautions later. Right now, I have to go save the life of the prettiest person I've ever seen.

 

"Octopus! Octopus!" I can't seem to make any other phrases come out of my mouth, but eventually the man looks up to see me barreling towards him, flailing my arms and yelling at the top of my lungs. He raises an eyebrow at me, staying far too calm considering the mortal peril he's in, and glances behind him to see who else I could possibly be talking to.

 

Unfortunately, that means he's not paying attention enough to sidestep me when the combination of my momentum and adrenalin send me toppling into him. We both splash down into the small waves lapping at the sand and I scramble to extricate myself from his long limbs as quickly as possible, crawling down to examine his ankles and prepared to risk my own life if I have to pull the octopus off of him.

 

"What are you doing? " His voice is lovely and posh, the vowels round and smooth and expensive.

 

"Saving your life, mate, you're welcome by the way," I grunt as I make another unsuccessful grab for the tentacles.

 

"From what? All you've done so far is endanger me, pushing me down and holding me in the water." He pauses. "If this is your attempt at murder by drowning, I think I pity you. First, you caused a scene by yelling the whole way down the beach before you assaulted me, and now you're not even bothering to hold my head under this truly pathetic amount of water. You're an absolute disaster."

 

"I told you—" (why are these tentacles so hard to grab,) "I'm not trying to kill you, I'm trying to save you."

 

"Save me from what, exactly?"

 

Ha! I've got you now, evil cephalopod!

 

"This!"

 

I hold the octopus up in triumph, feeling the water drip onto my sodden hair.

 

"From… a clump of seaweed?"

 

"What? No. No, it's an octopus."

 

Slowly, I lower the mass in my hand down to eye level, and immediately I feel my cheeks flame in embarrassment.

 

"Oh. Right. Sorry, then."

 

I try to push back from him and stand up, but my hand won't release the seaweed (it really did look like an octopus!). When I try to move a wave hits me, washing the sand out from under my foot and making me flounder for a few moments, only compounding my embarrassment. When I finally look up at the man I accidentally assaulted, he seems entirely unbothered by anything. He's lounging back on his elbows, somehow managing to look down his nose at me even though I'm sitting up fully now, and it's simply unfair how defined his abs are, even under his shirt.

 

"Do you make a habit of doing things like this?"

 

His eyes are too intense for me to look at any longer, they're a grey color that seems to be shifting to reflect the ocean behind me, and I have to busy myself with peeling the green fronds of seaweed away from my fingers.

 

"Like what?"

 

"Attacking strangers or playing the hero, take your pick."

 

"Sorry. I thought it was an octopus and I didn't want you to die," I mumble. This prick should be grateful, where does he get off being so smug anyway?

 

"Why on earth would I have died from an octopus touching me?"

 

"Because they're one of the most deadly creatures on earth!"

 

"What? No they're not. Not the ones around here, anyway. The blue ringed octopus is incredibly deadly, but it lives in the Pacific Ocean."

 

"But, couldn't they-"

 

He levels me with a look that could probably set me on fire.

 

"Mordelia!" One of the children comes running over from where they fled when I tackled their brother. She looks to be about twelve or thirteen, and while she isn't quite as dark and villainous looking as her brother she still has his same air of superiority. "Does this gentleman need to be worried about being attacked, maimed, or killed by any octopuses while swimming today?"

 

This kid - Mordelia, I guess - levels me with the most condescending look I have ever seen, and just scoffs . Actually scoffs at me, like I'm an imbecile. (Although, I still have seaweed stuck to me, so she may be onto something there.)

 

"No. Most accounts of cephalopod attacks can't be proven, and the few that have been entirely substantiated occurred in vastly different habitats or under circumstances that this beach couldn't support."

 

With that, she turns and runs back to the rest of her family, leaving me with only a parting eye roll.

 

"She's going through a marine biology phase."

 

It's the first thing the dark haired man has said to me in a casual manner, and I startle a bit. 

 

"Did you also have a marine biology phase?"

 

I think my question catches him off-guard, and I smirk.

 

"Perhaps," he answers after a beat. "But Mordelia's has been going on for three years now, so we think it may actually stick. Mine dried up after only a few months."

 

He smiles at me for the first time since I knocked him over, and it's almost painful how handsome he is, sprawled out elegantly on the beach like he's in an ad for expensive watches or cologne or something, and I can't believe I tackled him because of some stupid seaweed.

 

"I had a dinosaur phase," I confess, smiling back at him.

 

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I reach down to help him up, and I'm shocked at how cold his fingers are, and how much I want to warm them up in my own. It's too bad I made such a horrible first impression, I would otherwise be sorely tempted to ask him out on a date. "What's your name, by the way? You've already attacked me, had we been in cars we would have exchanged names and proofs of insurance by now."

 

I’m such a mess. I didn't even think to ask what his name was.

 

"Simon. I'm Simon."

 

I go to shake his hand, and then realize that we're still holding hands, and I feel my cheeks grow redder still.

 

"Hello Simon, I'm Baz. It's nice to meet you, although the next time we meet I sincerely hope you can refrain from throwing yourself quite so bodily at me before we've even said hello."

 

"Yeah, umm, I'm sorry, really, I-" My brain catches up with my mouth. "Wait, did you say next time? "

 

His mouth curls up into a grin, and he gives my hand a squeeze as I try to figure out how I messed up so badly and things still worked out so well.

 

"Of course. For our first date, perhaps we can go to the aquarium and you can see what an octopus really looks like."