#lily of the lamplight

[sisalrian]

ex russian nobility braginski siblings, 1930

[espejonight28738]

Do y'all ever read a fic and be like. This author not only had a hetalia phase, I am certain they read George DeValier fics. They read the veraverse.

It's not the plot, it's not a specific quote, but there is something. Something about it. I will not ask for confirmation because being wrong would be too embarassing and I would have to delete my social media presence from all the internet, but I still know. I see you, author.

[pastaloverromano]

Hello, have you read veraverse? If you've already read it, what did you think of Lily of the Lamplight?

Hi! Yes I have.

When I discovered Lily of the lamplight I was so excited! At that point I had read Auf wiedersehen and Bésame mucho so I knew the vibe to expect.

I was GUTTED!! it wasn't finished. It had so much potential just like BM! One of the best interpretations of the PruAus dynamic for sure

[evabloom]

Dream lamp

[c0gfilledcan]

"Make sure my glass is full, let's crash and see how fast we go. He took a shot and held his breath, I'm going to drink myself to death." -

[hetalia-newbie-butnotreally]

just, if anyone sees this, read it

it will consume your soul and make you cry, every song you hear for a decade after will remind you of it

it will be worth it

i promise

George Devalier Masterpost

Since George Devalier deleted his fanfics, I tried to search some links of reposts people posted on other platforms. If you can find more of his stories, feel free to add them.

The Veraverse

We’ll Meet Again

Keep Smiling Through

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart

Bésame Mucho

Lily of the Lamplight

My Echo

Jealousy

The Mapleverse

La Patisserie de la Rose

Libelle Hall

Of Ponies and Edelweiss

Ongoing Multi-Chapters

Catch Perfect

The Tiger and the Dragon

Completed One-shots

Stay With You

Gallipoli

Sleep, Little Bird

Completed Multi-Chapters

Blue, White, Red

[ashitakaxsan]

Spy Classrrom- Lamplight team

INTELLIGENCE IS THE MOST DANGEROUS WEAPON.YOU JUST DON’T HAVE THE LUXURY TO FAIL,ONE SLIGHT MISTAKE ENDS WITH YOU DEAD.

  After a devastating world war that ruined counless lives,all countries now fight their secret wars . One unusual man,a Spymaster, Klaus(alias  Bonfire (篝火, Kagaribi),has never failed on the job despite his quirks.Now  he’s building a team to take on an Impossible Mission—one with over a 90 percent chance of failure. However, his chosen pupils are young girls,all washouts with no serious experience. They’ll have to use every trick in the book (and free to improvise) to prove they’re up to the Quite dangerous task!

Just to say:I like so much Lily,Sibylla and Thea:) I would want to walk in love with them.

[mysteriouscynic]

1 and 5 for the music asks?

A song you like with a color in the title

Black Day in December by Said the Whale! A newer addition to my playlists!

5. A song that needs to be played LOUD

M first answer to this question is every song, but that's partially cause I've fucked my hearing to high heavens. But to give you an actual answer: Don't Forget To Leave It All Behind by Beyond The Lamplight, which is another one that's come to recently and features one of the most bangingest opening lines. I'll let you experience it for yourselves.

Also. Because I must: Wage Wars Get Rich Die Handsome by The Mountain Goats

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

Nowadays, Pure Vanilla has gotten used to his sleep fluctuating wildly between turbulent dreams and sleep like the void itself has swallowed him whole. It seems like a game of chance whenever he rests his head down, and neither option leaves him any less tired the next morning.

Today, his dreams are absurd, swirling and spilling into each other, and vividly upsetting in a way he can't identify. He shut his eyes tight, but that doesn't block out the rest of his senses. He can hear begging, crying, shouting, and the scent of something burning and wilted lilies clashes in the air, creating a suffocating smell that winds around him slow. It is awful, but it is slightly less so, now that he knows how to recognise when he is in a dream. More importantly, he has a question, and he is more than aware of Shadow Milk's lingering presence.

"You founded the study of Dark Moon Magic, didn't you?"

It is a soft question, but one that is sure of itself. Instantly, the sounds and smells and sensations that had been plaguing Pure Vanilla disappear. Pure Vanilla keeps both his eyes closed for the time being, just in case. Tonight, his staff is absent like a missing leg, and he misses the added security of being able to look through it.

"Oh, come on! Don't interrupt the scene, we were just getting to the good part!" Shadow Milk's voice responds with frustration, the sound coming from all sides. It is precisely because it comes from all sides that Pure Vanilla keeps his eyes closed, not quite trusting that the shards of his nightmares have been fully swept away. He doesn't want to find out what Shadow Milk could possibly consider to be 'the good part' amidst the sounds of suffering and anguish.

Instead, Pure Vanilla sighs. "It was your choice to stop everything when I asked that, wasn't it? You can't blame me for that."

"Bzzt! Wrong! I can blame you because you did interrupt. It doesn't matter what I did in response, a disruption is a disruption." Shadow Milk declares loudly, voice a little rougher, as if he was daring Pure Vanilla to argue back. But his voice is now only coming from one source, right in front of him, so Pure Vanilla cautiously opens his eyes to check the surroundings.

He finds himself in the library of Blueberry Yogurt Academy, and nostalgia eagerly rears its head within him, somewhat surprised. He's stood beside a littered table, surrounded by the deep blue bookshelves of his youth and the comforting smell of aged paper. The details blur a little past that, some of the shelves lighter, more like the bookshelves in his chambers in the Vanilla Kingdom, leaving it less like a perfect replica and more like a collage made out of bits and pieces of his lifetimes' worth of memories, but it is mostly the Blueberry Yogurt library.

Shadow Milk is across the table from him, tutting when Pure Vanilla takes too long to reply. He leans his elbows on the table, propping his chin on the bridge of his linked fingers. "Sneaky, silly-Vanilly, trying to use me to get out of your funny little nightmares. Very, very sneaky."

"It worked, didn't it?" Pure Vanilla says, a bit stiffly, because that had never been his main intention, mostly because Shadow Milk isn't nice enough for him to think it would work. No, his main intention is genuine curiosity, and that is exactly why he continues to prod. "...You didn't answer my question."

"Because it's a stupid one." Shadow Milk hums back, tilting his head to the side. He tilts it far enough that his cheek is now resting against his hands instead of his chin. "You should be able to figure that out yourself. Didn't I already tell you where my home is?"

Pure Vanilla doesn't answer for a moment, laying a tentative hand on the edge of the table as he tries to squint at the papers across its surface in the dim lamplight. It takes him a second to realise that they're all forbidden texts on Dark Moon Magic, and when he does, he murmurs back. "It's better to clarify than assume, isn't it?"

This time, Shadow Milk is the one who doesn't answer for a moment, instead staring at him with those piercing eyes. Pure Vanilla can feel more around him, behind him, lurking in the shadows pooling in the nooks and crevices and he can't help it – he shivers slightly.

That reaction must be enough for Shadow Milk, because he snorts, and pushes off the table to lean back, kicking his feet up onto the table and right on top of texts, which is already enough to make Pure Vanilla wince. Poor library etiquette aside, the movement is horribly uncanny to watch, partly because he is leaning back onto thin air instead of a chair, partly because he moves so quickly it's like his limbs snap into place, and partly because his smile is stretched far too thin as he does so.

"Of course I did. I'm very talented, you know." Shadow Milk announces smugly, his eyes never leaving him. They narrow slightly, all of them in suspicious synchronisation, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly. "But I must admit, I am crumbling to know why you brought it up."

Whys are always difficult to answer, especially for something as difficult as motives, which can morph and change over time. Pure Vanilla hates lying, but he hates lying in front of Shadow Milk even more, because he seems to recognise every single one and Pure Vanilla doesn't want to give him the satisfaction.

But he really can't admit the core of the matter to his face. He can't admit that ever since he glimpsed the ghost of Shadow Milk's past, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. He can't admit that he is actively trying to glimpse it again, and what better way to try and draw it out than with any scholar's pride and joy – their work?

"It's impressive. I, myself, have mastered White Magic over the years, and I certainly contributed to its development, but I cannot claim that I created it as a school of magic." Pure Vanilla explains instead, and it isn't a lie either, just lacking all the details. He fidgets a bit, tugging at his own sleeves, adding quieter. "Dark Moon Magic is forbidden too, so there aren't many detailed sources left on it. I want to know more about its founding."

I want to know more about you.

There is another lapse of silence, and Pure Vanilla is tense with tentative hope. After all, if Shadow Milk was really against the topic altogether, he wouldn't have gone through the trouble of plucking him out of his nightmares.

Shadow Milk's smile is sharp like a knife, clashing with the casual way he folds his arms behind his head, almost languid as he finally muses. "Oh, really? That doesn't sound right. I'm sure there's enough details lying around to get the gist of it. After all, you've used Dark Moon Magic before, so you must know something about it already."

Pure Vanilla flinches back, and it isn't a surprise that he knows about that too, not anymore, but it still leaves him with unstable footing. Regardless, he doesn't let that scare him off the topic, which he suspects is exactly why Shadow Milk said it. "...I've only really used it once, and I don't remember much about what happened. So I may know something, but that something is rather little."

It's a confession, and the truth. His brief tangle with Dark Moon Magic is a complete blur in his own mind, watered down to blinding sensations and a heartache so intense he had felt like he was crumbling. Theoretically, he knows enough about Dark Moon Magic to hold a conversation, but he remembers nothing about it in practise.

"You know who could help you with that?" Shadow Milk asks, seemingly unbothered, but the words curl with open mockery and a smirk. He tilts his head back slightly so he can look down on Pure Vanilla and throws his arms out dramatically. "Our beloved, newly coronated Guardian! She has plenty of experience with–"

Pure Vanilla's heart lurches painfully.

"Don't talk about her!" He interrupts, voice bursting out louder than he expected and panic fluttery in his chest. He doesn't want to hear him tear at her old wounds, even if she can't hear it herself. He knows how vulnerable that cry makes him seem though, and he fumbles to lower his voice to something softer, less shaky. "Don't– please, I'm asking you for a reason."

Shadow Milk giggles, a strange grating sound that climbs higher with each breath, until he is laughing in earnest. He curls into himself, arms wrapped around his middle, and the position looks painful with his feet still planted on the table. Pure Vanilla watches him warily, a little shaken by the mention of White Lily, and wonders if maybe, he was wrong about what he thought he saw in Shadow Milk. He has been seeing more things that aren't there, recently.

His laughter stops abruptly. The stillness that follows is jarring, but doesn't last long.

Slowly – so slowly that it is unnerving, for someone who typically moves as erratically as him – Shadow Milk reaches forward with one hand and plucks a scroll up from the table. He unrolls it with a lazy flick of his wrist, the other end tumbling away over the edge of the table and across the floor. It is a smooth movement, Pure Vanilla notes through the pounding of his heart and his scrambled nerves, a practised motion that speaks of thousands of opened scrolls.

Shadow Milk peers over at the contents of the scroll with an empty, disinterested expression, his legs melting through the table until he appears to be sitting somewhat politely again. The sudden switch to this from his near hysterical laughter leaves Pure Vanilla disturbed, unsure if this is progress or not.

"I wanted to strike a balance between Black and White Magic." Shadow Milk says, his voice a disconcertingly low murmur, almost monotone. While his main eyes remain steadily on the scroll, the rest are eagerly burrowing into Pure Vanilla from all sides. "Black Magic draws from the void, making it unpredictable and destructive by nature, but full of potential. White Magic draws from the moon, primarily, and other celestial sources, making it safer and easier to use, but limited in its purity. If I could find the middle ground, I could harness magic with more flexibility and power but less unpredictability."

Shadow Milk pauses then, his eyes sliding up to stare right at Pure Vanilla, and his lips quirk upwards. When he speaks again, his voice gains a little more character but remains mainly flat, like a poorly-delivered theatrical monologue. "The dark side of the moon was the obvious choice for a source of that kind of power, because it's the natural overlap between the moon and the void. Once you figure out a source for magic, it's simple to find a way to draw from it, and to make it simpler, I had access to the knowledge of the Witches at my fingertips. All I had to do was write everything down, and the school of Dark Moon Magic was born. Easy-peasy!"

Shadow Milk throws the scroll to the side with little fanfare, not even sparing a glance at those ancient texts as they land in a heap of old paper on the floor, uncaring of if they damage or rip. And why would he? They both know this is a dream, and even if it wasn't, he had written that scroll himself.

Pure Vanilla would have cared, dream or not, if he wasn't wholly distracted, reduced to only a wide-eyed blink.

Because Shadow Milk may feign a bored face and voice, as if reading off a report or a particularly uninspiring script, but when their gazes meet, his eyes glitter like shooting stars, sparking with pride and passion and something else.

It captivates Pure Vanilla, the very same shine that comes with a breakthrough for every researcher. It is exactly what he had been hoping to see again, but the sight still leaves him feeling unmoored, even if pleasantly. Intruige and hope swirl within him, and he suddenly finds himself desperate to hold onto this ghost of the past, to make it stay longer and help it spill into the present.

"What does it feel like?" The question comes out before Pure Vanilla can think it through, focused on continuing the conversation before Shadow Milk can pick up his showmanship again in full. "Dark Moon Magic, I mean."

Shadow Milk huffs, a playful grin settling on his face again, and a sickening mix of dread and disappointment trickles through Pure Vanilla as he watches him lean over, crushing more texts beneath his palms. For a scary moment, he expects him to make another quip towards his previous use of the magic, or worse, bring up White Lily again.

He doesn't. Shadow Milk kicks his legs up behind him, so that he is laying on his stomach in mid-air, and cheerfully asks, "How about I show you?"

He doesn't wait for Pure Vanilla to process what he said, let alone reply. He reaches out and ensnares Pure Vanilla's hand, the one normally occupied with his staff, and laces their fingers together. Pure Vanilla doesn't reciprocate the hold, surprised, but only tries a small unsuccessful tug in response.

Shadow Milk's grip is an oppressive pressure, tight but not quite painful. He presses their palms together firmly, and Pure Vanilla gasps.

Magic bursts through the contact, rushing through his jam in a dizzying, warm flood. It is thicker, heavier than the magic Pure Vanilla is used to, thrumming and twisting as if it has a mind of its own, almost scratching at his dough as if trying to consume him, and he can't even concentrate on it because– because–

He can see everything.

Pure Vanilla really, truly can. He can see Shadow Milk's curling smile in front of him, he can see the Faeries having a feast, he can see Black Raisin greeting the moon from one of the Vanilla Castle's towers, he can see Dark Cacao striding through the citadel, he can see White Lily going through her morning routine, he can see his own sleeping body, and places and Cookies he doesn't have the presence of mind to recognise, all simultaneously. He doesn't know what to focus on, doesn't even know how to focus on anything, and his head hurts like it is falling apart.

This is how Shadow Milk has been watching me, he thinks deliriously, the only thought he can manage as he drowns in his sights.

And then, in a snap, he is back in the library with only one scene to see. His vision swims a little at the edges as if it didn't get the message, and he wobbles in place.

Shadow Milk is still holding his hand, but the grip is slightly looser, and the stream of his Dark Moon Magic is gone like a whisper. His grin is sinister and too big for his face, but his eyes still burn like stars.

"Fun, isn't it?" Shadow Milk coos, giddy like it is a shared secret, lifting Pure Vanilla's trembling hand and brushing a kiss to the back that buzzes with Dark Moon Magic. "My very first masterpiece."

Pure Vanilla wakes up disoriented, with a ringing headache and an itch in the back of his hand. White Lily notices his poor state almost immediately when she sees him – wonderful as she is – and she asks if he had a nightmare with that gentle, concerned slope to her brows.

Pure Vanilla adjusts his grip on his staff, leaning against it more than usual.

"No." He assures her lightly, not quite the truth and not quite a lie.

[next]

[sisalrian]

“When we make it out of this, I’ll teach you to shoot.”

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Auburn

A microfic written for Day 1 of Jily Week 2024, run by the very lovely @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee, and inspired by the theme Love is in the Hair - one of those iconic 'wow' moments!

647 words

Rated G

A flash of red catches James Potter’s eye for the very first time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James Potter was twelve years old the first time he really noticed Lily Evans’s hair. Obviously, he’d seen it plenty of times before, just like he’d seen Sirius’s hair or his Mum’s hair. The difference was that he hadn’t ever looked at it properly before. 

The day it happened, he and Sirius were in their usual seats in the Potions classroom, at the bench in the back right corner; the one that was least visible from Slughorn’s desk and therefore offered the most potential for messing about. 

Sluggie had finished his opening lecture on the topic of Swelling Solution - or at least that was what James assumed he’d been talking about, since that was what was written on the board, but he honestly hadn’t heard a word; he’d been too busy scribbling notes to Sirius. In fairness, Swelling Solutions did sound like they could be quite entertaining, and the idea of slipping some into the pumpkin juice at the Slytherin table convinced him that it might be worth actually putting a bit of effort in for once.  

He and Sirius played Spell, Shield, Serpent to decide who had to go and get their ingredients from the supply cupboard. Sirius lost, and made a rude gesture at James as he scraped his stool back along the stone floor. James smirked at him, then started to flick through his textbook looking for the right page, when a flash of red caught his attention; Evans, sitting next to that greasy loser Snape at the bench immediately in front of him, had flipped her hair back over her shoulders.

Her hair, he noticed, was remarkably thick and shiny, and James idly considered asking what Sleekeazy products she used. It was a very unusual colour, too. Auburn, he thought it was called; not an obnoxiously bright red, like the Prewett twins, but a darker, richer shade altogether. It seemed to change as she moved her head, the lamplight creating rose gold highlights and purple-plum shadows amidst the rich chestnut. 

As he watched, she picked up three sections from near the front, and began to weave them together, nimble fingers dancing a fascinating waltz down her head. She deftly pulled more and more strands into the pattern as she went, and the repetitive movement was oddly hypnotic. It left James entranced.

She’d just reached the nape of her neck when Sirius returned.

“How the hell is she doing that?” he muttered. 

“How is who doing what?” asked Sirius, dismissively.

“Evans.” He nodded towards her. “Doing that with her hair, behind her head, without a mirror or a charm or anything.”

“Oh. I dunno. Oi, Evans!” called Sirius. “James wants to know what you’re doing?”

Quite unexpectedly, James felt his skin heat with embarrassment at the thought that Evans might know he’d been looking at her. It was the strangest feeling, one that was completely unfamiliar. James decided that he didn’t like it, not at all. 

Lily shot them a disdainful look as she secured the tail of her hair with a band. “I’m plaiting my hair, obviously. You know, so it doesn’t get in the way while I’m brewing.” She looked pointedly at Sirius’s collar length locks. “Maybe I should teach you?”

Sirius looked horrified. “What? Like a girl? No way!”

Evans rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the ingredients on the bench in front of her. 

“Why are you so interested in Evan’s hair all of a sudden?” asked Sirius, curiously.

“I’m not,” huffed James.

And he wasn’t. He had far more important things to think about after all, like Quidditch trials, for instance, and how he and Sirius were going to sneak their Swelling Solution out of the classroom without Sluggie noticing. Resolute, he started measuring out dried nettles to add to his mortar. He wasn’t going to think about Evans’s hair ever again; he was sure of it.

[mintjeru]

first encounter florist alhaitham for @viraseii 🌻 thank you for your donation to @hkvthm-action!!

open for better quality | no reposts | extensive brainrot under the cut (don't say i didn't warn you)

ok so i created an entire backstory for the two of them while i was drawing ;u; enjoy!!

kaveh and alhaitham go to the same university and kaveh, who is a year or so ahead of alhaitham, graduates at the end of this year

even though they have different majors (kaveh studies architecture, alhaitham studies linguistics), the two of them share a humanities elective course this semester

alhaitham sits in the middle or back rows and he usually arrives to lecture early so he can read his books in peace until class starts

he often sits with a notetaker in class but they're just acquaintances; alhaitham mostly keeps to himself

meanwhile, kaveh is a really proactive student so he sits in the front rows. he is often found conversing with the students around him.

as such, alhaitham knows of kaveh (the popular guy that keeps answering the professor's questions) but kaveh doesn't know of alhaitham (he doesn't really have a reason to turn around in his seat)

alhaitham lives in the area and he works part-time at his grandma's flower shop! he looked into flower language in his spare time because he liked the idea of tangible objects holding various symbolic meanings. it was similar to the signified-signifier concepts outlined in the semantics papers he read in his linguistics classes.

one day, kaveh comes strolling into the shop during alhaitham's shift because he needs flowers for a project

alhaitham mentions that they're in the same elective class and the two begin talking about the professor and their homework for that day. time flies as they're both intrigued by each other's ideas on the course concepts. by the time the next customer comes in and alhaitham is called away to help, the two walk away deeming each other an interesting conversation partner.

after that day, they begin to talk in class and spend time chatting in the flower shop

whenever kaveh comes by to buy flowers or a gift, alhaitham gives him a small flower as a bonus

it starts with a yellow tulip ("there is sunshine in your smile," it's the first thing alhaitham notices about him. he later finds that the corners of his lips tend to rise when kaveh is around.)

next is a goldenrod (encouragement, kaveh was struggling with a modeling project but alhaitham knew he was capable enough to make it work)

after that is a yellow calla lily (friendship and shared values, kaveh and alhaitham finished a group project and found out they received the highest grade in the class!)

and then a little sunflower (silent love, kaveh had fallen asleep on the library desk studying for their midterm the other night and while he would never admit it, alhaitham spent a significant amount of time admiring the way the lamplight cast a soft golden glow over his features)

at some point, kaveh asks why alhaitham keeps giving him flowers as that surely cannot be good for business. he also seems to keep picking yellow flowers.

alhaitham simply replies that it's better for the older flowers to go to kaveh, who can appreciate them, rather than for them to sit in the shop wilting. besides, they're the same color as kaveh's hair. not that alhaitham stares at the way his hair catches the sunlight or anything.

after finals are over but before the university's graduation ceremony, kaveh visits the flower shop once more

this time, alhaitham is waiting for him with a single red tulip

"this is a familiar sight. i remember the first one you gave me was yellow. are we moving on to red now?"

alhaitham responds to his question with another question: "did you know that the color of the flower affects its meaning?"

kaveh pauses for a bit. "oh, you mean in flower language? i think i've heard of that before, yeah."

alhaitham glances down at the tulip and then back up to kaveh.

most of the time, he doesn't care what others think of him. he's always been focused on his own interests and learning as much as he can, but it seems that things are different when it comes to kaveh. their relationship is fine as it is now, but why is it that he wants so badly for it to change?

it would be so easy for alhaitham to give him another excuse: the tulip matches the color of kaveh's eyes after all. but kaveh is graduating soon. he'll be moving away and given the distance, there's no telling how easy it'll be for them to keep in touch. if there's any time to bring his feelings to light, it's right now.

"so," kaveh starts. "what does a red tulip mean?"

alhaitham closes his eyes. he inhales, holds his breath for a second, and exhales. he makes his choice. when he opens his eyes again-

"a declaration of love."

kaveh stares at him, and for a second, alhaitham worries that he's made the wrong decision. but then kaveh breaks into a smile.

he reaches into his bag and carefully pulls out a red rose

"before you ask, no, i didn't buy this; it had fallen from one of the rose bushes on campus. i'm loyal to your grandma's shop, ok?" he offers the rose to alhaitham and cracks a bashful grin. "i may not be well-versed in the language of flowers, but i think this flower has a rather obvious meaning, don't you think? looks like you beat me to it."

alhaitham feels the blood rush to his ears as the two exchange flowers.

then, kaveh lifts his free hand and opens his palm. alhaitham places his hand in kaveh's, and their fingers intertwine. kaveh looks down at their hands and brushes his thumb across the top of alhaitham's. he smiles to himself.

"oh no, please don't tell me all the flowers you gave me were picked based on their meanings," kaveh sighs. "i can't believe i never thought to look them up."

alhaitham squeezes kaveh's hand and relishes in the warmth of kaveh's palm against his. "don't worry, i'll tell you starting now."

[boggie-things]

At five years old, Robin Buckley says her favorite color is pink when asked by her kindergarten teacher.

It seems like the right answer, it's what all the other girls say (except for a few who say purple, but Robin thinks of the flowers at her grandma's funeral earlier that year that were a sickly shade a mauve), so it must be hers as well.

She doesn't mind wearing it, but she thinks it's bright, easy to call attention to. She gets scolded in second grade by Tammy Thompson when she says it's really just a shade of red, after that she decides she doesn't like it as much anymore.

In fourth grade she says it's green when her mom asks for a color to paint her room. It's the color of outside and Robin likes to play there.

Her favorite shoes are forest green and she sits in the green section at lunch with her best friend Barabra Holland. It's a good fit.

But in sixth grade Tommy Hagan tells her it's a boy color and if she likes it then she's a boy. And so Robin changes it again. This time it's yellow.

Yellow is a safe color, neither gender seems to claim it and it's the shade of the sheets on her bed where she spends most of her time now that Barbara seems to prefer hanging out with Nancy Wheeler.

Yellow is the color of the stray cat that she feeds eyes and the shade of the lamplight she likes to read under at night.

She changes it to red in tenth grade when she hears Tammy Thompson say she likes it (even though she got mad at Robin for her earlier suggestion of pink being a light shade of it), and she really thinks it's the right one too.

It's the color of her beloved converse and the shade of the only makeup she owns, the scarlet lipstick her aunt got her for her fifteenth birthday.

It's a color of her Scoops uniform and the dry erase marker she uses to mark down Steve Harrington’s numerous fails at flirting.

It's the color of blood staining her shirt and dripping from Steve's face on the Fourth of July, 1985. The color of fireworks being thrown at a monster made up of red flesh and the color of the ambulance lights that flash as she sits in it.

After that she doesn't have a favorite color. It changes whenever someone new asks, alternating between the ones of her past.

It's green to Steve and pink to the mother renting a movie for her daughter. Yellow for Dustin and for a project in English class.

It's never red though.

But then 1986 rolls around and it's suddenly blue. The color of the sky and her favorite shirt is navy. The color of a denim jacket and the waters of Lovers Lake.

The color of Nancy Wheeler’s eyes looking at her in the library. Cerulean in the sun and cobalt as they trek through hell.

Bright azure when reflecting fire and the sparks of flying bullets. Soft maya blue under hospital lights.

They're shining admiral when they meet hers outside the Wheeler house two weeks after it all. Her tears match the rain when they kiss. Baby blue when they finally part.

It's blue when Nancy asks as they lay together in their apartment just outside of Boston. She jokes it's for the ocean that they had visited that summer, but later she tells her it's for her eyes.

It's blue like the ring she proposes with, cheap but full of meaning. Blue like the lilies of the Nile and bellflowers of Nancy's bouquet she tosses in the air.

Sapphire like their daughter's name and the chair Robin sits in when she reads to her. The color of her cookie monster cake for her first birthday and the rims of Nancy's reading glasses.

Blue like the dress she's buried in.

Blue like the flowers on their side by side graves.

[stratiotis-nth]

NEW WOLFSTAR FIC

The girl came up to the bar and grinned. She had coily hair with star barrettes, and a lip piercing that glinted in the dim lamplight. Remus noticed her warm eyes lingering on Lily with apparent interest.

“A Plisner, lager, Cosmo, and a daquiri, please.” She slid a card over. “You can start a tab.”

“Coming up,” Lily swooped in, subtly hip-checking Remus out of the way. The girl’s interest was clearly reciprocated. “Lemme guess, you’re a daquiri.”

“Guilty.” The girl replied, leaning on the bar top. Remus shook his head in amusement and filled the pilsner. “How’d you know?”

“Classy and elegant. Clearly made for you.”

“Classy and elegant, huh? So what do you make of my friend’s drink requests?” The girl gestured to the three boys sitting at the booth, laughing amongst themselves.

“Hm,” Lily mused as she tossed a rum bottle while mixing. “Lager for the glasses. Easy going, seems a little nostalgic.”

“How you say that?”

“He’s wearing a college sweater and clearly hasn’t been enrolled for a few years.”

The girl snorted. “True. Alright, what about Plisner?”

“Blonde. Lightweight. Seems to be here for a good time. He’s enjoying just watching the other two banter.”

The girl’s eyes flicked over to Remus, twinkling.

“She’s good. Why don’t you tell me why a Cosmo fits my last friend?”

They both looked at Remus expectantly. Lily’s eyes were wide and pleading, clearly saying “don’t make me look bad in front of the pretty lady.”

Remus studied the last boy sitting in the booth. It was hard to tell from across the room, but there was definitely an elegance in the way he held himself. He had long, dark hair that spilled perfectly down his shoulders, and the dim lamplight threw sharp cheekbones and a jawline into clear relief. He wore ripped up jeans, a baggy band shirt, and a leather jacket. Remus couldn’t make anything of him, nothing as impressive as Lily’s deductions.

So instead—

“Looks like he’s a pain in the ass.”

There was a pause, and the girl burst into laughter.

“Oh that’s lovely,” she hooted. “You’re both my new favorite people. Mary McDonald. Nice to meet you.”

Ft. Wolfstar, Jegulus, minor Dorlene and Marylily

Check out on AO3 @stratiotis

[lilacsbeeswax]

happy birthday to your account!! for your writing event, can I please have Lilies 🌺 with work song by hozier and sirius black? thank you🖤

Work Song

Part of my 2 year milestone event!

MASTERLIST

——-

Boys, workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

I just think about my baby

I'm so full of love I could barely eat

Work, work, and work Sirius swore these days it’s all that he did. Back when his dream of running his own tattoo shop was nothing but that he had had no idea what it would entail.

For the past week, he had been clogged with appointments. So many people had wanted custom tattoos, so he was drawing constantly. Then, it came to actually doing the pre booked tattoos which could take hours. As well as, walk ins that paid well, but took just as much time. Even when sharing the work load with James it was hard. Remus was out on vacation meaning Sirius had to take over bookkeeping and running the business. He swore he’d never have to do math, but there he was doing basic algebra at 8 am.

In short, Sirius was absolutely swamped. He had even been sleeping (albeit only a few hours) at the shop. His overfull mind only becoming more painful in the hours away from her.

Her. His only paradise. His pretty baby. The only girl for him.

He got small tastes of Y/n throughout the day, but it didn’t satiate his desire for her. Everyday at 11:30 am, she would bring him lunch during her break at her own job. She could be doing anything else, but she wanted to spend her rest time on him. Sirius loved it so much he felt sick. Often, he would be thinking about her so much that he wouldn’t be able to eat. He was unable to stomach the sweetness that he felt he never deserved.

There's nothing sweeter than my baby

I'd never want once from the cherry tree

'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin' me

Sirius walked into the apartment on Saturday night exhausted. Y/n called out to him, “Siri? Is that you?”

He didn’t respond quietly slipping off his shoes and coat. She turned the corner, running up to him and nearly sliding on the laminate floor. She wrapped her arms around him, placing her forehead on his.

“Hey baby,” Sirius sighed. “I missed you.”

She leaned away and smiled at him. That sweet smile that made him feel like he was going to faint. “I missed you more!”

Sirius moved to brush a thumb against her lips relishing in everything about her, before his gently pulled her into a kiss. It was soft and sweet and if he didn’t know better, Sirius would suspect he was going into cardiac arrest.

Boys, when my baby found me

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Nothin' in her room but an empty crib

And I was burnin' up a fever

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

She never asked me once about the wrong I did

Y/n and Sirius had met many years ago, back when he was a self-described man whore and carried way too much trauma to hold on his own.

He had been a mess. Drinking constantly, using, and not being able to hold a stable job. Despite all of his problems, she had pulled him up and out of it.

Sirius had lost yet another job the day he had started that fateful drunken binge. Maybe, it was the cheap vodka or the combination of it and the weed, but he had called her.

When she arrived at his place after a very concerning phone call, you had found him on the floor half dead. From then on she never stopped taking care of him. She never asked what really happened.

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

Y/n and Sirius got ready for bed and laid down on their soft shared mattress for the first time in what felt like weeks.

She ran her fingers over his scarred up arms and chest. She kissed his lips, while caressing the marred skin. Sirius pulled away and kissed down her neck, nipping at all of the places he knew she liked. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her smiling under the dim lamp light.

“Fucking hell, you’re heaven.” He chuckled, saying a word between every soft peck of her neck.

“I could say the same about you, Siri.” She giggled, pulling him close to her, not planning on letting go anytime soon.

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

Lying there wrapped around the love of his life, Sirius couldn’t help but smile, knowing no one and nothing could take him away from his baby.

MASTERLIST

[andy-15-07]

A Family's Love

masterlist ! pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

SUMMARY : Y/n and Rafe Cameron have 2 kids , one boy and one girl , the boy is older and him on protective of his sister

Outer Banks Masterlist

In the idyllic coastal town of Outer Banks, where the sun kissed the waves and the breeze carried the scent of salt in the air, you and Rafe Cameron built a life together—a life filled with love, laughter, and the joyful chaos of parenthood.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the beach, you watched with pride as your two children, Ethan and Lily, played in the sand, their laughter echoing in the evening air. Ethan, the protective older brother, kept a watchful eye on his younger sister, his playful antics tempered by a sense of responsibility beyond his years.

"Be careful, Lily," Ethan called out, his voice tinged with concern as his sister ventured too close to the water's edge. "Don't go too far."

Lily, a bundle of energy and curiosity, giggled as she skipped away from the waves, her tiny hand clasped in yours. "I'm okay, Ethan," she assured him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've got Mommy to keep me safe."

You smiled at your children's playful banter, grateful for the bond that had formed between them—a bond forged through countless adventures and shared moments of joy and laughter.

As the evening wore on, you gathered your family around a crackling bonfire, the flames casting dancing shadows on the sand. Rafe, ever the doting father, regaled Ethan and Lily with tales of his own childhood adventures, his deep voice filling the air with warmth and nostalgia.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I caught the biggest fish in all of Outer Banks?" Rafe exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he ruffled Ethan's hair.

Ethan's eyes widened in awe, his admiration for his father evident in the way he hung on every word. "Wow, Dad, really? Can we go fishing tomorrow?"

You chuckled at the excitement in your son's voice, marveling at the bond between father and son. "Of course, Ethan," you said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We'll make it a family outing."

As the night stretched on, you and Rafe tucked Ethan and Lily into bed, their sleepy eyes drooping with exhaustion from a day filled with adventure. With a final kiss on their foreheads, you whispered words of love and reassurance, promising to always be there for them, no matter what.

As you and Rafe settled onto the couch, the house filled with the soft glow of lamplight and the comforting sound of waves crashing against the shore, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. Here, surrounded by the ones you loved most in the world, you knew that you had everything you could ever need.

"Rafe," you began, turning to him with a smile, "our family is everything to me. I'm so grateful for the life we've built together."

Rafe wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close in a silent embrace. "I feel the same way, Y/N," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "I couldn't ask for a better partner in life, or a more wonderful family."

And as you leaned into his embrace, the flickering flames of the bonfire casting a warm glow over the room, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, your family would always be your greatest source of strength and happiness.