#it was the knife. and the cloak. and the colour blue. ALRIGHT OKAY I JUST THINK THAT ROSMUND PIKE AS MOIRAINE IS SUPER HOT OKAY IM SORRY

[wackiekebab]

*Moiraine getting dressed in the opening scene of ep 1 of the Wheel of Time*

me:

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

The Black Swan

Chapter 2

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 5225

Chapter: 2/17 (All chapters)

Summary: Simon and Penelope go on their adventure, and Simon finds something he didn't expect.

 Read on AO3

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Simon had elevated sneaking out his castle to an art form. He did it for the first time when he was only eleven, just a week after he moved in. He’d left his favourite red ball behind and he wanted it back. It had never occured to Simon to ask permission to leave. He’d never asked before, because no one was ever watching him closely enough to be concerned. But when he tried to walk out the front door, the guards had stopped him. Then David yelled at him for an hour.

“You’re a prince now, Simon. For God’s sake, you can’t just leave when you like!” he’d said.

“Why not?” A young, ignorant, eleven year old Simon had replied.

“Because you're too damn important to get hurt! I can’t have you dying just after I’ve acquired you!”

Penelope thought David was cruel and considered Simon his property. Simon reminded her that David still took him in when everyone else was too afraid. He was overprotective, not evil. But Simon wasn't a child anymore, and he wanted to explore. He still felt a bit guilty. David was just trying to keep him safe. Simon would be fine though. The King didn't need to worry.

Simon secured his sword to his back, his knife to his belt, and threw on the heavy black wool cloak. In the dark, he’d look like a shadow, or a mysterious hero. Either would work. He threw the long rope out his bedroom window. It was the perfect length, measured out exactly over the years. Simon repelled down the stone wall with ease. He hit the ground with zero noise. Then he was off.

He jumped over the moat with only a bit of magic, but still launched himself too forcefully and he almost fell on his face as he landed. With only a stumble, he was running across the great lawn at breakneck speed. Through the Wavering Wood and across the downtown he went until he reached the Bunce house. Penny’s room was on the third floor. Simon wasn’t only a skilled window-escaper, but a damn good climber as well. He shimmied up the support pole and tapped on the third floor glass. The double windows sung open, revealing an annoyed Penelope.

“You can’t throw a pebble at my window? Or knock on the front door like a normal person?” she hissed.

“Okay. 1: Your mum would actually kill me if I woke her up at this time. 2: Pebbles wouldn’t make enough sound for you to hear. And 3:” He kept an arm around the pole and leaned out, stretching out so his cloak flapped in the wind. He liked to be grand sometimes. “This is much more fun.”

Penny rolled her eyes with a smile. “Weirdo. Meet me outside in a second.”

Simon saluted. “Will do!”

Penny shut her window and Simon jumped to the ground. He use his magic to cushion his fall a bit, cloak flapping up. His feet still stung from the impact but he wasn’t injured. That was the best he could hope for with his magic.

She emerged from the front, dressed in her own black cloak. Her big purple ring glowed slightly in the dark. A mischievous grin was pulled across her face. As much as she mocked Simon’s desire to explore, she loved it too. She liked being a great hero as well. The two of them pretended all the time when they were small. And now, here they were again. Penelope and Simon, fearless adventurers, off into the Forbidden Lands

Simon took her hand. “Ready?”

Penny squeezed once. “Absolutely.”

The pair ran off towards the east. The houses became sparser and sparser, fading from metropolis to wild nature. More trees, thicker grass, wilder plants. Simon and Penny’s boots cracked the twigs and crushed the foliage. They ran and ran, until they reach their destination. Simon screeched to a halt. His blue eyes were wide.

“Wow,” he gasped. “It’s just, wow.”

“Yeah, that’s an apt description,” Penny chuckled.

The ancient trees towered over them. They were like old giants, arms made from twisting branches, bodies of cracking bark, and feets of thick twining roots. The setting sun shone through the small spaces between them. Glowing oranges and fiery reds seep out to illuminate the mossy ground. It wasn’t dark, but it was dark enough to be a tad frightening. Just enough to make Simon’s excited heart race.

He tugged Penelope towards the Forbidden Lands. “Let’s go.”

They entered cautiously, still hand in hand. Their steps were incredibly loud in the darkening silence. Simon observed everything around him. It was all interesting. Tree trunks  and vines and strange flowers of every colour. Simon’s pulse was beating like a rabbit’s. Anything could happen here. A monster could leap out from a dark corner. He’d battle it with his sword and emerge triumphant. Or a path that lead to another world, filled with magic. He and Penny would be sent on a great quest that would end with them winning riches and adoration. It was all so exciting to think about.

“This is incredible,” Penny whispered. “There’s so much here.”

“I know, right?” Simon giggled with a smile. “Why does have to David forbid it?”

“Because he’s a control freak?”

Simon sighed heavily. “Not right now, please, Pen. Let’s just explore.”

Penny squeezed his hand. “Alright.”

The pair of them went deeper and deeper in. The sun was getting lower, and the branch canopy thicker. Simon lost sight of where they came in. There didn’t seem to be any exit anymore. But they didn’t stop. Deeper they trekked. Further into unknown. Every time there was a bump, Simon nearly grabbed his sword and Penelope’s ring finger twitched. But they still didn’t stop.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, Simon’s eye was caught by a dim purple glow. It was coming from the twilight, but from the ground. He stopped suddenly. Penny ran right into him.

“Ow,” she grunted, “what the fuck, Si?”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“What’s what?”

Simon pointed to the glowing. “That.”

Penelope stopped rubbing her aching nose to follow Simon’s finger. She gasped very loudly in the relative quiet. Loud enough to make Simon worried.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

She dropped to her knees and started digging through the thick foliage. The glowing got brighter and brighter until Penny stopped. She squealed with excitement.

“Pen, what’s-

She looked at him with a huge grin. Simon had never seen her so elated. “Hyacinthinus candentius!” Simon was very confused, and his expression conveyed that clearly. “Glowing violets!” Still confused. Penelope sighed and shook her head. “They’re a special kind of flower that glows at night time. It’s incredibly rare. I’ve only read about it in my potion making books. Oh, I need to get a few samples. Can I borrow your knife?”

Simon sighed and handed over his dagger. Penny carefully started cutting at the plant. Simon had to keep himself from groaning. At least an hour in the forbidden lands, and the most interesting thing they’d found was a glowing flower. What a let down. He lazily walked forward a bit, head tilted upwards. There was a slight gap in the tree covering, just enough to see the sky. It was glowing deep purple too, minutes away from night time. Thin clouds rolled over him. Birds flying in a V shape flew close to the ground.

Wait, what was that?

Simon squinted, trying to see better. The birds were white with long graceful necks. Swans, that was the name. But at the head of the V, the swan was completely black. It’s feather’s were dark as pens ink. Simon had never seen anything like it before. There was another thing too. Something shiny, glinting in the low light, hanging off the black swan’s neck. Was that...a necklace? Since when did birds wear jewellery? The hell?

“Hey Pen, I’m gonna look at something,” Simon whispered. Penny didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure she heard him but he kept going anyway.

He followed the strange bird as best he could, what with the trees obscuring most of the sky. Whatever glimpse he got, he took, ducking and weaving between trees to keep pace with them. They got lower, closer to the forest. Simon saw it was definitely a necklace. A bird wearing a necklace. It was so dumb and weird, but it was something. And it definitely intrigued him more than glowing flower. The flock got closer and closer, going faster and faster. Simon had to run to keep up. They suddenly dived straight down.

“Where the fuck are the-”

And then Simon fell.

He fell, and fell, and fell a bit farther just for good measure. He curled in on himself and covered his head. The whole world spun as he tumbled over dirt and tree roots and rocks. Until he hit the ground with a resounding thud.

“Ow,” Simon whined, rubbing his aching, well, everything. It all hurt. It was a bad fall. Without his magic probably instinctively protecting him, he’d be much worse off. Slowly, he raised his head and his eyes focused on his surroundings.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

It was...beautiful. Simon had landed in some sort of huge basin, collapsed just behind a bush. The land curved down into a bowl shape, surrounded by thick trees to hide its existence. The tall edges were covered in old vines interspersed with roots and rocks. Like someone had scooped the ground out a thousand years ago and nature grew around it. Thick grass was at the edge, where Simon landed, and just to his left was a very small wooden cottage. It couldn’t fit more than one or two people. Floating lights dimly illuminated the area. They looked like the ones Penelope would use when she was up late studying at school. Right in the centre of all this was a shining blue lake, where the swans were floating. Including the black necklace wearing one.

The bird was still a bit far away, but Simon could certainly get a better look. It really was very strange looking. Every feather was impossibly dark as night, contrasting it’s bright white companions. It still had the same characteristically graceful neck and head with a long orange bill as them though. But Simon was most stunned but it’s eyes. Swans were supposed to have beady black eyes, and the white ones did. But the black swan’s eyes were strange. They had white parts, like a human’s, and grey irises. Not just grey though. It was dark green and dark blue mixed together. Like the deep sea.

“What the fuck are you?” Simon asked, more himself than the bird.

Suddenly, the blue water started glowing under the black swan. It bubbled and churned beneath the bird like it was boiling. Simon was beyond confused.

“Wha-”

The swan started growing larger, nearly tripling in size in mere seconds. It stretched its majestic wings up towards the sky. And then they weren’t wings. They were strong human arms, with two very human hands and ten very human fingers. The swan’s body absorbed the dark feathers and stretched up and out, quickly becoming a muscled back with smooth reddish gold skin. Paddling webbed feet shifted and grew into long legs with toes touching the lake floor. Finally, it’s bill shrank, it’s head grew, until everything about the swan had transformed from bird to distinctly human.

The water stopped glowing and bubbling. The strange young man had a lean build, night black hair, and a thin silver chain around his neck. He turned his head to the side, letting Simon glimpse his angular, elegant face and slightly crooked long nose. Most importantly, Simon saw his eyes. Dark green mixed with dark blue. Deep sea water.

He was a gorgeous man, who just a minute ago had been a black swan. And was now completely naked.

Simon had to suppress a very frightened and surprised squeak.

The swan- The boy- The Swan Boy let out a long sigh. He stretched his arms up as far as he could, then rolled his head side to side and rubbed his neck. With two hands, he pushed his incredibly long wavy hair further out of his face. It reached the middle of his back in a slightly tangled mess. Frankly, it looked like he hadn’t gotten in a haircut in years. But he was tall and muscular, with swirling grey eyes and incredible cheekbones. Tangled hair didn’t diminish those at all.

Swan Boy waded through the lake towards the shore near the cottage. Sitting at its doorstep was a pile of folded clothes. He quickly threw on the long white shirt and grey trousers, tying a thin rope around his waist. It was a simple Watford peasant’s outfit, familiar to Simon from his own childhood. Swan Boy used up a fat red ribbon to tie his long hair back with a perfect bow. He finally looked decent. And Simon couldn’t hide any longer.

With shaky legs, Simon stood up from behind his bush. Swan Boy didn’t notice. Simon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out at first. What could he say? What do you say to a man who was just a swan? Well, you could at least say hello.

“Um,” Simon said meekly, “hi.”

Swan Boy’s head whipped around so fast his ponytail almost hit him in the face. His grey eyes were wide and filled with so many emotions. Fear, panic, shock, everything Simon should’ve expected. He stumbled away, bracing his hand against the cottage wall.

“Who...who the fuck are you?!” he asked. His accent was rough, but had a slightly posh undertone. Simon couldn’t place where he was from.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck nervously, looking at the ground. “Uh, I sorta fell down here, following you. Well, swan you. But then the lake glowed and-” He met Swan Boy’s scared eyes. “You were just a swan.”

His grey eyes went even wider, hand on the wall tightening. “No I wasn’t,” he said quickly.

They stared at each other, frozen and gazes locked for awhile. Simon blinked in utter confusion. His head slowly tilted to the side.

“Y-Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“I just saw you though...”

“You don’t know what you saw.”

“Yeah I do!” Simon stepped forward with hands on his hips. “You were a black swan sitting on the lake. Then the lake glowed and you turned into,” Simon gestured wildly at him, “you!”

Swan Boy took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, “you can’t know. You can’t be here. No one’s supposed to be here. If he sees-”

There was a rumbling in the near distance. Swan Boy’s hands fell down. His face looked even more fearful than before. Even his hands were shaking. He looked at the sound, then Simon, the sound, then Simon again. The cogs were obviously turning in his brain. It reminded Simon of Penelope when she was thinking.

“Get in the house,” Swan Boy muttered.

“What?” Simon replied dumbly.

He rolled his eyes, then stomped over to the door and pulled it open with quite a bit of anger. “Get in here. Stay out of sight. Do not come out until he leaves.”

“Until who leaves?”

The rumbling got closer. Swan Boy pointed frantically at the entrance. “Just get in if you don’t want to die!”

That got Simon’s attention. He didn’t even know this strange Swan Boy, but he also really didn’t want to die. And going into a cottage wouldn’t kill him right?

“Okay, okay,” Simon said, running in the door.

It was as simple inside as outside. Nothing more than a single room with a tiny fireplace, a cot, a pine blanket box, and a couple stacks of books. It reminded Simon of his room at the orphanage. Sparse to the point of poverty, not simple comfort.

Swan Boy pushed him further in. He jabbed a bony finger at Simon’s face, mouth pulled into a scowl. “Lay down, hide under the window. Don’t move, don’t talk, don’t even breathe.”

Simon’s brow furrowed. “But I have to breathe. To survive and stuff.”

“Ugh, right, of course,” he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I mean, just don’t make any noise.”

“O-Okay.”

“Now!”

“Okay, fine!” Simon flopped down to his stomach, pressed up against the wall under the sole tiny window. He glared up Swan Boy. “This good enough?.”

Swan Boy glared right back. His eyes were daggers. “Just be quiet.”

He closed the door quietly, but Simon was sure he’d have slammed it if he could.

The thundering had gotten incredibly loud. Like a storm right on the doorstep. Simon had to grit his teeth and cover his ears. But then there was a deafening clap, followed by silence. Simon slowly released lowered his hands. The conversation was already half started.

“No, I have not left, Sir. There’s no point,” Swan Boy said. His voice was steady, but smaller than before.

“I’m only asking to be safe. You’ve tried before,” another person replied. He sounded deep, gravelly, almost inhuman. It had to be magically altered. No real person sounded like that.

“That was years ago,” he muttered. There was suddenly a loud thunder clap.

“Do not speak to me like that!” The strange person boomed so loud it shook the cottage.

A pause, then Swan Boy cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir.”

“You damn well better be sorry. Don’t forget, you’re only alive by my allowance.” The person took a deep breath. “Now, do you require anything new? Food? Books?”

“I find my own food, but I could always use more books.”

“Fine.”

There was another pause. Simon’s curiosity got the better of him. He lifted his head slightly, just to peak out the window. Swan Boy was standing near the lake. In front of him was a hooded figure, face completely obscured. Simon guessed from his build that he was a man, but it could only be a guess. The cloak was simple grey wool with no markings whatsoever. This man didn’t look that intimidating, just mysterious, but Swan Boy had his arms crossed and shoulders hunched. His face was calm but his entire body spelled afraid.

Cloaked Figure reached out towards Swan Boy. He flinched but didn’t back away. Figure grabbed his ponytail, clutching it in his black gloved hand. Swan Boy winced.

“Your hair has gotten too long,” he said with grave disapprovement, his fake voice only enhancing the intimidation. “It must be cut.”

“Understood,” Swan Boy said.

Figure reach inside his cloak. He moved so fast Simon could barely register what happened. In a flash, Swan Boy’s ponytail was sliced off just above the ribbon. His raven hair fell into an uneven curtain around his face, long in the front and far shorter in the back. Instead of throwing the hair away, the Figure put it inside his coat. Must not like to litter, Simon thought.

“Much better,” Figure said. “I’ll bring you more books in three days time.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Swan Boy said quietly.

“Have a good night, Basil.”

“Good night, Sir.”

The thundering started again. Smoke formed under Figure’s feet. It quickly encased his entire body, making him indistinguishable from a storm cloud. He rose up and out of the lake. Swan Boy, or Basil possibly, watched him go. Soon, he sighed, tension quickly leaving his body. His shoulders slumped and he ran a hand over his face. He picked up a piece of black hair, rolling it between his fingers as he looked at it sadly. Simon didn’t like his face sad. It seemed wrong for someone so pretty to be so forlorn.

Swan Boy/Basil strolled over to the lake. A white swan waded close to the shore. He sat next to it and petted it’s head. The bird nuzzled against him, and though Simon could only see a corner of his face, he swore there was the hint of a smile

Simon finally got up from the floor and left the cottage. Like approaching a wild animal, he cautiously stepped towards the other boy, stopping a few feet behind him.

“Your name is Basil?” he asked.

Maybe-Basil jolted, making his swan friend honk and flap its wings. He whipped around to face Simon with a shocked expression. “Good God,” he panted. “I forgot you were here.”

“Sorry. So, is your name Basil?”

He turned away, keeping his back to Simon. “None of your business.”

Simon huffed. “Fine, be like that, Swan Boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed.

“You won’t tell me your name. What else am I supposed to call you?”

“You’re not supposed to call me anything, you’re supposed to leave.”

Simon huffed again, crossing his arms. “You’re not very nice.”

“Gold star for the observation,” he snapped. “Now go.”

“Wish I could just go, mate, but I told you, I fell by accident. I have no clue how to get out. Could you point me to exit?”

He whipped his head again. His mouth was turned into deep scowl and his eyes were filled fire. Simon swore the air itself was heating up. “Do you think I’d still be here if there was one?!”

Shit, Simon thought, bad Simon, watch your words. “S-Sorry, that was really rude, so sorry.”

Swan Boy scoffed and looked away again. The guilt sat horribly in Simon’s stomach. He barely knew this man, but he hated seeing anyone upset, especially when it was his own fault. Cautiously, he sat near the other boy. Not too close to make him uncomfortable, but enough to show he wasn’t afraid.

“My name is Simon, by the way,” he said quietly. He didn’t mention the Crown Prince part. He preferred being just Simon if he could.

Swan Boy-or-Basil didn’t respond for awhile. Simon tried to occupy himself by watching the lights, watching the swans, but he was naturally restless. His fingers drummed on his knee, foot jittering up and down. He usually didn’t mind silence. But this was so tense, so precarious. It made his heart thump far too hard.

“Baz,” Swan Boy whispered.

“What?” Simon replied like the idiot he knew he was.

“Basil is my full name,” he said a bit louder. “But I prefer Baz. It’s shorter, easier to say.”

Simon looked over, and Basil, or Baz he supposed, was petting the white swan again, body curled in on itself. His face tried to look neutral, but he was biting at his lip. He shifted uncomfortably, moving away from Simon but not too far. He didn’t seem used to sitting near someone. Simon was pretty sure he wasn’t used to people in general.

“Okay,” he said cheerily. “Hi, Baz. Nice to meet you.”

He offered his hand like David taught him, to be polite. Baz jerked away. He seemed more shocked than afraid. But still, it wasn’t a good reaction. Simon started lowering his arm, but then Baz cautiously reached forward as well. Slowly, with massive amounts of unsureness from both, their hands met. Baz’s palms were incredibly rough. His skin was somehow more callused than rough-and-tumble Simon’s. Though eight years of palace living had smoothed his out a bit. Baz shook once then pulled away very quickly. He immediately went back to petting his swan. And silence reigned like a tyrannical king for a long time

“So,” Simon let the vowel drag out slowly, “you live here?”

Baz scoffed. “Obviously.”

“It’s really nice.”

“You don’t have to pretend you like it,” Baz muttered, focusing intensely on his pet.

Simon gave him a confused look. “I’m not pretending. It’s very pretty here. The lights, the lake, everything.”

Baz didn’t say anything. He scratched under his bird’s bill and stroked it’s wing. He obviously had great affection for this animal. Simon leaned closer.

“Is that one your brother or sister?” he asked. “Or your Mum or Dad or something?”

Simon had never seen someone whip their head around so fast. Baz’s expression was dizzying array of confusion, frustration, and anger. Simon had seen it before; every time he asked a question so stupid that David couldn’t believe he’d let the words out of his mouth.

“What the fuck!?” Baz spat. “No! No, of course not. Where the fuck did you get that?!”

Simon shifted nervously and scratched his neck. He stared at the ground intently. “I-I don’t know. That swan seems to really like you and you were just a swan like ten minutes ago. And I guess I want to know if you’re a guy who turns into a swan or a swan who turns into a guy. But I’m bad at making my words...work right.” He buried his face in his hands. “Sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

He didn’t look up. He could feel the shame bubbling in his gut. This was an old situation. Him saying something dumb without meaning to, getting yelled at for it and absolutely deserving it. Nine years and the habit was still unbroken. Simon was still an idiot.

“I’m a human first,” Baz said quietly. “Swan second.”

Simon lifted his head slowly. When he looked at Baz, the other boy surprisingly wasn’t angry, not like David was. He didn’t look happy either, because Simon wasn’t sure his pretty pouty face was capable of that. He was just calm, maybe even understanding.

The prince nodded. “Okay, cool.”

They went silent. Simon was afraid to ask a dumb question again, so he focused on kicking clumps of dirt into the lake. He had little idea of how to act in normal social situation. And this was far, far beyond normal.

“Did you actually just fall down here?” Baz asked.

Simon rubbed his neck. “Uh, yeah, I did.”

“Just, tripped into a ten foot hole in the ground?”

“Yes...”

Baz scoffed. “You’re a special kind of idiot, aren’t you?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Simon chuckled in an effort to cover up his embarrassment. “That’s what everyone says.”

He sighed as his shoulders slumped forward. “Well, you should probably find a way to get out of here.” He paused for a moment, focusing on his swan friend. “You can,” he whispered, so quiet Simon barely heard it.

Simon’s eyes flicked over. Baz’s face was stone, making him look even more like a statue than his bone structure did. Simon’s mind went back to what he heard, when Baz was talking to the hooded man. “No, I have not left, Sir. There is no point.”

“Oh, okay,” Simon stuttered. “I’ll find a way.”

He almost asked if Baz wanted to come with him. But he quickly shut his mouth. From the cold, tense look on his face, Baz truly couldn’t leave, and it caused him far too much pain.

Simon walked up to the sloping wall. It really was ten feet tall. Thick tree roots dove in and out of the dirt like sea serpents in the ocean. Possible foot holds, he thought, but covered in moss. He placed a hand on the wood, feeling slippery moss. Simon needed something to hold onto. Something steady...

He unsheathed his longsword. It wasn’t his favourite weapon, but it was useful. Simon gripped it tight, and thrust the blade right into the dirt. He held onto the hilt as he swung his feet up on the tree root. He slipped and slid but didn’t fall. He wrapped his free arm around another root. Simon removed the sword, then plunged it into a higher, and hoisted himself onto the next foot hold he had. It worked! Simon giggled quietly to himself. Penny would be proud of his ingenuity.

Simon turned his head back towards the lake. Baz’s head whipped around, facing the water, but he had quite obviously been looking at Simon. His face was hidden by the veil of black hair. Simon wondered what his expression was. He hoped Baz wasn’t sad, but that was unlikely. He didn’t seem the happy kind. Which was sad in it’s own way.

“B-Bye,” Simon said weakly.

Baz didn’t even acknowledge his farewell. He petted his swan and sat at his lake. Simon’s departure had no seeming effect on him. Which didn’t hurt Simon’s stupid vulnerable feelings, not at all.

The prince scaled the wall, hoisted himself up and up and up, until he almost reached the top. The edge was right there. Simon got his hand on it, about to get out. He turn his head slightly. Baz was smaller now, but he was still there, sitting by the lake. A seemingly constant fixture, unable to move forward, to change. Simon wondered how long he’d been one in this lake.

“Simon?! Simon, where are you?”

Penny’s voice triggered an automatic response in Simon. He threw himself over the edge, onto the proper ground. His legs were weak from climbing, but he stood tall with an arm on the tree.

“I’m here Penny!” He yelled into the endless dark.

Rapid footsteps got closer and closer. Simon watched a familiar figure emerge from the trees and immediately slam into him, nearly knocking him off balance. Penny crushed him in her arms.

“Hi, Pen,” he chuckled. “Worried about me?”

Penny pulled back, and promptly smacked her best friend over the head. “What the hell, Si?! You just vanished! Dear God, if you died, Davy would’ve gone ballistic, Watford wouldn’t have an heir, and I-I-” She sniffled and wiped her nose. Simon couldn’t see her face that well, but he could guess she was crying a bit. She hugged him tightly again. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, arsehole.”

Simon squeezed her tight, reassuring for both him and her. “I’m sorry, Penny. I shouldn’t have scared you.”

“Damn right.” She pulled back, glaring with confusion. “Where the hell were you anyway?”

“Oh I was just over-” Simon turned around, pointing at the the grotto. But there was no grotto. No lake or swans or floating lights. Only more darkness and trees. “It...was right there...” he whispered.

“What was right there?”

Just a magical lake where a black swan who’s actually a boy lives. Y’know, the usual, Simon thought, but he didn’t dare say. Baz barely tolerated Simon seeing him by accident. He probably wouldn’t appreciate another person knowing he was there. And really, Simon wasn’t sure Penny would believe him. Simon wouldn’t believe it he hadn’t actually seen it himself five minutes ago. Maybe he should just explain it later...

“Uh, a really cool big rock,” he said. “I swear I just saw it. Had all these cool markings and shit. I must’ve gotten turned around.”

Penny sighed with utter exasperation. “Yeah, I can believe that. You get lost turning left. So stop wandering off!”

She poked his chest hard enough to make him stumble. Simon chuckled, grabbing her hand. “Will do, Penny. Maybe we should get out of here. I’m a bit adventured out.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s head home.”

They walked hand in hand back towards the forest edge. But Simon tired to commit landmarks to memory. A gnarled root, a strange flower, in case he needed to remember where he was. In case he ever had the chance to come back.

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AN: So some of you, or let's be honest, most of you, have probably already figured out what's going on. If so, I kindly ask for you to please not spoil it for those who haven't in the comments. Thanks :) I know it's obvious, but I hope you guys instead enjoy watching the characters learn, grow, make connections, and figure out what's going on for themselves. We may know but they obviously don’t know just yet. Just you wait though :D Until next time friends!

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

Give No Quarter XXVI

*tags: @nelswp @everyjourneylove @somewhereinimagination @imaneternalflamebb @maniczebra83 @nuvoleincielo @inkededucatednnerdy @fandomgalcentral @crowleysprincess159 @thorins-magnificent-ass @booknerdinator3000 @ealasaid @thebakerstboyskeeper @lamberts-bitch @memory-of-a-goldfish @ara-toa-min @sherala007 @karenp1969

At last, your anxiety had caught up to you. As you rode in the carriage with several other women, their lips painted various shades of red and their scantily clad bodies hidden by deceivingly conservative cloaks, the gravity of your mission washed over you. Despite feeling peculiar in your new disguise, you were the least obvious of the flock.

Liliana had been all to eager to aid you in your preparations at the sight of so much gold. Her acquiescence, although not unfathomable, sparked your suspicion. You were almost tempted to leave her tied up as you had originally intended. Even so, you left her unharmed and with a full purse of coin.

She had helped you hide your hair beneath the gaudy blonde wig you had bartered for at the market and coloured your lips with a deep shade of scarlet. She had even gone so far as to offer your selection of her wardrobe. It had been long since you had worn a dress, and so you had let her choose for you. It lent to credibility of your attire; even Thorin could not have recognized you for anything other than a red lady.

The thought of your abandoned companion gave you pause. For a moment, guilt rose in you, but you were soon distracted by the pinching of your corset against your ribs. The carriage jolted to a halt and the chatter of the women quieted as the door opened from without. Each stepped down with swaying hips, smirking up at the guards who had been sent to escort you to the officers’ barracks.

You imitated them as it came your turn to step out despite the veil daintily hung from ear to ear; an extra layer to hide you from Elvenking’s keen eye. You followed the gaggle of painted ladies through the rear of the barracks, one departing for each door you passed. You were guided to the major’s quarters and watched as the last two walked along with a sensuous sweep of skirts.

You knocked on the door before you, your raps measured against the storm of nerves brewing with you. A deep voice beckoned your entrance and set the hairs along your neck on end. It was a voice you had longed to hear and yet prayed to never hear again. You pressed down the latch of the door handle and pushed inside, forcing away all doubt to become what you appeared.

As you entered, you closed the door behind you, studying the room from behind your veil. Elvenking sat at a small writing desk, a quill in hand as he seemed barely to notice your arrival. Slowly, you straightened your arms, letting the velvet coat slip from your shoulders. Your bosom overflowed your bodice, skirts slit seductively down the legs, and your arms scandalously bare. It was enough to keep him from focusing on your face.

“There’s a rack just to your left,” Elvenking advised without looking up, “You may hang your coat there.

“Thank you, sir,” You kept your voice dusky, doing your best impression of Liliana’s sultry tones.

“My apologies if I seem…” He paused as he looked up while you hung your cloak, “Distracted, but I assure you,” He set aside his pen, “You have my attention now, my lady.”

“Lady?” You nearly scoffed as he rose, his eyes running up and down your figure.

His white uniform trousers were speckled with dots of ink and his blouse hung loosely down his chest. His blonde hair was free of its usual binds and you were heartened to find him unarmed. He likely thought the same of you. A simple whore without a thought but her duty, but there was much that could be hidden beneath your skirts.

“Come here,” He lowered himself onto the feather bed at the other end of the room, his legs apart and feet planted, “No sense in trying to comfort ourselves in small acts of decorum.”

The curve of his lips sickened you, but you obeyed him. As you neared, he reached out to you and you caught his hand in air. You smirked through the thin veil across your nose and purred, aroused by the thought of your revenge so close at hand. You nudge his chest and he followed your wordless demand, laying upon his back with a lusty grin of his own.

You climbed up to straddle him, dragging your fingers along his jaw and neck, tracing the lines of his chest above his shirt. His hand squeezed your thigh as your skirt bared your leg. You bent slowly over him, the smell of rose wafting from your fake curls. His pale eyes pierced yours, igniting your wrath.

He hesitated before closing his eyes, your lips meeting his softly, teasingly before you deepened the kiss. His hand travelled to your rear as yours wandered to your other leg, grasping the metal hidden upon your hip. You nibbled his lip as you pulled away, sitting up as you stared down at him with feigned desire. Elvenking smiled back at you, licking his lips, and you pulled forth your pistol, pointing it at his chest.

It was as if he expected the sudden assault. Catching the muzzle of the gun as you pulled the trigger, force it upwards. He tore the weapon from your hand, his other coming up with a flash of silver. The blade pinned your hand to your chest as you tried to shield yourself, your palm impaled as you fell back with shriek.

With a grunt, you gripped the hilt of the knife and yanked it free of your flesh. You could hardly stem the flow of blood now seeping from your chest with your wounded hand. You looked up to the bed where Thranduil writhed and cursed.

“You slut,” He hissed through agonized breaths, “Did you think I didn’t recognize you?”

“Not soon enough,” You uttered through gritted teeth as you struggled to rise.

The door behind you burst open and you turned, ready to face your death at the hands of several navy officers. Instead, you were stunned at the sight of the dark-haired captain charging into the room. Thorin took you by the elbow, pulling you up to your feet. His blue eyes darkened at the sight of blood spreading across your corset. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He looked over at the major who had yet to sit up, “We’ve got to go.”

“Not yet,” You tried to pull away, but he kept hold of you, “I’ve got to finish it.”

“Y/N, look at him!” He let you closer to bed but did not release you. Elvenking’s face was bloodied and charred with gunpowder, his eye all but gone. You may not have hit your exact target, but you had not missed. “He might not be dead, but he’s worse off than either of us. Now, we’ve got to go before we’ve not the option.”

“Fine,” You nodded, basking in the sight of the major, grasping desperately at his mangled face, “Let’s go.”

You let Thorin guide you from the room, the blood turning cold along your chest. Your head was starting to spin, and you felt your legs weakening. You looked down at your maimed hand against your chest, the blood streaming heavily.

“You’ll be okay,” Thorin assured as he reached over, pressing a wadded cloth to the wound, “Just keep going.” All you could do was listen to Thorin otherwise you would succumb to the dark, “Come on,” He urged, the words echoing as if far away, “You’re going to be alright, Y/N.”

[davidelizabethbowiestrider]

if you're still taking prompts, could you write a Jaylos little red riding hood AU? like Cruella sends Carlos to deliver goodies for his grandma and he encounters wolf!Jay on his way there.. i think that'd be cute lol

I am always taking jaylos prompts my good friend. Though I’m not sure this is 100% Jaylos, might be more pre-jaylos than anything…I hope you like it! Maybe I’ll continue it if there’s an interest? It was actually fun to write lol

warnings for blood I guess? It’s not bad. 

-=-=-

“Don’t stop anywhere’s. If you stop, I’ll know. If you dawdle? I’ll know. If you take one step off the path from here to Granny’s, I. Will. Know. Do you understand?”

Carlos stood silently in the entrance to Hell Hall, his fingers curled tightly around the handle to the large basket that his mother had shoved into his grasp. He gave a curt nod, jumping slightly as a red cloak was shoved into his arms, his mother’s hand reaching out to grasp his chin in her thin, long nailed fingers.

“I understand, mother. To Granny’s and back. Nowhere else, no stopping. She’s expecting me this time?” His mother snorted, releasing his chin and giving him a shove towards the doorway, gesturing for him to put on the cloak. Setting down the basket, he pulled the cloak over his head, fastening it at the collar and picking up the basket once more before moving to push open the door.

“She knows you’re on your way. Remember the consequences if you don’t return with what I want, Carlos.” He nodded, slipping out the door to make his way down the stairs towards the woods that surrounded the estate. Years spent travelling the long, twisting path between his mother’s home- not his, never his- and Granny’s Fur’s and Leathers on the outskirts of the woods had left him with little fear of the dark trees and darker inhabitants of the Fae Woods. Fear was not, after all, a wolf’s howl or the bandits that hid along the route; fear was his mother’s disappointment and the creative punishments she would come up with, fear was the sensation that he would always be under her thumb. The trail began on a stone pathway (twenty eight blue grey flagstones set into the earth) and faded into dirt, no real markers besides a clearing of fauna on well trod earth. He followed the path, stepping over stones and logs, glad that his mother had sent him early enough in the day that he had enough light to travel by without worrying about tripping in the dark.

Peering into the basket, he frowned as he noted the size of the coin bag; the pile of furs he would be returning with would most likely be heavy, and he didn’t look forward to the walk back with them. He didn’t particularly want to deal with Granny herself, either- the woman was ancient and terrible, smelling like urine and the tanning chemicals she used to treat the leathers she made while treating him like the next animal to wind up under her knife- but he had little choice in the matter. Had he refused, Cruella would have made him regret it, perhaps by way of the cellar or one of her many fur closets, lined with bear traps.

“Hello, little boy.” He jumped, startled at the sudden voice, and clutched the basket closer to himself, tucking it under his hood some as he glanced around.

“If you’re a bandit, I’ve got a knife and I’m not afraid to use it.” It was a lie, of course; Cruella would never give him anything he could possibly use against her, but the stranger who owned the voice need not know that. There was a chuckle from his left, and he turned slightly to face the trees clustered near where the voice had come from, eyes scanning the area for whoever had spoken.

“I’m not a bandit, dude.” Narrowing his eyes, Carlos backed into a tree, eager to have something solid at his back as he pulled his cloak tighter. There was a rustle, and then to his horror a large, black furred wolf stepped onto the path. He had never like canines- dogs, wolves, anything close to the sort terrified him to the point of being frozen most times. The wolf was huge; larger than any animal he’d ever seen, for sure, and certainly larger than his fifteen year old self.

“No, I can very much see that. You can just stay there then, that’s alright. I still have that knife after all.” His voice barely wavered, and his fingers tightened on his basket once more. The wolf stalked towards him, unheeding of his words as it’s nose sniffed the air, and he felt the rumble of the animal’s laugh as he pressed back into the tree more.

“You don’t have a knife. Don’t worry, little boy, I’m not going to eat you if that’s what you’re scared of. I don’t like eating people.” Carlos wasn’t sure he believed that, but he had little time to consider it as the wolf took a leap towards him. Bringing his arms up to cover his face he whimpered, waiting for strong jaws to clamp down around him, for the sharp pain so familiar to him to sweep over him. When nothing seemed to happen, he slowly lowered his arms, frowning as he took in the sight before him. Where once had been a wolf stood a boy perhaps two years older than him, long dark hair the colour of the wolf’s fur tied up at the top of his head.

“What….who are you? Where is the wolf?” Letting his gaze dart around, he noted that the animal seemed to have disappeared completely. The boy grinned at him, wide and toothy as he gave a little mock bow.

“The name is Jay, and I am the wolf. The wolf is me. I didn’t think it was that complicated to understand, I jumped as a wolf and then I was a boy. I thought you were suppose to be smart? Mal’s always saying that Evie says you’re a genius, but if you can’t even figure that out…” Carlos’ brow furrowed, and he let his grip on the basket loosen some.

“You know…Evie?” The dark haired girl spent time with him in the few classes his mother had allowed him to attend, always nice and wanting to make sure he was okay. Jay nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Carlos, his eyes flitting from the hood still pulled over Carlos’ head to the younger teen’s face.

“We’re friends. She asked me to come check on you, actually, she was worried when your mother pulled you from school today.” Clever eyes traced over his body, and Carlos tugged the cloak tighter around himself, frown deepening. “We’ve been watching over you for awhile now, you know.” Strong hands moved to pull on the cloaks ties, and Carlos attempted to step back against the tree more, startled at the movement. “Everyone in these woods knows about Cruella de Vil’s little pup. You’re pretty…famous around here.” Carlos raised a brow, less scared of the teen than he had been of the wolf by far. He knew how to deal with humans, for the most part; and the boy before him had far duller teeth than the wolf had.

“I can’t say that’s encouraging. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make it to Granny’s and back before dinner time. Mom doesn’t like being served after six.” Jay frowned, moving as though to stop Carlos as he turned to begin down the trail again, retying his cloak as he swiftly moved past the older boy.

“Hey, no, wait, let me walk you at least. Evie would murder me if I let you walk alone when Mal’s in one of her moods.” Carlos gave him a blank look before he began walking again, and Jay quickly fell in step with him as they headed towards Granny’s. They walked silently for a good section of the path, Jay only speaking to offer to take the basket for Carlos when it began to get cumbersome for the smaller teen and Carlos only responding with simple refusals.

“Who is Mal?” Jay tilted his head, glancing at Carlos as they turned down the straightway that lead to Granny’s.

“Do you know the rumor about the dragon in the forest?” Carlos nodded, and Jay smirked at him. “That’s Mal. She’s fae kin, likes to roam around as a dragon to scare the shit out of the bandits around here. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t seen her, to be honest. She’s pretty partial to tailing you when you’re walking back late at night.” Carlos shrugged, and Jay gave a little hum. “I like following you when you’re not wearing this damn cloak. Did your mom have it magicked to smell like dead animals and blood, or is the scent just a natural aroma for you?” Carlos winced, one hand moving to play with the ties of his cloak as he kept his gaze steadily ahead of him.

“I sleep in a fur closet full of bear traps. This is my only blanket. The smell of the dead furs was bound to seep into it, and the blood is from me. Any more needlessly stupid questions, or can we continue this hellish walk you’re intent on forcing me to go through? I already told you, I have to get back before supper time. You may be free to run around the woods at all hours, but I don’t have that luxury. So. Shall we?” He gestured ahead of him, and Jay frowned, staring at him for a long minute before taking a few steps forward, his form shifting back into the large black wolf.

“Sounds shitty. I mean yeah, I get to go wherever I want, but I’m still cursed with the wolf so there’s that. I wasn’t born this way.” Carlos cast him a curious look, and the wolf shook his large head. “I got caught stealing for my dad from a witch, and when he realized who she was, he tried to kill her. She caught on and tried to curse him. Instead of him being cursed, he threw me in the way of the spell and here I am with my furry little problem. It’s not too terrible I guess, but sometimes I’d like to just be normal, you know?” Carlos watched the wolf, still wary of the creature, though less scared than he had been knowing now that the creature was actually human. He thought on his mother, on his life, and shook his head, pausing in his steps.

“Being normal…I don’t know what that’s like. But being scared…I can understand why the witch would want to defend herself. Sometimes, I wish I could do something like curse the person who’s hurting me. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be free, even if I turned into a wolf because of a curse. You may not see it like a freedom, but…I’d give anything to not have to go back to that house.” He didn’t know why he was telling the other anything about his life at home; fear of what his mother would do to him had kept him silent for so long, but in the woods it was as though she couldn’t touch him at all.

“Huh. Never really looked at it that way, I guess. But, like, what’s keeping you from just running away dude?” Carlos shrugged, letting his gaze wander from the trees around him to the wolf at his side.

“And where would I go if I ran?” They began walking in silence again, before the wolf gave a huff.

“Live in the woods with me and Mal. You said you wish you had freedom like me? Take it.” Carlos laughed, a dark sort of chuckle as he shifted the basket in his hands, turning a look of disbelief on the canine beside him.

“Live in the woods. I can’t…you’re insane, I can’t just live in the woods. Where will I sleep? What will I eat? I have no tools, nothing to keep myself safe.” His eyes widened as Jay shifted back to human, his lips curling into a wolfish smirk as Carlos realized what he had said.

“Knew you didn’t have a knife.” Carlos scowled at the teen, and Jay’s smirk widened. “Look, I’ll protect you. Mal and I have a place, in the Deep Woods, further off the path than any sane people tend to travel. You can stay with us. Evie says you’re good at fixing things, maybe we could come up with some stuff for you to do in exchange.” Carlos bit his lower lip, thinking about it. Take a chance on a stranger who could turn into a wolf, or return to the hell that was his mother…

“I think I’ll take my chance with the wolf.” he muttered, and beside him Jay perked up. “I’ll come with you. What’s the worst you can do, kill me?” Jay blinked at that, and Carlos flashed him a dangerous grin. “Trust me, I know more than one way to skin a dog. You know who my mother is. So don’t think I’m completely unable to protect myself. No funny stuff.” Jay raised his hands, and Carlos stilled, putting down the basket to untie his cloak. He hung it from a tree branch, inspecting it a moment before gesturing at it. “Rip that up some. If she thinks I’m still alive, she’ll send hunters for me.” Jay nodded, his fingers turning to claws as he struck out at the fabric, ripping long, jagged lines through the material. Carlos took a steadying breath, holding out his arm to the wolf-man. “Now, cut me so I bleed. It has to be convincing, and no one’s going to believe a wolf ate me with no blood anywhere.” Jay hesitated, and Carlos rolled his eyes, reaching to take his hand and force his claws into the skin of his forearm. Watching the blood well up, he rubbed his hand over his arm before smearing bloody handprints on the tree the cloak hung from before tearing off a strip to wrap around the injury.

“Smart.” Carlos shrugged, turning back to look at Jay once he was satisfied that the area looked convincing. “Shall we then?” Carlos gestured for Jay to lead the way, leaning to scoop up his basket as they headed off of the familiar path into the deeper woods, and he couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement from travelling along his spine.

It was time for a new start.

[ainmunaqadh]

memory log 0.5

Ain’s P.O.V (point of view)

Ishtar Academy. The research facility thats well known throughout the solar system. Here today, me and my batch of students from my school will be going to a trip there. Only the 12th grade year of students of my school had the privilege to go there due to some odd...reasons we students don’t know. Probably because they knew we were all training to become Guardians. Whatever reasons, we certainly didnt want to miss out this chance. Though some parents didn’t really approve of this trip, but after some explanation they seemed pretty okay with it soon after including my strict father. The trip was just a few days trip and just a day at the Ishtar Academy to not make the protective parents worry as it will be our first time into space. It felt like a dream to head to Ishtar Academy. They discovered plenty of things over there. I really liked researching and this could a chance to sharpen my skills for my dream job. A researcher. This was just a day trip and literally everyone was feeling anxious including myself. My father fortunately had a few days off before he go back to his work with Mr. Bray. My father did some lecturers about life choices. Those parent-child talks. You know the thing. He’s a protective dad after all.

Soon enough, the day came and all of us went into the space ship that looked like sci-fi space trains from Mass Effect. Almost like the Normandy but bigger. Once on board, we all took ourselves to our rooms and shared rooms with some friends of the same gender for safety reasons.

“Hehe, I’d be glad if I managed to catch an attention of a fellow researcher. It’d be awesome to do their work!” My friend Lidwina exclaimed as she rises from her bed.”To think to become a guardian and research at the same time, oh wait that’s a Warlock thing.”

Charmaine, one of my friends, looked toward me as she was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed,”Ain you want to be a Hunter actually right?”

I was on my bed, sketching on my sketchbook. I was sketching out myself as a guardian with my own Ghost(which I’ll soon have). Thinking, saving lives and doing good deeds to achieve great sense of honor and nobility.”Yeah, my mentor is a Hunter so I’ll be a Hunter. But being a Warlock doesn’t seem bad either it is?” I chuckle to myself, thinking myself as a Warlock instead of a Hunter.

“Boo. Warlocks are space wizards and nerds. Look Goh, Hakimi, Wong and the others. Nerds and they fit the Warlock stereotype.” Lidwina crossed her arms and did a pouty face hearing my last sentence. All three of us are going to be official Hunters some day. When that day arrives, we’ll all make it worth for us , our mentors and everyone else in our lives.

“Oh please, not all Warlocks are like that. Same goes for Titans and Hunters. Like what if a Warlock can do well with knifes? What if a Hunter wants to float like a Warlock? What if a Titan fights more like a Hunter?” I finished up the final touch ups in my sketch as I indeed looked awesome in my cloak with my mentor Brendan by my side.”In fact, let’s make a bet. If one of us attains both classes, be it Hunter-Warlock or so on combination, the other two losses. ”Don’t jinx it if it happens to me especially. Chances are high if you’re keen on it. Up to the Traveller really.”

Lidwina and Charmaine looked at each other with slight hesitation. I rarely make bets but when I do, I would win no doubt as the probabilities of my winning were like...99.9%. Even so, they nodded and agreed.”Fine.”

Days passed, we finally reach to Venus and there stood the famous Ishtar Academy. I could’ve swear some of us would like to go continue our studies there once we graduated out of high school. We were greeted by some of the professors there and were much welcomed. We were taken around the place and it was huge. Bigger than any university we’ve been to. The professors even asked what job we’d like be to part of aside from being Guardians. They were happy to hear some of us like to continue their higher education here at Ishtar Academy.

“Alright students, I’m sure you all got your piece of papers we just handed out to you. Listen, those lucky enough will have a name written on their paper. If you get a name, you will be spending time with that person who is a fellow researcher here.”

Everyone looked at their folded piece of paper in their hands. Some crossed their fingers and hoped they get a name.

“Alright kids open your paper!”

Everyone then unfolded their papers before a lot of groans and cheering was heard all around. The groans were probably from those who got a blank page and the cheering was from those who got a name. I just stood there in silent. I got a name. Dr Maya Sundaresh. She sounds like a prestigious person from the sound of her name. Her name even sounds pretty.

“Ain you got a name? Wah lucky you!” Lidwina showed her blank paper as she looked quite upset but calmed herself anyway.

“You lucked out Ain. I didn’t get a name either. I heard Goh did. As expected from the top student of our batch.”Charmaine shrugs as she held out her blank page before putting it back into her pocket,”Those who didn’t get a name will go around the Academy with the staff members to the projection room. We’re going on in a 3D simulation project to test our skills as guardians.”

“Ah that sounds grand. Wish I could join but of course I’m going to be with Dr Maya. A real experience.I ‘ll see you both later.” I walked off according to the directions showed on the map to Dr Maya’s lab office.

Once arriving there, I knocked on the door to let her know I was coming in.”Hello? Dr Maya?”

Exo’s P.O.V or Cayde

Still an average day for a fixture like me. Like usual day. I just stood there close by the door way while watching over Dr Maya who was as usual focusing on her research. I still haven’t felt anything. Just this ache in my cold husk that gave up to the ice long ago. Maya will never see me other than a fixture. Nothing else. Because I’m not a living being in the flesh. I was just metal. With not much memories from when I was human, that doesn’t matter. I’ll just remain like this anyway. Unless someone with a good and pure heart came into my life. Chances are pretty grim.

But then I heard a knock and voice outside the door.

”Hello? Dr Maya?”

The door slowly opened as apparently I was the first thing that greeted her. She just looks at me for a moment before she smiled. Smiled. The first time...someone actually saw me as an actual being and not some kind of nutcracker statue or anything that’s usual ignored. Her hair was a soft ebony black and slightly wavy. Her skin a fair colour and her eyes a dark brown like the soil from Earth. She reminded me of Snow White somehow. Her smile...bright as a star that I felt something in me. Maybe my wish was heard.

Dr Maya immediately looked back from her work once the girl entered the room. The girl wore a school uniform. White blouse and a long sky blue skirt. Simple but it definitely looked cute on her. Her wavy hair was long as it was tied up into a ponytail. It definitely added something to her appearance.

“You’re a student from that school are you not? You got my name?” As always, Maya sounded serious but this time she sounded friendly to not scare the girl.”Dr Maya Sundaresh but you probably know my name already.””

“Yep!” She held out the paper with Maya’s name on it,”I’m Ain! Honoured to meet a researcher like you!”

Ain....that was quite a name. Pretty in fact. Short but pretty. Like herself. Her voice was something else too. Feminine but had a leadership sense to it. This Ain girl seemed like something grand in the near future perhaps.

Dr Maya and Ain immediately got back to what Maya was doing but starting with the basics. Maya told Ain about their research on the Vex and Ain had pointed out a few facts. She was a real smart kiddo. Brilliant like Maya but more...brilliant than Maya. Sure she was nervous and stuttered a few times but it actually made Maya chuckled. Have I never saw her chuckle or even smile before. Ain had that cheerful and happy go lucky aura. Ain even told Maya about her becoming a Guardian soon. A Hunter in fact. Nice choice. Her skills will be fantastic to say from her description of results in her training. It was harsh but important. Maya prepared a lab coat her size. She looked like a mini professor to be honest. Her giggles were really something too. All I could do was just watch even during Maya taking a picture of Ain in her lab coat. I was just a fixture. In the background. Nothing important than metal. At least just to Maya anyway. Ain smiled at me. Maybe she thinks of me differently.

Hours passed and apparently it was time for Ain to  gather up with the other students to head back to Earth. I was feeling sad to see her leave. Sad? I actually feel an emotion? That’s a progress. To think a girl like her made me feel this way, may be she’s the actual person I need to see myself better. To put up myself as an individual and not a fixture.

“Thank you Dr Maya. For the tips and everything. Hope that I’ll pass the final exam!” She turns around to walk back to the door way with her own ID card in her pocket. The ID card will give her access to any part of the place, if she plans to return to which I hope so. She then stops for a moment before looking over to me. Her dark brown eyes meeting my aqua blue optics. She smiled at me once more.”It was nice meeting you too.”She then resumed to walk out of the room and Maya just straight went back to her work without gazing at me or whatsoever. Ain was the only that noticed me as an actual person.

Ain is....quite an interesting person to say. Interesting I mean....I could’ve swore...I could have a crush on her. Probably. It was hopeless anyway. I won’t see her again.

Or maybe I will. When I do, I won’t take her for granted.

Ain’s P.O.V

As much as it was interesting to be with Dr Maya, that blue Exo looked intriguing as well. Despite not speaking or all, he just made sure we would be both safe from harm. He was the security officer after all. I see in his optics. Widening whenever I smiled or look at him for a moment. I could’t tell if he felt anything. Dad didn’t specifically say if Exos could feel anything or not. Still, I’d just smiled just in case so he would’t feel left out. He was quite tail. Normal for a male exo to be that tall. I only reached up to his shoulders. Yes I am indeed small.’

Receiving the ID card from Maya, I put it in my pocket before heading out to the others at the entrance as it was time to head back home. Just then, I stopped to look to the Exo once more.

I smiled,”It was nice meeting you too.” Of course, his optics widen slightly to which I chuckled softly while walking out of the room. He surely was quite of an Exo. Almost good looking. Okay I will admit that. He is rather a good looking Exo but that doesn’t mean I like him...maybe.

Back at the entrance, we took a lot of group photos and even with the professors that were gonna say their goodbyes to us. Everyone else also got an ID card. Just in case we plan to return. Once we got onto the ship, we all got the windows and waved to the professors.

That night, all of us were back in our rooms. Talking about what we did at the Academy. Of course, Lidwina and Charmaine asked me plenty of questions

.“Anything else”

I sigh to Lidwina’s question,”well there was this Exo who is the security officer. He was quite interesting too. He didnt speak but he was always surprised whenever I smiled at him.” I chuckled once more, remembering those moments.

“Ohhhh....an Exo hmm? Never practically saw one myself.” Charmaine crossed her arms and smirked,”Surprised to see you smile at him? That sounds obvious.”

I then punched Charmaine’s, but not too rough,”Oh no no. It‘s not like that. Honestly. I felt his pain of just being in the background. I wanted to make him to feel like an individual. Exos have a mind of their own after all." But I never told them that Exos were actually once humans.”So I did. By smiling at him and actually paying attention to him.”

Lidwina snickered quietly,”awww how sweet of you. Caring for a robot” To which she earned a pillow hit right in her face.

“Anyhow, we should head to sleep. It’s getting practically late.” I was right somehow. It was almost midnight and we were supposed to wake up early tomorrow. And yes I used this as an excuse to get away from more questions.

Lidwina did the pouty face once more before crossing her arms,”Uh fine. But you better tell us more tomorrow. The whole class.”

Charmaine giggled softly hearing this,”presentation. Goh and those who got names will tell their stories as well.” She lies down on her bed before yawning softly with Lidwina yawning as well.

I lied down on my bed with my head on my pillow and my blanket covering myself. We were all indeed exhausted from going here and there.” Will do. Good night you two.”

“Good night..”

I snapped my fingers as the lights automatically switched off with all of us going into dreamland or just a deep sleep.

To be honest, that Exo was more interesting than I thought. I sure hope I can spend more time with him. Or maybe talk to him to hear his voice.

I’ll definitely won’t miss chance.

[hillywooddestiel]

Switched: Chapter 3

Characters: Sam, Dean, Hunter!reader, Cas, Rowena

Warnings: violence and I think that's about it

Word count: 1k

Description: Stuck for solutions, you decide to call Rowena to see if she can possibly help undo this body swap...

A/N: Sorry that this took a while. Been a bit stuck for inspiration and just felt like writing some other stories. But, here it is, the final part of switched. So I guess it was a mini series, but planning a longer story is still tricky. Hope you enjoy xx

Catch up!: Part 2

Story:

“Little Samuel, how nice to hear from you…” Rowena coos down the phone. “Actually it’s not Sam, this is Y/N. It’s a long story. The short version is we need your… help” the sentence feels wrong to say. After all, putting your trust in Rowena is like leaving an untrained puppy in a china shop- risky! “Well okay then, if you say so. This sounds like it should be fun. But remember that you will owe me big time.” She giggles then the line goes dead. You turn to Sam who’s staring questioningly with Cas’s ocean blue eyes. “She says that she’s going to help. Not sure when she’ll get here…” As if on cue, there’s a loud bang on the bunker doors. Both you and Sam rush up the stairs and open it. There stands Rowena in all her smugness. “How did you get here so-” you start. “Witch, Moose. Remember?” She says condescendingly, pointing and circling her face. “Right… But I’m not Sam.” “Yes, I know that pumpkin. Sammy wouldn’t be asking all the dumb questions,” she turns to the real Sam “And I take it you’re not really the feathered one either?” “No, I’m Sam actually. Cas is in Dean’s body and Dean is, well, you get the picture…” Rowena laughs hysterically, “Okay, got it. Tea anyone?” She smiles sweetly as she totters off into the kitchen, somehow already knowing her way around the bunker. You sigh exasperatedly, knowing full well that you would never hear the end of all her mocking, and follow her.

Gathered in the kitchen, cups of tea in hand, Rowena gets straight to business, “From what you’ve told me, it’s a curse that only the most skilled witches can perform, myself included. It sounds like the McDoon family. They’re fans of a good body swap. Quite the comedic clan, actually.” “Great. How do we stop them?” You turn to face Dean, only to catch him staring down his own top, “Ahem, Dean. Eyes up here please.” You order him. He just snaps back up and grins at you; being in a girl’s body has it’s perks for Dean. “Well, the only surefire way to rid of this quite hilarious curse is to kill the witch that cast it.” Rowena states, her voice less cheerful. “Time for a witch hunt then. See you all in the car in 15.” Dean gets up, almost tripping over himself in your boots.

After a 7 hour drive, you arrive back in the town where you first found the witches. The Impala feels a little like a clown car, what with Sam, Cas and Rowena squished in the back. With Sam’s long legs, you luckily get shotgun. You had managed to track down the McDoons to an abandoned house at the edge of town and were now parked just a few streets away. “We all clear on the plan? Good.” Dean leaps out and darts to the trunk. Before Rowena can get out, Dean shuts and locks the doors. You hear a muffled ‘Hey!’ and she starts tapping the windows. “Dean, what are you doing?” You ask, confused. This was not mentioned in the plan. “We can’t trust her! We have the info we need, let’s just gank these sons of bitches and get back to normal. Unless you want to stay and babysit?” You shake your head quickly and grab a gun and some witch-killing bullets from the trunk. “You’ll regret this Deano! You need me in there! Let. Me. Out!” Rowena calls from the car.

So far, the hunt had gone as far from to-plan as burned cupcakes. Dean was out cold, Sam was tied up, Cas seemed to be chasing imaginary butterflies (thanks to a spell) and you were pinned to a wall by invisible forces. One of the witches, presumably the one in charge, stood in front of you, taunting you. “How’ve you been? Being in a man’s body can be tough but you get used to it. Not that you have much time left.” She cackles, swishing her wine-coloured cloak around. In her hands, she holds an intricately carved ritual knife encrusted with rubies. Waving it like a wand, she brings it to your face, the blade sinking into your cheek. “You hunters should know better than to mess with my family…” Her voice is low, almost seductive. “Yeah? Well then you should know not to mess with me and mine!” You spit. She just wipes her face and smiles, her rotten teeth on full display. Lowering the knife to your chest, she watches your face intently to see your fear. You can feel the end coming. And you know what that feels like, dying is part of the job description of a hunter. She brings back the knife to plunge it into your heart. BANG. The blade drops as her body falls lifeless to the ground.

You drop to the floor, the invisible forces holding you up no longer there. In front of you stands you, holding a gun. “Woke up just in time huh, Sleeping Beauty?” you smirk. Before Dean can reply, convulsions take over both your bodies and you see a purple light.

Gasping for air, you shoot up into a seated position. In front of you lies… Sam? Realization kicking in, you dash to the mirror in the hallway. “I’m me again!” You jump with delight. As fun as it was being tall, it’s good to be back in your own body. “Y/N?” Sam groggily hold his hands to his head. Feeling his own long hair again, his eyes widen. “Is it over?” You nod, skipping over to help him up. “Hey, uh, is everyone alright, and, you know, themselves?” Dean rounds the corner with Cas in tow. “Uh-huh!” you can’t help but smile. “Everything appears to be in order once again.” Cas says monotonously, back to his old logical self.

Back at the car, you find Rowena sat quietly, picking at her nails. “I take it that the plan worked?” She queries bitterly, not making eye contact with anyone. “Yeah. Were all ourselves again.” You inform her, sliding into the back seat. “Well, lock me in the car again and I’ll make sure the curse sticks next time!” She threatens, mostly aiming it at Dean. He just sighs as the Impala rumbles to life and drives off.

Published by @hillywooddestiel 25.06.17

[kisaell]

[”write nice things for your OCs Kisa”.......... Whoops I angsted again rip]

It was like there was a hole in the fabric of space.

“Syl... Where did you? How?” Karine stood at her door, bags under her eyes and the soft crying of a child floating from the darkness behind her; Sylvia looked to her friend, eyes bloodshot with tear tracks stained against her skin.

“... It's been too long, my friend.” Her smile appeared for only a moment, the elven woman's legs giving out from underneath her. Karine only just managed to catch Sylvia; her words dying in her throat, replaced with a panicked whimper.

“Astor...” Syliva weakly pushed back her cloak, showing the small child that was unconscious at her side, “This is Astor...”

It was then Karine noticed the wound, dire... Fatal... The realisation hit the Naga, winding her of all reason, “No! No, you... You used your own blood? Why?” She lifted her friend closer, placing a kiss on Sylvia's forehead, “It's okay... This will be okay. I have spare beds a-and lots of gold. I can fix this. I can sa-” Her words were cut short by the sight of a silver blade.

“My life is tied to the spell, Kari...” Sylvia intertwined her fingers into Karine's, placing the hilt of the dagger between them, “The only way to end it is for me to die.” The Naga looked back to the hole and her pupils narrowed, “I can fix this. I don't know how but I will fix this. I will not-” Karine was once again interrupted. “I don't want to be taken by the Endless Sleep, Kari. Please, let us meet against in the Grand Hunt.” Sylvia's bright blue eyes softened as Karine's crimson glare swapped from the spell back to the elf.

“Who did this to you?” Karine's haggard breath calmed slightly, “And what happened to Valko?” She gripped onto Sylvia's hand and the hilt of the knife like it were her only hope. “The Gryphon Warlord Kurtthnox. He raided the village, killed Valko and fathered Astor.” Sylvia cast a sorrowful look at her child, “They know all about their aunt Karine. It will be alright.”

“Aunt Karine, huh...” Karine's voice broke slightly, “Syl... I don't want to do this...” She tried to loosen her grip but Sylvia held her tight.

“I know.” The elven woman, “Graveyard. Graveyard, do you weep?” Sylvia's voice, cracked and dry was louder than any horns of the hunt. “... For long lost souls in endless sleep...” Karine, closing her eyes and helping Sylvia place the tip of the dagger over a heart beating by miracle alone. “But this fair one, with blade ne'er blunt...” The elven woman cast her final look, a soft and resolved smile gracing her features as Karine finished the Ritual. “Await eternity in thee, Great Hunt.”

The hole winked out of existence with no fanfare.

Karine did not move for what felt like an eternity. It was only the soft stirring of this 'Astor' that woke her from the numb trance she fell into. There was disgust; this thing was the reason Sylvia died... A Hunter like her would have been stronger if not weakened by this offspring, she would have survived... Something inside clicked like a switch, now honey coloured eyes warming to the child. To Sylvia's child; to all that was left of Karine's family.

The Naga took the child into her arms and with a great sigh, found a place for them in her home; but when she returned to commit Sylvia to the earth... Karine found the body gone and only by the grace of her Hunter's Eyes did she spot the vanishing image of an Orc tail. Locking the door behind her, Karine followed in pursuit.

There was nothing that would ever quell the rage in her soul.

[tammyhybrid21]

Let’s Play Colour Meanings!

(A Personal Reflection)

So... I’ve been meaning to do this for a while honestly... a colour meaning thing. Based on my childhood associations(and honestly they’re still associations I have) of certain colours and how they are really seen. A mixture of just culture, and the general idea of how something might be viewed... Also for the most part this will be relatively basic, since it’s from myself... and kind of from before I properly researched a colours meaning.

So this my personal association with colours, and a small glimpse into my mind... Which yeah...

Please don’t take this too seriously, and don’t attack me over it, because it’s a personal interpretation of colour meanings. Also I will likely include at least some insight into my process when designing characters beyond just how the colours look... and yes, I will be talking about some old “cringe” OCs that I had in the past, even if they likely won’t be drawn and/or included in this(although you never know...) this is a colour talk after all.

Also, just a small note, even though they’re in a vague kind of order, they weren’t necessarily written about in that order... because well, yeah.

Black(#080808) & White(#F8F8F8)

Duality... A clean slate, Black and white sort of always go together. And honestly on their own neither colour has really ever had that much meaning to me. Sure white is beginnings and cleanliness, but black is also a clean colour, a beginning of its own. Both have tones of mystery, both have shades of mourning, and both kind of feel like potential. They’re waiting to change, and to become something more...

I honestly don’t have much to say about these colours on their own. Together they are contrast, opposites, equalizers... I don’t know what else that there really is to say about the two. Maybe the darkness verses light thing? But really there isn’t much I can say about them. Because they were kind of interchangeable...

Contrast, balance, mourning and mystery. Chess and Checkers...

...

Okay, let’s be serious here.

Both of these colours are simplicity. At the base level when I want someone to be plain, I will go with white and/or black. Sure they each do have some subtle differences but that’s for my own interpretation... and here we go. Since I guess that’s important.

Traditionally black is the colour of mourning, but I never really associated it with that. Black was teenagers, it was a transition, darkness and night. It was the unknown and with just a touch of shelter, because you can’t see me in the darkness. Black was dogs, and the loyalty that they showed. Black was also a covering, a shield, it was the colour that closed things. It hid things and cared for them. Black was an ending, and a beginning at the same time. It was of course also associated with a general unease, slight trace of fear, and moral ambiguity. It was a stranger, a friend. A promise. That was black.

White on the other hand, a wedding dress, a new beginning, hospitals and cleanliness. A blank page waiting to be drawn or written on. White is the colour of a reveal of being washed clean and purity. White was a dove and freedom, the clouds drifting away in the sky. The moon smiling down on the night time world. White was open and honest, it was the colour that opened things. It was also an ending, washing away the past, forgiveness. An apology that was white.

Together they are duality and contrast. A beginning and an end, and both feel incomplete on their own. They’re colours that complement others. Both have their own purity honestly, and I associate that with either. Black might be darkness but it’s not evil, and white might be light but it’s not good. Both are honestly a Neutral state. And characters wearing either colour are generally characters who’re ambiguous with their moral alignment. Strangers.

White was also religion, White is the colour that I associate with spirituality. While black is the colour associated with being spiritually lost, and stumbling about unable to find where you’re going.

Finally, black is feminine and white masculine.

Grey(#A5A5A5)

Grey is industry, buildings and solid steel. Working hard and supportive, grey is between black and white. It’s also balance, but also somewhere in the middle, grey is the colour that’s the middle of a story. A between choices colour, and it’s a colour that’s working. It’s a pillar.

A background point in many ways. Grey is the blurred lines and the times that everything just fades away.

Grey is a colour associated with depression. A fog of apathy and a lack of care. An inability to care. Clear and construction. Mechanics, going through the motions but not really registering anything that’s happening. Blurred morals and an inability to break through. Grey is industry, and it’s a prison in many ways. But that said, grey is also a stable colour, solid and reliable. A point that you can stand on and a bridge between decisions.

Grey is the wayward point.

A turning point.

Really though, for the most part there isn’t much you can apply to grey. It’s a detached colour really, a waypoint and doesn’t hold much water on its own. A colour best in the background as a screen for the rest of it all. It tones things down and offers a balance at times, but the main thing that it is, really is being a solid standing block.

A colour that brings things into perspective.

Grey is a wall. It’s a hold please and give way. Actually, my biggest association with grey is a gravestone. A memorial. A dulled and washed out uniform, a need for conformity. Get in line and get to work. A colour that’s mechanical, routine. Bored and tired, and yet, also slightly the blur of the night.

A cloak, a shield, a knife, a robot, metal beams and tools.

Grey is industrial. Clean and routine.

Brown(#BC6610)

You want to know a funny story... Brown was actually the last colour I wrote about on this list... heh, best for last I suppose.

So yeah, nature. Dirt and dust, brown is the bark of most trees, the ground beneath our feet, and almost everyone has hair that’s a shade of brown... or brown eyes... But seriously, brown is literally the biggest constant, and brown is animals. Wild rats, mice, many dogs and cats have brown fur, monkeys, wombats and ‘roos. Otters, weasels...

Brown is nature and it’s a constant companion. Solid and down to earth. Brown is a grounding colour, a neutral colour that’s warm and consistent. Wooden, and living. Brown is a colour that breathes. Brown is...

LIFE.

Brown is the colour I associate most with life, and living. Because it’s what holds us up really. Brown in the most consistent colour and it creeps into everything. The wood that we originally built our houses with, the tree trunks all around us, many of our furred friends, and well... you know. Brown is solid and reliable, a warm and humble colour.

Brown isn’t to be underestimated, it’s a colour that holds you and supports you. It’s a backbone colour, a base colour that can go well with more or less anything. Much like black and white, brown is a colour that’s just solid. And more than that though...

Brown is wild.

Brown is the wilderness, the wilds. Cliffs and caverns, the caves below ground, rock and dust. The earth that shifts and moves. It can be an earthquake, a mudslide, or it can be a breathtaking divide to stare at. A winding ravine, a solid mountain. And of course the trees, towering overhead and stretching on, living for hundreds of years. Growing far beyond what we can imagine, what we can visualise.

Brown is endurance, solidarity, support. A colour that you can rest on, a colour that you can count on. It breathes reassurance, and nature and the knowledge that it’s alright, you can rest now. It will keep you covered and warm. Brown is... by its nature a support.

Really though, brown is a colour that represents age and maturity. The understanding that you have the time to wait, to simply observe things. Be a silent witness. To grow and have the wisdom of what’s happened. Brown is a colour that reflects history and time. Its solid and support and a silent acceptance of the inevitability of growing up.

And it’s a colour that represents age as a result. Maturity and nature. And yet there’s still that touch of the wilds in it. The great unknown, since it’s got so many contrasts and again, mystery. Just a touch of daring.

Green(#00C400)

Alright! Let’s talk about green, a colour that’s really weird for me to sort of start talking about because my thoughts on green are kind of... scattered. But really, the most obvious thought is the one I’m going to begin with. Green is nature. It’s all around us, and it’s the thing that tells you Spring is coming.

New growth, plants and nature.

Green is also envy.

Green is a colour that is sort of hard for me to think about. Because green was another constant colour, like blue it was always there. Always around, reliable. But unlike blue there was a challenge to it. Green was sort of this mystical colour, it represented the great outdoors and the great unknown. What things could possibly be lurking in those bushes? It the grass, what mysteries were hidden in the leaves.

It was the rush of adventure, the thrill of a mystery.

And of course, green was envy, and villains. Dangerous and toxic. Poison. And feeling a bit green around the gills, it represented feeling sick, pale and sickly.

It could be healing, so it was a medicine, but many medicines can also be poisons. And again, envy, the coveting of something that isn’t yours. Can’t be yours. Another poison really, the most dangerous poison is envy, that toxic feeling of wanting something that someone else has and the desire to do anything, anything to get it.

Green in many ways was a warning colour. A temptation, the lure of adventure, but tapered with something just slightly dangerous. You couldn’t know what was hiding there after all. It could be a small tiny mouse, or a dangerous deadly snake who’s rest you’ve disturbed. Green is a colour that hides things, it hides it’s true meaning, and hides secrets that you can’t see.

It is the rush of adventure and the thrill of a mystery. But it’s a warning, danger and do not touch, this isn’t safe for you to consume, or maybe it is, most vegetables are green after all. It’s a colour for health, both good and ill.

It’s a colour of ambition, the craving of recognition. And green is in many ways a competitive colour.

Plants compete after all. Nature is a war-field really. Animals hunt and kill to survive, even insects, and the plants are no different. When there’s a water source and a root system they can choke each other competing over it. And if you’ve ever run across prickly plants, thornbushes or poison ivy you know how nasty those can be to deal with. It’s a colour that can be very offensive, poking you and confusing you. Easily claiming your sense of direction and getting you lost. Overwhelming you...

Green is dangerous.

It’s a colour that lives temptation, warnings, and intrigue.

Green is a colour that really, I associate with mystery and curiosity, warnings and villains. Danger, and health.  

Blue(#354AE3)

Water, flexibility. Haha, but here’s the thing. Blue is an odd one, because I was in Blue House for School Sports... So it’s a sporty colour as well. Blue is cool, it’s calm, and it’s adaptive. It was also a colour that I associated with speed, gotta go fast!(Yes Sonic was my biggest blue expose), Blue is also another colour associated with freedom. It’s also a very open colour, a colour I associate with large expanses, since the ocean and the sky that are both blue are both incredibly large.

Open and wide, stretching out. Blue is the colour that drifts along, it’s easy-going and laid back, it’s a colour that doesn’t take too much and just rolls with things. Flowing and adapting to what’s put in its way. But at the same time, blue is a sad colour, it’s the colour you associate with depression, with the cold. Blue is a cool colour and perfect for a hot day, but can be too cold and chill. And when it’s ice, it’s unyielding.

Blue is persistent, time and constant pressure, it’s a colour that slowly changes you. It’s boys, and bruises. Blue is the colour of the planet, and it’s soothing. Blue is the colour for relaxing, and calm. But it’s also the colour of the rain, of a storm and the pelting hail against a roof. It’s speed, a river and a certain blue blur. It’s soundwaves, and song.

But also...

Blue is the colour of the ocean, and it’s a mysterious colour. It’s the colour of a lure, of a mystery, of the fish in the sea. It’s the allure of what lurks beneath the surface. Blue was also a colour that meant school, and regulation, rules.

Blue’s constant, an ebb and a flow, it comes and it goes. It’s the change of the seasons, the wide open sky, the call to adventure. It adapts, it changes, it’s calm, chill, laid back and yet ready to race ahead. It’s also a colour that evokes a sense of wonder, of mystery, and while it’s definitely one I associate with integrity, with loyalty and honesty... it’s also a colour that hides danger. You never know what might be lurking under the surface in the water after all, and it’s a warning. It’s in music, the pulse of a beat, it’s the colour of sports, and swimming, it’s running around and it’s open.

Blue is humble and constant, and it listens, learns and finds a way to keep you moving ahead.

Much of my associations for blue came from water really, and the world around me. So I very much see it like a river, and the ocean, something that while it has a familiarity, it could change at any moment and is much, much more dangerous than you would expect. Not passive, but a warning.

Red(#FF2400)

Scarlet for the Harlot... Ahahahhahahahaha... hah...

Okay, this is kind of bad. But... Red has always been an angry colour, and associated with negativity. For me, red has always been the colour you want to use to signify rebellion, for anger, and rage and... well uh... prostitution. And much of it is actually from reading well... the bible. Which yeah, I mean just think about it for a moment... but also... aside how red is a colour that many, many people who done bad things wore...

Red is blood. Blood is life, therefore, red is a colour that means life. It’s vibrancy, it’s passion, red is a colour charged with an energy. Stubbornness, determination. Red rages and screams, calls for attention. It’s for war and for fighting, for competition. And yes, it’s a colour that I associate with a lot of negativity. Because red grabs for your attention.

And yes, red is the colour of the prostitute... It’s a sexual colour, lust and wine, debauchery. And its angry. Red is also urgency, and in a way, red is the colour that I think of for fear. For cowardice in a way... because what could be more cowardly than fighting someone when you should and could talk? What could be more cowardly than evading your emotions, or worse, letting them drive you so far? Red is weakness.

That said...

Red is also in a weird position, because I have several characters who have red rather notably part of their design... and a few others who began with red, and then had it eeked out. Because red is rebellion, and again a teenage colour. Its war and fighting, a competition, and it’s passion. Wrath and rage, anger, and demanding attention. It’s the colour you wear to indicate trouble.

So I need to share a few old(and a few new) examples...

The original design of Tamara Alto for example, with her red shorts... Which didn’t last long in all honesty... her cousin, who was red and often kind of angry...

And recently, there’s Matt... and I suppose for another old-ish character Ask...

And honestly, I suppose these guys aren’t so bad. After all red is a stimulating colour, motivational, and demands action to be taken. So it’s not all bad, but it is a colour I associate rather strongly with rage and anger, with high running emotions and a lack of control. Determination and stubbornness, and yes... it’s a cowardly and deceptive colour... for all that people seem to associate it with courage...

Red was never courage for me. But fear.

Orange(#FF860D)

Here’s courage.

Ahh... anyway. Orange is in between red and yellow you know. It’s a bit more complicated than just... courage. But yes, it is courage. And communication.

Fire, flames, heat, warmth. Orange is the colour of a comfortable flame warming your bones and offering some security. Chasing away the cold. But at the same time, that small flicker of orange is something of a warning. Something that gives you this slight edgy feeling, something isn’t quite right here. And...

Orange is fear. Since that’s what courage really is. Not the absence of fear, but knowing what that fear is and being able to overcome it. Also, orange is safety, a traffic cone. An orange life jacket, a tether a secure line to pull you back in from the edge.

That all said, you know what else orange is? It’s reckless, it’s a loud colour and demands attention. It’s also a colour that tends to somewhat rush in, announcing itself boldly and loudly. It’s a colour that races ahead and kind of steals the show a little bit. It’s the colour of a protagonist... It’s an open and easy colour, loud and proud, calling attention to itself. And it rushes in...

It’s a colour that speaks.

Yeah I don’t have much for orange sorry... It’s a colour that is basically safety and courage... and well. Carrots. But so a very visible and vibrant colour, but not really one that has any real deep meaning that sticks in your mind.

Oh wait...

Autumn/Fall, the changing of the leaves and the season. Transitions! Orange is a fluid colour, bright and vibrant, positive, but it’s the calm before the storm of Winter. Changes and transformations. It’s a transitional colour as well, the edge of childhood and growing up. The edge of the end of childhood.

So yeah.

Amber(#FFBF00)

Life, life finds a way...

I’m so sorry No I’m not, but seriously. Seriously, my interactions with amber as a colour are not exactly extensive. But my interactions with amber as a material are familiar, probably. Yep, Jurassic Park... So history, dinosaurs, those are things that Amber reminds me of.

Also, amber is a kind of sparkly colour, a treasure. It stores and holds things, keeps secrets and tales that you might not ever be able to know close. It’s a sticky kind of thing as well, because you can get trapped in it, and amber is something that keeps secrets. You won’t be able to know, you can’t tell what it holds. It’s a bit of a mystery really.

And it holds on.

Sturdy, history, the ancient past. And nature, time goes by and amber is the observer. Amber is a material that catches and traps moments of the past. Holding onto them for those in the future to discover and to learn more about. But yeah, amber is a bit of a weird point, because it’s kind of off to the side. It’s a treasure, a secret, a point of time a capsule.

Amber is a story that is untold, unseen. Observed but not fully known, it’s a glimpse into a time you can’t quite grasp.

But yeah, I don’t really have much for amber unfortunately. Just what I’ve stated here. It is kind of between orange and yellow though, but doesn’t really have any meanings there...

Yellow(#FFFF33)

Hey, you want an interesting story here.

Well here goes. Yellow is the sun, warmth and joy. Yellow is a bright colour and it has always been one that I have held close. Yellow is motivation. No but seriously, yellow has been an open colour to me, a motivational colour to me... and also of course. Yellow is very much a colour of energy. Movement speed, light and energy.

Okay, but in all seriousness, yellow much like orange is a bold colour, a colour of warning. Also hard work. Bees, Wasps. Swarms. Yellow is a colour that is a team effort. It’s uplifting, it cheers you on! And I have never, never associated it with fear, or cowardice. Despite the term yellow-belly... The only association that brings up is a sea snake... to be perfectly honest. So yellow is a warning, a bright colour that is associated with poison and toxicity. I mean seriously, especially when it is paired with black.

Also, you might notice, I have quite a few character’s with a heavy, very heavy yellow association.

My most original of original OCs for example, her yellow shirt, the one thing that has really remained consistent...

But seriously...

Uh, also more recently. Well, okay not too many characters but welp. Also, yellow is a colour related to the mind. Whether it is having a blonde moment, or clearing your head and thinking more clearly than ever. Yellow is a colour of free thought and thinking. Mental energy you know. And really, intelligence in a way.

Yellow is also... well...

Children, childish. It’s a colour of unbridled joy, innocence and kind of naivety. It’s bright and loud, a colour that declares your existence. It’s a statement.

Which is why as Hybrid grows taller, they actually kind of lose it... Not that I’m going to show you how that goes sorry.

Pink(#FF8BFF)

Hate to state the obvious but... GIRL

Pink is GIRL. Pink is feminine and... Pink is power.

Okay but seriously. Pink is power, it’s security, it’s confidence and comfort. Pink is a symbol that you are comfortable in your body and sure of yourself. It’s a symbol of power because it shows that you have broken through and realized that ultimately it’s just another colour. I mean seriously, also pink is power because hey. There are quite a few strong role model characters with pink in their colour scheme who are fantastic fighters.

Pink is a colour that screams it doesn’t want to be a stereotype.

Sure it is most recognized as a colour that means girl, and femineity, but guess what. It also means power, confidence, security, comfort, hope, assurance, love, childhood, resolve, and while not the final thing that I think of when pink comes to mind, family. But to be fair, there’s a lot to think about with pink.

And also, let’s just add another thing.

Fear, versus, PROTECTION

Pink is a shielding colour. It’s something to blame, it’s something to hide behind. It gives protection, but also, it’s a colour to fear because of stereotypes. And so many people deny it as a result. Because they don’t want to fall into the stereotype, therefore falling into another one. So it’s a scapegoat. A colour people blame for things, and that gives a weird sort of protection if you think about it.

“I don’t like pink! I’m not like other girls!”

But that... that doesn’t work. And declaring that, just reinforces the pink = girl thing. Which is childish. So... yeah.

Purple(#8B0ED0)

Girl

No but seriously, purple is a weird colour because for the longest time it just kind of was. Much like pink is was just... Purple equals Girl. And beyond that, there was a bit of imagination, creativity with it, but the colour just kind of was...

And then I found Scooby-Doo. And yes, I know, I know, it’s kind of strange that my colour association would come from a cartoon for this, but... it was the place I saw the colour the most. So for the most part... it was still girl. But also it became synonymous with resourceful. Because well, Daphne used her feminine products knowledge to fantastic effect.

Do it Yourself solutions. Team Mom, and maybe a bit of watch me get in trouble. Purple was, well that. And yeah...

Sorry I don’t really have that much to say about this particular colour.

Except that I do. Purple is a funny colour because of how detached I was from it for a long time. It’s a feminine colour, much like pink, but purple for me feels like it’s the more powerful colour. A bit stronger than pink, where the former is childish, purple is maturity. Growing up and into yourself. Finding who you are as a person. And being proudly feminine. Using what you know about fashion and being a pretty face to your advantage.

Getting use out of so-called “useless” bits of trivia and knowledge.

Whether that’s obscure beauty products or just different ways of using regular household objects in inventive ways. Purple is the colour that tells me that being a girl is alright, that I’m allowed to be a pretty face, even if it might mean that I’ll get into trouble sometimes. Purple is a security blanket for maturity. It’s growing up and seeing that being a women isn’t as bad as you might initially feel that it is.

Purple is... PRIDE.

Pride in yourself and who you are. Proud to be different, proud to be yourself. Purple is breaking free from restraints and it’s a colour that says that you are going to be yourself no matter what other people tell you. It’s a colour that means trouble, but it also means that you can put your skills to use to get out of that trouble. It’s an assist colour, a creative colour, a Do It Yourself colour.

And I have Daphne, of What’s New Scooby Doo to thank for giving me these associations... because... as a kid I never was all that girly... and she... she gave me a role model, a chance to see that being girly and feminine wasn’t necessarily a bad thing... that it was... it was alright to be that... and thus, Purple is maturity and self-confidence. It really is... Freedom of expression of self.

And really it says, no matter what you obsess over or know, it might just come in handy someday.

A touch of hope.

Also, just let me say, royalty. Purple is a royal colour as well.

Indigo(#4B0082)

Dreams.

Dreams and hopes, imagination. Creation, inventions. Idealism.

Indigo is a strange colour as well, because really, I think I had associations for this colour long before I had any for purple, and that was mostly because of rainbows. Indigo is one of the colours of the rainbow after all. But more than that, indigo is a colour that’s very powerful... but there’s one more association here that I haven’t put down, but that’s in one of my characters quite strongly.

Indigo is associated with integrity and loyalty.

At least for me. Loyalty to your dreams, and to those who you care for. Integrity is harder to define. But it’s your individual self, who you are. What your goal is.

Indigo is the colour of hopes and dreams, a goal that you set and pursue. It’s creation, creating things, art and imagination, inventing things and creating new ideas. It’s idealism, hoping for something new. It’s also in a weird way faith, which is the assured expectation of something that’s hoped for.

Like the promise of a rainbow after a rainstorm. But of course, that doesn’t mean that it’s all good. Indigo is a procrastination colour, a flee from reality, and a colour of mysticism and mystics. A colour that I associate with magic, imagination is powerful, and somewhat easy to get lost in. Indigo is the shadows to the light of pink and purple. It’s a haunting colour and a sirens song.

It’s a colour that promotes avoiding your problems rather than facing them. Running away from reality and it can be rather impractical. Over the top in some ways, and you can spend your whole life chasing those indigo dreams and never catching them. Indigo is in some ways fleeting, a moment of inspiration and awe that’s quickly gone. Slippery and something that’s hard to hold onto.

Much like faith, it’s something powerful, but hard to keep a grasp on. And often misinterpreted. Since faith is the assured expectation of things... the knowledge that what’s hoped for will be coming. But you can lose that assurance if you’re not careful to keep the reminders, and then it becomes useless faith, useless dreams. A hope with no real belief behind it.

And that’s where it becomes avoidance, chasing a pipe dream. Fleeing away from reality into a world of magic and make believe, into a lie. Indigo can also be stubborn, unyielding and unwilling to bend. Indigo is creative, but still holds a pattern.

But you just have to hold onto it really, keep integrity, faith, and creativity in check, and not let the last take over.  

Gold(#CFB53B), Silver(#B9C8CB), & Bronze(#cd7f32)

Give me ALL the riches.

But seriously, these three, much like black and white have to go together. And yes, I do lump bronze in here with gold and silver. You know why, because the first thing that comes to mind whenever I think of all three of these colours are competitions and medals.

First, Second and Third place.

Competition. But right after that, I think of royalty. Riches and money, the showy display of ones means of life. Money. And really all three are associated with money, riches and power. Those who lead, and those who rule over others. Maybe each one does have its own associations, but for the most part they are kind of all lumped in together. Because that’s the strongest association that I have of them. All together. Yes, even bronze is a royal colour, not just gold and silver.

So... what about on their own... what do they mean to me?

...

Well, again that’s tricky, because they’re so closely linked in my head. But Gold is obviously riches, big money and power, influence. But also temptation, gold is kind of a weird one. Because so many people spend their lives chasing it, like fools. In many ways gold is a fools goal. It’s a lure, a bit of bait on a hook. It’s a traitors treasure and a worthless medal. Gold is locked up and away, something to covet but also to be leery of.

Gold is power, but it’s corruption. It’s a false hope and something that sows betrayal and dissention. It’s first, but in being so it’s the true evil. It’s indulgence. Greedy.

Weirdly enough, gold is also a colour of regrets, and redemption, reparation. It’s the golden sunlight healing you, a recovery of lost things. And while it’s dangerous, a lure a trap, it’s also willing to repair, in moderation it’s a small bit of glim and glam that everyone would enjoy. But when allowed to control you gold is a vice, a collar around your neck and the royal’s fool.

Gold is... Judgement.

Silver is... well temptation. The slow slide, but also cutlery, so in many ways silver is a symbolism for food. And well, food service. It’s the colour of a kitchen, cooking, and kind of feminine and sly. Sneaky. Silver is the beginnings of darkness, it’s money and riches just as gold is, but tapered back. It’s the small coins and the small pieces of treasure.

Second place, second best. It’s the medium. It’s the moon and the night, stars distantly twinkling. Silver is also poison. A silver chalice and a cup in hand. A glint of moonlight off the edge of a blade. A sly word and whispers of betrayal, a cut so deep.

An engagement ring, a promise. Silver is the first step.

The temptation to do long, and a silvered tongue is the tongue of a liar. Twisting your words and making them sweet, with the hidden edge of a blade behind your back.

But again, there’s the positives. Silver is polite, and courteous. Silver is the kitchen, cooking and cookware, the utensils we use to eat and a well fed stomach. Silver is the glimmer of something new, something old, something bold.

Silver is a first step.

Finally bronze... and well, here’s the odd thing. Bronze is always third place, and somewhat forgotten as a result. Left out and rust, but you brush away that rust and there’s something surprising beneath it. Bronze might be the odd one out but it’s the reliable one, sturdy and resistive. And bronze was also used for quite a lot of things.

I mean there was the bronze age.

Bronze is... the underdog. In many ways, it’s the one you want to root for... and it’s the unexpected one. Third place, forgotten, and yet, hiding something great. Crouching Moron Hidden Badass as a bit of colour symbolism. Seriously though, Bronze is power. Prestige, just in another more subtle way.

I mean come on, there’s the bronze statues and pieces of art. Not to mention, well, in some ways bronze subtly reminds me of war. Weapons and fighting, riding into battle bravely and without hesitation... On that note, yeah, bronze is another one that kind of represents history, or at least the past... but more, the marching on of time.

So yeah...

That’s... everything. This has been a personal reflection on how I once viewed these colours... and even how I still do view these colours... I can only hope that this maybe put things into perspective for some people... because really... it’s been something.

And hey, it’s a glimpse into my mind if anything else... and mostly personal. So yeah... Take it or leave it, at least this is out there now. Colours and their associations and how fluid they are. Because really... who can say if there’s a right or wrong way to associate colours with things...

This is just... my way.