#it is a delight i was thoroughly unprepared for

[vegaseatsass]

So one of my favorite underrated elements of Gap was just how much damn fun the group of friends is. Raucous mean girls who turn their bullying to good when they become the lesbian village it takes to raise a Sam. I never finished Secret Crush On You but the friends groups in that were also the stars of what I saw of the show. So I'm really really really happy Idolfactory is continuing this trend in The Sign! The groupchat cannot shut UP about Yai. Laura called him revolutionary: the first straight man hag. We cannot get enough.

[doodle-pops]

Randomly Cornering Them For Kisses | House of Finarfin

Synopsis: In which you suddenly pin them against a wall and smother them in endless kisses.

︶꒦꒷Finarfin꒷꒦︶

You found Finarfin deep in thought, wandering through the gardens, his elegant robes trailing as he mulled over some political matter. He didn’t see you coming at first, not until you grabbed his arm and spun him around, pinning him playfully against the garden wall. His eyes went wide, utterly stunned by the suddenness of it.

Without hesitation, you began to smother him with kisses, your lips trailing from his cheek to his jaw. He was too shocked to do anything but blink at first, his regal composure entirely shattered. Finarfin’s initial surprise melted into quiet, breathy laughter as he tried to speak but was quickly cut off by another kiss. He was the picture of gentle nobility, now caught in the storm of your playful affection.

“What…what has gotten into you?” he finally managed between chuckles, his hands coming up to rest on your shoulders, though not to push you away—he seemed too amused, too delighted to stop you. His laughter grew as you kept kissing him, and before long, he was wrapping his arms around you, giving in to the moment with a soft smile. His forehead pressed to yours, still chuckling lightly, thoroughly caught off guard by the affectionate ambush.

︶꒦꒷Finrod꒷꒦︶

Finrod didn’t even see you coming. One moment he was walking through the halls of his home, the next you had him backed against the stone wall, a startled gasp escaping his lips as you pinned him. His eyes flickered with surprise, but there was that familiar spark of amusement as he quickly realised what you were up to.

You didn’t waste any time, pressing kiss after kiss to his face, your fingers curling into his tunic as you smothered him with playful affection. Finrod’s surprise quickly turned into giggles, bright and full of joy, his hands instinctively landing on your waist. “By the Valar, you’re relentless,” he managed to say between kisses, though the wide grin on his face betrayed that he was far from displeased.

His laughter became contagious as he tilted his head to make it easier for you, entirely giving in to your game. He pulled you closer, still giggling, clearly loving every second of it. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and soon he was returning the kisses, playfully nipping at your jawline. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” he teased, still breathless from laughter, as though the suddenness of it all had left him completely off balance in the best way.

︶꒦꒷Angrod꒷꒦︶

Angrod had been minding his own business, seated by the hearth with a book in hand, completely unprepared for what was about to happen. Without warning, you crossed the room and pushed him back against the chair, effectively pinning him there as your lips descended on his face with a barrage of kisses. His book slipped from his fingers in shock, and his head tilted back as he blinked up at you, stunned.

His lips parted, ready to ask what you were doing, but your kisses left him no time to speak. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air before finally settling on your arms, unsure whether to stop you or just surrender to the onslaught. After a moment, a helpless laugh bubbled up from his throat as he realised what you were doing. “Are you trying to smother me?” he asked, amusement colouring his voice, though his laughter betrayed him.

The way you kissed him so eagerly caught him completely off guard, but Angrod couldn’t stop smiling, his usually serious demeanour cracked wide open. He chuckled breathlessly, shaking his head at your antics, and eventually, he tilted his face towards yours, accepting the kisses with a gentle, contented sigh, all resistance gone.

︶꒦꒷Aegnor꒷꒦︶

Aegnor had been training in the courtyard when you approached him, his focus entirely on his swordwork. He didn’t even notice you until you grabbed him, pushing him back against one of the stone pillars with enough force to take him by complete surprise. His sword clattered to the ground as you pressed yourself against him, your lips attacking his with a barrage of playful kisses.

He froze, wide-eyed and startled, clearly not used to being ambushed like this. His breath hitched, but then, as the realisation set in, a low chuckle escaped his lips, his body relaxing against yours. “What—what are you doing?” he managed to ask between breaths, but you didn’t stop. The shock in his eyes slowly gave way to something softer, more amused, as he found himself chuckling under the weight of your kisses.

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer. Though Aegnor was known for his fiery temperament, here he was utterly disarmed by your affection. He let out a deep laugh, the tension melting away as he tilted his head to kiss you back. “I suppose I’ve been outmatched,” he murmured with a grin, completely giving in to your playful attack, his eyes gleaming with warmth as he returned your kisses with equal fervour.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings @stormchaser819

If you wish to be tagged, click the Taglist Link to join.

[feuqueerfire]

2023 Series Overview + Stats

2022 OVERVIEW (SHOWS, SHIPS) + STATS

It's the end of January 2024 but I realized I didn't end up doing a 2023 Series Overview and Summary, so I thought I'd do one now. Unlike the 2022 series overview where I was more prepared, had watched a lot more, and had even rewatched the favourites and almost-favourites of the year, I'm very unprepared this time.

So, it's gonna be shows & movies I watched in 2023 and my ratings for them until today (240128) without really having rewatched anything (except Beyond Evil).

I wonder if I'll rewatch some of these at the end of 2024 (along with the 2024 rewatches) and whether that'll change the rankings or my feelings at all.

I think I've decided that these yearly overviews will not change/be edited regardless of whether I come to really like a show afterward or change the ratings or whatever - a snapshot in time.

Favourite Shows

The shows released before 2023 will have (release year) beside them.

Top 3 Shows Watched in 2023:

Beyond Evil

My School President

Strangers From Hell (2019)

Beyond Evil: The only show that I watched in 2023 that I have since properly rewatched (I literally watched all 16 episodes this January 2024 without really skimming or speeding it up despite having watched the whole thing already. The characters, especially the mains Juwon and Dongshik gave me so many brainworms, the acting was great, the relationships among the characters was great, the mystery and suspense succeeded for me. Great show all around, actually it's making me wonder why it's a 8/10 and not at a 8.5.

My School President: This was so fun and introduced me to Gemini and Fourth, which was another delight. The OST and singing aspect of this was so good, for which I am eternally thankful. I think I liked the first half of the show better than the second half, which I thought for long-winded; otherwise, it might've also earned an 8 from me. Haven't rewatched the show properly but have watched some reactions to the earlier episodes and also listened to people's podcast episodes, as expected.

Strangers From Hell (2019): Out of these 3, this is the one I've thought the least about since watching and also haven't rewatched, so I remember the least about. So who knows, maybe I'll rewatch and be bored or something but it was so good while I watched it, the vibes so unsettling and strange and weird. Great acting, great story, should rewatch. It's also the first non-BL kdrama that I watched in a long time and was the reason I started watching more of them again, especially the thrillers/mysteries with no romance but homoerotic undertones lol

Next 4 - Liked A Lot:

Not quite the top 3 but I thoroughly enjoyed these. Unordered because they're all 7/10.

Moonlight Chicken

Derry Girls S1 (2018)

Alice in Borderland S1 (2020)

The Devil Judge (2021)

Only 1 BL, one non-BL with homoerotic undertones, 1 English-speaking comedy, and a death game thriller. Also from different countries: Thailand, Ireland, Japan, South Korea.

Ranges from fun/funny, thrilling, exciting, and heartfelt. They definitely all made an impression on me and have good acting/production value/story/etc, but maybe a thing or two disappointed me, or I just haven't connected with it enough to think about it too often. Still overall good shows that I liked a lot.

These were generally good, but just something was missing - either there was a production/story/acting issue that was bothering me a lot, or the production was very good, but it failed to take up any brain space after I finished watching. 6.5/10 in my rating.

Never Let Me Go

Midnight Motel

Choco Milk Shake (2022)

Happiness (2021)

Derry Girls S2 (2019)

Derry Girls S3 (2022)

A Shoulder To Cry On

So Long, See You Tomorrow (2021)

The Merciless (2017)

Bed Friend

Alice in Borderland S2 (2022)

Bloodhounds

The Eighth Sense

Enigma

Stay With Me

Our Dating Sim

High enjoyment or fondness, lacked in either production/acting/writing: Never Let Me Go, A Shoulder To Cry On (except the last ep rip), Stay With Me (it actually didn't lack in production and stuff either and is better than medium levels),

High production/acting, but lacked in making me care or be as invested as I should’ve been: Happiness, Alice in Borderland S2, Bloodhounds (okay idk where to put this because first 6 eps were so good - ep 6 itself is fucking wild but the ending sucked rip), The Eighth Sense, Our Dating Sim

These had medium levels of both production and fondness but not enough to think about often or be great: Midnight Motel, Choco Milk Shake, Derry Girls S2/S3, So Long, See You Tomorrow (can't remember a single thing about this but I must've liked it from my review of it lol), The Merciless, Bed Friend, Enigma,

I think these should be lower actually maybe, like a 6/10 not 6.5 but I haven't rewatched them and don't remember a lot, so who knows: The Merciless, Bloodhounds, Midnight Motel, Choco Milk Shake, Bed Friend

Could Climb Higher - could be bumped up to a 7/10 if I love it upon rewatch and end up thinking about the characters more: Stay With Me, Eigth Sense, Our Dating Sim

Special Mentions: The rest of the shows I watched were rated lower than 6.5/10, though there were still a few that I have some fondness for because I like the concept/the acting pair/it just gave me something I wanted. This includes Island (literally only Cha Eunwoo's cool young priest character), Our Skyy 2 (some eps), I Go To School Not By Bus (2015) (idk that specific running away to bathroom scene and making out is so good), We Are Gamily (2017), ummmm I skimmed through eps 10-15 of Addicted Heroin (2016) (didn't watch anything before that) but there are certain very specific parts that I liked and get why it gave everybody brainworms.

Favourite Pairs (characters):

Lee Dongshik/Han Juwon (Beyond Evil): They are not a real couple in the show and yet... have read so much fic about them and in my head, they are indeed in love after all this mess. I don't have much to say, I just love their antagonistic relationship turning into something so tender (though still jagged) and it turning into something more after the ending

Tinn/Gun (My School President): cuties, my cuties. Adorable.

Don't have a third one, I don't think? so strange

Special Mentions: 

Palm and Nueng (Never Let Me Go)

Heart and Li Ming (Moonlight Chicken)

in my head, Ajin and Fa (Enigma) -not canon

Favourite Pairs (actors):

Fourth and Gemini, I think they're the only pair that I became interested in 2023 and like followed fanaccounts and stuff. I'm so looking forward to them in future projects (My Love Mix-Up was at Q10 very recently, I'm waitingggg). Incredibly talented young people, both in terms of acting but also the performances they did at the concert like oh nice

Favourite Side Pairs

Can't remember a single one except Heart and Li Ming (Moonlight Chicken)

Biggest Disappointments

To be a disappointment, I had to have at least semi-high hopes

Be My Favorite: This one was a real disappointment because I've been looking forward to it for so long. In fact, I'd been looking forward to it since I saw the original trailer with Mike and people were still insisting they wouldn't watch it and were booing Krist because I thought the synopsis was intriguing and liked the chemistry of the ship. I was so happy when everybody seemed to love the show and it's such a shame that in the end, I'm the one who ended up bored and feeling nothing for this show...

Happiness: Not a super big disappointment because it was still a good show and it wasn't super hyped but I thought I'd like it more because I've only heard good things about it. Also thought I'd like it more when I first started because I liked the beginning few eps quite a bit before it fell into a lull in the middle.

General Stats

Total Watched: 44 entries in my spreadsheet, less than half of the 104 completed in 2022 - makes sense because I watched very little in the latter 6 months of 2023. Without the following below, 39 newly completed series/movies/shorts in 2023.

1 DNF (The New Employee)

2 Rewatches (Midnight 2021, Kiss Me Again Pete/Kao cut)

1 Survival Show (Boys Planet)

1 extreme skimming (Addicted Heroin 2016)

Release date 2023 vs earlier: 23 vs 21

Almost half and half, interestingly. My to-watch list now has fewer BL/GL from earlier than 2023 but more het/non-romance kdramas from earlier since I've watched a lot of the earlier BLs that I'm interested in but have barely dipped into kdramas.

Queer vs non-queer: 23 vs 20

The non-queer shows may still have some queerness (Claire is a lesbian in Derry Girls, trans girl in Alice in Borderland, etc.) but it's not the main character or the main plot and not a significant enough side plot

lol didn't count Boys Planet in this but it feels queer fr

Also 50-50 surprisingly. Some non-queer shows like Derry Girls, Alice in Borderland, and Island have 2-3 seasons, so that bulks it up just a bit

BL vs GL in Queer shows: 21.5 vs 1.5

0.5 to each for We Are Gamily

rip my fawking GLs for reallll but hopefully I'll have a more fruitful lesbian-watching year because there are like 5 that I have on MDL that seem promising (and have also watched Bottoms this January)

Romance-Centric vs Non-Romantic in Non-Queer Shows: 3 vs 17

in the Non-Romantic shows, this many shows have very homoerotic undertones (regardless of whether I ship): ~6 (Bloodhounds, Midnight Museum, Beyond Evil, Devil Judge, Strangers From Hell, The Merciless)

Some of these also had het undertones/side couples: 5 (Tomorrow, Island S1/S2, Enigma, Midnight Motel)

Number of shows per month: 6, 4, 10, 4, 5, 7, 7 (July to November), 0

Please this funny spread, I really just fell off on watching shows in the last half of the month because I was preoccupied with ZB1

Didn't count Boys Planet (August)

Average rating: 6.3 (higher than last year, so that's nice)

[nvrcmplt]

Kisses were shared for a few minutes, a lot of tasting his lover before the main meal but mostly to enjoy their presence in the space new to their senses and selves. A strange difference in Luit's mind was at play - this place was somewhere they could just be different folks. Though he would prefer his cave and rocky walls to protect and adore his mate, Ueda was human. He needed to be flocked amongst his kind and thrive in their manners of connection and conversation and Luit, wanted to be there with him. His discomfort from being so introverted was nothing unchangeable, it'll just take time. Yet - this was still something more. He wanted to have everything Ueda wanted to share with him, and Luit wanted to give everything back.

Still, as the day grew on, sun began to set and their bath water was ready - they didn't hesitate to share. Though it was no lake, it was still a welcomed sensation to his skin, welcoming the weight of his mate upon his front and stroking hands over their arms and hands to keep contact together but also now invasive enough to make his love flee. "Ah." Though it wasn't something Luit was thinking about, though it was before when they spoke about things before, the Wyvern moved to embrace Ueda, squeezing them in his arms and hissing in delight against their temple as he kissed deep. "You… do not need to worry about that Ueda. Though it will be our first time, I will learn with you and you with me. In this place, we will learn together, how to become closer. If that is what you are wanting with me too?" It didn't have to be tonight - the full thing but Luit did want to touch Ueda.

To show his kisses down his nape and hold his hips, to lick against his spine maybe. It was a delicious thought that made his chest rumble in desire but he held himself at bay, as he instead ran his hand down Ueda's back to sate his need. "Are you scared?" Luit wanted to know, "Because if you are, Ueda - we do not need to bed here. Tonight or this month, I will wait for when you are ready." Because that's what mates do, they are patient and ready for anything when the time is right, never to push his will onto those unprepared… however, "Unless you, like I, are ready for the next step?" A kiss to his loves cheek and down his jaw, nudging at it to raise their chin so that jugular was stretched perfectly for more of his kisses to press. "I wish not to scare you, love… but I do wish to make you mine thoroughly, so no other drake nor man can look upon you and think of themselves lucky to even try when they cross gazes with you."

"I wish to smell me, on you. I wish to give you my bite, to be connected through soul and mana until the day I breath my last. Intercourse is a mere step of what I wish to share with you and if it is to be without, so be it. Your comfort, my love, is everything I desire… So, please, speak your truth, Ueda." Hand would link with theirs, bringing wrist to lips to press with longing but promise to everything he states as they soak together. "I only wish to love you until the end of days."

// When it came to money, Luit was always far to generous with it. Such precious gems and coin meant very little to the wyvern and Ueda could have exploited this to the fullest, but it never felt right morally to use him like that. Despite being used to it by now with Luit's frivolous spending, to have suddenly booked a room and provide a round for the rest of the tavern made Ueda laugh uncomfortably.

"H-Hold on, one room here is at least two months salary! " Ueda sputtered as he watched the tavern owner thank his partner so earnestly. This was basically a impulse purchase! Ueda couldn't help but have this feeling in his gut that he had basically dug his own grave.

As he was basically dragged upstairs, his eyes were transfixed on the hand, larger and firmer than his gripping so tightly with excitement. He swore he could see a faint trace of a smile behind Luit's mask.

And like Luit predicted, as soon as he was tossed upon the sheets, he had opened his mouth to squeak out his concerns but the kiss was effective in shutting him up.

" Mmh... "

The kiss made him tingle from the base of his spine, every stroke of his hair twitch uncontrollably. It almost made him forget that everything lover-like so far had stopped short at kissing. He had expected this to come some day, but had mentally prepped himself to be doing it in their home...

" B-Bed? " Ueda wasn't stupid, he had thumbed through medical textbooks before, but to have any practical training- he was a scholar without the opportunity. But Luit so excited he didn't have the heart to tell him that this was one of the things about human relationships he couldn't advise him on.

Later in the bath, with his back leaning against Luit and legs squeezed together, he mustered up the courage in spite his pounding heart:

" Luit, I-I have to confess I haven't done something like this, not even with a woman so I don't think I can guide you-- "

[genshinboys]

Going out on a date with Genshin boys - Diluc

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Diluc x gn reader

„I knew you would look mighty good all soaking wet, Luc.” 

Diluc feels that his eyebrow twitches in a silent scream of annoyance. 

He wanted to be a good boyfriend for you. He really did. He felt so so bad for not having enough time lately and decided to spoil you like you obviously deserved it. Thus, the redhead had everything planned, down to the last detail. 

So, when you entered the Dawn Winery, very, very late in the evening, Diluc was already anticipating your arrival and greeted you at the entrance. A long and warm hug, a chaste kiss on your forehead and fingers intertwining with yours - he was overjoyed to see you. You, on the flip side, were, quite honestly, pooped. Having carried out some nasty commissions like the doubtful privilege of escorting balloons, pretending to be a pirate to humour some rascals, or the best one yet, translating Hilichurlian with little to no success, you were ready to drop if not for DIluc’s bear-like grip. 

But fear not, Diluc had foreseen all of that, and he was ready to roll. So, he lovingly picked up your worn-out body and carried you to the candle-lit bathroom. He undressed you, handling you like a porcelain doll, only to place you in a tub brimming with pleasantly hot water and bubbles. Thoroughly, his hands were washing the dirt from your skin, leaving not a single blemish behind. His eyebrows knotted and lips pursed, Diluc was bound and determined in his task. A truly admirable code of conduct. One would expect nothing less from the hero of Mondstadt. However, the growing tent in his leather pants did not fail to put a cheeky smile on your face. 

So, when you prank your lover, pulling his arm, which results in him glissading into the bathtub with a loud splash of water, Diluc is truthfully baying for blood, or at least, that’s what his penetrating eyes are telling you. 

Oh shit. There is a possibility that you might have gone too far this time. You recognize the twitching of Diluc’s eyebrow, and ready yourself to bite the bullet as a consequence.

Diluc is drenched. His shirt is clinging to his torso, revealing the firmness of his sturdy physique. Trousers clamping his thighs as he crouches before you in the tub. For one fleeting moment, there could be something in the shape of a smirk creeping over his face, which makes you gulp audibly.

„If you insist on being a brat, I shall treat you like a brat.” 

He doesn’t give you time to defend yourself, the entire weight of his body trapping you right beneath him as he lashes out at you. Diluc’s lips attack yours, and he kisses you fiercely, stealing the air from your lungs. Teeth clacking together messily when he pulls at your wet hair fuelled by anger. Diluc groans unsatisfied with how little it helps to ease his frustration. 

„Turn around and on your knees.”

You hesitate for a second, baffled by Diluc’s flat-out boldness. It’s not an everyday thing to see him so out of it. Your head spins wilder than a whirlpool when the red-eyed nobleman forces you to move and follow his order. Water overflowing the tub with how harsh he manhandles you. Diluc sucks in a breath when he has you bent down, ass in the air, only inches away from his cock. His hands are actually shaking when he sinks his fingers into the silky-smooth skin of your bum. Diluc thinks he might go mad if he’s not going to have his mouth sucking into your tight core any time soon. Unaware, he keeps on mercilessly digging his fingers into your buttocks, leaving red prints on the surface. 

„Luc, it hur--,” you’re about to protest, but he pulls you in and kitten-licks you from behind. 

„Fuck!” You hiss unprepared while tightly gripping the bathtub to steady yourself.

Diluc flattens his tongue and sinfully glides it over your fluttering entrance. Your head slumps forward, and you start mumbling something incoherently, but Diluc doesn’t really care much. He spreads your ass cheeks with his fingers and delves his tongue into you, groaning wantonly in excitement. Your thighs quiver as Diluc continues savouring you, pushing the wet and hot organ in and out of your swollen opening. His full, firm lips gently tickling the tender flesh as he keeps pressing them against your arousal. Blood flows freely into your groin and your eyes are shut tight. You can no longer control the way your body shudders each time the redhead curls up his tongue inside of you. A needy moan escapes your sore from begging and moaning throat when Diluc buries his index finger into your hole. Your walls clench around his digit but pose no resistance as you’re wonderfully wet with a mix of his saliva and your slick. 

„I don’t care how good it feels. Don’t cum until I say so.” Diluc orders, wanting to punish you, but he finds it difficult to keep going himself as the twitching of his penis is too strong to ignore it.

Your breath hitches when Diluc’s tongue and finger slide in easily and the man moans in delight, feeling how well you take him. Meek as a lamb, you’re tormented by your lover, succumbing to his torturous ministrations. You’re not really sure how much longer you’ll be able to hold out with the way he is fucking into you, the very tip of his finger finally brushing over that sweet spot inside, and it makes you feel weak in your knees. 

„Luc, I need to--,” you’re breathless, a moaning mess on the verge of spilling all over yourself, and Diluc knows you’re almost there. Droll and slick trickle down his chin, but he remains unfazed. The coil in your belly makes you cry out Diluc’s name in hopes of finding your release. He can’t take it anymore, the way you beg and writhe, call out his name like a broken record. He reaches out for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, never stopping to stimulate your g-spot. The tender gesture is enough to show you that it’s ok to stop fighting your orgasm. Relieved, you let yourself dissolve into pleasure. Waves of euphoria sweep through your body as you cum on Diluc’s mouth, panting heavily. Your head feels dizzy and heavy when Diluc safely cradles you between his arms. 

„Forgive me, Love. I don’t know what has taken over me.” 

Diluc apologizes, despising himself for how easy it is for you to push his buttons. When you turn your head to the side to look at him, his cheeks are dusted with pink, and he sheepishly avoids your eyes.

A fond chuckle erupts in your chest. How cute. You can’t help but swoon at the panicked man. You grab him by his chin and force him to face you.

„Well, I guess you’ll have to clean me all over again, Master Diluc.”

Other boys:

Albedo

Kaeya

Kazuha

Zhongli

Childe

Xiao

Other series:

Thigh job with Genshin boys

[starlingflight]

Welcome to the Family.

A/N: This started as a joke on discord and now, apparently, it’s a one-shot. I hope you all enjoy learning Charlie Weasley’s deepest, darkest secret. 

Charlie couldn’t sleep. It was always the same his first night back in The Burrow. The house was loud and, seemingly impossibly, more cramped than usual. Mum and Dad were on the sofa, having given up their room to the Delacours. Hagrid had been forced to sleep in a tent in the neighbour’s field and in a strange way, Charlie thought he might have felt more at home if he’d joined him. 

The Burrow was full of noise but it was all the wrong ones. The wind that whipped through the trees which lined the reserve in Romania was missing as was the distant rumble and roar of the dragons. Instead, he could hear Bill’s soft snores beside him and a suspicious pattern of banging coming from the twin's room on the floor above. 

It was no use. The clock had rolled all the way past midnight and Charlie was no closer to sleep than he had been two hours ago. Knowing that he was risking his life if his mother caught him, Charlie sighed heavily and rolled out of bed. 

What he needed was some relaxation. A way to unwind after the long hours spent travelling and the responsibility of socialising with so many people in one day. With that in mind, Charlie headed for the bathroom, passing carefully over the second step on his way up to the third floor, which he knew from many years of experience creaked loudly if you were foolish enough to step on it in the middle of the night. 

He was only mildly surprised to find a faint trace of light coming from the gap beneath the bathroom door. With this many people in the house, it was near impossible to find the bathroom empty, even in the small hours of the morning. Charlie leant back against the faded floral wallpaper of the landing, the hallway illuminated by the glow emanating from the tip of his wand and waited. 

The minutes crept by slowly. Charlie checked his watch. Five minutes passed, then ten. After fifteen long minutes, Charlie frowned at the bathroom door, unsure who could possibly be taking so long in there at this hour. 

After twenty minutes his patience had completely eroded and Charlie knocked softly on the door. 

A moment passed and nothing happened. Charlie reached out and placed his hand on the cool metal of the door handle just as a shadow flickered across the gap below the door. It opened and Charlie found himself face to face with Fleur. Her usually immaculate silver hair was piled messily atop her head and her sapphire blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, casting her eyes to the tiled floor beneath them. “I didn’t realise anyone was awake.” 

Charlie, thoroughly unprepared to deal with a crying woman he hardly knew at almost one in the morning, froze for a moment. Fleur began to shuffle awkwardly around him in the doorway. She was almost past him when Charlie finally came to his senses and gently placed a hand on her arm. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned. 

Fleur nodded wordlessly but even as she did so, more tears began to slide down her cheeks. “It’s very stupid,” she said, swiping at her face with the back of her hand. “Please don’t worry about it.” 

Charlie had always proclaimed that he was better with dragons than people but even he knew that if you found a woman crying in the bathroom just hours before her wedding you should probably be at least slightly alarmed. 

Without considering how strange it might look to anyone who happened to pass by, Charlie tightened his grip on Fleur’s arm just slightly and gently guided her back inside the bathroom, placing a silencing charm on the door as he closed it behind them. 

Fleur immediately perched herself on the edge of the bathtub and covered her face with her hands. “It’s just terrible timing!” She exclaimed. 

Charlie frowned down at her. “What is? The wedding? I know it’s not perfect but Dad told me about all the security measures and -” 

Fleur finally looked up from her hands, the sharp expression on her face was enough to silence Charlie instantly. “Not the wedding! This!” She pointed at her cheek. For a moment, Charlie was utterly perplexed at what he was supposed to be looking at. He crouched down and squinted and finally saw a small, red blemish upon Fleur’s otherwise flawless face. 

“A spot,” he said. 

“Yes!” Fleur said, her voice so loud she may have woken the whole house if not for the silencing charm Charlie had thought to cast. “I have never seen anything so hideous! It must be from the stress!” 

Charlie didn’t bother to clarify if she meant the stress of the war or the stress of the wedding, he had a feeling he already knew the answer to that. 

“I have tried everything!” Fleur continued. “Maman’s potions, Fred and George’s Wonderwitch products, even some Muggle remedies!” 

Fleur looked frantic. Her eyes were wide and wild with panic and a hot, red flush had begun to creep up her neck and across her face. 

Charlie hesitated for a moment, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. He barely knew the girl sat in front of him. He’d seen her compete in the tournament years ago and he’d been impressed with how she’d handled the Welsh Green. He’d witnessed less elegant handling on the reserve by wizards who’d worked with dragons for years. 

And he’d agreed to be Bill’s best man. Charlie supposed a good best man would do everything in his power to help the bride if he stumbled upon her crying the night before the wedding. 

“If I tell you something, do you swear to keep it a secret?” 

His question seemed to catch Fleur off guard. She stared at him for a moment and then slowly nodded her head. “I promise.” 

Charlie sighed loudly, still not sure if this was a good idea. He waved his wand in front of him and a second later a glass bottle appeared out of nowhere, landing securely in the palm of his hand. 

“What is that?” Fleur asked, peering curiously at the bottle. 

“This,” Charlie said. “Is for your face.” 

Fleur leant back over the bathtub, eyeing the bottle suspiciously. “What is it?” She asked again.

“It’s my secret recipe,” Charlie said, aware of the heat rising in his face. “I make it in Romania. Put it on your face for twenty minutes and I guarantee that spot will vanish.” 

Fleur reached out and tentatively took the bottle for him. She inspected it closely before rising to stand before the mirror above the sink. “You use this on yourself?” She asked, the reflection of her eyes meeting Charlie's. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “I er- I do self-care Sundays.” 

Fleur smiled as she tapped her wand to the top of the bottle, removing the stopper. With no further hesitation, she began to smear the rosy pink paste liberally across her face. “It smells incredible.” 

Charlie nodded. That would be the vanilla extract he added to activate the dragon’s blood. Not that he was prepared to share that with Fleur. 

She finished applying the mask and held the open bottle out to Charlie. For a moment he wavered, this had been his plan when he’d first made his way to the bathroom but he’d expected to do his pampering routine alone. Still, he supposed he’d already told Fleur the worst of his secret, what harm could it do at this point? Tentatively, he dipped a finger into the mask and began to spread it across his face. 

“I think we are going to get on very well!” Fleur announced happily once Charlie had finished applying the mask to his face. 

“Just don’t tell anyone!” Charlie said urgently. 

Finally, the minute hand informed Charlie that twenty minutes had passed. He nudged Fleur gently on the arm and then gestured to the sink. She washed the mask off eagerly, the pink mixture mingling with the water and disappearing down the drain. 

Fleur nodded dismissively, turning her attention to the stack of magazines beside the bath. She selected a copy of Witch Weekly for herself and tossed an old, battered issue of The Magizoologist to Charlie. They sat perched on opposite ends of the bathtub and began to read. The only noises inside the bathroom were that of Fleur and Charlie’s magazine pages rustling as they flipped them and the tick of Charlie’s watch counting down the minutes until they could wash their faces. 

Charlie handed her a towel and Fleur began to pat her face dry whilst he took her place at the sink, washing warm water vigorously across his face. 

It was impossible for Charlie not to smile at Fleur’s squeal of delight as she looked in the mirror and discovered the spot had disappeared just as he’d promised her. 

“Merci! Merci! Merci!” She cried, wrapping Charlie in a firm hug as she jumped up and down in excitement. 

“It’s alright!” Charlie said through a chuckle. “What are brothers for?” 

Fleur stopped jumping and looked Charlie in the eye, a dazzling smile upon her face. “I’ve never had a big brother before.” 

“Yeah, well, I have a little sister and I can already tell you’re going to be just as much trouble as the other one already is.” 

The smile slid from Fleur’s face. “Thank you,” She said earnestly. 

“Don’t mention it,” Charlie replied. “Ever.”  

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

41 for the winter prompts and Lucretia? :D

"Walking outside where it’s early and all you can hear is the crunch of snow and ice under your feet" from this prompt list! (still accepting!)

-

Lucretia rises before the sun. This isn’t an odd occurrence. She relishes in having the entire day stretching out before her like stray cats lavishing in the sun.

She noiselessly rifles through the closet, doing her best to not wake her sisters. She pauses when she hears Ayda stir, though relaxes when her soft snores resume.

Lucretia makes quick work of pulling on warm layers and stuffs a number of items into her rucksack.

She manages to slip out of the house undetected. Weak beams of sunlight begin to shine down, making the thick blanket of snow on the ground shimmer like shattered glass. As she carefully makes her way down the stairs of the back porch, she smiles to herself. The snowstorm blew in hard last night, thoroughly enrobing the world in powdery snow. It crunches under her feet as she walks through the backyard to small grouping of trees that still stubbornly cling to a smattering of leaves. This early in the morning, it’s the only sound audible in this frozen wasteland. It’s comforting in its own way.

She cranes her neck to examine just how icy the bark has become and, after running a tentative hand down the trunk, is delighted to find that it’s not dangerously slick. She pulls herself up on the low-hanging branches and clambers up to sit on the sturdy branch that’s served as her home away from home for years. Her sisters are still too young to confidently climb up to the spot on their own so Lucretia has full reign over it.

Lucretia slips off her backpack and rifles through it until she finds what she’s looking for. The envelope is large and heavy. The paper’s smooth, a soft cream color. She removes a glove and runs her thumb over the official embossing on the back. Her name is written on the front in messy block letters. The letter came two days ago and she still hasn’t found the courage to open it. She supposes today is as good a day as any, though. Anything to get the pit of anxiety out of her stomach. If it’s bad news, she can start getting over it.

Her hands tremble as she tears the envelope open. She’s pretty sure it’s not from the cold. Not exclusively, at least. She grips the paper tight and takes a breath before taking the dive and scanning over the contents of the letter.

Dear Lucretia, it begins. My name is Captain Davenport. She blinks in surprise. He wrote the letter himself? Very personal. She scans ahead, looking for the answer to the question she’s too scared to ask. I’m pleased to offer you a position on the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration’s two-month mission. Your application was highly impressive but your interview sealed the deal. If you’re still interested, I’d love to have you aboard. You’d be an amazing asset to the crew.

She stares in shock at the paper for a moment. She’s never wanted anything more than this. She agonized over the application and begged her mom to help her with mock interviews for weeks. Still, she figured it wasn’t enough.

“I fucking made it,” she breathes to herself. She tilts her head back and looks up at the pale lavender sky. “I fucking made it!” she repeats in a shout, startling a few birds into flight. She stuffs the letter back into its envelope and returns it to her rucksack, exchanging it for a journal and a pencil that’s been chewed to hell and back. She starts writing a list of everything she needs to do between now and the beginning of the mission at lightning speed.

The chance of a lifetime has been dropped in her lap and there’s no way in hell she’s going to waste it. Those two months are going to pass in the blink of an eye and the last thing she wants is to be unprepared for what the planes might throw at them.

[rax-writes]

Enchanted - Part II

Fandom:  The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Pairing:  Caliban x Reader Warnings:  Violence, death + resurrection Notes:  Part I ♥ Here’s part two! Hope you all like it!

Your relationship with Caliban did not remain a secret for long. Your sister was the first to know.

As you jogged over to her at the carnival the following weekend, you said, “Sister, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I know how the Plague Kings’ plan to overthrow you. They’ll be keeping an eye on you for any missteps, and once given probable cause, they will force you and Caliban to embark on a quest to retrieve the Unholy Regalia.”

She was visibly stunned, and understandably so. “That’s great! But how did you find all that out?”

“That would be the bad news.”

As if on cue, Caliban then materialized, and wrapped an arm around your waist – which was immediately noticed by Sabrina.

“What did you rope my sister into?” she snarled at Caliban, but you held up a hand to silence them both before the bickering began.

“Caliban came to me and stated that he wished to court me. I first tried to convince him to end the coup in exchange for courtship, but he explained that even if he wanted to, he is unable to stop the Kings. So, instead, the exchange became useful information for courtship.”

“Mhmm,” Sabrina mused disbelievingly, glaring at the man at your side. “And for how long does she have to date you?”

“The only requirement to fulfill our agreement is a single date, hence our presence at this mortal affair,” Caliban answered, then smiled warmly at you. “After that, the status of our courtship is up to my lady.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not so bad,” Sabrina muttered, then shrugged as she turned to you. “At least you can get this night over with and never have to see him again.”

“In all honesty… I am not entirely opposed to seeing him again,” you admitted hesitantly, and Sabrina’s jaw dropped slightly as her brows furrowed in agitation. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Sister. For Satan’s sake, have you seen him? He’s more than a little easy on the eyes.”

Caliban chuckled, both at your compliment and your sister’s obvious annoyance. “Come, little dove. Let us explore this fanciful event.”

Though the evening had been a delight, and you enjoyed your time with your date, you couldn’t help but notice that Caliban seemed slightly on edge all night. After the sun had gone down, and you’d surveyed the majority of the carnival, Caliban requested to take you to dinner in a nice restaurant. You agreed, and he thoroughly surprised you by taking you to a quiet, romantic rooftop restaurant in Italy, having remembered you stating that Italian was your favorite food. It was the following morning before you realized that he’d been sensing the impending danger of Herod’s attack. Coincidentally, he had disappeared for a short while during dinner, and although he’d claimed to have gone to the restroom, you learned from Sabrina the following morning that he’d actually returned to Greendale to collect King Herod's crown.

Naturally, the two of you had bickered about him cheating your sister the next time you were together, but his soft lips and skilled hands had done wonders to dissipate your anger. Although you refused to admit it, you were positively hooked from thereon out.

You told yourself that you continued the dates and the trysts simply because it was merely an enjoyable pastime. But in truth, it was because you were slowly falling for the prince. Knowing it was a mistake due to his allegiance to Hell, and his position as the enemy of your sister, created a forbidden nature to the romance, and it only made you crave him more.

Little did you know, Caliban felt the same for you. Your smile set his soul aflame, and your laughter made his chest tighten with affection. The sight of your hair fanned across your pillow, mouth slightly agape in pleasure, was not one he would ever grow tired of. He had fallen well and truly in love with you.

This information was kept secret from one another, because both of you were scared to admit such a thing and risk scaring the other away.

It wasn’t long after your mutual realizations that he met your aunts and Ambrose. Although they were all pleased to have met the object of your affection, and they remained civil with him, it was evident that each member of your family distrusted him, and questioned his intentions with you.

Their distrust turned out to be short-lived.

Immediately following your coven’s Hare Moon celebration, one of the Pagans had developed a very intense dislike for you. All it took was for her to sense that you were a very powerful member of your kind – that is, until your powers faded – and she, being a harpy, notorious for their insatiable hunger and lust for torture, had decided that she would feast upon your witch flesh as her next meal.

It was that evening when she appeared. You had been relaxing on the front porch of the Spellman Mortuary, and at first, you thought she was merely a mortal woman – then her wings spread out from behind her as her glamour faded, bird-like legs sprouted from her torso, and her face became hideous, decayed and rotting. You had instinctively tried to run, but it was futile. After all, harpies were originally thought to be the personification of wind, so it was unsurprising that you were in her clutches before you even made it to the door.

The harpy’s sharp talons dug into your shoulders, and you screamed for help as she launched you into the yard. You fell flat on your back, which knocked the wind out of you, and she was on you again in the blink of an eye. As you felt the most impossibly intense, agonizing pain across your abdomen, you screamed again as you glanced down and realized she had torn you open. She began feasting on your flesh and organs, blood dripping from her claws as she ravaged you.

You were vaguely aware of a horrified scream from Sabrina somewhere behind you. She had just swung open the front door of the Spellman household to see the ghastly scene before her, Aunt Zelda, Aunt Hilda, and Ambrose right behind her. With a roar of pure rage, Ambrose charged at the harpy with his blade drawn, which drew her away from you. Sabrina and Hilda then kneeled beside you, the former with tears in her eyes and a terrified look on her face as she held your hand, and the latter clearly trying to hide her panic as she unsuccessfully attempted to heal you. But your injuries were far too extensive, and your loved ones’ magick was far too weak.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot pierced through the night air, and you weakly turned your head to see Aunt Zelda holding a shotgun, Ambrose a few feet from your attacker, and the harpy lying dead on the ground. The two then ran over to you, both dropping to their knees at your side, their faces just as solemn and fearful as Sabrina and Aunt Hilda.

It was then, looking upon the panic-stricken faces of your family, that you knew you were going to die.

Darkness began to cloud your vision, and you vaguely heard your sister sobbing, and aunts and cousin begging you to stay conscious, giving you empty promises that they would find a way to fix this, and that everything would be alright. In the midst of all their hysterics, it seemed an idea donned on Sabrina.

“Caliban!” she screamed desperately into the night, her voice breaking from the force as she put behind it.

He appeared instantly, the usual vortex of flames escorting him onto the scene. He opened his mouth, no doubt to make a smug retort to Sabrina’s unceremonious summoning, before his eyes fell on you.

“No,” Caliban whispered in disbelief, still frozen on the spot. Blood poured from your abdomen, and the sight of you torn open and half-dead filled him with a sense of gripping terror and worry he had never before experienced. He ran over to you, skidding to a stop on his knees and gently cradling your head in his hands.

“Do something!” Sabrina begged, a sob raking her body. Caliban panicked for a split second, then a solution came to him. It was a last ditch effort kind of plan, but seeing as your eyes had already drifted shut, and your body was growing colder by the second, he knew that he must do something that would absolutely ensure your survival.

“With a desperate heart and no time to waste, I call upon all three Fates!”

In a cloud of smoke, three hooded figures appeared. Each had clouded eyes, long white hair, and greenish-gray, wrinkled skin.

“Fates, I beseech you to save this woman’s life,” Caliban pleaded.

“In exchange for our aid, you must give up the fate you have been pursuing so fiercely.” The Fates spoke in unison, their voices raspy and eerie. “You must cease your pursuit of the throne of Hell, and no longer seek to make Earth the tenth circle.”

“I shall. Here and now, I end my quest to become King of Hell, and remake the Earth as the tenth circle,” Caliban vowed. The lack of hesitation and conviction in his voice astounded each of the Spellman’s, although that was but a minor thought in the back of their minds at the moment. “Just save the woman I love, please.”

The Fates disappeared without another word in another cloud of smoke, at the same moment that a ragged, desperate gasp tore from your lips. The Spellman’s and Caliban all snapped their eyes back down to you. The fatal wound had been healed, and even your clothing was fixed. You sat bolt upright, as if you’d just been necromanced back to life – and, technically, you had. As you looked around at your loved ones, the realization that you were alive and safe sunk in, and you immediately began to cry.

“I saw Dad. I saw him,” you sobbed pitifully, and your family took you into their arms. You despised how weak you sounded, but seeing your father was something you were entirely unprepared for. Caliban rubbed his palm up and down your back, not wanting to interfere with your familial embrace. Still crying into Auntie Zee’s chest, you explained, “I died. I died and Dad was there waiting for me. He hugged me and told me that he was happy to see me, but it wasn’t my time yet.”

It was several minutes before you were able to compose yourself, although you supposed that was somewhat to be expected for someone who had just died then came back to life. After your aunts wiped your tears, you turned around to look at Caliban.

“I know you had something to do with this. We’re all powerless right now, so that is the only explanation,” you whispered. “What did you do?”

Caliban hesitated a moment, so Ambrose answered for him.

“He called upon the Fates. They demanded that he give up the fate he has been pursuing, in order to save you. So, he vowed to give up the throne of Hell, and said it was to save the woman he loves.”

You looked slowly from Ambrose back to Caliban. He appeared slightly perturbed that Ambrose revealed what he’d said in that moment of fear-fueled vulnerability, but didn’t bother to deny it.

“Caliban… is that true?”

“As I’ve told you before: anything for you,” Caliban answered, giving you a soft smile. You threw your arms around his neck, and he immediately wrapped his around your waist.

“I love you,” you murmured, your face buried in his neck. Caliban held you tightly and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“And I love you, little dove.”

[villainousshakespeare]

Learning a Lesson Chapter 9

iLearning a Lesson Chapter 8

Part 1 Here, Part 2 Here, Part 3 Here, Part 4 Here, Part 5 Here, Part 6 Here, Part 7 Here, Part 8 Here

Young Actor Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Rated E -Smut, Angst, Complicated Relationship - Teacher/Actor Posing as Student, Feels, Flirting, Fluff, Oral Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Threats, Breakups, Angst…

ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER! (but don’t worry… I’m a hopeless romantic)

Summary: It’s your first day as a teacher and things are going well. That is, until a tall, gorgeous boy with blond curls and dramatic ways saunters into your last class. When he ignores all the swooning girls to flirt outrageously with you, it is secretly thrilling. Even more so is when he tries to steal a kiss after class ends. How long will you be able to keep your defenses up?

Up and Coming actor Tom is under cover in high school for  research for a movie, but the pretty drama teacher is making the long assignment so much more enjoyable

@arch-venus25​, @caffiend-queen​ @ciaodarknessmyheart​ @frostbitten-written​ @just-the-hiddles​ @kellatron55​ @myoxisbroken​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @poetic-fiasco​ @shiningloki​ @shae-annelore​ @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy​ @hiddlesholic​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @wolfsmom1​ @tom-hlover​ @toozmanykids​ @delightfulheartdream​ @whyispistashanuttaken​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​; @loki-yoursaviourishere​ @is-it-madness​

The Monday morning walk to school was the longest of Emily's life. With every step she took she was tempted to turn around and run the other way, hiding under her blankets and weeping rather than going on. Only a deep seated stubborn streak kept her from giving in to her fears and doing just that.

She needn't have worried. Tom was true to his word. There was no sign of him to be found in school. No infectious laugh ringing through the hallway, no tousled halo of blond hair floating above the shorter students amidst a throng of admirers, and no ice blue eyes seeking hers for a secret wink or speaking glance.

Emily told herself it was for the best. She hoped she would eventually believe it.

The other god-send was that Jim Howard seemed to have called in sick. A substitute was in his classroom when she got there, and never had she been so glad to see the old woman than she was that day. She assumed that it was his pride that kept him from walking into the building with a black eye and a swollen jaw, and took evil delight in the fact that Tom had so thoroughly trounced him.

Tom. There he was again. She could not go five minutes without calling him to mind. It was going to be a long day. Hell, it was going to be a long forever as far as she knew. How long would it take to get over the golden boy who had so completely won her heart?

Half a day was how long it took for the news of his exit to hit the school grapevine. Emily began hearing his name whispered during her fourth period class. By the time that class ended and she made her way to the staff lounge it was all anyone was talking about. Ada, Janis, and Mike were gossiping about it when she came in, a pathetic lunch of coffee and a banana in her hand.

"Well, anyone with eyes could have seen that that boy should be a movie star," Janis was opining. "It doesn't surprise me one bit."

"Oh, come on Janis," Mike laughed, skepticism showing, "he was handsome, sure, but there's no way you saw this coming!"

"I'm not saying that," Janis sniffed. "Obviously I didn't know he was an actor. But if anyone in this school was destined for greatness it was Martinsson."

"Hiddleston," Mike corrected her. "Apparently that's his real name. You're awfully quiet, Emily. You were close with the boy, weren't you? Tutoring him after hours and all?"

"Not that close," she said with a half shrug. "He claimed to want help with an audition monologue, but that was obviously for show. We never actually worked on it. Just class."

The words were true enough as far they went, even if the meaning behind them was an all out lie.

"Still, he clearly preferred you," Ada said, giving her a probing look. "I heard all sorts of chatter about how he always flirted with you, volunteering to read romantic scenes with you. I was a little jealous, to tell the truth. I mean, and I can say it now that I know he's a genuine adult - what I wouldn't have given for a chance to sculpt a nude of that boy!"

"No wonder Howard hated him so much," Mike laughed good naturedly. "It seems it's not just the high school girls who had a thing for him."

Emily did her best to tune them out after that, and took to eating in her classroom. The days blended into each other, with no end of the day secret to make them stand out as special.

The kids in her drama class were all excited of course. The thought that they had read scenes with an honest to goodness actor, one who was going to be starring in a movie, made them practically giddy. Kate began recirculating the lie that the two of them had been involved, and no one dared to correct her. Emily was angry on his behalf, offended that anyone would believe he would fool around with a student, until she realized the implications of that thought.

It was that guilt that was the worst. Well, along with the loneliness. Even if he had been an adult, she hadn't known that. She had thought him no different than Kate or Zack or Jamie, and she had slept with him anyway. She deserved all the pain she was feeling. Deserved more than that; to loose her job and never be hired again, even. More and more she slipped into a depression.

It was nine days after she had thrown him out of her apartment and her life that the first letter arrived. She grabbed her mail from the small slot inside the door and rifled through it on the way up the stairs as she always did, expecting nothing more than bills and solicitations. When she turned over an envelope addressed in an instantly recognizable hand, she felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Hands shaking, she opened the seal, afraid that if she didn't do it at once she would never find the courage, and unfolded a letter.

"My Darling Emily," it began in Tom's loopy mess of long hand, "I know I have no right to write to you, having broken your trust in the most caddish way possible. I only hope that you will allow me the opportunity to once more take advantage of your goodness of heart and kindness of disposition, that I may try to explain why I orchestrated such a hurtful charade.

"As you are patently aware now, I am an actor of both stage and screen. I take my profession very seriously, perhaps more so than it deserves, though I like to believe that you among all women will understand why. If I can peel away the layers of a character enough to expose the beating heart within, allowing my audience to sees even a piece of the truth of humanity in my portrayal, then I truly believe that I am contributing something to this shared experience we all are living. Pretentious as that sounds, it is my goal every time I assume a role, be it Iago or a soldier, or even Mr. Toad.

"When I was cast as a student from the States, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I was educated, I blush to say my love, in the best schools in England: Eton, Cambridge, and RADA. My good fortune has been quite excessive, I know, though no teacher I encountered in all of my tutelage could hold a candle to you, my darling. In any case, I was woefully unprepared to know the struggle such a young man was going through. My director came up with the idea to have me pose in a small town school, and I admit I leapt at the chance.

"Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would meet the woman of my dreams in such a situation.

"I confess that in the beginning I flirted with you to amuse myself. You are quite breathtakingly beautiful, my sweet, and I was bored beyond belief. As the days went on, however, I began to uncover the woman underneath the starched blouses and pencil skirts. A woman with a mind that soared and a soul that sung. One who shared my passion for stage poetry, and did not back down from a challenge.

"In short, my darling Emily, I fell in love with you.

"I should have told you the moment our relation crossed over the line. Alas my love, I fear that it is a coward who worships you. I was afraid that if you learned the truth you would be angry, and I wanted to collect as many precious moments with you as I could before your warm eyes turned cold. My sin is great, I know. I do not deserve to be forgiven. Nonetheless, I place my heart at your feet in hope that you will take it up, take pity on me, and not stomp it beneath your shoe.

"The film I am working on seized the opportunity afforded by my early matriculation to begin shooting. I am relocated to New York City to start principal photography. I know it is a mere two hours from you, and yet it feels the length of the world. Knowing I will not see you each day, hold you at night, is a weight on my soul that I know I have only myself to blame for.

"I ask nothing of you, my dearest Emily, but that you allow me to write to you. I do not expect you to write back, although I live in hope that one day you will. The distance keeps us apart, but perhaps that need not be all bad. Perhaps it can give you time to heal and to trust me once more. Let me write to you, to tell you about myself - my real self - and try to win your friendship back if nothing else. It has been the most important of my life.

"I do not flatter myself that I will ever hold you again, kiss your soft lips, feel you beneath me as you gasp in passion. I have too great a mark against me to hope for such grace. I would die to have it, but will not impose it on you. Just let me try to heal the hurt I have done, and I will be content.

"If you cannot find it within you to accept my offer of friendship in the form of epistles, simply write me with one word. 'Stop' and I will cease. You are in control, my heart. I will bow to your wishes.

"Please take good care of yourself, my Emily. I wish I could be their to tend to you myself. Be warry of the dread maths teacher. I know it is no longer my place, but I would ask you to not be alone around him.

"Enough of that. I will end for now. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

"My heart is yours.

All my love,

Tom."

Emily read the letter through, barley able to make out the words through the tears welling in her eyes. When she had finished, she collapsed onto the bed and read it through again, openly weeping this time. All of the pain and guilt she had been holding in came flooding out. In the end, she had to put the letter aside so that the deluge of her tears didn't permanently mar the ink composing the lines. By then she knew it by heart, but she still loved to see his strong hand scrawled out over the page.

She did not for a moment consider writing him to stop. Perhaps she should have. There was no future she could see for the two of them. Her trust had been shattered, along with her mental image of herself, by the situation. On top of that, he was away, filming a movie in the big city that she rarely went to. When this movie was ended, who knew where he would be? Jetting off to exotic countries? Treading the boards in London? His life was exciting and adventurous, and she was a little mouse of a school teacher from a small town. How could they hope to make a relationship work, even without their drama?

The letters came far more frequently than she had expected. While it was not every day, Tom was clearly grasping every spare moment he had to pour out his heart to her. He told her all about the filming process. She felt as though she knew his costars, so vividly did he depict them. Against her will, Emily would find herself laughing at ridiculous anecdotes, or groaning in commiseration at delays in the shooting.

In the midst of all of these tales of misadventures and productivity, Tom made clear to he still hoped to win Emily back. He never missed an opportunity to praise her, calling her darling, his sweet, his dear, his love. He mentioned how he had suggested that one of the teachers should be young, smart, and sexy as an homage to her, though no one could possibly do her justice. He let slip that he had been making his costars groan with his continual referencing her, to the point where they teased him any time her name arose.

At the end of each letter he dropped all pretense, stating plainly that he loved her and would do anything to win her back. He insisted that he would wait, that the decision was entirely hers, but that he lived in hope that one day she would write him back, telling him she forgave him. Until that day, he would soldier on and try to deserve her.

Several times Emily found herself sitting down, trying to pen a reply to him. She wanted, desperately wanted, to do so. But each time, the fear would come crashing down and she would end up tearing the letter to shreds.

About two months after the letters started, there was a longer than usual gap between arrivals. Emily began to think that he had given up on her, and a panic she had never felt gripped her. She had not realized the extent to which she had been living for his words.

When an envelope finally arrived, it was in an international envelope, and the return address was London, England. That was it, then. He was out of the country. All of the stories of his homecoming, complete with welcoming family, were a dagger to her. He still professed his love, but now an actual ocean separated them along with the sea of emotion.

Their were two more letters, spread over a month and a half, and then nothing for three weeks. Depression returned. She had all but given up when a card shaped envelope, gilded on the edges, arrived in her box.

***

"Alright, out with it!"

Emily looked up from the pile of papers she was grading to see Ada standing in her classroom door, arms crossed over her paint splattered apron and a determined look on her face.

"Out with what?" Emily asked, confusion genuine.

"It's been four months, Emily," the older woman said, shutting the door behind her as she walked in and sat at one of the student desks. The same desk, Emily couldn't help but note, that had once been Tom's.

"Sorry?"

"Four months that you have been moping around! Barely showing your face in the teacher's lounge, looking like someone stole your dog and kicked your kitten. This, from the girl who was such a spark of joy when she was hired that she even ignited passion for teaching in an old war horse like me!"

"I'm sorry," Emily mumbled.

"Don't be sorry, girl! Tell me what's wrong!"

"It's nothing."

"Emily, do you think I'm blind?" Ada asked with a sigh.

"No..."

"Or that I'm stupid?"

"Of course not!"

"Good," Ada snorted. "As I am neither. Four months ago, a certain long-legged boy with more looks than are good for anyone swaggered out of this school, and you have been a ghost ever since. It's not hard to put the pieces together."

Emily gaped at her, all color draining from her face. If Ada knew, or strongly suspected, was it then general knowledge? Was her shame a joke amongst the faculty, or a cause of scorn?

"Don't worry, hun," Ada said, as though reading her mind. "Most of the people around here are blind and stupid. No one else has any idea. Well, maybe Jim, but that's a whole other can of worms that I am not too keen on digging around in. So, you fell for the boy, huh?"

"You must despise me," Emily said, voice hardly above a whisper.

"So you're failing is that you're deaf," Ada shook her head. "How many times did you hear me rhapsodize about him? Hell, I was undressing him with my eyes every damn day!"

"But you never took it farther than that."

"No, I didn't. But then I am decades older than either one of you and was not given the opportunity. Who knows what I might have done if he had batted those long golden lashes at me and flashed a dimple."

"You wouldn't have slept with a student," Emily said doggedly.

"Is that what this is? That you feel guilty? Tell me something, Emily: would you ever even consider anything inappropriate with say... Jack Simmons, or Zach Lewis, or Dan Fielding? Would it even occur to you?"

"No," Emily said at once, repulsed by the very idea.

"Of course not. Because they are children. The Simmons boy is a hulking child, true, but even though he is big, he is still an adolescent. You can easily tell in a moment he is not an adult. Now, compare that to Tom. He has a baby face, and is all gangly, but there was something about him that flatly identified him as a man. You knew that, instinctively. That is why you let things play out the way you did."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you," Ada said simply. "You are a good person, with a moral compass. Was it a stupid thing to do? Of course! It could have ended horribly for you, and thank god it didn't! But don't beat yourself up for listening to your intuition when it turned out to be right! Even if the boy did end up being a snake."

"What if he wasn't?" Emily asked carefully.

"I just assumed... he left, and you didn't seem happy about it... Emily, what did happen?"

Emily looked at her friend, chewing on her lip as she decided what to say. Ada already knew the worst; what harm could it do to let her in on the rest? In a rush it all came out. The clandestine affair, the trouble with Mr. Howard, seeing Tom on Nicholas Nickleby, their disastrous fallout, all of it. Ada sat there rapt as Emily spilled the whole sordid story.

"He really punched Jim?" Ada asked when she had finished, a huge grin spread over her face.

"Twice," Emily confirmed, answering smile on her own mouth. "Hard. Knocked him flat onto the ground."

"Oh, would I have loved to have seen that."

"I could have lived without it, honestly."

"Oh, hun, I don't know what to tell you," Ada shook her head. "I don't even know whether to feel jealous of you sorry for you. Both, I suppose. Ah, to be young again."

"He's been writing me letters," Emily confessed, face reddening. "Ever since he left."

"What does he say?" Ada's eyes were huge.

"Different things. How his day is going. About the filming. That he loves me and wants to be with me."

"Well what the hell are you doing here then?" Ada stood from the desk to stare at her.

"Ada..."

"Girl, if that young man wanted me, you can bet that nothing would keep me away!"

"He's in London," she muttered.

"Did something happen to all the airplanes?"

"No... In fact..."

"In fact what, Emily? Spill it? Give a woman something to live vicariously through!"

With a sigh, Emily dug through her bag and pulled out the card she had received the day before. It was an invitation to a movie premiere in New York City. Folded along with that was a train ticket, prepaid first class, and a small note:

    "I would not wish Any companion in the world but you,      Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of.

     Tom (with all thanks to Miranda in The Tempest)"

"Well," Ada smiled at her, "when shall we go shopping? You, my dear, are going to need a dress!"

[liladiurne]

Brighter Than Bright - extract from chapter 15

Here is a short snippet of chapter 15, which is well under way by now. But I am slow, as always, and it’s a very eventful chapter, so it requires a lot of tinkering and thinking. I thought I would share the beginning at least, to make the wait a little while shorter. I hope you’ll enjoy!

EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 15

Harry wakes with music in his ears and a smile upon his face. At once, such a sudden feeling of elation overtakes him that for an instant he is convinced that it was all a dream, all of it. He must still be in his bed at home, perhaps feverish or caught in some delusion, and has imagined all these wonderful events. The visit to Hampstead, the acquiring of the beautiful coat that he can now wear whenever he desires, the unexpected ball, and the dancing. Most of all, he must have imagined the dancing. It cannot truly have happened. But it did! And Harry knows it to be true because, even before he is fully awake, he realises that his feet are sore under the blankets. His feet are sore! From dancing!

He laughs joyfully, the sound half muffled into the pillow. And when he opens his eyes, he is delighted to realise that he is not at home, of course. Bright sunlight peaks through the drapes, bathing Uncle Gideon’s old bedroom in a golden glow. All around him, the house is entirely silent. Sounds and voices do not carry here the way they do at The Burrow, the walls of Prewett House much thicker and sturdier, but perhaps everyone is still asleep yet. They all went to bed so late, after all. And most of them have had quite a lot more to drink than they should have had. Harry himself has discovered that dancing is even more enjoyable after a fair bit of port. But even the resulting numbing pain around his temples cannot ruin such a perfect morning.

If he closes his eyes, he can still see Cedric’s handsome face. He can still feel Cedric’s hand in his as he was led amongst the dancers. Harry was so nervous at first, his heart beating so loudly that he was certain that everyone could hear it over the music. He did not want them to know that he had never danced before, not like this, that he had only ever stomped stupidly around the parlour with Charlie. That every ball he had attended before he had spent sitting by himself and wishing, wishing to be noticed, and so was terrified to forget the steps that he had barely learned and never used. But Cedric’s gentle smile and familiar presence managed to put him at ease, and Harry grew confident and fearless by his side. And Grandfather had chosen his guests well. There was not a single frowning glare on Harry, neither from the dancers nor from the bystanders.

And he danced with others as well! It seems so perfectly ridiculous to think about, but Harry danced with so many young men that he cannot remember all their names. He would dance with one, who then would introduce a friend, who then would ask for the next dance, and then introduce another friend, and so on and so on. And now Harry’s feet are sore! They are sore! He laughs again into his pillow.

Can life truly be so sweet? So perfect? Harry never wants to leave Hampstead again, and he wonders if Mamma and Papa would let him stay with Grandfather if he were to ask them. At least for a few months. Or for winter! How perfect that would be! And perhaps Charlie would stay as well! He seems to have made peace with Grandfather last night. Harry remembers Grandfather introducing him to a great number of people, and then seeing the two of them laughing together. Yes, perhaps Charlie would like to stay here with Harry for a while. It pains him, the thought of his parents all alone in the empty house in Hogsmeade, but perhaps they would allow it. Hampstead is not London, after all, and he would be safe with Grandfather and Charlie to watch over him. Oh, how wonderful it would be to remain here! He could attend the balls and dance at each one! He would not have to suffer the gossip and glaring of the townsfolk! He would not have to fear stumbling on Cormac in town! And he could see Cedric again!

May I call on you soon? Cedric had asked at the end of the night. And Harry, his head swimming with the joy and the dancing and all the port he had drunk, said yes before Cedric was even finished speaking.

As much as Harry has always loved the Prewett estate and his grandfather, he used to be homesick whenever they came to stay, and he would always look forward to returning home. But suddenly, on this particular morning, this house seems like the most beautiful place in the world to be.

He is wondering what time it could possibly be, and if breakfast has yet to be served or if he has simply missed it, when suddenly there is a great scuffle in the hallway outside and then the bedroom door bursts open. His mother barges in with a maid in tow, the poor girl desperately trying to finish fastening the ribbons on Mrs Weasley’s dress.

“Suitors!” his mother shrieks, all the while attempting to pin up the rest of her hair, but the strands keep falling again. “Suitors in the parlour! Get dressed! Quickly!”

Harry sits up in bed, startled. “What? Do you mean… for me?” he stutters.

“Yes, for you, silly boy!” she cries out desperately. “Get up now! You must meet them at once! Goodness, some have been waiting so long! We cannot let them leave!” She turns abruptly to the young maid. “Go and offer them refreshments! Go now! Quick!”

“Yes, Madam!” the girl squeals before curtsying awkwardly and hurrying out of the room.

“I do hope you packed some decent clothes!” Mrs Weasley continues at once, grasping the blankets and roughly pulling them off Harry’s bed, forcing him out of his warm cocoon of comfort and bliss.

“Poppy packed them for me,” Harry says, but his intervention is thoroughly ignored.

“Why has none of this been put away properly?” she exclaims shrilly, flushed with anger at the sight of his trunk, on the floor, still filled with clothes. “You lazy boy! Is this how I have raised you? You could have asked a maid if you could not be bothered to do it yourself!” she scolds, grabbing the trunk and hoisting it, with surprising strength, onto the end of the bed. “At least they seem properly folded,” she mumbles, rummaging through. “We cannot have you meeting these young men in wrinkled clothes, and there is no time for ironing! Goodness, hurry up, will you?” she snaps when noticing that he has not moved from the bed.

Harry jumps to his feet at once, and he has stripped off his nightclothes before she can threaten him. His hands shake as he takes the shirt that she hands him, all the while mumbling under her breath about which trousers, which waistcoat, which neckcloth is the most suitable for the receiving of suitors. She is clearly as unsettled at this turn of events, and as unprepared for it, as Harry himself is, and he finds some comfort in this.

“The blue one? Or the green one?” she asks him, bewildered, holding up two waistcoats.

“I… I do not know,” Harry stutters.

They pause and look at each other for a moment, both wide eyed and perplexed.

“The green one brings out your eyes,” his mother remarks.

“But the blue one is not as stiff,” Harry replies.

“Oh, suit yourself! The blue one it is!” she declares nervously, throwing the garment at him before resuming her rummaging in search of a good neckcloth, all the while complaining under her breath about the poor selection. “Why did you not pack more?” she hisses.

“Poppy packed them for me,” Harry repeats. “And these are all I have.”

“Goodness, we shall need to get you more. None of these are suitable. None. Absolutely none,” his mother rambles on, her hands shaking as she completely turns around the contents of his trunk.

Harry rushes over, troubled at seeing her in such a distressed state. “It is only a neckcloth, Mamma. Any one will do,” he says soothingly. “This one,” he adds, grabbing a perfectly ordinary one, “this one here will be perfect. I shall wear this one.”

He holds her shaking hand in his for a moment, gently, and then she lets out a small sob and sits down heavily on the bed. “Oh, my little boy,” she gasps, eyes filling with tears. “Suitors for my little boy, at last! Oh, Harry, sweetheart, how long I dreamt of this day…”

Harry can only stand there uncertainly as she continues, sniffling and babbling emotionally.

“Oh, I knew the day would come, of course. How could it not? You are so lovely and handsome. And you danced so beautifully last night…”

“Mamma…” Harry mumbles uncomfortably.

At this moment, Charlie appears in the doorway. He pauses for an instant, then raises an eyebrow at the scene.

“Are you not dressed yet?” he asks Harry in surprise. “There are gentlemen waiting–”

“Yes, we know!” Mamma exclaims before bursting into tears.

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice Gift for inessencedevided

This is a Modern with Magic AU, hope you like it @inessencedevided!

Read On AO3

*****

Hunting Partners

“Lan Wangji.”

It was approximately the twentieth time that class that Wei Wuxian had tried to get his attention and Wangji was ignoring him. He’d learned less than twenty minutes into the first class they had attended together that there was nothing Wuxian wanted from him other than to get someone to distract him from his studies. For some reason he’d made it his goal in life to try to get Wangji to join him in his antics from day one.

At first Wangji had hoped that his constant inattention and pranks meant he would flunk out of his classes quickly but it turned out that despite all of that he was always able to answer questions the professor put to him and passed all his tests. He was in the top five of the class at all times without doing any work and in a moment of weakness Wangji had wondered if he’d lose the top spot if Wuxian would bother to put some work in.

“Laaaaaaan Wangji.” It took a lot of effort to not just give in and look at him when he drawled out his name like that. Wangji kept his face turned toward his notebook and continued to take notes. Others might use a laptop or a recorder but he took all of his notes in a series of notebooks that he could add notations, diagrams and sketches to as needed. Each notebook ended up marked with plastic tabs to help organize it for later study and lined up carefully on his shelf in the dorm room for future studying.

There was an irritated huff from Wangji’s other side from Jiang Wanyin. As irritating as Wuxian could be in his incessant need for attention most of the serious students could ignore him. Some of the other students were actually charmed by his ways and he never lacked for people flocking to him hoping he’d draw them into his social circle but for some reason it seemed to drive Jiang Cheng into a near rage to have to deal with him.

“Shut up, some of us are trying to actually listen to the lecture.” Wanyin’s tone was as hard and clipped as the expression on his face. He was the oldest son of another of the old magic clans but Wangji didn’t like him. His older brother XiChen told him that years ago the Jiang clan was more like the Lan clan but something had happened when their patriarch and matriarch had been killed. After that when he took over leadership of the clan Wanyin had cut off his long hair and they’d withdrawn from the other magic clans.

There wasn’t enough of the old blood left for a large population of magic users and those that used it had stopped joining the magic clans and banding together in the last few generations. Most of the old families were either gone or faded into the background and very few of them aside from the Lan Clan still wore their hair long and uncut to show they had magic.

As soon as he thought that Wangji’s eyes almost slid to look at Wuxian’s hair. He managed to keep his eyes on his writing but he was able to picture the long tail of hair that Wuxian usually kept in an artfully messy topknot or coiled into an absurd bun with his pen stuck through it to keep it from falling down. Once Wuxian had pulled the pen out of it to loan it to someone and the way it had tumbled down and kept catching the light as it brushed over the back of the chair out of the corner of his eye had made Wangji feel like something was stuck in his throat. His notes had made less sense than usual that class.

Since his name hadn’t been hissed in his direction after Wanyin chastised him Wangji thought he was going to be able to take notes without interruption for the rest of the class. There was homework to finish and something that was attacking people around the campus leaving them with pieces of their souls damaged or missing. Wangji wanted to finish making preparations for his hunt for the culprit tonight. He should have known better than to hope that Wuxian was done since as soon as he was distracted he started in again.

”Lan Zhan.” Wuxian’s voice was just a touch louder this time but that wasn’t what snared his attention and snapped his gaze to glare at Wuxian. He’d used his clan name, the name that only other magic families used and only if they were familiar or close with each other. No one else did that, it was so rude that Wangji felt his chest burning with anger.

Instead of looking abashed or worried for the glare he was getting Wuxian grinned and wrinkled his nose slightly like he was thoroughly delighted. Despite everything it was a very charming smile and realizing he was admiring the smile just made the anger in Wangji’s chest burn hotter and as soon as the chimes went off indicating class was finished he closed his notebook and scooped everything into his messenger back in a shockingly careless way so he could leave and get away from that infuriating Wuxian.

“Wangji!” Of course Wuxian apparently wasn’t going to let him make his escape with any kind of dignity. “Wangji wait!” There were some startled exclamations behind him as Wuxian must have been pushing his way through people to catch up to him. He just kept up his pace in the vain hope that Wuxian would get tired of chasing him and leave him alone. Any hope of being left alone was dashed when the other student appeared in front of him. He was slightly out of breath and half of his hair was starting to escape the knot he’d tied it in.

Since he wasn’t going to run Wuxian down Wangji stopped where he was without saying anything to see what he would say.

“I’m sorry!” This time he actually did manage to look contrite but then of course he immediately ruined it. “But I couldn’t get your attention. I finally got you to look at me didn’t I? So it was worth it...except now you’re walking off again!”

Wangji had turned to the right and started to walk off again since once again it didn’t seem like Wuxian wanted anything other than attention but he was pulled up short when the other student dodged in front of him again. “What do you want?”

“You’re Lan clan, you’re ‘Wherever the Chaos is?’ right?” There was still a smile on Wuxian’s face but it was no longer that boyish proud of himself grin. To Wangji it looked like the smile of someone who knew something they weren’t supposed to. “If you meet me back here at dusk I think I know where to find what’s attacking people.”

It wasn’t a secret what his clan’s motto was. The Lan clan was one of the last public magic clans because of their philosophy that they were there to help whoever needed their help wherever they might be. You couldn’t do that if you cut your hair and blended into the background like so many others had. What Wangji didn’t like was that he seemed so familiar with it and how Wangji would react to it. He glanced at that hair falling out of the knot, tried not to notice how tendrils of it stuck to Wuxian’t damp neck, but there was no other real signs if he was from a magic bloodline or clan.

“Please.” Wuxian put a hand on his arm but immediately pulled it back when Wangji’s frown deepened. “No one else is going to listen to me. I mean I could go ask Wanyin to trust me but…”

If this was real it had to be acted on no matter who the source was. Maybe later after the hunt he could call XiChen and see if he knew anything about Wuxian and why he seemed to know things about the magic clans and families. Needing to make a quick decision Wangji glanced at his watch. “Two hours. Here.”

He was rewarded with another of those bright grins from Wuxian but Wangji turned his back on it and left to go prepare to hunt.

Just because they controlled magic it didn’t mean that they were invincible and going unprepared into a situation could be suicide. Wangji made sure as soon as he returned to his room to eat and drink to keep his physical energy up. Magic was both spiritual and physical, you couldn’t neglect either side and be effective. After he ate he gathered what he thought he would need for supplies then lit some incense to breathe in while he meditated to calm his emotions and make sure his spiritual energy was flowing freely.

Even with his preparations he was still back to where he said he would meet Wuxian at least ten minutes early. To his surprise the man was already there sitting on a tall retaining wall while waiting for him. This was a much more serious front than the student Wangji was familiar with. The student breezed through the door to drop into his seat just as the chimes finished ringing.

“Early as usual.” Wuxian shook a set of keys at him with a smile. He’d changed from his usual t-shirt with long sleeves he had cut holes in to hook his thumbs through into a plain black t-shirt with what looked like ribbons wrapped around his hands and wrists. It looked like he was getting ready to box someone and had put on hand wraps. “Let’s take a drive.”

Wangji nodded once and followed Wuxian after he hopped off of the wall and led the way to the parking lot for the East side dorms. They were the nicer rooms that were all singles and were for upperclassmen. He frowned slightly with a glance back at Wuxian. He was sure that his classmate was in the same year he was. How did he end up in one of these rooms? Of course it would make sense if he wasn’t but was just stealing parking over where he shouldn’t. That seemed like something he would do.

Wuxian made the alarm chirp as he unlocked the car from several rows back and gestured to Wangji to follow him. Neither of them said anything until they’d pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road.

“I wouldn’t have driven but we have to go up the other side of the hills and I didn’t want to wear us out with a hike.” Wuxian turned the car onto the little side road that wound up the smaller hills that surrounded their college in a half circle. The school was at one time several miles outside of the town but over the years since it was built civilization had grown out to reach them so that within walking distance there was no shortage of junk food, coffee shops and movie theaters. But on the side where the hills started it was too difficult to build, the soil was prone to mudslides and the grass fires in the hills along with the lack of a view kept people from building there.

Once the hills blocked off the view of the school it was suddenly much darker. Once there wasn’t anything to see outside the windows Wangji turned his attention to the car and realized it was much cleaner than he’d expected. Wuxian was someone who wrote on scraps of paper as he had ideas and shoved it all into a backpack with his books on top of it. Once he’d seen the pile of crushed paper lining his backpack and cringed internally at the mess.

“Your car is…” Wangji cut himself off before he could finish the thought. It was rude. “Nice.”

Wuxian took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot him an amused look and laughed. “I’ll tell Wanyin you said so. It’s his car. I might not have been able to ask him to help on a hunt but he’s contributed anyway.”

“You stole his car?” Wangji was horrified. He not only was going on a hunt he wasn’t sure was real but now he was an accessory to auto theft.

“Borrowed. He’ll get it back.”

He was starting to get the suspicion this might not be the first time he’d stolen a car. “He could have you arrested even so.”

Wuxian didn’t take his eyes off the road when he smiled this time and the laughter was sharper. It didn’t seem right when the smile didn’t touch his eyes. “Jiang Cheng might hate me but he’s never had the guts to go that far. He’ll be pissed off and I’ll get even more of a cold shoulder than usual but I doubt he’ll stoop to having me arrested.”

“That is his clan name.” It felt almost like he was in the car with an entirely different person than he knew in class. Wangji wasn’t sure if he liked that feeling or not. The Wuxian from class was an annoying attention seeker who didn’t have a serious thought in his attractive head. This Wuxian...well he didn’t know what to expect from him.

This time the smile reached his eyes again. “That it is, Lan Zhan. Don’t worry I’ve known Wanyin a long time. It will be fine.”

After that they turned onto a dirt road that was more of a suggestion of a road than anything else and he was concentrating too much on not being bounced around the interior of the car as they went over ruts and rocks before they came to a halt under a scrubby live oak tree that had split a boulder with its roots in a determined effort to keep hold in the unstable red dirt.

“Come on.” Wuxian didn’t wait for him, he just reached back to grab his bag out of the backseat and left the car. Unlike the ratty backpack he used for class this one was a thick leather cross shoulder bag with various protective charms stamped into the thick leather. Once it was settled he started up the trail that went up the hill past the tree.

Wangji grabbed his own bag of supplies and hurried to follow. The moon had made its appearance over the top of the hills so there was some light to see their way. The hill was steep but it wasn’t that far until it plateaued and they were back on a mostly flat surface. Flat that was except for the remains of some buildings that were placed in a rough semicircle around a long dead fountain. The buildings had been made of brick and possibly adobe so they were slowly being etched away by the wind and it made the broken edges oddly smoothed off and clean. Because of that they were just hulking shadows that seemed to be waiting for something to happen.

“That’s it.” Wuxian had ignored the buildings and headed straight for the broken fountain. There was something even more off about it than the buildings but it took a minute for Wangji to place it. All the buildings and even the outside of the basin of the fountain were covered with debris and plants. There was grass sprouting through cracks and even a tree sprouting up through one of the buildings but the figure in the fountain was clean.

The figure was a woman. She was kneeling with her head bowed on a pedestal beneath a cracked and broken bowl that was obviously supposed to let the water flow around her like a gentle rain back when the fountain had been whole and functioning.

Wangji moved closer, keeping a careful eye on the statue but other than the oddity of being clean and in one piece couldn’t decide what exactly he was looking at.

“Be ready.” Wuxian held up a hand and Wangji could feel a small spark of magic before he saw the tiny ball of light dancing on the man’s fingers. With a flick of his fingers the energy was sent to hit the statue and its head snapped up with an angry hiss.

“A soul eater.” With a quick flex of magic Wangji manifested his sword. It appeared in a bright flash of blue light drawing the soul eater’s attention to him with another hiss. They were creatures that attacked in the night and took a piece of soul causing lingering sickness and sometimes death but they usually hid in the form of an animal. He’d never heard of one shifting into something like an inanimate statue!

The soul eater leapt from the fountain straight at him and Wangji met the attack with a blow from his sword. Made of his magic it was still solid and physical until he dismissed it or he ran out of energy to hold its form. Unlike other soul eaters he’d fought this one not only looked like a statue it had skin like the stone it was mimicking so he was knocked back with a grunt.

Before the soul eater could attack again he saw a flash from the side and a magical rune drawn in dull red light hit it in the head. When the soul eater snarled and turned to look at its second attacker Wangji saw Wuxian drawing another rune with his finger and flicking it out to smash into the soul eater again.

As soon as it was distracted Wangji channeled more magic into his sword and hit it from his side. This time the stone skin cracked under the blow and several chunks of rock skittered across the floor. They took turns drawing the things attention and attacking while its focus was split. Wangji found it was easy to trust that Wuxian would be there to draw attention and that somehow working with him was an easy rhythm to fall into.

There were cracks over most of the soul eater’s body and one of its arms had been smashed off of its shoulder when the soul eater in a move of desperation to take one of its attackers down with it ignored Wuxian and swung an arm at Wangji as he lowered his guard.

“Lan Zhan look out!” Wangji heard the warning and tried to raise his sword to deflect the blow but he was off balance and he knew it. The remaining arm swung down to crush through his defense but although the blow hit hard enough to make his hands numb it didn’t hit nearly as hard as he expected. Wangji lifted his head to look and saw Wuxian with his arm wraps off and a circle of glowing runes around his wrists with the light spinning into a bright rope that had caught the statue’s arm and was holding it back. Even as he was trying to process what he was seeing the statue flung out its arm and cracked the rope like a whip throwing Wuxian into one of the nearby buildings with a yelp.

But that was all the opening he needed. Shoving every bit of magic he could into his sword he swung straight into the mid section of the soul eater. The magic was released as he hit and the statue exploded into hundreds of pieces. Ignoring the rubble all over the ground he dismissed the sword and ran to check on Wuxian.

“Ow. Did we get it?” The man was trying to pick himself up off the ground. There was blood sheeted down one side of his face from a cut and he was holding his ribs with a grimace but other than that he seemed in one piece.

“It’s dead.” Wangji didn’t know whether to help the other man off the ground or not but he eventually held out a hand after Wuxian’s foot slipped on some of the soul eater gravel and he almost ended up on his face. Once he had him up Wangji didn’t let go, he pulled Wuxian’s arm closer to look at the charms tattooed in a ring around his wrist. They were all fairly common, protection, focus, amplifying, but none of the clans would put charms permanently on their skin. You put charms on spell papers, or inanimate objects. Tattoos could attract attention you didn’t want and he ended up looking at Wuxian with a mix of worry and consternation, what on earth was he doing that he needed to do something like this?

Wuxian gently pried his fingers off his arm and pulled more wraps out of his pocket so he could start winding them around his hands and arms to hide the charms again. “It’s all right Lan Zhan. Don’t worry about them. Come on let’s limp back to the car and go home.” He had another of those nose wrinkling grins which looked absolutely ghastly with the blood down one side of his face and neck.

“I am not limping.” Wangji didn’t argue with leaving but he insisted on leading the way since Wuxian was injured. He would have insisted on driving as well but he’d always told XiChen he didn’t need to drive anywhere so he’d never learned. Obviously, that wasn’t the best decision if he was going to go on hunts that involved travel and injured companions.

“Where was your sword?” If he was one of the magic families then he should be able to manifest a sword. They were all taught the technique and even the uninitiated manifested some sort of weapon when they started to tap into their powers.

Wei Wuxian just shrugged with one shoulder, his amused smile still on his face alongside a slight grimace of pain. “I didn’t feel like using it. It’s no big deal Lan Zhan. Npt every situation calls for it.”

The trip down the hill took longer than he expected. Wuxian’s ribs were bad enough he wondered if they were broken and Wangji ended up putting a shoulder under the man’s arm and helping him over the last rough patch back to the car. On the drive out every rut and rock they bounced over took more color out of Wuxian’s face until Wangji was worried he was going to pass out.

“How did you figure out the statue?” He was hoping to distract Wuxian from the pain but all he earned was a grumpy look.

“Now you want to talk? Not now Lan Zhan. I’ll tell you all about my brilliant research skills after I have had something for the pain and half a pint of vodka.” And that was the last he got out of Wuxian aside from some swearing when he hit a particularly bad rut or when they hit the speed bumps in the parking lot.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised that Wanyin was standing outside the parking lot waiting for them when they got back. To be honest there were too many other things on his mind to remember that they’d stolen a car for this hunt so he was caught off guard. Wuxian groaned and let his head thump on the steering wheel when he saw him and Wangji got out of the car, slung the other man’s bag over his shoulder with his own then opened the door and insisted on helping Wuxian out of the car. The last thing he wanted to see was him taking a header in the parking lot after all of this and maybe Wanyin would think twice about attacking him in Wangji was in the way.

“You stole my car.” Wanyin’s arms were crossed and his jaw was clenched.

“Borrowed.” Wuxian had let Wangji give him a hand out and put his arm over his shoulder to support him again. He used his free hand to toss the keys to Wanyin.

“Stole.” Wanyin glared at Wangji. “What now you’re on his side and helping him? This isn’t your business. You don’t want to be involved with him.”

Wuxian straightened like he was going to let go of Wangji but every time Wanyin said something Wangji could feel his fingers twitch and tighten on his shoulder like the words were hitting him physically. There hadn’t been even a hint of fear from Wuxian at the soul eater or his injured trip home but there was something like fear in him at Wanyin. No, fear at what Wanyin might say.

Wangji stepped out from under Wuxian’s arm to stand in front of him and face down Wanyin. “We’re leaving.” Let him try to stop them.

After a look of shock crossed his face Wanyin scowled again. "You are interfering, Lan clan. This is none of your business. Wei Wuxian uses dangerous methods, he casts demonic spells and endangers everyone around him." Jiang Cheng was so angry he was spitting out every word like he couldn't get them out fast enough. There was more there than just the obvious Lan Zhan was sure. He had been there when Wei Wuxian was using charms and his tricks and although they were unorthodox they weren’t demonic.

It meant he didn’t budge from in front of Wuxian even though the man had caught hold of his shirt and was trying to move him. “We’re leaving.” And ignoring Wanyin he turned to go a different direction, grabbed Wuxian’s arm to sling it over his shoulders again to support him and started walking. He had no idea where the man’s room was but he was going anywhere but here. There were several strangled noises of anger from behind them but Wanyin didn’t follow.

"I should be used to him and his outbursts, I hear them often enough after all." Wuxian's tone was light as he made a show of not minding the encounter but when Wangji looked at him his eyes were dark and serious above his mocking smile.

“Why?” Wangji was curious what possible reason Wanyin could have for his animosity towards Wuxian. Other than the fact that Wuxian seemed to feel like it was his right to take the man’s car whenever he felt like it. He was walking slowly so they didn’t jar Wuxian’s ribs and with a lack of any other destination in mind he was steering them toward his room. At least there he could wash the blood off Wuxian’s face and make sure it wasn’t anything to be worried about.

Wuxian sighed at the question. "He was my clan brother but as you may have noticed I am not welcome there anymore....what?" Wangji had stopped walking in surprise.

“Clan brothers...you are Wei Ying.” The pieces of information clicked into place. The Jiang clan had a younger member that had been disowned. Wangji didn’t know the reason, he hadn’t been old enough to be involved in any councils called about it but still there had been whispered words about it and warnings to the younger clan members to behave and not be like Wei Ying or you would be clanless. The one time he’d asked XiChen about it all he would say was the stories about Wei Ying were exaggerated.

“Yes, Lan Zhan, I am Wei Ying but you can probably guess why I don’t go by my old clan name here.” Wuxian chuckled as Wangji got them moving again. “And I am very proud of you, you didn’t even spit or make the sign against the evil eye after you said my name. Maybe you do like me after all. Or not, what a glare you have Lan Zhan.”

Wangji walked them up to the door to his room and carefully slipped out from under Wuxian’s arm so he could unlock and open the door. Once it was open he moved to help Wuxian again but he’d already walked into the room before he could. “So neat, this has to be your room Lan Zhan.”

Wangji was tempted to roll his eyes but he just hung the two bags he was carrying by the door and went to run a cloth in the small sink. His room was supposed to have two people in it but the person assigned to room with him had found another place and left within the first month of school so there was more room to move around in than in most of the dorms.

Once he had the cloth soaked and wrung out Wangji walked over to take Wuxian’s chin in his hand to start wiping the blood off his face. There was only a brief attempt to escape being cleaned up before Wuxian relaxed and let Wangji do whatever he wanted to his face. There was enough blood on his face that Wangji had to rinse the cloth out twice before Wuxian started to look less like was wearing half a mask of dark red.

At first when he was concentrating he didn’t notice but slowly the way Wuxian was watching his face became hard to ignore. Wuxian leaned into the wet cloth as he ran it over his face and there was something haunted but hopeful to his expression.

“Lan Zhan.” Wangji kept lightly wiping the last of the blood off of Wuxian’s face but he let his attention go to Wuxian instead of what he was doing.

“Mn.”

“Does this mean we can go hunting together again?”

Wangji let the cloth drop but he didn’t let go of Wuxian’s face with his other hand. It was possible that this would be trouble. There were obviously a lot of clan politics behind Wuxian being disowned but he had fought with the man at his back and aside from XiChen he had never trusted someone as quickly to cover his back without question. Once when he was questioning how you could tell right from wrong XiChen had told him there was no black and white, you sometimes had to judge for yourself the measure of a person and to trust his instincts. You had to do what you thought was right even if it didn’t follow a rule or custom.

Wangji smiled slightly and nodded once. “Yes. We will hunt together.”

The smile he was rewarded with for his answer could not be described as anything other than dazzling.

[eirabach]

Hear

For @gumnut-logic‘s Sensory Sunday challenge! This feels like a tiny piece of a bigger thing, so we will see I guess... Brought to you entirely by Fall Out Boy’s Bob Dylan being played very very loudly. I love days off.

---

When they say you and what army,

I guess they’re talking about you and me,

(No one ever thinks of you

 as much as I do, not even you)

---

The rumour mill is a vicious thing. It takes the gentle, the unprepared, and it grinds them into pieces that blow as little more than dust in the wind -- victims of a world that takes pleasure in nothing more than the destruction of the perceived unworthy.

The British Press are consummate professionals at this sort of thing. There’s never been a young duchess or precocious pop star that they couldn’t use for their own ends then cast aside as it suits. There’s always been some scandal, some lover, some dress, some ill-advised publicity piece, some way to destroy what they themselves had built.

Penelope Creighton-Ward is an anomaly.

On paper it should -- she should -- be easy. Highly educated, which is often enough to ensure a young woman a reputation as a fool, beautiful, which should ensure a steady supply of young men of thoroughly reproachable background, and constantly found in the company of a much older man of known ill-repute. The press pack salivate after her, watch her every move, wait for the inevitable slip or sneer or sexual misstep, and yet --

Penelope Creighton-Ward is the anomaly.

Which is fortunate really.

You see, the press are convinced it’s Scott. They plaster poorly edited photographs of them across tablets the world over, and they do laugh about it, the two of them. The scale is all off and the inheritance tax would be a nightmare, but they’ve never denied it.

It rather suits, you see. Because while the press think it’s Scott, so do they.

They stand either side of the remains of her fireplace like a pair of Great Aunt Sylvia’s china dogs, only they’re perhaps half as intelligent, and that at a generous estimate. The Chaos Crew are dressed in purple and pink and destruction and it’s almost ruder than if they’d clashed with her decor. Her own preferences warped against the soot-stains on the walls. Pretty and dangerous and stupid.

So stupid that they appear to think that there’s any way they’d have Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward lashed to a dining chair unless it were her very specific preference.

(There are advantages to one’s partner having a broad education. 

Sailors are terribly good at knots.)

They thought it ought to be Scott, too. Scott the eldest, the tallest, the leader, with the face of an empire and the soul of a hero. It’s Scott they’ve contacted, Scott they’ve taunted. Which, quite honestly, is playing into her hands rather nicely.

You see, Scott’s a wonderful man. Scott’s a good man. Law-abiding, well-mannered. Just delightful, really. Scott would bring the GDF, have them arrested, continue with his day. Perhaps have a nice cup of Assam.

Scott isn’t coming.

She taps her thumb against the chair, repeating the message a couple of times just to be sure that Parker will have caught it, and smiles beatifically.

Havoc sneers, an ugly, smug sort of thing, and Penelope lets herself sigh, her smile dropping away defeated. As though a Creighton-Ward has ever been defeated. As though a Creighton-Ward has ever been such a poor host.

She hasn’t even offered them a cup of tea. Her governess would be mortified.

“Won’t you sit down?” she says, nodding at the chaise and taking careful note of the look Fuse throws at his sister. Suspicion. Her favourite.

Perhaps, he’s realised. After all, they are a little alike. They’re a little alike, and the ground begins to shake, the parlour wall crumbling as the earth beneath opens and --

Yellow, bright and fierce and furious, and she sees the moment Fuse realises. The millisecond he understands where they’ve gone wrong. Because the Mole is churning up her antique Turkish carpet, and --  

And Penelope laughs.

After all she, too, prefers a little chaos.

[theoriginalladya]

Cassiopeia - What’s your favorite scene so far? for Caleb

from this list

Oh, this is an easy one if we go from things already posted for him.  (My all time fav is one not yet posted)  It comes from a writing prompt (maybe even one you gave me, if I remember correctly?).  I’m still stunned to realize that I actually wrote this one, to be honest!  To say I’m thoroughly delighted with it isn’t understatement at all! lol

The kiss comes out of nowhere, all heat and desire, and for the first time in his life, Caleb understands what it means to melt.

It begins innocently enough; he stands at the fridge, a hand filled with ice for his drink.  He hears Kaidan approach from the den, but pays it little heed just then.  Mistake number one.  From one heartbeat to the next, several things all happen seemingly all at once.  All of it wonderful; none of it expected.

Kaidan’s hand at his shoulder, firm pressure, a silent request for him to move.  He spins on his heel, half aided by the force behind that hand, just as the fridge door slams shut.  Before he can blink, he is pushed fully against it and Kaidan leans in.  Ice tumbles from suddenly numb fingers and crashes to the floor, forgotten in the moment.  There is a half second where Caleb is able to suck in a quick breath, his mouth opening to protest; no sound comes out, however, because Kaidan’s lips cover his, warm and moist, thorough and demanding, resolute and with purpose.  Unprepared for such an attack, Caleb has no defenses in place.  Instinct leads him to throw his hands up, fisting them around the fabric of Kaidan’s shirt in a desperate attempt to hold on for dear life.  At the same time, he moans softly into their connection, taking as well as giving back.   For just a moment, it’s as if time stands still …

Kaidan is the first to break contact.  When he pulls back, it’s impossible to miss the smug smirk at his lips, the satisfied twinkle in his eyes.  Caleb blinks twice and struggles to find breath as well as his voice.  “What…?” he croaks, then clears his throat and tries again.  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”  It all comes out in a rush, like one long word, but he can tell when Kaidan’s smirk widens into a full grin that he gets it.  “What … the hell was that?”

Kaidan chuckles softly and rests his forehead against Caleb’s.  “What’s the matter, commander?” he teases, voice dropping an octave or more lower than normal which sends visible shudders through Caleb.  “Never been properly kissed before?”

He’s caught and it’s clear Kaidan knows it.  Indignation boils, swells … until it’s swallowed by, of all things, embarrassment.  Caleb’s eyes close, his breathing still slightly labored.  He isn’t inexperienced, far from it, but kissing Kaidan is altogether different from any other he’s kissed to this point.  It’s a powerful sensation, thrilling in many ways, yet strangely frightening at the same time, and it leaves him cautious.

He opens his eyes again, finds Kaidan still there though back another half space to give him a bit of room.  His lips part and Caleb draws in air so he can reply, but he never gets the chance.  Kaidan chooses that moment to swoop back in.  Mistake number two: he should have seen that one coming.  Instead, the back of his head thunks against the appliance behind him and he groans; yet, it isn’t a sound of protest by any stretch of the imagination.  Far from it, in all honesty.  There’s a spark, a jolt that is unmistakable as it lances through his body clear down to his toes.  All he can do is hold on and hope he survives this ride.

Kaidan breaks this kiss too, retreating back a step as he does so, the smug look still in place …

Not leaving an opportunity for mistake number three, Caleb lurches forward.  Ostensibly, his lips chase after Kaidan’s; realistically, he utilizes the appliance behind him to launch them forward two steps until their positions are reversed and he has Kaidan pinned against the stove.  Their eyes meet and Caleb notices a hint of delight mixed with surprise in Kaidan’s face.  With the tables finally turned, a grin toys at the corners of his mouth as he leans in and murmurs, “I’ll show you proper, major …”

[wehavethoughts]

Kiki’s Delivery Service Review!

Kiki's Delivery Service By: Hayao Miyazaki Fantasy/Coming-of-age Movie Studio Ghibli, 1989

Rating: 4.5/5 Waves

Content warning for Kiki's Delivery Service: Depression

This review does NOT contain spoilers for Kiki's Delivery Service.

Summary: Kiki, a thirteen-year-old witch, and Jiji, her black cat familiar, leave home for a traditional training year wherein young witches find a new town and develop their own individual magic. Overwhelmed in the big city, Kiki needs to figure out what she is good at, what she likes and who she wants to be. A story of adventure, friendship and growing up.

In times like these the best thing you can do for your soul is to find a Studio Ghibli movie you’ve never seen and dig in. As a Miyazaki fan it was odd that I had never seen Kiki's Delivery Service and now seemed like the perfect time for something light and beautiful and boy did this movie deliver ;D

The list of reasons I loved this movie is too long to include here, so I will highlight the best of the best. First and foremost, the art and music are spectacular. The 2D animation is smooth and soothing (as you would expect from Studio Ghibli animation) and the character designs are cute and comforting across the board from Kiki’s adorable self to the kindly old dog, Jeff, we only see for a few scenes.

The animation style also allowed for another one of my favorite parts of this movie, the physical comedy. So often with live-action physical comedy I am left with the lingering guilt of ‘are they ok?’, but the physical comedy in this movie won’t leave you cringing. They way the artists clearly convey the limitations of flying on a broomstick in silly whimsical ways had me laughing out loud many many times.

Aside from the art, the story and how the characters are written also impressed me. Kiki is thirteen years old and you never forget that. In some stories, especially coming-of-age stories it can feel like the children change so drastically that they go from the maturity of a teen to that of an adult over the course of a few days or weeks. I am not sure how they did it, but they gave me a thirteen-year-old protagonist who is clearly and accurately written as her age, the entire story and still vastly relatable to a wider audience. She learns, she grows, but this isn’t a story about lost innocence, which was a relief.

In fact, most of the themes and messages were realistic and hopeful in a way that left me inspired and motivated. Kiki’s struggles resonated with me and seeing her tackle those problems with the help and wisdom of those around her was a delight to watch.

Finally, something I was so happy to see was the world’s acceptance of witches. It was refreshing to see a witch story that is not about keeping secrets and slowly destroying yourself to save the world. Rather, her powers were something that people found impressive, handy and, in Tombo’s case, awe-inspiring. She was different from other people, yes, but those differences were celebrated much more than they were looked down upon and I absolutely loved it.

The reasons this movie did not get full marks are limited, but this is a review so I’ll explain. For me the issues were the pacing, the inexplicable magical training program, and my own personal cognitive dissonance regarding how nice everyone was to Kiki. The pacing was a bit too slow for my tastes and for people who are used to animation having a Disney style pace (action, song, conflict, song, resolution, song). Since the art and scenery were beautiful I didn’t always mind the excessive wide shots and slow pans, but some scenes were just a little too slow for me.

Another minor issue I had with this movie (as an American) was the lack of logic in how young witches are supposed to be trained. At the very beginning of the movie we learn that at thirteen years old all witches leave home for one year to train, but they do not seek out a mentor, rather they are meant to just go get a job. I understand this seems to be a trial by fire situation, but it seems like a terrible way to learn magic. I also didn’t like how her mother, who was also a witch and went through the same thing at thirteen could leave Kiki so unprepared for her training year. There were several trials Kiki encountered that could have been avoided if her mother had sat her down and taught her about the world and how to be a witch. Even a basic “Here is how I did it” conversation probably could have saved Kiki a lot of trouble. If every witch goes on this training year, then it seems like it would be pretty easy to prepare your own child for this kind of adventure. It didn’t sit well with me that this mother, who was shown to clearly love her daughter, would drop the ball so thoroughly on Kiki’s early training.

And finally, one thing that I loved and that also didn’t sit well with me was how nice everyone was to Kiki. I found myself wishing at many points throughout the movie that people in real life were that kind to strangers and people they didn’t understand. Kiki’s world is stunningly beautiful in its abundance of kindness, but I kept pulling myself out of the story with worry wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. Surely people couldn’t be this nice, of course this is too good to be true. This speaks more to the world I grew up in: that in a fantasy movie the hardest part for me to wrap my head around was that a thirteen-year-old girl from a small town could move to the city and meet wonderful people and the problems she faces aren’t of the predator/poverty/“you shouldn’t have talked to strangers” variety. Like sure, she can fly on a broom and her cat talks, but how in the world did she get an apartment that nice? It’s jarring, but in a wonderful way. It left me wishing the world was truly like that, but it also reminded me that a little kindness can go a long way.

Tldr; At the end of the day, this movie left me with a sense of joy and contentment that I don’t get from movies so much these days. It is a fun, beautiful story that I highly recommend to anyone in need of a little happiness.

~TideMod

[starswornoaths]

A Shard of Eternity

This is my Secret Santa gift for my Secret Santa partner: @anpan-chan! @aetherstitch was kind enough to host a secret santa this year, and I’m delighted to be able to participate! I hope this is to your liking!!! \o/

nondescript WoL/Exarch, spoilers for all of 5.0 and the 2.0 tower raids under the cut!!! (I kept it nondescript mostly out of fear of getting your WoL wrong, but I am also more than happy to change anything you want!)

The first time the Warrior of Light is mentioned by name, it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. Another high and mighty adventurer who got a little lucky here and there, from what you had gleaned from the whispers around Saint Coinach’s Find. It had bearing on neither your research nor your work, and so you paid it little mind and went back to your books.

Rammbroes interupts your reading, as he often does, asking you to scout ahead of this supposed Warrior of Light that is coming to gather what is needed to venture further into Syrcus Tower. You resist the urge to snort— scout ahead of a vaunted hero to ensure their safety? If they truly were just like the heroes in the fairy tales, it would stand to reason that this Warrior of Light would be more than able to handle themselves.

Still, the request does present an opportunity to test their heroism and cunning for yourself, and so you leave for the Shroud with a swish of your tail, a bow at your back, and a book tucked in the crook of your arm.

This Warrior of Light fancies themself a hero, do they? You aim to make them prove it.

**

*

They follow along with your little game of cat and mouse, despite how tired they look of it all from the first moment you call to them through the treetops. Halfway through the chase, you aren’t entirely certain who is the hunter and who is the hunted. It was...fascinating, seeing them follow your clues and give in to your goading with a dogged, foolhardy curiosity tempered by the sort of cunning that kept you on your toes, kept you scrambling to stay the more clever of the two of you.

You hate to admit it, but it thrills you.

Still, the thrill does not outweigh the promise of getting closer than you’ve ever got to unlocking the secrets of Allag, and so you reveal yourself with a flourish at the game’s end. The Warrior of Light is sardonic with their traded quips, barbless but all the same sharp as they are. There’s a cleverness to them, you note on your way back to the Sons of Saint Coinach, and the glimmer in their eyes makes you wonder how often they’re allowed to be clever. 

When you return to Rammbroes with your newfound companion you watch, a little dismayed, as that wit is hidden behind the mask of professional indifference, behind stoic nods and two word answers, because the hero is rarely allowed to be clever outside of their use. Seeing it happen before you reminds you of younger years best forgotten, where others would mock you for your red eye while manipulating you for your intellect in school. 

It’s almost frightening how readily you become the perfect picture of the hero’s merry companion, ready to catch some of the glory for yourself. Luck permitting, more than just some.

For you are G’raha Tia, after all, and aught less than being remembered in the annals of history for all time would just not do.

**

*

“Do you think yourself clever?” The Warrior of Light asks you one night at Saint Coinach’s Find. 

A glib answer dances on your tongue, ready to be used as a shield like you’ve done for years now against those who mocked your romanticism for fairytales and legends. Ordinarily, it is bittersweet, sharp cunning and bitter loneliness make for a poor taste on the palatte. But tonight, with the stars hanging heavy overhead and their eyes looking at you in that quietly ponderous way, you feel...safe. Safe enough to be honest, if only a little.

“I am all but certain of it.” You reply with a grin. “It’s kept me alive for this long.”

“Good.” They seem satisfied, nodding. “I think you’re brilliant, you know? For someone with the bravado you’ve got, though, you keep that brilliance quiet. Why?”

You are prepared for neither the compliment nor the question that follows, and it takes longer than you’d like to answer.

“I like seeing others be brilliant, too.” You finally admit in a soft voice. 

Because you do— and you’ve especially liked seeing their brilliance as they pushed through Syrcus Tower, through the mysteries writ in the pages of the ancients and scrawled on the walls of their tombs. 

Their hand on yours sends a shockwave through you— you had not expected touch, much less one so gentle from a hero so used to exerting great strength. Yet to look up at their bright eyes, you see a different sort of strength that you aren’t sure you can even name.

“I like seeing you be brilliant, too, G’raha Tia.” They reply quietly.

You tell yourself that squeezing their hand is just to calm your heart, and that looking up at the stars is because they are soothing, and not at all because you’re terrified of the warmth that suffuses through you. You pretend you’re not terrified of missing that warmth when the time comes to part.

**

*

You couldn’t resist sealing yourself away in the tower when the opportunity presented itself. Part of it was a want to be a hero yourself— after all the feats of great power, integrity, and heroism that not only the Warrior of Light, but those around them, exuded, you feel it only fitting that you be given an eternity to try and reach for the same heights.

“My destiny lies in the future.” You say with clear conviction, the doors closing in behind you.

Cid promises to work to build a future that you would be proud of, and it humbles you. The Warrior of Light’s eyes are so bright as they look at you, too bright for you to truly read. You feel as though even with eternity all but gift wrapped for you, you will never truly understand what they’re thinking. You’re all but certain that even given eternity, you couldn’t even find the words to ask.

“Goodnight, G’raha Tia.” They say in a soft voice, but the look on their face is one of pain.

You let their words carry you to slumber, and try not to think on how you might have hurt them. Better to forget. They will be gone by the time you awake, besides, you remind yourself somberly.

And you dream of tomorrow.

**

*

Tomorrow comes too soon, and with the smell of ashes, smoke, and ceruleum. 

The people who managed to crack into Syrcus Tower had scarcely even known to look for you, had thought mentions of you waiting like a sleeping prince high in his castle has been the stuff of fairytales. They look at you with soot covered faces and wide, haunted eyes, and you understand before they’ve explained anything that everything has gone wrong.

You just aren’t prepared for how thoroughly it’s all gone up in flames.

Even though you had accepted that you’d wake up long after your friends from the Sons of Saint Coinach and the Warrior of Light were dead, you’re still woefully unprepared to see their graves. Less so because of how they all died.

You’re told the Warrior of Light fell first, that the Black Rose had claimed them in the midst of battle because the Empire hadn’t been able to handle losing for once. It boils your blood, knowing they— and everyone they had inspired to fight alongside them— were slaughtered by a weapon with no counter. By a coward’s invisible guillotine.

It’s almost frightening how quickly you are incandescent with rage for them. For Cid, for everyone who had fought to keep Cid’s promise to you, robbed of the chance to do so.

The anger only grows in your breast as you read the recorded tales of the Warrior of Light, of one Lord Edmont de Fortemps’ account of how they ended the Dragonsong War, of Lord Hien’s illustrated tales of how the Warrior of Light liberated two nations from the tyranny of an Imperial Regime. 

The Warrior of Light, inspiration to all who met them and beyond, had become the sort of person you read about in texts of historical legends, in fairytales. A hero, in every sense of the word. 

They deserved better than this.

So you focus on the fact that, in some twisted way, Cid had kept his promise to you: the prospects of this timeline were bleak, but the collaborative efforts of everyone rallying for the sake of saving the Warrior of Light— a fable to these people for how many centuries had passed— showed you that perhaps there was still light within the shadow.

All the same, you would see this shadow banished before it was ever cast at all.

**

*

You try to commit to memory the names and faces of everyone who you left behind, being sent to the First. For a time, you manage most of them, though you are made to endure a century of waiting and planning, and by the end of it you have to remind yourself of your own name.

The Crystal Exarch? G’raha Tia? Was there even room for the both of you that now coincided in that half shimmering, half shivering body that was only yet half yours?

For all the knowledge of the Tower, you find no answer. So you ask different questions as you go: what will help the people in this world, in this moment? What sort of world did you want to present to the Warrior of Light when you see them again?

The Crystarium takes the shape, takes the light, takes the land around the Tower, and becomes a home to all those drawn to its hopeful, glimmering beacon. A monument to hope, in memoriam to hope’s greatest chamion.

You certainly hope that it is enough.

**

*

You had thought the years had tempered your arrogance, though with the five failed attempts at drawing the Warrior of Light to the First staring up at you in varying degrees of bewildered and enraged you realize, perhaps, that you were mistaken. Your research— ever meticulous, even a century on —had told you their names and what roles they had played alongside the Warrior of Light, before the Eighth Umbral Calamity.

You knew which one you could trust with the truth.

Uriangier seemed reluctant to agree to your plan of secrecy, but you recalled the tales of his false duplicity during the time during and after the Dragonsong War. You knew he would ultimately capitulate.

The others were more reluctant to trust— most ultimately didn’t at all. You couldn’t fault them, even if that had complicated the plan a bit.

They were like you: side characters to the hero. They would fall into place when the time was right, you were certain.

So you reached out a sixth time with a foci and an implanted dream in the Warrior’s mind, and pulled.

**

*

It doesn’t surprise you how reluctant they are to trust you, the moment you meet them at the gates of the Crystarium. It’s to be expected; even without five other instances to serve as warning, they were never ones to trust strangers with stranger powers than they had seen before. You suspect you are the strangest that have come across yet. It’s a little flattering.

Even as you welcome them, you note that their eyes rarely stray from the Crystal Tower looming overhead. It’s hard to tamp down on the ancient, buried hope that you were remembered, that you were missed. Surely you were but a blip on their radar, a passing ship in the eye of a storm they sailed straight into. 

You are scarcely through explaining that you came from the tower when you are cut off.

“You came from the tower?” The Warrior of Light’s wide, startled eyes snap to you. There’s something akin to a recluctant hope there, one you are reluctant to define. “There was— there was someone dear to me. His name was G’raha Tia. He sealed himself away in there. Know anything about that?”

There is a moment, only one, where you have to reconcile what you presumed and what was true. You don’t know what to make of the knowledge that, perhaps, you meant more to them than you had thought.

“I found no one by that name in the tower.” You dance around the truth with something that is technically not a lie. 

“And you’re certain there was no one named G’raha Tia in that tower?” The Warrior presses with eyes sharper than you remembered.

“No one that I found.” You reply, and remind yourself of your convictions as you move on.

G’raha Tia was not in that tower, after all, and had not been in some time.

**

*

“Do you think yourself clever?” The Warrior of Light asks you on the first night Norvrandt has had in a century. 

There is a moment where you are a century younger and have no other title than a name you were given at birth, no power but a bow at your back and an eye that you ache to see the secrets of, and you have to remind yourself of the years in your bones and the weight of the parts of you the tower claimed before you can answer.

“Just clever enough to get by.” You settle on, biting back words from a younger you that looked out on a starry sky like this one a world and a lifetime away.

You sit in silence that is both companionable and weighty. You can feel how many questions your old friend has for you, and you are glad they do not ask. You would not answer them, much as you want to.

You can’t. You mustn’t. 

So when they heave a sigh and rise to their feet with a soft, “Goodnight,” you pretend it doesn’t hurt that you can’t just be honest with them, knowing your heart so much better than you did when you were so much younger.

All the power in the universe at your fingertips, and still you can’t reach out to close the distance. You tell yourself that it’s all worth it, just to save them.

You tell yourself that’s enough.

**

*

The more Lightwardens they defeat, the more it’s easy to see them disappearing behind the blinding light they absorb. It frightens you, even as you try to put it out of your mind. They’re a hero, you remind yourself— and Uriangier, who comes to you in his own moment of doubt. They will be fine.

You will see to it yourself, even knowing what it will cost you.

**

*

When there is so little of the Warrior of Light left that they are scarcely able to stay conscious, when the skies are filled with light across all of Norvrandt as they are poised to become one of the very horrors they had been fighting against and all seems lost, you come to them. 

Your posturing as a villain is a poor showing, but you try anyway. It’s the least you can do, ease their guilt, help them not miss you or feel as though they could have saved you. They couldn’t. And you did not want them to.

This plan was too carefully crafted, too many years of waiting and scheming and lying have led to this moment. You will not falter. You will save them. It doesn’t matter that they see your face now and know your lies, know your secrets. You will not be around for the aftermath anyway, and they will all be free.

“G’raha Tia!” They cry out as you begin to cast the spell that will take the light from them. 

You hesitate. Blinking away the tears in your eyes you offer them the first real, genuine smile free of the cowl and cowardice. You tell them that it’s going to be alright. That they will be alright.

The sharp crack of lightning that broke the sky was not lightning at all, you realize when you felt your abdomen grow cold, felt the air leave your lungs. Your concentration shatters as you look down to see the blood blossoming on your robes like a lily.

You’ve been shot.

Attempts to regain your focus are fleeting and weak, weak like your legs giving out under you. No...no! You’ve gone so long planning, done so much and lost so much and hurt so much, it can’t end here! It can’t end like this!

You close your eyes and dream of tomorrow again.

**

*

When you are more aware of yourself and your surroundings, the Warrior of Light is healed, resplendent, more than you had ever seen of them before, and challenging the bringer of Darkness himself, Hades.

You will not leave them to fight alone. You refuse. Not again.

And so eons become instant, and the expanse contracts in the palm of your hands, and you bring forth other heroes from other stars, people who might uplift the Warrior of Light in their time of need, that might lend their light to piercing the veil of black that shrouded them all.

And you watch them rise with a new dawn, triumphant and tired, taking in their greatness like the merry member of their band you had always wanted to be.

“Good morning, G’raha.” They tell you, and you can’t see them for the tears that come. 

You didn’t even know you were waiting a century to hear them say that, after all.

**

*

The bedlam and joyous shivaree of the celebration that night in the Crystarium is a distant roar as you stand on the balcony beneath the stars but above the din of festivities. Close enough to the merriment that its energy vibrates beneath your skin but not so close as to overwhelm you. About as close as you’ve let anyone in, save your granddaughter.

When the door behind you opens, you are not surprised to see the Warrior of Light slip out to join you and shut the door behind them. Much as the sight of them fills you with a sort of deeply instinctual fear and need to run and hide, you tighten your grip on the balcony railing and rally your courage. They deserve your honesty, they always have, but especially after everything that’s led to this moment.

“I’d wondered where you went.” They say as they draw near. “Lyna was helpful.”

You want to laugh; of course your granddaughter would ensure you are properly taken to task for your behavior. Doubtless she’ll flog you herself when she has the time. 

“You have me at a disadvantage.” You say, unsure of what other words you could even offer.

“A welcome change of pace, then.” They reply with a wry twist of that clever mouth of theirs.

That overwhelming need to hide takes you again, and you can’t help but reach up for your hood to pull it over your eyes. It shocks you to your crystalized core when they reach out a hand and wrap it around your wrist to stop you.

“G’raha.” They say, and something ancient and aching and lonely quivers at that. “Don’t hide from me anymore.”

When they pull you toward them and press their lips to yours, you find you have no ilm of yourself left to keep from them, and you sink sweetly, softly into their arms with clutching hands and a century of desperation. Ever the hero, they keep you from falling anywhere but for them, exactly where you’ve always wanted to be.

[braveskyered]

Knights (Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

A mission and then a family reunion. Fun!

...Right?

Part 6: Working So You Could Like This Rhythm

- - -

Occasionally, Arthur would join Elaine on her ghost investigations.

With his wedding ring being imbibed with various charms and protection spells, along with the moon pin he kept on his jacket, he didn't have to worry about ghosts or demons trying to possess him again, or at least not as easily. He would use his past knowledge from his time with the Mystery Skulls into either planning budgets or crafting machinery meant to capture ghosts, some of which made Elaine's missions much easier, to her delight.

They even came up with a reliable system that allowed them to work together.

“Hold up, Elaine,” Arthur spoke through the headset as he checked one of the three screens, “Can you... see a path nearby on your left?”

“Huh? No, I only see solid wall,” Elaine replied, “I'm moving my hand against the rock right now and WHOA it's an illusion?!”

While Elaine went on the actual investigations, Arthur would remain in their protected van using various equipment to help Elaine trek through the areas much more safely, from forests to caves to even haunted manors. It didn't always work, but most of the time it did, and it allowed the two to perform better than ever as a husband and wife team of paranormal investigators.

Case in point, while most illusions can always fool the human eye, it cannot fool a radar since it won't pick up anything that's not actually there. Elaine would wear a special vest that held the radar in question, which would then send signals to the van for Arthur to read as a map, and then use the data to help Elaine navigate. The radar can even detects ghosts that are invisible, which is pretty convenient.

“I'm picking up small energy readings,” Arthur said as he saw the tiny blips indicating it, “I'm seeing one, two... Ah, five of them? They're probably wisps, but do be careful. We're in uncharted territory at this point.”

“Got it. You're the best, my star!”

Arthur smiled at the loving nickname. Elaine has always been the romantic type, often showering him with affection whenever he entered his gloomy state at times. Sometimes she can be a bit overbearing, but letting her know that is always enough for her to tone it down when needed. He noticed long ago that she never called him “love,” instead using phrases such as “my knight” or “my star” as her way of showing affection. He once asked her why she would use those terms when they were engaged, and her answer was plain and simple.

- - - - - - -

“You always seem uncomfortable whenever I call you 'my love,'” Elaine answered, “You gave me your star pin, and you're like a knight to me. A knight is always there for his lady, no?”

- - - - - - -

They soon married after that, with the kind approval of Vivienne, who later provided them the rings, the wedding small and personal. When they did, Arthur asked Elaine if he could take her name instead of her taking his, because he wanted to move on. She accepted, and he became known to the world as Arthur Knights.

He hoped that the Mystery Skulls will have a harder time finding him that way. He knew at this point that he is running away, but this is all he can do.

While the memories from before the cave are still painful, Arthur is able to recall most of them, some of them fondly when it involved Vivi, Mystery, and even Lewis, without shedding as many tears. His nightmares about the hatred from his former friend turned wraith have faded away for the most part. He still gets them, along with nightmares from the cave where everything went wrong and the loss of his arm, to being dropped off a cliff and barely surviving, but he learned how to manage it. The protection from the moon pin certainly helped.

Years have passed, and Arthur never had anyone from his past show up at his front door. It wasn't enough for him to fully relax, but it is enough for him to walk outside with his family for normal every day activities. He still feared going through crowds alone, but so long as he has his family with him, he knew he will be fine.

One day he will tell Elaine everything, but until he can, he will bear the weight alone.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur focused his attention back on the screen. The readings were still there, and he noticed that the map data the radar is detecting is--!

“Elaine? You might want to stop where you are!”

“Arthur?”

“This cavern is a lot bigger than we were told it would be,” Arthur shuddered, “The radar here is picking up a lot of tunnels. What do you see around you now?”

“I'm seeing...” Elaine trailed off before replying, “Whoa... I'm seeing a lot of railroad tracks going in various directions, and there's a cart that looks really old. Maybe this was the mine from long ago that the mayor told us about? Ugh... It's so cold in here!”

“I can check. For now, though, I highly suggest you go back the way you came. If what we're after is in there, it can catch us unprepared.”

“Okay, I'll come back to you. I need to restock on some provisions, anyway. How's the snow out there?”

“Not too bad. Still falling, but slowly. I'll see you in a bit.”

“Okay. I love you, my star.”

“I love you, too.”

Knowing that Elaine is safe, Arthur went to another screen and started to search on the online web for information about their current location. The Knights were hired to investigate a cave that is said to make people disappear in Sharp, Kentucky. Elaine volunteered to take it as if it were any other investigation. Although Arthur felt some apprehension about it, Elaine told him that she'll be doing the actual investigating, while he acted as support, which is enough to calm him. It took about eight hours to get there with their van, although the delays due to toll roads and the occasional road construction proved to be annoying that may have added an extra half hour or so.

Because of their frequent trips across the country, it's not unheard of for their vehicles or other equipment to break down during the worst of times. Thus, one of the former matriarchs from decades ago went and founded Four of a Kind Queens with her three sisters, hence the name. It was due to her that the family is required to know the business to keep it going, so they can learn the necessary knowledge needed to repair their equipment in case they broke down while they were out on actual hunts, while at the same time allow an alternative source of funding to flow in by doing repair work for a living.

Originally, Four of a Kind Queens used to repair regular machines such as cotton gins or carriages back in the old days. Eventually, Vivienne herself added the “Auto Repair” and included cars among the list of things needed to be maintained, making her the first among the line of actual car mechanics. Arthur had to admit that whoever that former matriarch is, she definitely made good results with her foresight. Not all people considered paranormal investigations to be legitimate careers, so having a second job as a backup is pretty smart.

All Arthur knew about the shop's main founder is that her name is Niniane.

Arthur briefly wondered if the Niniane the family has now is the same one that founded the family business before dropping that absurd idea. She'd have to be at least two hundred years old, while the Niniane that is alive is a distant relative of Elaine's, and from the one time Arthur saw her, she still looked pretty spry for an old woman in her approximate fifties or sixties. Then again, Arthur only saw the current Niniane once at a distance during his private wedding ceremony with Elaine, so he wouldn't know for sure. According to Elaine, Niniane rarely reveals herself, but if Arthur can find a way to talk to her...

Right, his mind's drifting off topic again. Focus, Arthur!

He searched for any clues a little more thoroughly, and soon got a hit. According to an online article written last year, the cave he and Elaine are currently investigating used to be a mine from twenty years ago that was abundant with iron with occasional pockets of tin. However, due to a large cave in, many of the miners had lost their lives, and the place was then closed off due to the safety hazard.

It corroborated with the story their client had told them. The client mentioned that whatever is causing the disappearances could either be the ghosts of the miners that died there, accidents due to people bypassing the warning signs, or something else entirely. The two were asked to not only find out what is causing the disappearances, but also see if they can find the ones who went missing to give the families closure.

“Oh, crud...!”

His attention back on the intercom, he noticed that the tone of Elaine's voice didn't sound good.

“Arthur, lock the door! Quickly!”

Arthur immediately locked the rear door to the van, and not soon after Elaine phased through like a ghost through a wall, causing whatever was chasing her to slam against the van.

“What the--?!” he was cut off by a hand slapped over his mouth.

“Be quiet!” Elaine hissed before looking around cautiously.

The two didn't make a sound, but Arthur could hear the sounds of something growling, and his heart skipped a beat when he heard a screech of pain. Whatever it is, it's clearly not human. Soon, it was silent again.

“Yay for protection wards,” Elaine relaxed and turned to Arthur, “Hey, sorry I had to phase through like that. I know you typically don't like it when I do that, but I didn't want to risk your safety.”

His eye twitched, “N-No, I appreciate it, but what the hell was that thing?” He trust his arms towards the door to indicate it while looking at her.

“Well, uh, I'm pretty sure it's the cause of all those people going missing,” Elaine answered with a grimace, “If it is, then it's safe to say that all of them are dead. Or, well, to put it more accurately, they were probably eaten.”

His arms still up, Arthur gave Elaine a flat look, “What.”

“Ever heard of the wendigo?” Elaine asked just as flatly.

Well, there went any chances of this investigation going smoothly.

- - - - - - -

Two days later, the job was completed, the wendigo has been eliminated, and the families of all the people that were killed received closure. Elaine received the payment for the job, along with some reward money from finding the remains of all the victims. Once the remaining paperwork was handled, Elaine and Arthur went back home in Cantabile.

It was good timing, too, since the Knights family is having a family reunion at Niniane's residence located in the outskirts of Cantabile. The place is a somewhat small and modest manor with a large field, a perfect location for occasions such as picnics and barbecues with extended family members.

“And anyways that's the second time I almost died in Kentucky,” Arthur finished nonchalantly. To his surprise, he is slowly being inoculated to the various paranormal now.

He's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

“How did such a monster get all the way down there in the first place? I thought they were native in Canada, or at least in Great Lakes region? The Native Americans that speak the Algonquian tongue ought to keep track of them.”

“Well, Elaine did say that the States has been having a record low temperature on the cold seasons,” Arthur, currently sitting on a picnic table, shrugged after taking a bite out of his fish hoagie, “She thinks it just wanted to explore new territory and it just happened to get stuck in that cave once the weather warmed up enough.”

Currently, Arthur is talking to Miles, Morgan's husband, who decided to join him for lunch while Elaine and Morgan were chatting away about something else while helping Gwen and Percy with their food. The man is dressed in a gray formal suit with a black shirt and white tie, fitting his position as a lawyer. His brown hair is slicked back, which did nothing to hide the gray hairs forming on the sides.

Miles mulled over the thought, then shrugged again, “I hope she's right on that,” he shook his head and decided to change the subject, “So, Gwen and Percy. They're about... five now, right?”

Arthur grinned, “Yup, they turned five last October. They started primary school this year, too. A bit later than we would have liked, but that's what happens to those born after August.”

As the twins grew, Arthur started seeing their personalities shine and develop.

Gwen is a quiet girl, often hiding behind her parents or large objects when meeting new people. She can talk in simple sentences, often struggling to speak any words longer than two syllables, yet she still tries. She usually prefers to play with blocks over dolls or watch Arthur check on the van's engine. She loved the color gray, saying it reminded her of pencils, which did boggle Arthur and Elaine's minds for a while before setting it aside as child's logic. In short, Gwen a quiet girl that takes after her father in terms of personality. Her favorite possession is the toy tool kit that was gifted to her on her recent birthday. Arthur mused that she might be a great mechanic like him or her mother when she gets older.

Percy, on the other hand, is a somewhat active boy. He's the child that treats every new thing as an adventure to explore, wanting to learn his new surroundings with gusto. He would often pick up random things off the ground and collect them in a box, which can range anywhere from bottle caps to animal skulls and one time a live snake (Arthur nearly fainted at that one until Elaine told him that it wasn't poisonous after she released it back outside). He is also an occasional prankster, but the most he's done is basically move things around, or ripping off the labels off of food cans, the last of which later caused Arthur's new habit of writing down the contents of the cans on the lids.

Some time later, after Miles left, Arthur looked at the many people that make up Elaine's side of the family.

There is Elaine herself, now talking to her mother, Caelia. Arthur recalled that Caelia is Morgan's younger sister by three years, and probably the next matriarch once Vivienne vacates her position. The older woman has black hair that she keeps as a braided bun, is around the same height as Elaine. The older woman clearly knew how to take care of herself, as her thin frame can attest to.

Arthur felt that he seriously underestimated the actual size of the Knights family. He isn't sure of the exact number, but there had to be at least forty people, most of them being adults, and more than half of them were women. In fact, Arthur noticed that all the men that were even in this reunion were either husbands or boyfriends. There were children, but outside Gwen and Percy, Arthur only managed to count about eight of them when he saw the children in question at a table nearby.

He isn't sure what to think when he learned that out of all the parents, he and Elaine are the only ones to have a son. Then again, Percy's mere existence alone was definitely a shock to the Knights family.

According to Elaine, to Arthur's bemusement, all of the women in the Knights family for the past ten known generations only ever had daughters, which is the main reason why the family of monster hunters is ruled by a “queen,” so to speak. When it was discovered that Elaine would be having twins, it was genuinely thought that she would only be having twin girls, even by Elaine herself. Even though Arthur noted that the sex of the younger twin wasn't discovered during the ultrasound, no one in the family questioned it since they sincerely believed their theory.

Needless to say, Percy, with his birth, threw that logic out the window without even realizing it.

Because the family title of matriarch is only passed down from daughter to daughter, no one in the family is sure on what Percy's standing is. Eventually, after a few days of contemplating this, Vivienne decided to just play it by ear for now. The only major action she decreed is that Percy is not to be treated any differently from any other child, which essentially forbade the extended family from trying to use Percy as some sort of leverage.

While Elaine is still amazed that she managed to have a son, Arthur once joked to her that the same applied to his side of the family, in that his family only had sons. Well, Arthur isn't entirely sure that's accurate. After leaving his parents and their nasty divorce to live with Lance, he never bothered trying to know his family ancestry. It just never crossed his mind. In the end, to him, he's just happy to have a family.

“Dad?”

Arthur looked to his right and saw Gwen and Percy stand before him, the former looking frustrated and the latter looked a little down. Looking at the two, Arthur noted that the boy looked almost exactly like he did when he was his age, only in that the child has blue eyes and the white lock of hair. Percy's hair isn't as spiky as Arthur's yet, but that will probably change as he gets older. On Gwen's end, she still resembled Elaine in an uncanny fashion, except that she does not have a white lock of hair, while having Arthur's amber eye color.

“Can I, can I...” Percy, looking timid, looked up at his father, “C-Can I sit with you?”

Arthur smiled, “Of course,” he held out his arms in a welcoming gesture and allowed his son and daughter to climb up on the picnic table's chair. Once the two were comfortable, Arthur wrapped his arms around their shoulders. Gwen on his left, Percy on his right, as it always is, “What brings you two here?”

“They said that boys aren't allow-allowed over there,” Gwen grouched, which is rather unlike her, “Girl talk only. They said Daddy is-is not cool. We-We-We... We are Knights, too!”

Wait, how old are these kids? Was this from school? Wait, was this from their cousins? If Arthur remembered right, wasn't the oldest child in their generation at least thirteen? What the heck are they talking about? Or more importantly, who the heck taught Gwen and Percy to think like that???

He rose a rather disapproving brow at the table that held the eight girls, and noticed that some of the older children were actually staring at him before turning away to hide the fact. Arthur let out a breath of annoyance. Did those girls seriously think he will confront them about this? He decided to just talk to Elaine about it later tonight in hopes of preventing a future occurrence. Unlike him, she knows how to talk with her relatives.

Percy leaned against Arthur's right side, gripping at the latter's shirt, tears beginning to leak, “Dad is... cool. Dad is... Dad.”

At the same time, Gwen leaned against his left side, not saying a word, probably too annoyed to do so.

Arthur has his hands on each of their shoulders in an attempt to comfort them. He knew that he isn't the ideal father, but he still strives to do the best he can be. He isn't sure what to do, but eventually a thought came to him. Adjusting his arms somewhat, Arthur gently held his children closer to himself, and started to slowly hum the lullaby he used ever since they were newborns. He tried not to shed any tears or have his voice crack whenever he does this now. The twins are old enough to know what being sad means, and young children are known to easily sense a person's feelings. To Arthur, these two do not deserve to feel his suffering.

By keeping his anguish concealed, it also meant that even though he's struggled to move on, a part of him still didn't want to let the past go.

This time I might just disappear...

Whoa-o-o-oh

This time I might just dis-

Yet his heart would write in pain every time he hummed this song.

Oh mo mo mo mo

Oh mo mo mo mo (Oh yeah)

Oh mo mo mo mo oh

But if it meant that these two would be given comfort...

This time I might just disappear...

Whoa-o-o-oh

This time I might just dis-

Then the painful memories of him being left behind, nearly being killed, or being hated by the Mystery Skulls, made it worth it.

Oh mo mo mo mo

Oh mo mo mo mo (Oh yeah)

Oh mo mo mo mo oh

To his relief, Gwen and Percy gradually relaxed. Gwen no longer looked annoyed, while Percy no longer looked upset. They just leaned against their father, content.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Arthur did shed a single tear, but he was able to play it off by yawning. Taking a moment to rub the tear away, Arthur continued to hold his two reasons of living. Along with Elaine, these two are his family. Even though he can't go back, he has this family to live for now. He will be forever grateful to the Knights, or more specifically to Vivienne and Elaine, for letting him have this.

But if there is one thing that's unnerving about being in this family as a whole...

“Isn't he...?”

“Yeah, he's Elaine's husband. This is actually my first time seeing him since their wedding.”

“So where do you think he came from?”

...would be the words he would hear the extended family speak occasionally. The women are definitely chatterboxes at times.

“Beats me. From what I hear, he doesn't like talking about his past that much.”

“Guys? We should be respecting his privacy. Who cares where he came from? If Mama Vivienne approved of him as Elaine's husband, then I've no reason to doubt him. Don't assume things.”

Well... at least someone among them is fine with him? Or maybe that woman just didn't care, he did a subtle glance and saw that it's Elaine's cousin, Eleanor. He's spoken to her before, but not as often as he does with her mother, Morgan. Eleanor travels a lot since her husband Nicholas has to move frequently due to his job, if Arthur remembered correctly.

“But as far as we know, he's a nobody!”

“Hey, watch your tone. So what if he is? He's still family. Besides, from what I've seen of him, he's been a pretty good husband and father so far. I mean, look, he's with his kids right now. If that doesn't prove he's a good person, I don't know what will. Again, Mama Vivienne approved of him, and even Nana Niniane has given us good word, so keep any distasteful thoughts to yourself.”

Still, Arthur made it a point to not interact with the extended family unless it's absolutely necessary. It's not that he doesn't like them, far from it, but it's primarily because he doesn't want to risk invoking their wrath. Unless what Elaine told him was wrong, almost all of the women except for Morgan are capable of changing their shape into monstrous forms to fight monsters when the situation calls for it.

“Seriously? Just because he managed to sire a son doesn't mean it makes him special.”

Well, that, and Arthur had actually seen them squabble in those forms a few times in the past. That one time where one woman turned into a Jorogumo while another became a Nure-onna and fought one another was a rather frightening experience. It took Elaine turning into a Gashadokuro and smacking them down to stop them, while loudly declaring that she is not sharing her husband, did she successfully get her distant cousins to actually stop fighting. That happened shortly after the twins were born.

“Oh my god, Melia, are you seriously trying to pick a fight? Look, we get it, you don't like him because he and Elaine have a son while you and Tad don't. I'm pretty sure you're not the only one who's envious. At least you have the grace to love your daughters.”

Arthur winced upon hearing that. Checking on the twins, he saw that the two were actually asleep. He hoped that the two weren't hearing what their relatives were saying. While he is sure that the few family members that do dislike him wouldn't be petty enough to want to hurt him under normal circumstances, but after having a wraith try to kill him for something he didn't do, he didn't want to risk it.

...He is well aware that he is still somewhat afraid of the Knights even after learning their family secret. He knew that Elaine and her immediate family wouldn't hurt him, but he isn't so sure with the extended relatives outside her grandmother and aunt.

He really didn't want to be here now. He wished that Elaine would finish talking with Morgan and return soon, so that they can all go home and get away from this reunion and not expose Gwen and Percy to the envy and--

“What...?”

Arthur saw from the corner of his eye in a distance that resembled something white with multiple tails sitting next to a large tree. When he turned to actually look, the sight didn't change.

Mystery is over there.

In his kitsune form.

Why isn't anyone in the family reacting to his presence when he is so close?!

He loosened his hold on Gwen and Percy and started to breath heavily, rather quickly at that. The sight of Mystery is...!

How did he find him?!

“Daddy? Daddy, are you okay?”

Arthur could barely register Gwen talking. His heart rate gradually increased, his hands were shaking. He gripped at his left wrist. He didn't notice Percy tugging at his sleeve.

“Dad? What's wrong?”

He saw Mystery stand, and the kitsune slowly opened its mouth, the yellow glint never leaving its face.

The last thing Arthur heard is his name being called out frantically.

* - * - * - * - *

Notes: I'm not freaking out.

Arthur doesn’t really interact with Elaine’s far extended family during the reunions, so he doesn’t know much about them.

The wendigo actually originates from a religious belief from folklore of the Algonquian language. The Native Americans that speak it are primarily in certain parts of Canada and probably around the Great Lakes region, too. While the beliefs vary between the communities, the wendigo is said to be an entity with a never ending hunger for human flesh. Although I have read somewhere that they're also said to be a symbol of the dangers of one's selfishness, and maybe something about how the people can't practice their own religion or something among those lines, I'm not a hundred percent sure. So while the exact facts of the wendigo are not 100% consistent between various sources, what is consistent about them is essentially this: winter, monster, famine, greed, and cannibalism.

On another note, there seems to be two types of wendigo, one where it looks like a vague definition of a human, or one would have the skull of a stag (which is said to be a modern depiction). In the case for this chapter, the former is used. The wendigo from the survival horror game Until Dawn can give you a general idea on what they look like.

Like with Tempo and Cantabile, Sharp is also a music term. Coincidentally, there really is a place called Sharpe, spelled with the letter E, in Kentucky. I just chose Kentucky primarily so I can use an incorrect Mystery Skulls quote.

As for Arthur's parents being divorced, it's from a post that Artsy from the Ghost Crew made. It's stated not to be canon since Artsy said it's a personal headcanon of hers, but it's the closet I could get. Regardless, it's pretty much accepted in the fandom that Arthur was better off with Lance.

...

...Do you think he still is?

Part 7: How Lucky...?